#also thank you for being patient with me
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Commissioned piece for ACCamper! 🌼
#artists on tumblr#pokemon#eevee#commissioned piece#gotchibam arts#thank you sm for being patient w/ me!! ;w;#i'm also very glad to know you liked it! ;o; <3#also I just learned abt oriented aroace thru doing this piece (for the color palette of the flowers)#I still don't really know myself tbh but I just know I fall ~somewhere~ in the ace spectrum#hello fellow aces!! ;w;#queued
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💖
#I know skitty is gen 3 but I thought dawn would look cute with them haha 🥹#also thank you for being patient with me while I play around and experiment with things! 🫶🏻#I love the look of messier sketchier lineart but I can never nail it lol#pokemon#pokémon art#pokémon fanart#skitty#dawn#pokémon dawn#hikari pokemon#Pokémon gen 4#cute#pink#anime#art#artists on tumblr#90s anime
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"He's mine. Mine alone."
Morph just won the biggest and legendary prize in the arcade! The giant plushie may or may not be possessed by the actual Logan Howlett.
Hi gang so I took a break from drawing after that Morph's pride month challenge, and I was able to return to drawing(but slower because I'm preparing for college ugh!!!). Gonna return to my WIPs and complete them before my second year starts, so dtay tuned! 😌💖
#thank you all for being patient with me!#also fun fact i initially used iArtbook app but transferred it to Procreate#thanks annoying ads and stubborn blending brush /s#xmen#xmen fandom#xmen fanart#xmen 97#morpherine#morph x wolverine#wolverine x morph#xmen morph#xmen wolverine#kevin sydney#logan howlett#berryliciousart
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~ 80's Retro! ~
i also drew a version with serizawa just in the tank top 😉
seeing his bare shoulders and that loose tank top did something to me
#serirei#reigen arataka#serizawa katsuya#mp100#mob psycho 100#mp100 fanart#mi art stuff#redraw#normal tags out of the way hello guys#it's been a while since i posted art#it was because i was going through art block#and this merch art rewired my brain so hard#i made more art about this merch art so watch out#oh also i plan on opening commissions again soon with edited prices and such#anyway thats all for now thank you for being patient with me#heres a cupcake for the tag readers ily 🧁
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hanjitonin for @strayklds 💖🎁
#forhanji#bystay#createskz#staycompany#madebymel#kpopco#jypartists#malegroupsnet#han#skz#han jisung#holidays2023#hi my em <333 this is some hanjitonin just for you <3#i was looking at my sets last year and realized i didnt make one for u last holiday season bc we actually didnt rly talk then#which is CRAZY to me bc it feels like ive known u forever now#i cant imagine being here without u and ur hanji brainrot tbh and im forever glad we became friends#thank u for always being there to talk about anything from our very similar music taste to fandom discourse hahaha#and also thanks for so patiently allowing me to talk ur ear off about song kang the past few weeks 💖💖🤣🤣🤣#AND NOW IVE SUCCEEDED IN CONVINCING U TO WATCH MY DEMON 😈😈😈 AND YOUVE STARTED A KDRAMA SB#my win of the year tbh ☝️#i hope u have a wonderful holiday season and new year and everything as u deserve <3 ily my shared braincell 🫶🫶 HAHAHA
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unfortunately for peter he's sooner or later going to contract the batfamily curse without hope of recovery (being bisexual)
he has no idea what's coming for him 😔 he'll figure it out slowly and painfully for everyone involved
#poor ned#ned leeds#he's so patient#(he has no idea that it'd even be a possibility)#i hope i can accurately describe the pain of being in love with an idiot straight boy who's your friend and really sweet and kind#who you also don't know is actually bisexual because his ass hasn't figured it out yet#i have the scene for peter's realization written in my head already#we've got a whileeeee#this is slow burn y'all#aka the only romance i can write#peter parker#ned x peter#bisexual peter parker#erinwantstowrite#ao3#leap of faith ao3#ao3 fanfic#leap of faith catch me if you can#thank you for the ask!
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240813 Weverse Live "캐럿 💎"
for @fairyhaos 💖 submit a request here! 😇
#seventeen#svtgifs#svtcreations#17net#hourlyjoshua#ultkpop#kpopccc#malegroupsnet#joshua#joshua hong#ihavetoomanygifs#usertheos#useranusia#tuserflora#hanatonin#fordaniseyes#usersemily#chwedoutbox#useryenas#<< just in case heheh#i hope you like this yena!! thank you for being patient with me 💖💖💖#also i cant find the post u reblogged but u asked for joshua's most recent live and i believe it's this one#i hope i got it right 😭😭
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On Your Side (NH13) / Chapter Eleven
Pairing: Nico Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy Jensen
WC: 17k (I've literally been calling this a short filler hahahahaha)
18+ MDNI!!
Chapter Warnings: unbearable amounts of fluff like you're gonna think is this girl okay??? the answer, as you should already know, is no. I honestly think it's just fluff.... and bad smut. oral (fem receiving, very briefly) and p in v. mentions of jealousy I think. cheeto gets a name finally but honestly.... she's cheeto forever let's not forget. discussions around marriage and more babies. yeah - fluffy fluff.
Series Masterlist
Previous Part (Chapter Ten)
A/N: remember the good old days when I uploaded a chapter like every 10 days??? remember me trying to beat the week-ish allegations??? I can’t tell if me struggling to finish this fic is bc I’m worried it’s getting samey and boring or bc I don’t want to let them go but i need to get over myself!!! sorry for the wait on this one!!! I kind of veered off the path that I planned out for the end of this story, I was really adamant I didn’t want something to happen, but it doesn’t really make sense for the relationship and characters I’ve written for it NOT to happen, so pls bear with me while I figure these last couple of chapters out!! I know a few people have discovered this fic recently so thank you for reading!! I promise I do love these two as much as I haven't acted like it the last couple of months!!
BUT ANYWAY!!! MORE IMPORTANTLY!!!!! this chapter is dedicated to my bestie Rory!! it was her birthday on Monday and if I'm honest I don't know if I would have made it this far without her!! she sends me full chapter breakdowns every time I post and she loves Poppy and Nico as much as I do - literally if I perish, she will take the reins!!! she knows everything!!! I accidentally spoiled the gender to her forever ago, and she helped me figure out Cheeto's name (as well as the name cheeto lmao) and we compared lists and literally had the same number one and the same reason we are that connected!! @h1sch13r I love you so much I couldn't possibly put into words how much I appreciate you!! happy belated birthday capricorn queen!!
Nico
Ever since he moved to the states, summers in Switzerland have always been the best part of Nico’s year.
Spending much needed time with his family - staying with his parents for days at a time, back in his childhood home, eating his mother’s cooking and hanging out with his dad, and annual trips with his siblings, where the three of them got to spend a week together pretending like their lives hadn’t taken them away from each other.
Despite the chaos that came as hockey season came to a close, he always looked forward to coming home.
And last year, when he had done so after one of the most heartbreaking moments of his career, he had endured what he now considers the worst summer of his life.
And it was all because of Poppy.
He can see it so much clearer with hindsight, how he had taken himself so far off the beaten path just to avoid his feelings for her, and experiencing a summer with her only makes him regret it more.
Last year, he had come home in a slump, and he had thought, at the time, it was the noise of being knocked out of the playoffs and a brief appearance at the world championships that was lingering. He thought he was exhausted, and remorseful, and that it was the failure of carrying his teams any further that was making him feel so down.
And so he had tried his best to do things that made him feel the opposite.
He bought an apartment, not too far from his family that he felt distant, but enough so that he could be independent when he came back. And he had tried to make it feel like home - furnished nice, with personal belongings from his parent’s house that made the place feel like his, and not some rental he had no place making feel like forever.
He went on more trips with his friends, weekends away, music festivals, sporting events, and made a point of saying yes to things he might usually have turned down.
And that had been what led him to Talia - to being blinded by what probably should have stayed a summer fling, in lieu of sparing a thought to adoring eyes looking back at him from booths in bar corners, and a girl that, in the back of his mind, he had always wanted to be forever, too.
He had missed Poppy more than he ever could have realised at the time - and had fallen victim to abiding by their usual routine of radio silence in the summer, without realising that they had grown way too much since the year before to seriously keep that up.
He wishes he’d have texted her or something, back then. Commented on an instagram post, responded to a story, or called her, even. Her voice might have deterred him from ever trying to move on, and it could have saved the two of them so much time and heartache from what came as a result of that.
But maybe then she wouldn’t be here now, belly round with his child, sat out on the terrace in the back yard of his childhood home, schooling his big brother at Uno. Maybe he wouldn’t come down the stairs in the morning to the sounds of her laughing with his dad, helping him prepare breakfast for the family and asking him questions about what constitutes being offside in soccer when he’d sit down to watch Switzerland play their international games and she’d join him to try get into it, herself.
Maybe she wouldn’t go on shopping trips with his sister, and come back with bagfuls of baby clothes that she holds up to her front as she shows them all to Nico in their room, and make comments about how she can’t believe that something so big can grow from her belly.
Maybe she would still be someone he always wants to keep to himself, instead of sharing her with the people he loves the most in this world, only to have his love grow for her even more - and maybe that’s not how he ever wanted things to be.
So maybe he had to suffer through the facade he put on last summer to get to where he is now, content in every possible aspect of his life, wrapped up under the bedsheets, muttering random stories to Poppy’s belly as she sleeps, the side of his finger caressing the soft skin as he anticipates whatever movement happens inside her that is going to rouse her from whatever sweet dreams he hopes she’s having.
“What are you doing?”
There’s a brief flash of light before Poppy joins him under the covers, pulling the sheet over her head to shield them from the morning sun’s intrusion before she looks down at where he’s resting beside her belly.
Her eyes are narrowed like they’re trying to fight consciousness, and her face is swollen in that adorable way it gets in the mornings, puffy and plump, and he wants to kiss it all over.
She’s so beautiful, and she’s his, and it warms his heart every time he gets to wake up to her.
“Having a private conversation with my daughter, if you don’t mind,” he smiles up to her, soft and teasing, before she kicks him gently and shuffles her way out from under the covers.
“You made her make me want to pee,” she huffs, feet padding across the room to the en suite, where she leaves the door open as she empties her bladder, and he re-situates himself back against the pillows at the top of the bed, one arm behind his head, so he can watch her when she makes her way back.
Her bump is big enough now that she almost waddles, 6 weeks of eating his mother’s cooking, and all the incredible food they have tried in restaurants he has told her about over the years, and she had really popped in no time - and it’s the sexiest Nico thinks she’s ever been. Nose and lips constantly swollen with water retention, her voice changing, Nico witnessing the ever-growing struggle that she refuses to acknowledge - but she does everything so effortlessly, and without much complaint, that he finds it all endearing.
His eyes are drawn to her belly every time he sees her, chest puffing with pride when he takes notice of the speedy growth of it, and he fixates on it for as long as she’ll let him - usually swatting at his chest and telling him to knock it off with a telltale flush to her cheeks whenever they’re around others.
Sharing his part of the world with her these last six weeks have been pure bliss, and as she ambles her way back over to where he lays, he can’t help but be grateful for whatever led him to this - to her crawling back into bed and straight into his arms.
“I want you to teach me your language.” She mumbles into his chest, her body curved into his, legs tangling immediately as his arms circle around her.
“The language of love?” He asks with a wiggle of his brows, leaning in to kiss her lips, laughing against them as he feels them frown,
“Don’t be gross you know what I mean,” she sighs, lips fighting a smile, and he kisses her again, helping her hook her leg properly over his so she can straddle him, her bump settling between the two of them as she relaxes over his hips. “Swiss-German isn’t on Duolingo, I checked. And I can’t have you and Cheeto conspiring against me in words I don’t understand, that’s not fair.”
She looks so cute, all pouty and pleading, and as the gravity of what she’s asking weighs down on him, he breaks out into a dreamy smile, himself.
He can’t think of any other person who had wanted to speak his language. Too complicated for most, with too many dialects to grasp properly, he has always adapted to what the people around him need. English, back in the states, which he likes to think he has mastered by now, but he still trips up on the odd word, here and there.
Some Italian, some French. Odd bits of Czech and Swedish.
And German - he and Talia always spoke in plain German.
It had never really bothered him, until now - until he has a girl on his lap, willing to learn something for him, and so their daughter can learn it too - passing his culture down another generation and sharing it with the love of his life.
“What do you want to know?” He asks, hands on her hips as she runs hers along the broad expanse of his chest, fingers trailing on the little patch of hair on his chest that she’s always drawn too, holding him in place so she can lean in and kiss him, herself.
“Everything,” she whispers against his skin, lips pressing back to the corner of his mouth. “You can teach me, right?”
“Yeah,” he shuffles his hips beneath her so she rests a little more comfortably, “I can teach you.”
He reaches up to move her hair behind her neck, leaning to press a kiss on the bare skin there, edging the strap of her bra down so that he can mutter the word for shoulder against the curve of hers, and she repeats it back to him, breathy and distant.
He does the same along her collarbone, against her neck, nipping at her jaw and her cheek.
He distracts her with his teachings, and she relays each word back almost perfectly as he slowly repositions the two of them, laying her up against the pillows so she isn’t flat on her back, and pressing kisses down her body.
With fingers grasped firmly around her calf, he lifts her leg slowly so that he can perch it over his shoulder, pecking at the side of her knee and barely just making eye contact over the curve of her bump. “You’re a fast learner, Mohn,” he praises, fingers tickling up and down her leg as she straightens her back to try and watch him as his face moves upward. “Can you remember what shoulder was?”
“Not with you between my legs like that,” she huffs, her voice just above a whisper - too used to keeping her responses low whenever the two of them have been staying at his parent’s house instead of his apartment, too used to holding back and releasing frustrated groans into the broad expanse of his chest.
The two of them had gotten creative, most of their time spent around Nico’s friends and family, only a few days here and there alone in his apartment.
Quickies in the car, fumbling hands under tables, rushed kisses whenever they get a second to themselves. There had even been a time where Poppy sought him out in the sauna.
“Should you be in here?” He had asked, straightening on the bench and running a hand through his hair as she came in and shut the door behind her, eyes on his glistening chest as she slowly made her way forward.
“Google says I’m good for 10 minutes,” she shrugged, reaching back to untie the straps of her bikini top. “Figured you’re so riled up you’ll only need 2 anyway.”
He had been training with Luca most of the day, leaving Poppy to hang with his sister, and the two of them had spent the entire time they were apart texting each other teasing messages about how much they missed each other - but were staying with his family again, and so the outdoor sauna he and his brother had built in the garden a couple of years ago was probably their best bet for privacy at that point.
Nico’s eyes flickered to the clock above the door, making a mental note of the time so he could make sure she was out in 8 minutes max, before helping her guide herself onto his lap, giving into both of their frustrations for as long as Poppy’s Googling would allow them.
“You might have to teach me again when you get back from your trip.” She tells him, spreading her legs as much as she can to accommodate his figure. He’d feel guilty for leaving her behind with his family if she hadn’t been the one to push him to go away training for a week - him and Luca accepting after her insistence that she’d be fine in the company of his parents and his sister.
“We can do that,” he chuckles, his voice low, too. “And again the day after,” he kisses a little further up, twisting at her calf to reveal the inside of her thigh, “And the day after that,” and again, even further.
“Nico,” she sighs, face scrunching, eyes fluttering shut as he glances up at her one more time, his face concealed now by the curve of her belly and relying on her subdued sounds to gauge her pleasure.
Poppy’s back arches about as much as it can as Nico closes in on the apex of her thighs, a finger hooked through the bottom of her panties, pulling them to the side as he nips at the top of her thigh, anticipation building until her hand finds purchase on the back of his head.
He lays his tongue flat against her glistening folds, bringing it up to get a taste of the heaven between Poppy’s legs, and relies on her breathy gasps and the buck of her hips to guide him to pleasure her just how she likes, lips around the bundle of nerves that makes her jolt when he sucks a little too hard, moving slowly, teasingly at first before hunger takes over.
He can’t relent until he feels her legs trembling at either side of his head, Poppy’s body slithering beneath him as his tongue works between her folds, and he can taste nothing but her sweet arousal.
He almost loses himself in her before he distantly hears a whisper of his name, ears perking at the tone in her voice - not like the usual pleasured gasp or moan, just slightly off.
“Babe, stop,” Poppy whines, fingers clutched in his hair as he withdraws from her heat, pulling back enough to check on her over her belly.
“You okay?” He frowns, hand gripping her thigh, thumb rubbing soothingly as he takes in her frustrated expression.
“No,” she pouts, “I can’t see you. I don’t like not seeing you.”
Nico pokes his tongue to the side of his cheek to stop himself laughing, feeling her fingers loosen their grip on the strands of hair in their hold enough that he can sit up a little. “Do we need to get a little creative with mirrors, or something?”
“No, I need you to come up here.”
“But I like it down here.” He sighs in faux-protest, leaning his cheek against her knee as their gazes meet.
Poppy narrows her beautiful eyes at him, and there’s no stopping the smile after that. “My back hurts like this,” she huffs, “And I don’t want your mouth right now.”
“Well if you were patient, I would have used my fingers, too,” he chuckles, retreating entirely so he can crawl up the bed.
“Don’t want your fingers either.” She starts making grabby hands when he gets closer, until he follows her guidance, holding himself up to the side of her and letting her pull him in to press their lips together.
“Greedy,” he teases into her mouth, just as one of her hands drops to tug at the waistband of his boxers. He can’t blame her for wanting more, though - not with the way they’ve both been chasing every little pleasure where they can over the past 6 weeks, and not with how he’s set to spend a week away for training with his friends.
Poppy’s hormones are yet to dissipate, and all he wants is to please her, so he lets her pull at his underwear with ease, distracting him with the swipe of her tongue against his, and the soft little moans she lets into his mouth as he works at her underwear, himself.
“You wanna go on your side?” He mumbles between her lips, remembering the position they had ended up the last time, Poppy unable to lay on her back too long, and her bump now getting in the way if she wanted to straddle him. He was too nervous for her to get on all fours, despite her protests that she could handle not collapsing onto her front, and they had ended up spooning. He had enjoyed it way more than he ever thought he would if anyone had told him months ago that being behind her on his side would have become their default position.
“Mmhm,” she hums, nodding frantically as they position themselves, his hands guiding her to comfort as she lays on her side, hair tucked behind her ear so he can press his lips to the curve of her neck before sinking into her from behind, her back arched just right to make it easy for him.
“Fuck,” he groans under his breath as he pushes himself in to the hilt, Poppy squeaking, her arm bent back and nails digging into his shoulder, “You feel so good, baby.”
She feels tight and warm around him, in a way that makes him feel like his head might explode in pure bliss, and he presses his chest straight to her back. Their skin sticks together with perspiration, clamminess building as he starts to move, and her head falls back, baring the elongated slope of her neck for him to bury his nose into.
She smells so good, even after a full night tossing and turning in his arms, and the ever-present scent of his body wash lingers in the depths of her skin, Nico inhaling fully as her hips press back onto his, a slow rhythm building.
He holds himself up with an elbow against the mattress, his other arm curling over her waist, hand reaching between her legs to rub at her clit, slick with arousal and swollen from his previous attention to it, causing her legs to tremble again.
Her arm tangles with his, nails scraping at his skin, pushing to apply more pressure where she needs it the most, and he grunts lowly into her neck, nipping at her skin and lifting his chin every now and then to gauge her response to his ministrations.
He can see her jaw slack, head craned back, lashes fluttering in blissed-out euphoria as she grows closer to her peak - and Nico is so in tune with her now that he feels like he’s there with her. A night pressed against her, and his previous stint between her legs already adding to his pleasure, and he can feel the tell-tale tension in the pit of his stomach, muscles in his thighs growing taut as he kicks up his pace a little, Poppy quietly moaning like music to his ears.
“You gonna come, huh?” He asks in a breathy growl, lips moving against the sensitive skin of her neck, “Can feel you getting close, baby, you’re so good for me.”
Nico can never forget the way such praise had made her cheeks flush all those months ago, the first time they had ever slept together - the night their baby girl had been conceived, and their lives had been set to change forever. He’s always seeking that same reaction, that glint in her eye and the stutter of her hips - and she always gives him just what he wants, walls tightening around him in a mind-numbing pressure, thighs shivering, spine curving, all muscles tensing as she falls apart. And he soon follows, coming inside of her like he’s all too used to now, teeth pressed into her shoulder and chest panting against her back.
The arm she had intertwined with his soon untangles itself to reach back and stroke through his hair as he comes down, scratching at his scalp as she gets her own breath back.
He brings his hand up to his mouth to clean his fingers of her arousal before he goes back to rest his hands against her belly, still inside her until he softens, pressing soft kisses to her skin until she giggles a little when it tickles, and the vibrations of her laughter force him to pull out before he starts to grow hard again.
He does so with a grunt and a hand on her hip, rolling out of the bed and toward the bathroom to get a cloth to clean her up, returning to her blissed out form splayed out on the mattress.
He bites back a smile as their eyes meet, edging her legs apart so he can wipe between them, swiping softly at her sensitive folds and watching her smile sleepily back at him as her chest rises and falls in laboured breaths.
“Thank you,” she sighs, blinking slowly, and he feels his cheeks push into a dimpled grin as he watches her - completely lost in the afterglow.
“You don’t have to thank me, baby,” he throws the cloth over to the nightstand, crawling up Poppy’s body to press his lips to hers.
“You make me really happy.”
He smiles, slow but big, eyes tracing the way hers crinkle a little in the corners. “You make me happy too.”
“I said really happy.”
“You make me the happiest man in the world.”
“That’s better.” She bumps her nose against his before kissing him again. “You’re a quick learner, too.”
He chuckles against the corner of her mouth, pressing one more sweet kiss there before pushing himself up, looking around the floor for his pants. “Why don’t you take a shower and I’ll bring you some breakfast? Make you really really happy,”
“Or we could eat together and you could shower with me? We could have some more fun-,”
“I’m not falling for that again, babe, you don’t want to have fun, you want me to wash your hair because your arms ache.”
He’s been lured into the shower one too many times over the past 6 weeks with the promise of a good time, only for Poppy to claim they couldn’t get too frisky and risk slipping, so he may as well put his hands to good use and shampoo her hair - guiding him on where she liked him to apply pressure until he was pretty much giving her a scalp massage.
Poppy pouts, sinking back against the pillows as she watches him hop into his underwear, pulling the briefs until the waistband snaps against his hips, her eyes following them all the way up his legs. “I thought you loved me.”
His laughter bubbles all the way up from the pit of his stomach, swirling with adoration and amusement.
“And now you’re laughing. Unbelievable.” She scoffs, feigning irritation with a telltale quiver at the corner of her lips. “Do I need to remind you that you’re going away for a whole week tomorrow? Living it up with your buddies and leaving me in the dust. I’m owed like 2 more orgasms at least before then.”
“I’ll give you three tonight, I promise.” He leans in again, thinking he’ll never make it out of the room at this point, Poppy having the most kissable lips in the entire universe. “We’ll figure out the mirror thing, so you can see me better between your legs.”
She hums against his mouth as she kisses him once more before asking, “Can you make me avocado toast please?”
“And a smoothie?” He asks, stepping away so that he isn’t drawn back in until mid-day.
She nods, a pretty smile stretching out across her swollen lips, watching as he walks backward towards the door. He keeps his eyes on her until he closes the door behind him, making his way through his family home with a smile that won’t give, feeling confident in his previous sentiment uttered to her.
Nico Hischier might just be the happiest man in the world.
Nico had thought being away from Poppy for a whole week would have been torturous - that he would be counting down the hours until he could get back to her, distant from his friends and hating every second apart - but it had almost been the opposite of that, and he only had her to thank.
He thinks that maybe 6 weeks of living out the dream life with her, and knowing that would be exactly what he was returning to, allowed him to enjoy his week away - even though it wasn’t exactly a break.
His off-season training had kicked up a gear while he was away, and he was thankful that he didn’t have to mope around missing her all the time and could concentrate a little on his gruelling routine.
They FaceTimed every morning, and every night before she went to sleep. Texted throughout the day, sending pictures back and forth of what each other got up to - Poppy spending her days with his parents and his sister, being doted on by his entire family in his absence, in ways that made his heart grow ten-fold, and his days spent training, lifting, running, hiking, doing all sorts of activities that he would send her several videos of and she would respond with some crazy comment that made him laugh out loud.
She never made him feel guilty for being away from her - never made it seem like she felt like second best to his schedule, or his career, or the season looming in the background of their relationship. She never complained about him not being around, only ever gushed about who was back home with her - telling him how much she loved hanging around with Nina, who was back in Switzerland taking her on spa trips and exploring the city with her, teaching her about their hometown and filling in all the blanks that Nico had yet to clue her in on.
And he was getting chirped like hell for walking around with a constant dopey smile on his face - something he should know better by now than to do on a boys trip, but he was long past caring.
He had the girl of his dreams blending in with the family he loved more than anything, and a little girl on the way - his best friend and brother rallying the boys to poke fun at him at the dinner table could do nothing to diminish the flame that was fuelled within him.
“I’m on my own when we get back to Jersey, even Nico’s wifed off, now,” Timo jokes as they sit around a large restaurant table on their last night of their trip, his big arm resting on the back of his chair as he sips on his beer.
“You’re getting married, too?” Their friend Leo asks, brows raised as the influx of new information hits him all at once. “You guys don’t tell me anything!”
“It’s just a saying,” Nico scoffs, his bottle pressed to his lips before he takes a swig, “We’re not engaged.”
“Yet.” Luca adds, “I give him a month before he asks her, though. You should see him around her, he’s obsessed.”
“It won’t be a month,” he denies, ignoring the second half of the sentence, completely - there’s really no point denying that anymore, “I’d have to get her dad’s permission or whatever, and her parents sort of hate me.”
Timo barks out a laugh from across the table, “Oh yeah, he yelled at her dad!”
“You yelled at someone?”
“I didn’t yell,” he frowns, the word starting to lose all meaning with its overuse. “I just called him out over something. And, to be honest, I think he might have liked me more after that.”
Nico doesn’t really like looking back on that first night at the Jensen house - there was probably no preparing him for what he was walking into, and, entirely overwhelmed by the grandeur of it all, he had lost his head. But their family dynamic was difficult.
He had witnessed it only in short bursts, before - had seen Poppy around her mom a few times, had met her dad once before that in passing - and being immersed in it, being looked down on by her mother all day, overshadowed by her brother, ignored by her father, watching the whole conversation around their pregnancy unfold at the dinner table, tensions high and emotions rampant, he had let his frustrations build to the point of boiling over.
When Poppy’s brother had first started berating her, he had tried to write it off in his head as sibling banter of sorts. He and his siblings were never quite as cruel, but he knows sometimes brothers and sisters bicker like Poppy and Oli had - biting remarks and words intended to hurt. Then, it had spiralled.
He’s seen Poppy stick up for herself, before, but he’s never experienced her blow up like that. And he had understood it completely, considering he was reaching the brink of eruption, himself - and that’s not taking into account her heightened pregnancy hormones.
He had felt protective, and even upset, himself, that this thing his family had embraced with open arms, had celebrated at time where he and Poppy needed it the most, that was turning his life around in all the best possible ways, was being rained on by the rest of them, and when Poppy had stormed off, and her mom had followed, he couldn’t sit there in silence and not say something.
What kind of partner would that have made him?
“I think you underestimate her.” He had said, quiet but firm, as silence settled over the table in Poppy’s absence.
The reactions had been slow, a gradual raise of Oli’s head, matching that of his wife, beside him, who pressed her lips together to hide what Nico hoped was a smile, and the prolonged lowering of cutlery from her father.
“Excuse me?” Philip asked, leaning onto his elbows. “What did you say?”
“Poppy,” Nico clarified, “I don’t think that any of you really understand what she’s capable of.”
“That’s my daughter you’re talking about, I think I of all people understand-,”
“She’s really smart,” Nico had interjected before he lost the courage to do so, ignoring the twinge in his gut that told him to calm down, that he shouldn’t be risking his relationship with the future grandfather of his baby like this. “And really independent, and she somehow always knows what to do if you drop her into the middle of a really tough situation. If you could see her at work, you’d get it, people go to Poppy to fix things and for her to help them, and support them, and she always does it because that’s the kind of person she is.”
Neither of them had seemed to react, but had been so far into hyping himself up to let all of his thoughts out that he doesn’t think he would have noticed if they had.
“You guys might not see it because you only see her as your daughter, or your little sister, but she is the strongest person I know. She’s an incredible woman, and she’s going to be an even better mother, and she deserves, more than anybody else, for her family to have her back right now.”
“It was just a joke, man,” Oli had scoffed, “It’s not that serious.”
“It is to her. She spent the entire ride here talking about you guys, about your family and everything you’ve built for yourself in California,” Nico had nodded to her brother, remembering all the ways Poppy had hidden her admiration for him behind sarcastic comments - even before the drive from Jersey City, over the years where she had opened up to him about her family, he had always seen a small dash of affection for her older brother - before turning to her dad, “And everything you’ve achieved, sir, everything you’ve built for yourself, and for your kids. She just wants to be seen as an equal, and I think if either of you actually noticed her, you’d see just what she’s capable of, and you wouldn’t make digs at her,” he had narrowed his eyes at Oli, “Or sit in silence while others make her feel like crap.” He hadn’t quite been able to meet Mr Jensen’s eye, but he felt a little relieved that he had managed to say what he needed. “You’re both supposed to have her back.”
Neither of them had come back to him after that, tensions rising once more in the growing silence, the hammering of his heart and the rush of blood to his head the only thing he could hear before he had excused himself, and had ascended through the house to find Poppy in her room.
He hadn’t told Poppy at the time what he had said - he felt no need to do so, it wouldn’t have changed anything, and might have made her upset or even more stressed, which he never wanted to do. But Philip had changed after - had made more efforts to be there for Poppy, to get to know Nico, and the two of them had even gotten onto texting terms.
So he doesn’t necessarily think that her parents hate him, but it’s definitely too soon to be asking for their daughter’s hand in marriage, even if it feels like the right thing to do.
Even if the thought of it has started to keep him awake at night, as Poppy tosses and turns to get comfortable beside him. Even if he finds himself stroking at the bare surface of her ring finger when they hold hands, and introducing her to others as his wife in a language she doesn’t fully grasp - pretending it’s a joke she isn’t clued in on, when really it feels more like a manifestation.
He twirls the ring she had gifted him on his own ring finger, the weight of it especially present in the midst of this conversation, frowning as Timo levels him with a stern look.
“You know that getting her dad’s permission isn’t like the law or anything right?”
He does know that. If he’s honest, he knows he’s using it as an excuse, too - but admitting to that at dinner with the boys feels like he’s setting himself up for an entire night of chirps.
He and Poppy have only technically been together for a couple months, and most of that time had already been spent apart. When he had asked her to move in, she had taken offence at him only asking due to the convenience of it all, and he half expects the same if he gets down on one knee.
He can hear her already, some muttering of, you only want to marry me because I’m having your baby, when that couldn’t be further from the truth.
When Nico pictures his future, he pictures Poppy.
Everything revolves around Poppy.
And yeah, their baby girl plays a big factor in that - seeing Poppy as a mother, raising their daughter together, providing a happy, stable home for her to thrive in. But it’s so much more than that, too.
It’s her being his partner. Waking up to her, tracing over the soft curve of her lips as she rouses from sleep, and knowing, as sure of anything in his heart, that no day can ever be bad if it starts out like that.
Feeling secure in his job, despite all the times in his life he has felt anything but, and knowing that he can succumb to the pressure of it all without having to worry about her bailing. She has his back in ways no body ever has before. She understands the demand of his career, the fact that he isn’t available at all hours of the day to her every need - but she can take care of herself. She would rather do so, and she doesn’t make him feel guilty for the fact that sometimes his schedule takes priority - because the times that he can prioritise her are valued in ways that he never thought he could provide - not if anybody asked any of his exes, at least.
She understands his role as a captain, how he has to be there for the guys, understands his love for doing so, and has never in their entire relationship, made him feel like it’s a burden, or that she feels neglected because of it.
Even before they crossed the boundaries of something more. When they were just friends - as if they were ever just anything - and he could vent all of his worries and stresses to her, and she’d talk him out of ever seeing the negatives.
She has some sort of superpower, he thinks, for turning things around like that, and he wants to bask in the glory of it for the rest of his life.
He wants that warm feeling that floods his chest at the thought of going home to her after a long day to never go away.
And he knows that it isn’t a chunk of metal around her finger, or signatures on paper, that solidifies that.
But he wants it, all the same.
“I don’t know, we haven’t been together that long.”
Timo barks out a laugh, and a couple other guys at the table raise their brows.
“Do you know when I first got to Jersey, Siegs was the one who introduced me to Poppy? You know what he said?”
Nico shakes his head, a crease forming between his brows as he frowns at his friend.
“He points at her from across the room, we were at a bar, the one near his place, he says that’s Poppy, and I look over and I think, whoa, she’s gorgeous, maybe I will like it here,” Nico narrows his eyes as Timo recalls the story, his hands unintentionally balling into fists below the table, “And before I can even get a word out, he goes, Nico’s Poppy. He told me not to even think about it.”
“We weren’t in a relationship, though.” He argues, despite the way his lips twist into an almost-smile, one trying to hide itself from prying eyes. He does quite like the ring of that. Nico’s Poppy.
It reflects that base level possessiveness he feels when he looks at her - the way he’s probably felt since the day they met, sharing a bond he had never really shared with anyone else. Feeling jealous when any of the other guys would talk to her alone, as petty as it might have been, and only ever wanting her attention on him.
“You’ve always been in something with her,” Timo shrugs, “There’s no point delaying the inevitable if it means you get to make sure she’s your Poppy forever.”
“We don’t have to be married for her to be mine.”
He does feel comfortable knowing that - feels sure and safe in their dynamic, now - knowing the life they share, the home they share, the baby they’re so close to bringing into this world together. Knowing how much she loves him, how much she’s willing to be there for him, even when he feels like he isn’t enough for her.
He’s never felt so secure in a relationship in his life, and he doesn’t need to force either of them into marriage when they’ve never really had that conversation - even if the few times he’s attempted to joke about it, she has been receptive.
“I don’t know why you’re trying to talk yourself out of it.” Luca chimes in from the side of Nico, “You’re never gonna find anybody more perfect for you. I think our parents like her more than they even like us at this point,” he tells the rest of the table, swatting at his little brother’s shoulder, before reaching for his beer.
“Yeah,” Nico sighs with a smile, knowing already there’s no one more perfect for him - he’s only been cursing himself all summer for not coming to that conclusion much sooner. “Mom will probably already have asked her for me while she’s been with her this week.”
He knows he’s delaying the inevitable, trying to pretend that marriage isn’t what he wants right now with Poppy - he had pictured it the second she told him she was pregnant, his life flashing before his eyes in home-movie-esque glimpses, babies, and white dresses, and a big house with a nice plot of land in the back for him to build a tree house like in the movies.
He knows, too, deep down, that there is the slimmest possible chance of rejection. She loves him. She shows him every day just how much - and she’s been so willing, so far, to fit herself into his life in whatever way is easiest.
He knows when he sees her, tomorrow, that the thought of dropping to one knee as soon as his eyes lock on her will cross his mind.
And he thinks when he does get back, after a week of chirps about being wifed off, he might just test the waters.
Nico doesn’t think he’s ever had a quicker flight than the one he and Luca took back from Tenerife. From check-in, to boarding, to the plane ride, itself, he felt like he had blinked and landed back on home soil, heart beating that little bit quicker in anticipation of seeing Poppy - of his eyes laying on that perfect bump for the first time in a week and catching the slightest difference, making up for lost time while they can in the privacy of their apartment before they spend the week with his brother and sister.
The train ride from the airport flies by too - Nico feeling excitement akin to when he was younger, and his dad would take him and Luca to go practice at their local rink, and he was at a point in his life that he loved nothing more than hockey, wanted nothing more than to don his skates and play to his heart’s content.
He feels that way about Poppy, now, he thinks.
Like she’s something he can dream toward - push and strive to keep her in his life for as long as he possibly can.
It feels like the blink of an eye before he’s putting his key in the door of the apartment, pushing in with his case following behind him, discarded in the entryway as he steps though the hall in search of her.
“Baby, are you home?” He calls, his heart thumping as he waits to catch his first proper glimpse of her in a week.
“In the kitchen!” She calls back, voice like his favourite song, and when he steps into the room he sees her by the oven, prepping for dinner. When she had first offered to pick him up from the train station, he had joked that he didn’t trust her driving alone on European roads, but the truth of it was that he felt better coming home to her - where she was safe, and he wasn’t putting her out just so that he could selfishly see her sooner.
And seeing her there, in the heart of the apartment he had bought last summer, when the idea of her ever being in it was nothing but a dream, swollen and round and growing their baby, he thinks that reality is more than worth the wait.
“Hey,” he sidles up behind her, arms placed on either side of her body on the counter as she chops at some peppers. Poppy angles her head so that he can press his usual kiss to her cheek, and Nico feels it puff up with a smile.
She smells clean and fresh, like home, like a mixture of the detergent she uses on their sheets, and his body wash that she still likes to steal, and he swipes his nose at her flesh as he takes a prolonged inhale of her skin, filling his lungs with the familiarity of it and making up for the days he spent away.
“Hi,” she turns back enough that he can press a kiss to her swollen lips, slow and sweet, “I figured you’d be beat when you got home so I ran you a bath, I only just shut it off like 2 minutes ago.”
He kind of likes how there isn’t a big fuss about him coming home - likes that she’s welcoming him back like it hasn’t been almost a week, and it diminishes the guilt he had been feeling for leaving her behind at all. It reinforces the thoughts he’s always had - that Poppy makes everything easy.
She puts the knife down and turns in his arms when he kisses her again, and his hand swipes from the curve of her belly to the small of her back, keeping her stomach pressed to his.
“You’re too good to me,” he mumbles before his lips touch hers again, nose bumping teasingly at hers when she starts to chase him for more. “There’s room in that tub for 3, you know.”
“It’s supposed to be for you to relax,” she tells him as her hands travel the broad expanse of his chest, sweeping to his shoulders and down the width of his arms that are circled around her. “And I’ll have dinner ready for when you get out.”
“Trust me, Mohn,” he hums, his hands travelling slowly down her sides, “That is my idea of relaxing.” And then he leans down to hook an arm behind her knees, lifting her before she has a chance to protest, all too prepared after a week of training to carry her down the hall toward the bathroom, making sure she isn’t too curled up that it’s uncomfortable with her bump. “Dinner can wait.”
“You missed me that much, huh?” She giggles as he sends a gentle kick to the door, letting it swing open before he steps into the room. “You gonna have me sit on your lap while we eat, too?”
“Yeah, you can feed me if you want,” he laughs as he places her on the counter in the bathroom, her legs parting immediately for him to slot himself between them. “And I missed you more than it might be healthy to admit.”
“I missed you too,” Poppy smiles softly, hands reaching up to tuck the grown out flicks of hair behind his ears as his own hands place themselves on either side of her hips, “Appreciated all those sweaty workout videos you sent me though, definitely made up for you being gone.”
“Thought they might,” Nico chuckles as he starts working at undressing her, sliding her shorts down her legs and throwing them into the hamper. “Appreciated that video you sent me of your belly moving like something out of Alien.”
“She’ll probably start up soon, she likes to move while I’m eating now, she keeps getting the hiccups, it’s quite cute.”
Nico leans down once he’s lifted the big t-shirt that covers Poppy’s torso, and while she works it off, he presses a soft kiss to her bare belly, nudging the curve of it with his nose before he stands to his usual height and starts to work his own clothes off. He can feel the heat of her gaze as he steps out of his underwear, and it prickles at his skin like a lingering longing, like the way his own feelings have lingered over the past week.
A week where he had pushed forward on the sheer thought of Poppy, and now that she’s in front of him, those thoughts swirl into something overwhelming.
He offers her a hand to help her down from the counter, and guides her toward the tub, the water still hot, but not scolding, on it’s way to tepid as he steps in and positions himself toward the back. He holds her steady as she steps over the edge, and sinks down as she lowers herself, her bump making it difficult to do so with ease, but he spreads his legs for her to sink back into him, and he soon feels her relax with her back to his front.
“Does it hurt,” he mutters with his limbs curved around hers, “When she moves a lot?”
He had noticed before he left that things had become a little more difficult for Poppy - sleeping, staying on her feet for extended periods - and when she had sent him a video of movements she could see through her belly, he had thought it seemed uncomfortable, but she just shrugs against him.
“It’s just weird, I guess,” she sighs, muscles seeming to melt against him. “Depends how she’s positioned, she was playing my ribs like a xylophone the other day, that wasn’t fun.”
Nico smiles, hand coming around her front to caress her belly, rubbing gentle circles into her soft skin. “Where is she now?”
“I think her butt is at the front,” her hand rests on top of his, moving it up a little, and a bit more to the side, “She’s gonna give me hell later, I can feel it.”
“Maybe she’ll behave now that her daddy’s home,” he mutters, his lips falling by instinct to kiss at Poppy’s bare shoulder before he hooks his chin over it, “Maybe she missed me too.”
“She definitely missed you. She practically did somersaults every time you came up in conversation.”
“My girl,” he smiles into Poppy’s neck, “Did she kick for Nina yet?”
“Oh yeah,” she laughs, her hand moving to trail up and down Nico’s leg beside her, “She jumped around so much in there that I learned a new word while you were gone.”
“From Nina?”
“Häsli,” she says with perfect, practiced pronunciation.
“Little bunny,” Nico chuckles, both hands patting at the bump where his daughter rests. “I like it.”
“Good, ‘cause your parents have started calling her it, too. No respect for Cheeto around here.”
Nico finds himself melting in ways he didn’t think he needed to - an ache so present in his bones he hadn’t even realised it was there, all of a sudden fading to nothing as he sits in the tepid, soapy water with his girls in front of him. Poppy absentmindedly uses her fingers to trickle droplets down his calves, and makes space for him to rest his head in the space where her neck and shoulder meets.
“Who’s the better teacher?” He asks, looking up and watching as the width of her cheeks puff out into a close-lipped smile.
“Well, you have an automatic advantage, considering I can’t ask your sister to teach me all the dirty stuff.”
“Is that all I’m good for, the dirty stuff?”
“I’m yet to be able to hold a conversation that has nothing to do with body parts, so you tell me.”
“Yeah, well the more you learn, the less I get away with, so we might have to put a pause on the lessons.”
“And what is it you think you’ve been getting away with?” Poppy asks, twisting a little so she can look back at him, and it’s when her eyes meet his that Nico feels some warped sense of security wash over him. He hadn’t planned on bringing this up, especially not so soon after coming back from his trip, but it just feels right.
And it’s better to get it out of the way sooner - where better to test the waters than in the bathtub?
“Whenever we meet someone, I’ve been introducing you as my wife,” he admits, cheek pressed to her shoulder blade as he looks up at her through thick lashes.
Her lips twist in amusement, eyes shimmering in the warm light of the bathroom, and it seems like she’s biting back a smile at the revelation. His heartbeat steadies just a little. “Oh really? How have you been getting around the distinct lack of a ring on my finger?”
“I tell them your hands are too swollen to wear it,” he admits, taking a hand from her belly to pick up her left one.
Her smile fades slowly as she glances down, his fingers squeezing a little at the one closest to her pinky. “Wait, you’re serious?”
“Very.”
“What about-,” she starts, and before she can glance back, Nico lifts his own left hand in anticipation of what she’s about to ask, the signet ring she had gifted him when she first came overseas, that she hasn’t even noticed for as long as they’ve been together out here, sitting comfortably on his own ring finger. “Oh.”
“I can get you your own, if you want,” he tries, trying not to hold his breath as he makes the suggestion - makes light of it, even, just to test her reaction. Her face is angled forward as she looks down at his finger, and her own hand twists to fiddle with the ring that sits there, so he can’t exactly see what she’s thinking. “I know you said you already had one, but-,”
“Just to sell the story better?” She asks, still looking at his hand.
“Or because I’m in love with you,” he pouts, his lips moving against her skin as he speaks, anticipating a rejection of sorts - although he still feels the lax press of her spine to his chest. She hasn’t gone rigid, hasn’t recoiled from his touch - their bodies are still merged together in the tight space, and a part of him feels better for it.
She turns, finally, levelling him with a look that has her gaze flickering between his eyes, like she’s trying to read his mind.
“You better not be proposing to me in the bathtub,” she frowns, “You can’t ask someone for their hand in marriage within 6 feet of a toilet, Nico, that’s definitely an unwritten rule.”
He feels something dissolve in his chest as it bubbles with affection, spreading through his bloodstream and directing itself to every corner of his body - joyous laughter rippling up his throat and spilling out into her neck.
“Why are you laughing?” She giggles, her body shaking against his in the most delightful way, “I’m dead serious, anywhere but the bathroom, please.”
“Okay,” he chuckles, wanting nothing more than to lean up and press his lips to her beautiful smile. “I’ll bare that in mind.”
“You do that.”
I will, he thinks, taking that as her confirmation.
Not in the bathtub is a far cry from not ever.
Maybe Timo was right - as much as it pains Nico to think - maybe she has always been his Poppy, and maybe, if he can find the right time and place to ask, she always will be.
Poppy
Last year, Poppy’s summer had felt like the longest of her life.
She had worked all the way through to Mid-July - choosing to work around the summer programmes that were run through the Foundation had taken up most of her time, and she would rather have taken the extra pay than mope around thinking about how everyone else was spending their time off.
Ever since college, she and Nia would spend their weekends together in the summer - and that worked the same last year, with both of them still working in Jersey and having their family nearby. It worked for their other friends too - until their lives away from the group started to take priority, and their group became whittled down to just the two best friends.
Friend group outings had become a rare occurrence, and so when they did happen, they were quite the spectacle - weekend trips down to Atlantic City, or bagging invites to parties the girls really had no business being - like rooftop bars in Manhattan, where a player from the Giants was throwing a party, and their friend Kelsey’s boyfriend, Liam, had somehow secured their names on the list.
Poppy and Nia always got ready together - reminiscent of their teenage years, blasting music through the speakers in Poppy’s bedroom and letting Nia raid her closet while she did her makeup.
“We’re gonna need to prep Els on how to be cool, she can’t be asking for players to sign her napkin so she can frame it for Jensen.” Nia called as she came out of Poppy’s closet, shrugging into the strappy sleeves of a mini dress she had borrowed, pulling her hair from getting tangled beneath the arms.
“Elsie’s not coming,” Poppy replied absentmindedly, a small, soft brush sweeping pigment across her eyelid, “It’s just me, you and Kels,”
“What? Why?” Nia had whined, zipping her dress up behind her back. “Did her sitter bail?”
“This stays between me and you, but she’s pregnant again,” Poppy told her, relaying the cliff-notes version of the hour-long conversation she had had with her cousin earlier that day. “So no more girls nights with her for a while.”
“Poor girl,” Nia huffed, falling back onto Poppy’s bed so that she could put her heels on, “I can’t think of anything worse than being pregnant right now, I’m in my prime, I’m not letting anyone dislodge my organs. Nothing is worth that kind of damage.”
“Gross” Poppy shuddered, the thought of having a baby and her age sending literal shivers down her spine. “But same. I’m so far off of being ready to be a parent, it isn’t even funny.”
She had weirdly enough been thinking a lot about what her life was turning out to be around that time - spearing straight for her 25th birthday and feeling the daunting pressure of a looming quarter-life crisis, she had put some thought at least into the traditional stuff.
But babies hadn’t been at the forefront of her mind.
“Plus, it’s hard enough to find a remotely decent guy to go on one singular date with, never mind raise a child. Elsie got lucky with Jared.”
“Right,” Nia had scoffed half-heartedly, ambling up behind Poppy and finishing off the curls in her hair. There had been a look in her eyes - dismissive and evasive - that had caught Poppy’s attention.
“What’s the look for?”
“Nothing,” Nia shrugged, lips turned down in denial and continuing to work at her best friend’s hair. “Just think that for you of all people, it’s not that hard to find somebody decent.”
Poppy frowned, watching Nia behind her, trying to think of a single guy she had ever dated or spoken to that had garnered her approval.
She had always been supportive of Poppy, knowing that if she were to start something up with a guy, it would be after a lot of thought and meticulous research - Poppy rarely dated, and if she did, it mostly didn’t work because she wasn’t that good at it. She was always so focused on work, and her friends, that trying to make time for anybody outside of all that just felt exhausting.
Guys usually ended up breaking things off with her, telling her they could tell her heart wasn’t in it, and Nia would always curse them whenever Poppy relayed it back to her, but there was always that look - like she knew something Poppy didn’t.
“You’ve literally watched my every attempt at a relationship crash and burn, Ni,” she narrowed her eyes, “I don’t get what part of my dating life seems easy to you.”
“The part where you have a ready made relationship just waiting for you to press the start button.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Nico,” Nia said, like it had been the most obvious answer in the world.
The last thing Poppy had wanted to think about - again - was Nico.
She had been trying to think of anything but since he had left Jersey, but everything unfortunately was starting to remind her of him, just as they did every other summer.
Walks in the sun, passing places they would always go together - snapping a picture of a coffee from her favourite shop and thinking of who she could send it to instead of him. Running their shared route, soft breeze running through her hair as she jogged through the park, playing music in her headphones that he had once recommended.
It had been hard to shake him off - but she had grown to be good at it over the years.
Nia bringing him up had been new - unexpected - and wasn’t contributing to the routine of forgetting he existed until he would come back to New Jersey in September.
“The second that one of you makes a move, you’re literally ready to go with the perfect man.”
“I’m not gonna be in a relationship with Nico,” Poppy snickered, trying to find humour in what nonsense her best friend was coming up with.
She didn’t have a ready to go relationship with Nico Hischier. They were friends. That was all they would ever be.
And not only had she told Nia that a hundred times before, she also knew that Nico had said the same - shrugging off jokes made in front of the two of them and smiling awkwardly at Poppy whenever anyone had dared to make a comment on their friendship being anything other than just that.
“We don’t even talk for like 4 months out of the year,” Poppy frowned, referring to the routine Nico had adopted over the years, of returning home to Switzerland for the summers, and leaving his friendship with Poppy behind - only communicating through social media likes and odd messages in the same conversation thread within a wider group chat.
She had never really minded it - not to the point of moping - but she had always wished things could be just a little different on that front.
“I don’t get why you guys don’t just text each other,” Nia rolled her eyes as she ran the barrel of the curling iron down the lengths of Poppy’s hair, eyes meeting hers in the reflection of the mirror. “You act like you’re not allowed to cross his mind all summer, it’s stupid, no offence.”
“He deserves a break, Ni,” Poppy had shrugged, “From everything, especially after how the season ended, I’m just a reminder of his life here, and he probably wants to escape that.”
“I don’t think he means you when he says those sorts of things, babe,” she responded, letting the curl drop into her free hand and scrunching it until it cooled down.
“How did we even get onto this?”
“Because I’ve been looking for an opportunity to bring it up, duh,” Nia jested, “C’mon, just reach out. It doesn’t have to be a text, what was the last thing he posted on his instagram stories? Just reply to that.”
Poppy’s lips twisted, her phone feeling increasingly heavy in her grip as she weighed her options up.
For as long as she had known him, her and Nico would never really talk over the summer. She lived her life, and he lived his, away from the Devils, away from The Rock, and it had worked well, for the most part.
Sure, a part of her always missed him. A part of her would watch his stories over, would think about what his life in Switzerland looked like, and if she could ever possibly fit into it - but another part, a larger part, would suppress all that. Push her feelings back down until they were nothing - shut away behind some barricaded door in the back of her mind.
It was weird, she thought, how much they flourished in his absence - thoughts she wouldn’t usually spare dedicated to him. Especially now that Nia was bringing it up out of nowhere.
Her perceptive best friend suggesting there could ever have been something more was sparking a flame within her she had long tried to put out. But it wasn’t entirely Nia’s doing - there had been embers floating around her subconscious for a while, now.
She blamed that night in Finnegan’s Bar, not long before he had left.
Cuddled up to him in that booth, comfortable in the lingering silence, the steady beat of his heart below her hand. She had thought, at the end of that night, that something might have been different - and she realised that had probably been why she was thinking about him more that summer.
Poppy unlocked her phone and brought up her Instagram, scrolling through the stories on the home page until she saw his picture.
“It’ll probably be some workout video, I can’t reply to that, he’s gonna think I’m thirsty.”
“You are,” Nia had jibed, “Pop, honey, you either gotta put up or shut up. If you’re not gonna reach out, I don’t wanna hear any more of your whining about him for the rest of the month.”
“You brought him up,” Poppy frowned, “Please be kinder to me when you have hot tools in your hands, you’re giving me anxiety.”
“Whatever, I’m gonna get another drink before we go, do you want one?”
“I’m good,” Poppy smiled, watching her best friend put the curling iron down safely on the heat-proof mat on her dresser and make her way out of the bedroom and through to the kitchen.
Her thumb had hovered on her screen for a good minute before she pressed down, biting the bullet and viewing his most recent story with bated breath.
There were a few of them - it seemed like he was out with friends - probably-drunken selfies and videos of a DJ at some club - but the last photo was the one that caught her attention, properly.
Nico with his arms around a girl - a gorgeous girl, sharp features, perfect hair, piercing eyes, a killer smile - and his lips pressed to her temple.
She had let the photo time out before it shrunk away into his private profile, and she had felt like time had stopped in place after that - until the sound of Nia’s heels clicking back down the hallway caught her attention.
“I know you said no but I made mine too strong so I had to pour it out a little and make two,” she had said as she entered the room, Poppy locking her phone and turning it face down before she could see.
“Thanks,” she had accepted the drink with a smile, gulping it down in the hopes that the liquor might have burned through some of the growing ache in her chest.
“Damn girl,” Nia had scoffed, “Thought you were good?”
“I realised I should drink for two, considering Elsie can’t anymore.”
“Good point! We should both do that, show our solidarity for the cause.”
“Exactly. Getting shit-faced is what she’d want us to do in her honour.”
Nia glanced down at Poppy’s downturned phone - a look Poppy wouldn’t have caught if she wasn’t nervously watching her best friend in the hopes that she, for once in her life, wouldn’t be so perceptive.
“I’ll have a baby with you.”
Poppy laughed, right from the depths of her chest, tension easing from her shoulders as she shook her head.
“I don’t want a baby,” she declined, rolling her eyes and standing up, “I want to get drunk on rooftop bars with my friends and NFL players and eat as much deli meat and cheese as my body can handle for as long as it can handle it.”
“That sounds like a plan.”
Poppy didn’t know at the time why that picture on Nico's story had felt like a kick to the gut, but she had swallowed down her hurt and smiled, tight lipped, at her best friend.
Getting wasted and forgetting about Nico for the rest of the summer - that had sounded like a plan.
Looking back on last summer, Poppy barely recognises her old life. Rooftop parties with endless cocktails, tiny dresses and high heels and hair that didn’t fall flat and frizzy the second she blinked too hard at it in the mirror.
She can barely remember being able to look down at her thighs without being sat down.
The only thing that remains the same is finding time to lounge around on the beach. Growing up, spending her time on Jersey beaches - her family renting a house in Mantoloking most years, or making the trip down to Ocean City and Cape May with her girls when she was old enough - had become a staple for her, and she has been so thankful that it’s something her and Nico share a love of.
She’s adored her summer in Switzerland, so far - as far away from expectations as it might yet have been.
She hadn’t expected to get such little one-on-one time with Nico, but she can hardly complain - not when his family and friends have all welcomed her with such open arms. It’s something so new to her too, getting to do everything in a group, bonding with more than just Nico, sharing parts of herself and her life beyond what she has only ever shared with him before, and she’s never really felt so at home with such a close-knit family.
She watches sports on the couch with his dad, goes to the grocery store with his mom, plays cards out on the deck with his brother, spends as much time with his sister as she would with Nia back home in Jersey, and she gets Nico to herself at night, or on the rare couple of days in a row they’ll stay in his apartment closer to the city.
But she loves this - being so close with everyone. Loves it so much that she doesn’t really care that it isn’t just her and Nico, she doesn’t really want it to be.
Katja helps her through the rough stages of her pregnancy - sometimes anticipating symptoms before they even come on, sharing tips on how to lessen the constant ache in her stomach, how to sleep easier, what supplements she can take that don’t make her feel nauseous again or bloated and heavy.
Rino helps too, recalling what he can of his wife’s pregnancies, remembering how Katja could get her back pain to go away by relaxing in a rocking chair with a cushion wedged into her arch, and he had dug the exact one chair the depths of the garage, making sure it was safe after years of misuse and placing it out on the deck in the backyard, right beside what had always been Nico’s chair.
Luca is probably the best language teacher of them all, not that she’d tell Nico that - he’s the only one with the nerve to correct her, doing so with an amused glint in her eye until she gets it perfect and offering her a proud nod when she can finally speak a full sentence - a useful one at that, instead of random words and nicknames.
Nina allows Poppy to keep an essence of her independence - of the girl she was before she was pregnant, or had come back to Switzerland as Nico’s girlfriend. She makes sure Poppy keeps doing things for herself - accompanies her to the salon, to the local mall, gives her valued opinion on different outfits Poppy tried, and what makes her look like a frumpy mom and not her usual self. The two of them trade books between each other, get ready with each other when the group all go out, and it fills a gap that Poppy never even realised she had until she met her - this desire for a big sister, a want for something she never even knew had been ripped away from her before she was ever even born.
And Nico.
She has all of this, now, because of him.
He’s given her a life so sweet, and so wonderful, and it’s barely even started yet.
Their little girl is still sat comfortably in her stomach, kicking and moving and causing aches all over, but she’s contributed to a world so beautiful that Poppy doesn’t want to remember life before it.
And he gave it all to her.
He gave her their baby, his family, summer sun in a foreign country, rocking chairs and card games and trips to the mall.
Trips to the beach with his siblings, who don’t let him forget his status as the youngest, doting on Poppy while teasing him the whole time, breaking off from the group in search of gelato for her, and none for him, because he has two hands and two feet and a wallet bigger than anyone’s to go and get his own.
And that leaves her with just him, wading in the gloriously warm shallow sea, the sun glistening against soft waves, and his hands around her, large and safe, happy and secure - and so in love she hasn’t stopped smiling in weeks.
So infatuated by the man in front of her, that she’d let him do anything, take her anywhere he wants.
“It’s a shame it’s not just the two of us, today,” Nico hums, a large hand stroking up Poppy’s back, sliding under the straps of her bikini top and tugging, teasingly, “Bet I could have convinced you to take this off.”
“We’re in public, perv,” she scoffs, her own palms flat against his chest, “Also, you can’t accuse your own family of cockblocking you.”
“I can when they won’t leave you alone,” he pouts, “My brother and sister never waited on me hand and foot, if I want gelato I have to go get it myself.” He mimics his sisters voice, face scrunching adorably.
“My heart bleeds for you,” she groans in feigned pity, “I’m carrying precious cargo, and there’s some serious name stakes up for grabs right now.”
“So you’re pitting them against each other for your own benefit?”
“Exactly, you Hischiers love a little healthy competition,” Poppy smiles, back arching as his hand travels down her spine, the curve of her belly pressing right into his below the water. His skin smooth and hot, making her want to press even harder. “You need to up your game, I’ve got a godparent thing going on with some of the boys, too, you wouldn’t believe how much they’re willing to do for you when they think it puts them ahead in the rankings.”
“We’re not leaving our baby girl in the hands of any of those idiots in the unfortunate event of our deaths, Poppy.” Nico chuckles, lifting her with hands lowered to the backs of her thighs so that he can carry her deeper into the water.
“I know that, and you know that,” she presses a finger to the tip of his nose before her arms curl around his broad shoulders, “But if it means that Timo always brings me madeleines when he’s around, and Jesper and Nic always buy cute baby clothes for us and send me pictures, then who are we to rain on their parade?”
The smile that stretches across Nico’s lips is fond as he asks, “Who’s the front runner?”
“Well, Timo for now, obviously.”
“Obviously,” he agrees in good humour.
“But I’ve managed to convince Jonas he’s in with a good chance after we went to visit him, he kept bringing cut up fruit out to me while I was around the pool.”
“Baby, I cut up that fruit for you, don’t let him take the credit.”
“Oh, well then he’s disqualified for being a liar.”
“Why’s Timo the obvious choice?” He asks, now at a point in the water that if he let Poppy go, she would only just be able to keep her chin above the water, and she clutches on a little tighter.
“He’s an October baby, like me.” The hands around the back of his neck start playing with the ends of his hair, scratching softly at the skin as she presses herself entirely against him. “If anyone’s gonna raise our daughter, it’s going to be a Libra, we’re fair people.”
“Makes complete sense,” he jokes, “Written in the stars.”
“You get it,” she smiles, ignoring his sarcasm entirely. “But I’m waiting for the penny to drop when they realise all the boys back home are gonna want to be in the running. I have big plans for when we get back to Jersey, they’ve all got a lot of catching up to do, Luke’s in with a pretty good chance, you know.”
“You and that kid, I swear,”
“He’s very precious to me, Nico.”
“Yeah, don’t I know it.”
“Jack on the other hand has dropped way out of contention. We were talking on the phone the other day while you were training and called me Pop-belly. That’s out of line.”
Nico knows that laughing in any way at that is going to earn him some sort of reaction, but he really can’t help the way his lips quiver of their own volition.
“Yeah, laugh it up,” Poppy scoffs, swatting lightly at his shoulder, “I’ll be the only one laughing when he turns into my own personal smoothie butler when we go back. He has no chance of getting back in my good graces, but I won’t be telling him that.”
“You’re an evil genius.”
“It’s your devil spawn communicating through the womb,” Poppy hums, leaning in to press a proud kiss firmly to the dimple that forms in his cheek when he smiles at her. “I was a good girl before you corrupted me.”
“You were never a good girl,” he smirks, with his voice low, one hand travelling up the back of her thigh until he can pinch at her ass.
“Watch it, Hischier,” she warns, feeling steady enough in his hold to take an arm from around his neck and stroke the side of her finger along his slightly stubbled jaw. “You’re on thin ice with me already after shaving again, you don’t want to start being mean.”
“Oh, I’m being mean?” He asks, the hand that had pinched at her flesh now slipping beneath the fabric at the top of the back of her thighs. “You’re the one walking around in this bikini and not letting me touch you.”
“We’re in public, people get arrested for doing the things you want to do to me in places like this.”
“Could be worth it,” he shrugs, “You’re forgetting I’m kind of a national treasure, baby, they’d probably let me go with a warning.”
“Yeah, well, can’t risk it. I kind of need you. Plus, I think you’ve already done enough touching, you’ve literally impregnated me.”
“Way to make it sound romantic.” Nico mumbles, leaning to press a kiss to her bare shoulder, nose nudging once more at the thin straps of her bikini that curve around her slender neck. “Could never touch you enough.”
“You’re touching me right now, aren’t you?”
“Not where I want to.” He repositions where her legs are curled around his hips, just to emphasise his point, pulling her tighter around his torso until he can buck up into her and feel her shudder against him.
“You can touch me wherever you want later,” she promises, her eyes meeting his, speckles of sunlight glistening off the surface of the water and straight into his irises, warming them in a way that shoots heat all the way down her spine.
“I’ll hold you to that.”
“You better.” She presses a sweet kiss straight to his lips, one hand holding him close as they part, and she kisses him quick again, before saying, “Thank you for cutting up my fruit.”
He smiles, eyes squinting against the sunlight and crinkling in the corners, deep dimples forming in each cheek.
“Thank you for having my baby.”
She giggles, kissing him again, unable to resist muttering, “Thank you for putting a baby in me,” against his lips before he nips at her mouth, moving along her face in a targeted attack as his hands grip firmer at her hips, tickling her until the sound of laughter fills the air around them.
—
Poppy and Nico had made their way out of the water and onto their towels in the shade by the time Nina and Luca had returned with 3 cones of gelato in hand. Luca had already eaten half of his, coffee-flavoured, and Nina had strawberry, handing a cone with a white scoop over to Poppy.
“Fior di latte,” she had smiled sweetly, “Like milk ice, you said that was your favourite.”
“Thank you,” Poppy had blushed, the smallest gesture of her remembering that sending a buzz down her spine. Nico’s putting beside her, and mutterings of how they could have gotten him one, too, soon forgotten when she started to share.
The two of them had gone for a walk to find a bar on the beach front where they could watch soccer, leaving Poppy and Nico cuddled up on their towel, lost in their own world as they shared the cone between them.
She was resting between Nico’s legs, absentmindedly licking at the dessert when a screaming blur had zoomed past them, kicking sand up in their wake as three young children chased each other down to the water.
Poppy thinks that a year ago, she might have pouted about the sand being thrown onto her legs, but she finds herself smiling softly as she reaches back with the cone, waiting for Nico to have a turn taking a bite.
“Do you ever think about having more?” She can tell without looking back at him that he’s speaking around a mouthful of gelato, and even the thought of it makes her chest warm with the rumbles of laughter.
“Kids?” Poppy asks, and he hums affirmatively in response, “We don’t even have this one yet, babe,”
“I know,” he mutters, and she can hear the smile in his tone as his thumb swipes at the curve of the top her bump, “But do you ever think about what our family might look like in a few years?”
Our family still makes her heart skip a beat, and she finds herself relaxing even further into his embrace - melting, almost, into his chest, warmed by the rays of sun he has been bathing under.
“We probably need to see how difficult this one ends up being before I think about having any more.” She licks quickly at the drip travelling down her thumb before offering the cone back to Nico, who shakes his head as he lowers it to her shoulder, nose nudging against her skin.
“Should have put two in you while I had the chance,” he mumbles, lips pressed into the side of her neck, trailing soft, but purposeful kisses.
“Not how that works, babe,” Poppy chuckles, lifting her chin to give him more space for his ministrations. “Although they do run in my family, my dad’s a twin.”
“There’s two of him?”
“Yeah, him and my uncle Peter. That’s where the whole name thing started in my family.”
“Name thing?” He juts his chin when she looks back, asking for another taste.
“We’re all P’s,” she frowns as she focuses on directing the cone back toward his mouth, making sure she doesn’t smush it in his face.
“Oli isn’t a P.” The gelato lines his lips messily as he speaks, and her eyes start to crinkle in the corners as she takes him in. How can he be so stupidly pretty with mint choc chip smearing his upper lip?
“Oli’s a fraud,” Poppy chuckles, swiping a thumb against the soft flesh of his mouth, bringing it to her own to clear it of the cold, sticky substance. “His name’s Philip Jr, but people started calling him Lil Phil and it gave him a complex.”
“Poppy, baby, did you start calling him that?”
“No comment.”
“You get all grumpy when Jack gives you dumb nicknames, and here you are calling your own flesh and blood Lil Phil.”
“I don’t get grumpy,” she pouts, recoiling her hand from his reach when he tries to lean back in for another taste of gelato.
“You threatened to block him the other day.”
“That’s ‘cause he called me Pop-belly,” she grumbles, “That’s not funny, it’s mean.”
“Not funny at all,” Nico concurs, lips twisting in the corner as he bites back a smile, eyes gleaming as he watches Poppy sit up and face him, fully. Her eyes narrow, gaze zeroing in on where he’s trying not to laugh, again, at the horrific moniker, and her own lips twist with mirth as she shuffles, resting back on her heels, limbs half on the towel and half on the warm sand.
“We should stick to your thing, when we’re picking a name for Cheeto,” she hums, meeting his eye as her tongue swipes against the cone, watching his eyelids grow heavier as he focuses on the movement of her lips. “4 letters, no chance of funny nicknames, no chance of people spelling it wrong on birthday cards,” she reaches out for him to get the taste he had been chasing before, and just as his lips press to the frozen substance, she adds, “You all have such pretty names, too. Like Luca.”
Poppy shouldn’t like the darkness that flashes across his eyes when his jealousy flares up, shouldn’t want to push his buttons to make it happen, but she can’t help herself - her favourite pastime all summer has been making Nico think she has a crush on his brother.
It’s so stupid, so childish but so so fun.
It had started off lighthearted enough - her first time meeting Luca, she had been a little knocked back by his presence - ruggedly handsome where she might usually have considered Nico softer, but there were definite similarities. And she wasn’t exactly attracted to him, but she had been flustered - obviously so - and it’s Nico’s own fault for making his notice of that fact so obvious - brows furrowed, his grip on her hand tightening, and a persistent urge to be present whenever Poppy hung around his brother.
She blames the fact that she misses that teasing aspect of their relationship - when their conversations were based off of sarcasm and inescapable charm - for how she continued to press his buttons over the summer. It’s hard to maintain their old snark when her hormones are all out whack, and all she wants is for him to get his clothes off and press her to the nearest surface at any given moment. He constantly has the upper hand, and she’s not exactly used to that being a part of their dynamic.
Teasing him about Luca kills two birds with one stone - she gets her fun, and she elicits that possessive part of him that he somehow locks away every time he gets eyes on her belly, that she can see him restraining in order to handle her with care.
“You’re not funny,” he huffs, swiping the melting gelato from her grip and taking an exasperated lick of the sides, not realising how adorable he looks making little swipes with his tongue when he’s trying to look annoyed.
“I’m dead serious, your brother’s a hunk.”
“Mohn,” he sighs, “I’ll dump this in the sand right now, and I know how much you want to eat this cone.”
“Fine, fine, fine,” she relents as she giggles, reaching to grasp at his arm where he’s holding it away from her, fingertips stroking teasingly to make him give in. “I don’t think your brother is hot.”
“Thank you,” he smiles, offering the gelato back to her.
“Your dad on the other hand.”
“Poppy,” he warns.
“Kidding! I’m kidding,” she laughs, shuffling forward and back between his parted legs, “You’re the only man for me, baby, I swear.”
“I better be,” he pouts, guiding her back into the space he leaves, where she had been cuddled up before, where he misses the press of her body between his thighs. “I booked a table at that Italian place you liked the other week for tonight,” he tells her, voice lowered as one hand falls to her waist, and the other reaches up to push her hair behind her ear and cup at her cheek, “And it’s under my name, so you can’t ditch me for my brother or you get no tiramisu for dessert.”
Her mouth drops at the threat, spare hand reaching up to grip at his shoulder. “I promise I’ll never love another man in my life.”
She says it with a tone so serious that he can’t help but laugh, and her lips tremble too as she watches him, rolling his eyes with affection and looking away so that he doesn’t entirely give him.
She doesn’t really think it’s much of a joke, though.
There isn’t a single person on the planet who could make her feel like this - so happy, so warm, so content.
She might never love anyone like she loves Nico.
Except for maybe their daughter. And whatever other family he wants to give her in a few years.
Poppy can’t quite figure out why the thought of going out for dinner alone with Nico is making her nervous.
They’re in a relationship, have been for around 3 months now, and she’s literally carrying his child, but as he stands behind her in the apartment, hands sliding torturously slow up her spine as he zips up her dress and making eye contact with her in the mirror’s reflection, she starts to feel her heart race.
She’s trying not to be quieter than usual as they walk hand in hand in the warm summer evening air, Nico guiding her down the streets that are comfortingly familiar to him, and that are starting to feel more like home every day to her, too.
It doesn’t help that he looks so good too, hair grown out and pushed back out of his face, a clean shave - as much as she had grumbled about that, she can’t deny how gorgeous he looks - a loose black shirt and baggy linen trousers, fancy watch clutched around his wrist.
And he makes her feel good about how she looks, too, despite flashes of insecurity hitting her over the past few weeks. Their afternoon spent between the sheets when they had returned from the beach, Nico not being able to get enough of her, and whispering sweet nothings and sexy mutterings into her skin as they finally took advantage of some much needed privacy.
He had chosen her dress for her, had strapped her slightly heeled sandals onto her feet with kisses pressed to her calves, and she thinks it’s all the attention he’s given her over the past 24 hours that has her feeling what she can only describe as high.
It’s what has her stopping him at the corner before the restaurant, seeing the perfect place to prop her phone up on a nearby wall so that she can capture the moment - the two of them looking so perfect that she wants her daughter to see, wants to print it out and tape it into her memory book to show her just how in love and happy her mommy and daddy are.
“Can we take a photo?”
“You want me to take one of you?” He asks, stopping as she starts to adjust her camera settings on her phone, adding the timer so she can leave her phone perched at a good angle.
“No, I want one together. So we can show Cheeto how hot her parents were.”
Nico chuckles as she places her phone on the side and pulls him to a good distance, holding her in his arms and smiling down at her as she holds back onto him - the two of them repeating a couple times with different poses before Poppy has a nice little collection of photos, and they can carry on toward the restaurant.
She swipes through and shows them to him as they walk together, and she sends them straight to him so he can have them for himself.
“Is that hard launch material for your instagram?” He asks as she zooms in on one of them, Poppy’s arms circled around his waist, the biggest, toothiest grin on her face and her eyes scrunched shut.
“I’m gonna put them in Cheeto’s pregnancy book,” Poppy hums, not answering him directly. “Remind me to keep a card or something from the restaurant, she loves their pasta. We can come back when she’s older.”
Her nerves have increased tenfold at the mere mention of that godforsaken app.
Her instagram had never been a big deal before - private since the day she started her account, she only really ever had friends from school and work on there. She never posted in search of likes or validation, just to share little updates on her life, but she had to delete it at the start of summer once the requests to follow her started flooding in.
The first barrage had been easy to ignore, but once the zeros started adding up, and the requests went over 10,000, she figured that just getting rid of it would do her a world of good.
Anybody that needed to be updated, she could just text anyway. It wasn’t a big deal, which is why she hasn’t told Nico yet.
She doesn’t want to worry him with the fact that her whole feed had ended up on Twitter somehow anyway - that the thought of posting anything new, and it ending up shared by one of her existing followers to an intrusive gossip account freaks her out. She doesn’t have the energy to whittle down who might be leaking her stuff, so deleting the app entirely and counting the rest of her privacy as a loss had felt like the safest option.
And it’s not like she misses it.
It’s also not like she cares that much about people knowing about her and Nico - she’d scream from the rooftops about him if she could - but the lack of control scares her a little.
It’s all so invasive - seeing herself cropped out of group pictures, with threads of discourse about her, her life, her relationship with Nico and the rest of the team. Everything twisted so far out of context she starts to question her own reality.
She had sought advice from Nina about the whole thing, and the two of them had agreed that between themselves, they could figure things out - documenting their summer just for them, without stressing Nico out about what was happening behind the scenes. And she’s grateful, at least, that she has someone like Nina in her corner - who understands what it feels like, to an extent.
Telling Nico would just make him feel guilty, or, even worse, apologise for something that isn’t his fault, and so all she can really do is avoid it altogether.
She hardly posted on there anyway.
“We should probably figure out her name, soon, you know,”
Poppy snaps out of her thoughts to look up at him, twisting his lips nervously as he checks on her.
“We can’t call her Cheeto forever.”
“We can. That’s her name.”
Nico chuckles as he guides are across the street with a hand on her back, the restaurant now in sight - a small, family business, not too fancy, the kind with the most delicious recipes past down generations and made to perfection.
She loves places like this - much prefers it to fancier joints - where they can sit side by side at a small table and bask in the intimacy of it all.
An older gentleman smiles warmly at the two of them when they walk in hand in hand, and guides them to a table in the outdoor section at the back, a lit candle and a single rose in the middle of the set-up, and the starry night sky twinkling above them.
She knows exactly why she’s nervous.
It’s the first date she’s been on in a long time - her first official date with Nico, period, and it takes her back to being a little younger, when she first started going on dates, first started opening up to the idea of sharing herself with anybody else. It’s daunting, even if he is already the love of her life. Even if she’s pregnant with his child, integrated into his family, and returning to Jersey in a matter of weeks to the apartment they now share.
He helps her into her seat, pulling his around from the opposite side of the table so they can sit together how she likes, his hand immediately finding where her legs cross beneath the table and stroking at her bare skin. The waiter hands the two of them menus, and Nico asks if he can bring water with ice for the table before he nods and departs, leaving them alone.
“This is really nice, baby,” she smiles, gratefully, eyes roaming over how soft his features look out in the dimmed light, chocolate irises twinkling as they reflect the flickering flame in the centre of the table.
“Only the best for my girls,” he says lowly, and the two of them sit and smile dopily at one another and making light conversation until the waiter returns. Nico says something that Poppy hasn’t quite learned yet in his language, only just about making out the word pen before Nico takes one from the man with an appreciative thank you before he leaves again. He reaches across the table for the napkins that sit beneath their cutlery, sliding one in front of her before writing on the one in front of himself behind his other hand, hiding whatever he’s doing until he folds the paper.
“I want you to write down the name that’s on the top of your list. Then we’re gonna close our eyes and shuffle them up and pick one.”
“How do you know I have a list?” She frowns, taking the pen when he offers it over to her.
“Because you make a list for the pros and cons of what takeout we’re ordering, Poppy. Of course you have a list to name our daughter.”
She rolls her eyes, covering her napkin as she pauses with a hovered pen.
She does have a list. And she has a definitive number one.
It hadn’t even been an option before the summer, but she’s found herself imagining the name more and more over the past few weeks. Embroidered on blankets, written into birthday cards for the boys, etched into a personalised wooden bookcase like the kind she had as a little girl.
Nico is right. She isn’t going to be Cheeto forever.
“You know,” Poppy leans back to hide her paper as she writes her name down, her legs angled toward his as his hand strokes softly again up her calf, his napkin clutched tight in his other hand. “Most people don’t pick out baby names on their first date.”
“This isn’t our first date,” he scoffs, eyes narrowing at her as she folds her own. “We’ve been on dates before.”
“Name one.” Her head tilts as she challenges him, eyes meeting his as she waits for him to come up with something.
“All those times we grabbed dinner together back in Jersey,”
“Not dates.”
“There were several candles lit, Poppy.” Nico frowns, and Poppy’s lips twist as the crease between his eyebrows deepens as he thinks back on it. “All those times we got food before or after your scans, and movie nights at your place with takeout-,”
“Not dates. You have to specifically ask for those to have been dates, they were more like hang-outs.” She repeats, a hand reaching out to place itself on his knee, thumb rubbing against the linen of his pants, countering before he can bite back, “But that’s okay, I like this being our first. We’re making our own order.”
“What like getting pregnant before we’re in a relationship?”
“Exactly. Structure is boring. I like the idea of waking up and you deciding today’s the day to put me in your will and tomorrow’s the day to learn my middle name.”
“I thought you didn’t have a middle name.”
Poppy smiles, close-lipped and big, like she’s holding in laughter as she reaches up to caress his face. She kind of doesn’t want to burst his bubble - sweet, naive but well-intentioned Nico, who thinks he knows her like the back of his hand - but she wants to prove her point, more. “Giselle. After my Nanna Gigi.”
“Poppy Giselle Jensen?” He asks, mouth agape as she nods. “You’re telling me I knocked you up before I even knew your full name?”
“Way to make it sound romantic,” she mocks, just as he had, earlier on the beach, tucking his hair behind his ear and shuffling a little in her seat, legs tangling even more with his under the table. “I think it’s cool that we get to learn new things about each other all the time.”
“What have you learned about me?” His voice drops an octave, thumb stroking at her skin in an attempt to distract, but she isn’t giving in to him.
“I spent a week with your mom and sister while you were training out in Tenerife, babe, I know all your secrets from all the photo albums we went through.”
“Oh no.”
“Oh yeah,” she smirks, “Little blonde baby Nico with his big, pretty brown eyes and his bowl cut. I saw everything.”
“That’s not fair,” he pouts, grasping at her ankle, “You have the upper hand.”
“You saw me with my head in a toilet bowl for like 3 months straight, I think we’re even.”
“Speaking of,” he places his folded napkin down onto the table and slides it beside hers, “Close your eyes, I’ll mix them up.”
Poppy closes her eyes, but pouts a little as she hears him shuffle the napkins around. There was no speaking of - she was talking about puking. That wasn’t necessarily speaking of their daughter. He’s just deflecting attention from his bowl cut, she thinks, but she has extensive plans for revisiting that one. Preferably with backup, when their daughter is old enough to join in.
“Alright, now I’m gonna close my eyes, and you mix them up.”
She peeks her eyes open to see his scrunched closed, and smiles to herself as she mixes the two identically folded napkins on the table, nudging him with her knee to let him know when she’s finished.
Her heart starts to pound all of a sudden when his eyes flutter open, those perfect brown eyes darting straight to hers, and she holds her breath in anticipation.
“You pick.” He tells her, sliding the two napkins toward her.
She does so without looking, unfolding it in her lap and holding it against her palm so that he can’t see.
Her lips twist as she eyes the familiar name, a sense of victory swirling in her gut until the reality of it crashes down on her, her eyebrows scrunching in confusion.
That isn’t her handwriting.
“It means ray of sunlight in Persian,” Nico tells her, peeking down at the name written in the palm of her hands, already knowing from her reaction which napkin she had chosen. “Or beautiful girl.”
“Like you know anything in Persian,” she scoffs, “It’s just your brother and sister’s names combined.”
Nico frowns, “What?” He whines in denial, a poor attempt at lying that automatically makes Poppy’s lips turn at the corners, “How would you even think of that? I’ll let you know, I did extensive research, okay, I-,”
Poppy opens the other napkin up where it sits on the surface of the table, the exact same name scrawled in the centre in her handwriting.
Lina.
Nico smiles, slow but big, cheeks dimpling and eyes crinkling, and Poppy feels those nerves in her stomach swirl into something else, entirely. Her hands start to shake and her eyes start to water as soon as his gaze meets hers, pride shining through every pore of his features.
“That’s fate, Mohn,” he breathes, leaning closer, his chair shuffling against the floor as he reaches out to caress her face softly, palms pressed at either side of her jaw. “We wrote the same name.”
“I know,” she whispers, feeling a tear slip out that he catches immediately with the pad of his thumb.
“You wanna name her after my brother and sister?”
“I do.” She nods. Of course she does.
Not only has she seen how much they mean to Nico over the last couple of months, but they’ve started to mean as much to her, too - providing her with a sibling bond she’s never really experienced with Oli, one of unconditional love and support, admiration and affection.
She wants her daughter to embody that too.
To be a beacon of love.
A ray of sunlight.
“Lina Cheeto Hischier.”
Nico’s dimpled smile turns into laughter that erupts from the depths of his belly, and fills Poppy with elation, her body turning to jelly as he pulls her in until their lips press together, giggling against each others mouths until Nico feels the need to part, his head leaning down toward Poppy’s bump, where their daughter lays once again, butt to the front, ready to cause her mother a night of grief.
“Don’t worry Lina-bug,” he whispers, eyes drifting up to meet Poppy’s, her heart soaring at the sweet, definitely pre-meditated nickname. “We’ll work on the middle name.”
“Maybe something Persian,” Poppy scoffs, her own neck craning to speak toward her stomach, her hand falling to stroke it at the side, “Considering your daddy’s such an expert, all of a sudden.”
“I thought you might need convincing,” he chuckles, “I promise I looked it up.”
He leans in to kiss her again.
“I love you,” she whispers against his lips, “So much.”
“I love you more.”
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)
#nico hischier#nico hischier imagine#nico hischier fanfiction#nico hischier x oc#nhl fanfiction#*oys#*writing#gang I wish I could bang out 20k words every 10 days like I used to#but thanks for being patient with me!!!!#ONCE AGAIN#NEVER PROOFREAD#I also kind of rushed the ending but 🤷♀️ what can you do
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Lighter praising (or showing affection) and telling reader that he’s veryy proud of reader who has daddy issues (aka me) </3 (make it a bitt angsty bcs yes)
with that voice of his…. oh i’m not sure if he knows his power. also i am SO SORRY if i messed this one up because i’m bad at writing T_T also this reads weird if i dont clarify that its an established relationship between lighter x reader
not everyone has a good relationship with their family. especially after the fall of the Old Capital, many had lost their family and caused a rift between their still alive relatives. your day to day life hadn’t changed much but it was difficult for your family to get accustomed to the new life.
with that came many challenges; your parents working more to sustain themselves, their expectations for you as their child to pursue higher aspirations. the outer ring wasn’t where they wanted you to stay for the rest of your life, new eridu is a much better option for your future. days go by, stress piling up, nightly arguments at the dining table about how you should spend less time with the sons of calydon.
you never really brought it up to the other members. you knew they’d comfort you, considering they all had troubles in their past, but it’s not like you want to bring down the mood all of a sudden. on one particular night though, you had noticed lighter sneaking away from the rest of the group. you thought you could follow him but he was a lot more alert than that.
“wanna get some air for a bit? the girls are still talking so its all good.” lighter handed you a lollipop as he began to unwrap one for himself. there was an empty area far enough from everyone that had a perfect view of the night sky. no clouds in sight, just the twinkling stars and the bright full moon. lighter sat down first, sweeping away any dust before patting the space next to him. as you sat down, you began to ponder about your life. you hung out less and less with the sons of calydon since your parents, more specifically your father, wanted you to work harder. even if you had brought home some extra tips from cheesetopia, or helped out around blazewood, it seemed as though your efforts weren’t being appreciated and instead all he had to say were insults.
in the corner of his eye, lighter noticed you staring off into the far distance. he scooched over a little closer to you, maybe he’d be able to see what you were seeing. “something caught your eye?” his deep voice cut through your train of thought, making you blink at him in confusion. “oh uh… just thinking.” you mumbled, finally unwrapping your lollipop and popping it into your mouth.
“something happened recently, right? you leave earlier than usual lately.” you forget how perceptive lighter was, always noticing before others. “not recent but…” you ran your hand through your hair, feeling frustrated at how you couldn’t even enjoy such a quiet and beautiful night. after a moment of silence, you finally spoke up.
“it’s just, my dad. you know how it is out here in the outer ring. they want me to move out to new eridu but i can’t just leave. i have you and- and the girls…. they just want so much from me…” your voice trembled as you let your emotions flow out of you. your bottled up feelings finally overflowing as tears began to well up in your eyes. in between the soft cries, you felt lighter’s hand on your shoulder, rubbing you to help you let it all out.
“don’t let that old man tell you what to do. you’re doing a lot already. everyone in blazewood can tell you the same,” he spoke quietly but noticed how you seemed to still be trapped in your own thoughts. he placed both hands on your shoulders and turned you towards him. “hey, hey. listen to me. you’re wonderful and we all appreciate what you do around here. your dad knows nothing about you. we know you, i know you, and i’m proud of all that you’ve done.” lighter’s voice turned more serious, yet still carried a hint of softness to it.
he removed his sunglasses, exhaling as he looked down at you. “home is where the heart is. right now, where is your heart? hmm?” he asked quietly, moving his hands down to cup yours. “here. blazewood. i want to stay with all of you.” your sniffling was shattering his heart, trying to cheer you up but also afraid of saying the wrong things. he brought up one of his hands to the side of your face, gently wiping away your tears.
“then stay with us. i’ll talk to him, alright? just between us, i won’t tell the rest.” his voice was warm, similar to that of a fire on a cold night. he pulled you closer into his arms, hushing you while reassuring you. lines of “it’s alright” and “i’m here” came out of him naturally as you gripped onto his jacket. a moment of vulnerability, a moment of sadness, a moment away from keeping up appearances. you didn’t have to pretend, you couldn’t pretend anymore and lighter could see that. soft pats, gentle kisses on the top of your head, he just wanted to make you feel safe and loved after having your feelings constantly dismissed.
#lumiresponds ˚✧₊⁎☆#lighter zzz#lighter lorenz#zzz lighter#lighter x you#lighter x gn reader#lighter x reader#i am so sorry anon if this is not well written#or not what you wanted#AUGHH THIS LOWKEY KINDA HARD#also because i try to keep it as close to the game#so that it isn’t weird for him to just suddenly praise you for nothing#ALSO IM TRYING TO THINK OF MORE WAYS HE COULD PRAISE YOU#but i literally can’t think of any#I FEAR THAT I MAY NOT BE A LIGHTER WRITER GUYS#im a fraud fr#but this has been marinating in my drafts#i feel as though this is the best i can do with this#thank you everyone for being so patient with me
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call it home
pairing: mario/toff | rating: e | words: 10k | warnings: none | stress of inadequacy i experienced: limitless
Mario comes to with the wind scouring his face. Maybe ‘comes to’ isn’t exactly the right phrase. It’s more like surfacing, when it happens. It’s more like sucking in air.
#friends i have finished a thing#and now i am even going to be brave and make a little post about it#massive unending thanks to tumblr user patrichornkissed whose url i can never spell correctly for the confidence boosting#<333 i owe you so big time let me know when you want to cash in#and also big thanks to kas for being patient and kind#hockey rpf#hrpf#shork fic#fandom trumps hate
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My half of an art trade with @iizuumi 🫶
You made me love this ship now you have to live with the consequences (me drawing them)
#THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ART TRADING WITH ME#my very first art trade too#I'm still so giddy about this#and thank you for being so patient with me ;;;;;#they deserve soft things#occasionally#what they also deserve is more art and I'll gladly provide#IZUMI THANK YOU FOR OPENING MY EYES TO THEM#kn8#kaiju no. 8#gen narumi#reno ichikawa#narureno#velvetdraws
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HI FRIENDS ‘lil update for you since I’ve been so scarce—
‘TNV’ is on a temporary hold because I’M GETTING A NEW JOB YAY!!! 🎉🔥🎊🍾💃🎉🎉🔥 Even BETTER news is now I’ll have a bit more time to write turtle angst ehehehe >:3
That being said, I gotta get some things settled before i can get back to TNV. I’m so sorry I’m behind on asks and artwork but I promise I’ll catch up soon!! Thank you guys for your patience I promise I’m not ignoring you ;w; things are just bonkers right now but it’s also very exciting
I wish i had something a bit more special planned for the anniversary tomorrow (HUH???) but rest assured I’ll be back at getting you Turtle Angst before too long (`・ω・´)ゞ
#thank u guys for being patient weh#’dude you just missed the craziest of crazies. cats. tiki bars. antique malls. MOM???#‘argument. Competition. Running a half marathon. Coming here and telling you 🎶I quit my toxic joooob🎶#ALSO ANNOVERSARY TOMORROW WHAT??????#HELLO?????#I had. no idea.#someone mentioned it and I was like THE WHAT#just wow#man.#it’s making me Big Emotional ;w;#I promise I’m still gunna finish#I’m too Unwell for this fic to stop lol#pastel prattling
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Hobie1610 pt. 4
after so many months of waiting, the wait... is finally over.
here is the fourth and final part of this little au idea i had brewing in my head for some time now. i hope you guys enjoy?
and thanks so much to everyone leaving encouraging and kind comments on the previous parts as well! really appreciate y'all :)
hope this ending is a satisfying one :)
>pt. 1 here<
>pt. 3 here<
MJ: We’re going to hang tomorrow after my shoot, right?
It was a text that Miles looked at and looked at and looked at all day ever since it arrived into his messages that very morning. It literally came out of nowhere.
But how long ago was it that he and Hobie Jones ran into each other at Central Park? It had to have been like a week ago, he was pretty sure...
He thinks.
“Maybe the guy’s pushy or somethin’, he just really likes you for some reason,” Ganke had offered by way of explanation as they sat together at lunch for the first time in what seemed like forever.
Miles wasn’t entirely sure when he and Ganke ever got to chill like this together in the cafeteria area... but as luck would have had it, Ganke’s mom forgot to send over some money for the week, forcing him to buy from the cheaper menu that the school had to offer rather than ordering off of the many food delivery apps he had on lock in his phone.
They sat a ways away from the hustle and bustle of the main area, near a big window that looked outwards into the typical scene of the congested New York City streets, and Miles would have been perfectly content with this arrangement had it not been for The Text.
He jiggled his leg and rubbed at his jaw in between bites of his own cheap meal-- something he got even though he didn’t really want it, but what was he gonna do, let Ganke wait in line by himself?-- gazing at his cell phone sitting right by his elbow. The text message was gazing right back at him.
“I… dunno. I-- man, I wish I told you more about my patrols so you can remind me how long ago Central Park was. I swear it was only like… last week? Right?”
Ganke chomped on his own slice of pepperoni pizza and shrugged. “I think that was a while ago. Either way, he wants to go on this date with you. So you might as well.”`
Miles groaned. “It’s not a date, Ganks. We’re just… chillin’, hangin’ out a little,” he gestured with his hands, which was not convincing Ganke at all. “Y’know?”
Ganke leaned forward a little bit, glasses slipping down his nose as he grinned mischievously. “Did he figure out it was you, Mi? Is that why you’re so nervous about it?”
“Whaaat are you talking about? No… no, he didn’t! I just. Uh, I saved him from those scary gang members and then I swung him home and that was that. No one else knows but you and my parents, Ganke, promise.” Miles’ smile was even less convincing.
“Miles,” Ganke deadpanned, “have you ever thought about what would happen if some Flickstagram-famous model learns about your thing you got goin’ on? He could be pushing this because he knows already, dude. Or at least he thinks he does. You’re a weird kid after all, and it wouldn't take too long to put two and two together... no offense.”
Miles shoved a fist under his chin and chewed a french fry pensively, trying to come up with an answer that wouldn't give him away.
The thing is, Hobie did know.
Miles still couldn’t shake off the memories of his warm fingertips hooking under his mask and slowly lifting it off of his face, the way his entire visage seemed so positively radiant with that dazzling smile once they met eyes. He remembered Hobie’s wiry arms clutching onto him for dear life as they flew across the stadium towards the exit, the easy banter they had going back and forth after the action finally died down and they were safely heading back to the outer gates of the park.
So Hobie definitely knew. That wasn’t really the problem... although, Ganke might be right. It could be in the future, if Miles didn’t play his cards right.
Hobie is a solid guy no matter what dimension Miles found him in. Even as the Prowler on earth-616, that Hobie Brown was as an upstanding citizen as any crook could be. But flashes of earth-42 kept sparking up right behind his eyes every time doubt popped up about a new player in his life here on earth-1610, and one can never just assume anyways.
And now Miles is sitting at his lunch table with his best friend— who, until now was the only living person on this planet who knew about his secret identity— ruminating on whether or not Ganke might end up being a damn seer after all. Ganke doesn’t know that Hobie knows, but he really just might be right anyhow. That would really be Miles' luck.
Goddamnit.
Is Hobie planning on blackmailing him somehow? His involvement with those thugs stealing a prominent museum’s precious security info seemed a bit off to him, the more he thought about it.
They joked about it many a time over text, but Miles would be lying if he said he hadn’t turned a couple of facts over and over on more than one sleepless night. Hobie mentioned having connections, a camera, and seemed almost too recklessly opportunistic when it came to the chance at nabbing that flash drive...
Doubt was sinking back in. Miles drummed his fingers on the table and shot Ganke a look. “... Whaddya think I should do if he does, then?”
“What, if he finds out?”
“Yeah.”
Ganke shrugs again, popping a pepperoni slice into his mouth and thinking while he chewed. “Web him up to a lamppost,” he said after a bit.
Miles snorted with laughter. “Ganke, be for real right now. You’ve got great coding and social media knowledge, dude. Could you hack his tech if asked you to? Like, just in case?”
Ganke waggled his head, making a show of really, really thinking it through. “Mmmmn, yeah maybe.”
Miles sighs. “What do I have to do?” He asks because he knows his best friend by now.
“Fifty bucks and you also have to do my laundry for a week. What?” Ganke exclaims upon suddenly being on the receiving end of Miles’ glare, “If I get caught, it could mean like federal level charges on my head, dude. Take it up with the law, not me!”
Miles sighs and returns back to his plate of cold fries. “Yeah, yeah. You got a point,”
“But you gotta meet up with him first, figure out what we're dealing with. Just stop putting it off, bro. Avoiding him'll make you look more suspicious. Might as well get it done and over with,”
Miles swallows his fries along with his anxiety, picks up his phone, and starts drafting his answer to Hobie’s sudden proposal.
He doesn't know why there's a pit of dread in his stomach, but he opts to ignore it this time.
He hopes Ganke is wrong.
♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧
The next day, MJ's cell phone vibrates on the portable vanity set up at the studio where his current shoot is taking place.
He’s busy, trying not to get too lost in the flurry of hands prepping him, the flashing of the cameras, the shouts of directions from the camera guy as he hits pose after pose with the props on set.
It’s when he’s changing into his last outfit for the shoot that he finally has some time to sip his water bottle and mindlessly scroll through dozens of notifications, finally coming across the one notif he waited to get the entire day: Miles. His name appeared at the very bottom.
... Meaning he received the message hours ago. Shit.
With his shoot almost over, MJ punched in a quick message and hit send, excitedly returning back to the set and finishing his work day up as quickly as humanly possible.
MJ's absentmindedly agreeing that every picture the director shows him is truly amazing, yes, amazing indeed, all while trying not to vibrate out of his mind-numbingly expensive designer outfit he’s been forced into. The only person he can think about as he dumbly nods along to whatever the crew is saying to him is Miles. Miles, Miles, Miles.
Miles has agreed to finally-- finally, after all of these weeks-- meet up with him and make good on his promise. Of course, MJ's slightly miffed that it had to be him to initiate the lunch date in the end, but whatever.
Closed mouths don’t get fed, after all. And Miles was technically not breaking his promise.
So now MJ is floating back down the hallway to the makeup room, gently pushing past all of the other models and swatting away at his mother’s hands while he makes his way over to his duffle bag.
“MJ, darling. Look at me,” his mother says as she hooks a finger under his chin and examines his makeup. “Do you wanna be wearing this when you go hang out with your little friend today?”
Your little friend, MJ almost scoffs out loud, but manages to school his expression into one of pure professionalism. “Yes, mom. Nothin' wrong with it,” he answers breezily.
She hovers. "I mean, it might make your friend think that... uhm, well. You know, it might give the wrong impression. He'll think you two are on a date! You're not allowed to date."
"Sure, mom. Except he knows I'm a model. The whole city does at this point." His tone drips with teenage attitude.
She lets him go.
Then, he’s unbuttoning his shirt and untying a sparkly scarf doubling as a belt to hold up the comically baggy jeans he was assigned to wear today, impatient to shrug himself out of those clothes and jump into his own so he can finally, finally, finally run down to the little cafe he told Miles to meet him at.
His mother was busy on a tablet typing away at something, chatting with MJ's agent once he found his way over to them, and even when neither of them noticed much about MJ on any other day, it seemed they were paying special attention to the way he was throwing his clothes back on with obvious glee now.
MJ had never smiled this much around them, and they sure took note of it now.
“Heard you’re getting ready to meet with a friend, MJ,” his agent told him once he turned his attention back to his client.
“Yyyep,” MJ answered noncommittally. He threw on a coat and started to reach for his messenger bag, stopping when a hand grabbed his shoulder and squeezed.
“We’re gonna keep in touch with the team, and keep updating you on the status of the shoot, but we gotta make sure you’ve got your phone on, right?” His agent looked him directly in the eye. “It’s great that you’re making friends again, Em, but you have to keep your head in the game.”
Yeah, of course. “Don’t let anything distract you from helping me make money” is what you mean, MJ thought ruefully, blinking back innocently.
He nodded and offered his agent a casual smile. “I mean yeah. He’s just a friend, I’m not gonna let that get in the way of my job. Don’t worry,” he adds, “I got my phone on. Hit me up when something cool happens.”
His agent and his mother exchange glances, but agree to release him anyways.
“I mean, he’s still a kid,” he hears his mother say as he quickly exits the room and finds his way towards the elevators. “I let him have a little fun every once in a while! The real work doesn’t start until he’s older right? Might as well let him have this for now..."
MJ rubs his thumb up and down along the edge of his phone case, feeling the bumps of the volume keys over and over.
He steps into the elevator when the doors slide open. He punches the button for the main lobby and stares down at his messages with Miles.
Yes, he thinks a bit vindictively, the real work doesn’t start until he’s older.
She definitely isn’t wrong about that.
♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧
"You ever think about running away at all?" Hobie asked Miles rather suddenly after they got their usual greetings done and over with.
The cafe Hobie picked was cute, quaint, and very small. A nice little reprieve from the noisy halls of their school and the bustling city streets, since the business didn't seem to have any other patrons at this hour aside from the two boys.
They picked their seats right next to the window and opted to people-watch for a bit as they scrolled through the cafe's stylized menu on their phones. The lighting of the late-afternoon day illuminated Hobie in such gorgeous warm light that Miles was almost suspicious; did he pick this place specifically because the late sun's rays would bounce off of nearby skyscrapers and cast them both in the best mood lighting New York City had to offer? It sure seemed like it.
Hobie leaned back in his seat and gave Miles the most charming smile he's seen on a guy yet, erasing his suspicions from his brain entirely. And... well, anything else as well.
"Uhhh," Miles offered intelligently.
Hobie huffed a laugh in response. "It's okay, I know it's a weird question. Forget I said it."
Miles shook his head. "Wait, no. Sorry, what'd you say again? I'm, uhm. Sorry, I think I'm just a little tired. Kind of out of it,"
Hobie nodded sagely, setting his phone aside for the time being. "Hmm, late night homework, right? Essays maybe?"
They chuckled and grinned at each other cheesily, the knowledge that they shared a big secret between them settling comfortably and cozily like a fat cat curling up near a fireplace. It was nice, kinda. To be in on something that not many other people were, like an inside joke or a long-running bit between old friends.
But then Miles' earlier conversation with Ganke at the school cafeteria floated back up in his mind again and he had to bite his lip to keep from frowning suddenly. He looked down, a bit ashamed.
"Hobie--" he started.
"MJ," Hobie interrupted, chin in his hand now.
Miles looked up. "MJ. Oh, yeah. Right, sorry."
"I don't really like my given name, so no one calls me that. Just call me MJ. Or Em, even. That's what my agent calls me."
"Agent. Geez. So you didn't really answer my question earlier, back when we first met," here, Miles folded his arms on the table in front of him. "How famous are you, really?"
MJ grinned like a mischievous cat, chin still in one hand. "You've been on my Flicksta page this entire time since you found it. How famous do you think I am? Not that hard to do research nowadays, right?"
Miles felt his face heating up. "H-how'd you know about that?"
"You liked a post of mine that I made like... last year, dude. I saw."
Miles silently cursed himself out as he shut his eyes in embarrassment and winced. "Yikes. Alright, I guess you caught me. That was my bad for sure!"
MJ's grin was crooked. "Yeah, I'm... pretty well-known. Not supermodel status yet obviously, but I've been on a couple billboards. Posters, some ads. I'm training to walk some shows. Whatever." He leaned back in his seat again and messed with his sweater's sleeves a little as he spoke. Distantly, Miles noticed how expensive MJ's clothing really looked, how plush the knit of his sweater was, and the tailoring of his coat.
"Whatever," Miles echoed inquisitively. "Do you hate it? Is that why you wanna run away?"
They met eyes.
"I thought I told you to forget that question, Morales," MJ replies coolly. "It was a weird one. I dunno why I even said it,"
Miles, sensing something in the air between them, wondered if he should have changed the subject. Too bad his mouth had a less-than-stellar track record of listening to his brain.
Instead, he opened it and quietly said: "If we're gonna be friends, and if you want me to not web you up to a pole somewhere in Manhattan, I gotta know your deal."
"Mn, my deal," MJ repeated warily.
"Yeah," Miles sighed, already resigning himself to just getting this over and done with already. No time like the present, right? "You mentioned... you mentioned having a camera and connections. And you're just... weird, man. Like, no offense but you being in Central Park when you were that one time? Running away from those gang members who looked like they were gonna strangle you for takin' their flash drive away from 'em? That was super risky. Something's up."
MJ nodded, still looking apprehensive but also like he wanted to give in. "Right, I've got your big secret. Now you wanna have one of mine. Fair, I guess."
Miles shrugged helplessly. "If we're gonna be friends... I mean, it is fair, right?"
MJ glanced around at the empty seats around them, grateful that even the cashier seems to have gone to the back so that they were both totally alone together. Good spot to pick after all, he thought to himself. He kept his voice down just in case anyways.
He licked his lips and leaned his elbows on the table. "Yeah. I get it. It's a big thing you're doing for the city, y'know... doin' what you do. So here it is: I hate being a model."
Miles blinked at him, waiting for more. MJ didn't immediately being speaking again so he made a go on kind of motion with a hand.
MJ laughed a bit, shaking his head. "This is gonna be stupid. It's gonna sound so stupid! God," he rubbed the bridge of his nose with a knuckle and looked outside at a small stream of people walking past, all in a hurry to get on with whatever it was that occupied their lives.
"... About as stupid as some kid from Brooklyn putting on a costume to go out and fight crime?" Miles smiled patiently.
"Well, kinda. It was because of some punk kid from Brooklyn putting on that costume to go fight crime that I finally had the courage to like, go out there and get into my little hobby of breaking and entering, snooping around places I shouldn't, trying to help people..." MJ stopped when he saw the look on his friend's face.
"You...?" Miles started, his lips forming the shape of the words he wanted to say but not quite letting them out into the open just yet.
Did he hear that right?
As if reading his thoughts, MJ nodded. "When you took up the mantle of Spiderman after our first guy died, I took it as a sign. To like... finally just do it, right? I guess all that was left was just taking the leap, y'know what I mean?"
Miles suppressed a shudder as he nodded along, pushing Peter B's lectures out of his mind for the moment.
"I hate being a model," MJ continued, a single loc falling into his determined face, "because I wanna be a journalist. Like... an investigative journalist. But I also like science stuff as well. I guess I dunno what I really wanna be when I'm older. All I know is... I have got to get away from my overbearing mom."
"Or else," Miles finishes for him, tilting his head as if to say remember our conversation at the park?
MJ grimly confirmed it. "Or else," he replied.
Miles blew out a breath and leaned all the way back in his own seat, folding his arms over his chest. "Wow."
"Yeah, heavy stuff. I know," MJ tossed his locs back over his shoulders and glanced up at the posted menu hanging high above the register. The cashier returned from the back, placing several different pastries from a baking tray into the cafe's clean little glass display at the counter.
"Wanna...?" MJ pointed his chin at them, already pushing his chair out to get up.
"Oh, yeah. Food! Duh," Miles answered and got up to follow suit. How could he possibly forget?
The rest of their hangout goes over wonderfully after the grim conversation, all things considered. They opt to chat amicably about surface-level stuff mostly; family dynamics, friends, schoolwork and more about MJ's day job as a model.
"My mom acts like she's my agent most days, too." MJ is recounting this in between sips of his black coffee, long fingers nursing the ceramic cup he was given. "She's the one who got me into these modeling gigs in the first place. She said I had 'the look'... whatever that means. I like bein' behind the camera, though. Not in front of it," he lamented.
Miles spears some lettuce that fell out of his sandwich with the toothpick his side of pickle came with, waving it around as he talks. "Your mom sounds like the type of parent that pushes their kids around a lot. I guess I would know what that's like,"
Sensing a chance to commiserate in their shared dilemma, MJ leans forward a bit and smiles. "Your folks sounded nice when you described them. What's up?"
"I love them, and they sure do love me, but," Miles shakes his head and picks the lettuce off of his toothpick. "I dunno. They want the best for me and... sometimes it feels like nothing else matters but that."
MJ has the lower half of his face carefully hidden behind his mug when he asks: "Have you told them?"
Miles sighed, long and loud. "Yep. Yeah. They know. They do. That was... a very long story but. Anyways, yeah, after all the stuff that went down this spring, I finally had to fess up. No one else knows but you guys, though, I swear."
Miles silently patted himself on the back for managing to completely omit Ganke from the conversation. Can't give up his ace up his sleeve so soon, now can he?
MJ nods sympathetically. "I wasn't kidding, you know. Back when I told you that your secret was safe with me. You've got one of mine, so. No one else but us,"
Miles raises a pinkie over their plates and makes eye contact with him. "Pinkie promise?"
MJ's eyes flash at him.
"Duh. I never break promises," he replies, hooking pinkies together and smiling. "I'm not really in the business of ruining the life of a pretty great hero right now."
"Until it benefits you, you mean," Miles says, really only half-joking.
MJ doesn't take the bait. Instead, he deflects the best way he knows how. "Oh yeah, absolutely. If someone's out there putting a billion-dollar bounty on your head someday, you already know I'm goin' for it. What? It's a billion dollars, dude!"
They laugh together as Miles throws a piece of tomato in his direction and MJ threatens to pour the rest of his coffee onto his lap.
It felt good, felt natural. Their banter was smooth and seamless which Miles thought was a relief because very few people he encountered in life wanted to keep up with his constant sarcasm and nerdy jokes. No one else seemed to share his sense of humor except for MJ, and it made him feel a bit of warmth in his chest.
Even if they only stayed friends, he seemed to be a great companion to have nonetheless. And Miles had Ganke as backup in case anything went wrong between them. It was a daunting thing to come to terms with, the fact that such a cool guy like Hobie M. Jones had the ability to stab him behind his back at any moment's notice, or accidentally let Miles' secret double life as the crime-fighting webslinger out at the most inopportune time.
But... it wouldn't be the first time a friend has double-crossed him.
Miles wasn't stupid. He knew that letting more and more people in on his secret identity was a huge gamble, especially when it came to keeping a secret as big as this was. The risk was too high, the rewards might not even be worth it.
Worst of all, his friends could be legit and then get hurt if they ever found themselves somehow caught in the crosshairs of his other life.
... But Miles didn't want to think about that right now. That was a problem for future him. Right now, they were both too busy being what neither of their own families seemed to want them to be: a pair of carefree kids.
In this moment, MJ didn't have to worry about stifling and busy schedules arranged for him without his consent. He didn't have to worry about itchy fabrics or ill-fitting designer clothes or loud and bright cameras capturing his every move. With Miles, he could finally let loose.
And in this moment, Miles didn't have to worry about crime-fighting (for now), juggling mountains of schoolwork to please his parents, or keeping up appearances so he didn't arouse suspicions as to where he always was when he managed to slip away. With MJ, he could relax a little and enjoy the small things that always escaped his notice as he rushed this way and that, desperately trying to keep up with the chaos of his everyday life. Time seemed to slow down and speed up simultaneously when they were together.
They finished up their meal and exited the cafe, thanking the cashier and pulling on their coats to hopefully battle the frigid winter air of the city. They made their way up and down blocks, past shops and restaurants, weaving in and out of passing crowds on the sidewalk.
As they wandered aimlessly, unable to escape each other's gravitational pull for even one second, they talked some more.
They talked about Miles' art, MJ's secret science experiments in his room and how he fought his mom to get into Visions in the first place, about Miles' parents and his daily workload he usually juggles. They tried talking about Miles' start as Spiderman, but they didn't get too far along that topic before realizing there were only so many code words they could use to say what they wanted to say out loud before devolving into a fit of giggles.
They chatted about their plans after they graduate, how Miles still wants to go to Princeton and how MJ is planning on funding his own college education once he saves up enough money to leave his station in life and go wherever the wind takes him.
Miles seemed a bit sad at the thought that their friendship looked to have an eventual expiration date in the future, but there didn't seem to be anything changing MJ's mind anytime soon. After all, he didn't even know if he was going to keep in touch with Ganke once they stopped being roommates. And they ended up being pretty tight, against all odds.
So as they kept their casual pace through the city, Miles made a mental note to remember and cherish days like these as much as he could. He checked his phone for the time... this blissful moment of normalcy would have to end soon.
"So," Miles said once their long conversation eventually wound down. Their feet had taken them to a nearby subway station, the gum-covered concrete steps already beckoning them both to bid each other adieu.
"So..." MJ glanced at him, stopping them both by the railing and smiling down at his friend.
The day was drawing to a close, the sun had fully set about half an hour ago and they both needed to get out of the streets and back to their regular everyday lives. For Miles, this meant he had to get at least an hour of patrolling in before swinging back to his dorm room and getting started on his studies for their chem test on Monday.
For MJ, it meant returning back to Manhattan and steeling himself in preparation for the eventual lecture he knew he was going to get, about not staying out so late without supervision and how he didn't respond in time to his agent's texts. The usual.
"I hate to say it, but it's lookin' like we might have to say goodbye for now," Miles shrugged, hanging his head for comical effect.
MJ laughed brightly. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you sound like you don't even wanna leave."
"You might be right about that. Wish me luck tonight, I gotta... y'know," Miles leaned casually as he could manage against the railing, shrugging a shoulder.
"Right. Do your extracurriculars,"
Miles groaned. "Yuck. Let's not call it that, please! You sound like my dad. Let's just call it my weird hobby instead."
"Okay, so I guess I gotta let you go to do your weird hobby instead, then."
"Which just so happens to be graffiti, by the way," Miles' lips quirk up mischievously, giving MJ a look as he slowly slides against the railing and places a foot on the first step. "I like to spray paint around the city every now and then... in case anyone wants to know. In case they ask."
MJ bobs his head in response, following Miles' movements. "Ah, right. Spray painting! Super cool. Anyone asks where you are, I got your back, man."
Miles' smile is as dazzling as it is endearing as he places a hand on the metal railing and lowers himself some more, unable to bring himself to cut the invisible rope anchoring him and MJ together, holding them there in that one space as a constant stream of New Yorkers climb up and down the steps beside them.
Thank you New York City, Miles finds himself thinking.
No one glanced in their direction, they were completely surrounded by people, but still alone. The lights of nearby shop signs and street lamps gave MJ a bit of a halo around his hair, and from the angle he was standing at, Miles looked up at it and believed that it made him just glow.
They gazed deeply into each other's eyes, the usual noise of the city falling easily into the background. It was just the two of them.
"... Yeah." Miles says a bit awkwardly, unable to pull away. "Yeah, that sounds... good. Great. Thanks man! You're a real one,"
MJ smiles knowingly above him. "So you might wanna head on down now. Don't wanna keep you from catching your train."
Miles grins back. "Right. My train."
"Go get 'em, Tiger." MJ responds, offering him a little salute with his fingers and finally turning away to disappear into the thick crowds that flowed up and down the city sidewalks like water.
After a little bit, Miles felt like he could breathe normally again.
He descended down.
♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧
Miles' life went right back to normal, with a new element added in.
He still rushed through his days of back-breaking homework and tests, still tried to keep up with the crime-fighting and his family back home who kept pestering him with exclamations about how he was always late to events and get-togethers, especially as the holidays rolled around.
(His mother pulled him aside for a quick little chat on how he needs to get better at communicating where he was so that she and Jeff could make up excuses for him ahead of time)
He still gamed mindlessly with Ganke on most weekends after their school break ended and the students all traveled back to their dorms, he still texted his extra-dimensional friends whenever he was free and had a minute to spare.
But now he made some space for another special person in his life: Hobie M. Jones.
They passed notes back and forth in the classes they shared like a pair of friends back in elementary school (to avoid leaving a trail of evidence on their phones, Miles argued when he brought it up to MJ, who just laughed) and walked each other to their classes whenever they could.
But it was risky business keeping someone like MJ so close, especially if it could arouse suspicion when Spiderman happened to swoop in and save him out of the blue. Both Miles and Spiderman hovering around MJ's vicinity day in and day out could be a possible liability to contend with indeed, so Miles still tried keeping his distance whenever possible.
For what it was worth, MJ seemed to understand. He was also occasionally followed by cameras from online fans in the real world or opportunistic reporters looking to try and pry precious info of a new marketing campaign MJ happened to be a part of, so this kind of life wasn't new to him either.
Thankfully, he agreed it was best to only get together in private.
As the months flew by, exams and assignments came and went, but their friendship only flourished.
Miles found himself admitting some surprising things to MJ on late-night text conversations when he couldn't sleep and needed to hop out of his dorm window to burn some energy. He found himself doodling his friend in his sketchbook often, unable to scrub the images of his flawless modeling photos from his brain.
He found himself... doodling their names together on hastily discarded sticky notes and coming up with illegible graffiti so he can mash their names together on stickers and shamelessly slap them up onto signs, onto walls, onto bathroom stalls and stairwells and notebooks and poles and bus stops and--
Miles startled out of a reverie as he was balancing himself on a random window ledge somewhere in the city, fully suited up, sketchbook in hand as he doodled little hearts around a profile study of MJ. Tucked under the page he was working on was an embarrassing amount of stickers with his and MJ's last names on them.
God. The humiliation he would face if MJ ever got his hands on this book. His mind flashes back to the sheer embarrassment he felt back when Gwen suddenly dropped down into his room from a portal and began to leaf through his old sketchbook, finding one too many drawings of her own face in the pages.
The memories snapped him out of his weird love-induced haze and forced him to shamefully fold over the corner of the page and hide those little hearts.
First, you ran away from him after you figured out he was an MJ, now you're obsessed with him. ¿Quién te puedes entender?
The sound of Miles' conscience was taking the harsh shape of his mother's voice. Not good.
He sighed and shut his sketchbook, shoving it into his backpack that was webbed onto the wall right next to him. Crime never slept, but it did have its ebbs and flows that Miles found himself in tune with as the months went by. This hour on a Thursday evening happened to be one of the slower hours for crime fighting, it seemed.
Regardless, he yanked his bag from its sticky confines and brushed the webs off, straightening himself up from his position and mindlessly checking his phone for any pressing updates.
Finding none, and with nothing much else to do... he sent MJ a quick text.
Miles: Busy rn?
He knocked himself on the forehead for it, knowing he might regret what he was about to propose but... he couldn't get the guy out of his head. He was dreaming about MJ on the regular now, which was never a good sign. Might as well see if he was up to doing any crazy last-minute stunts since the heart seemed to want what it wanted.
The reply came almost immediately after.
MJ: Nope, just surrounded by a pile of annoying hw, why do you ask?
Miles grinned as he typed a quick reply, hit send, and shot a web up to climb to the roof of the building.
Miles: I'm thinking I'm like... about a 15 mins walk away from your place. Wanna hang? I can swing by
He can almost taste the eye roll in MJ's replies, which made him smile beneath his mask.
MJ: You're corny as hell and that's exactly why you're my friend
MJ: Just give me a few to get ready
Miles sends back an affirmative, and tucks his phone right into his bag's side pocket which he then throws over a shoulder. He turns towards the general direction that MJ's penthouse apartment is located, right over the Brooklyn Bridge.
On his way there, he rehearses all of the coolest lines he could think of, not quite hoping to impress his friend or anything, but hoping that maybe MJ won't see him for the weird dork everyone else treats him as. And... to also keep him from suspecting anything or whatever.
They've hung out together countless times before, after their initial meetup. And not once did flawless-fashionable-cool-model MJ make him feel like he was ever uncool or off-putting. Maybe that was why Miles was so infatuated with him, when it came down to it. Still a good idea to play it safe, just in case.
It would have served Miles much better if he gave this friendship an even wider berth, retained his mysterious reputation... but there was something so arresting about MJ's eyes, his mannerisms and gentleness that contrasted so sharply with his quick wit, surprising bravery and intelligence.
Miles can shoot off the wittiest lines on the planet, but at the end of the day, he was still a boy with a crush. Alas.
In the time that he vaulted around NYC as Earth-1610's Spiderman, Miles developed a knack for snappy one-liners that MJ seemed to find endearing. Whenever they were together, they often fell into good-natured jabs and quips at each other, and he was so enamoured by it.
And it seemed like they just... naturally fell into the gravity of each other's orbit often anyways. Miles would look up into a crowd anywhere at Visions and immediately be able to find MJ. Like he developed an MJ-sense alongside his own spidery ones.
Two twin stars locked in orbit, a binary system forever hurtling through space together.
God, he really needed to get it together. That was super cheesy even for him, and he watched Titanic on his laptop damn near a hundred times at this point.
The thought had him yanking on his webs much harder and flying through the late evening air just to burn off the heat that built up in his gut.
He had to quickly remind himself that regardless of whatever happened between them, he promised that he would forever cherish it all. Miles wasn't an idiot, he knew that being Spiderman put a dampener on a lot of his relationships in life. It was a constant tug-of-war between him and his parents, and Ganke often reminds him of how absent he is at school, even when he's present.
Whatever happens between him and MJ in the future is whatever happens. Miles has already made peace with the inevitability of reality, like he so often needed to in this life. No need to get his hopes up.
Sobering up, Spiderman does several somersaults in the air before attaching a web onto the corner of MJ's swanky high-rise located not too far from the bridge. He sticks to the reflective glass and lets gravity do all the work for him as he drops down a few stories, hoping he was just a quick black blur that could be chalked up to just being a bird of some kind in case anyone happened to glance out their windows.
He hasn't been over to MJ's apartment at all, but knows the building from the outside very well thanks to the two friends' prior escapades. MJ's mom was strict according to him, and after sneaking them both out of the window to go to a mall or hang out at a park, swing around the city a bit and then drop MJ off back home, Spiderman was well acquainted with his bedroom window as a result.
He finds it again effortlessly and hangs upside down by a web, slowly lowering himself into view.
MJ's eyes light up immediately upon seeing him. He perks up, gets up from his computer chair to carefully lock the bedroom door and moves right back to his window.
"Well hello there, Spiderman! Glad you could make it." MJ smiles warmly, keeping his voice down. "Sorry, mom and the team are in the living room and I just told her I'm lockin' myself in here to study as hard as I can. Finals coming up and all... but we don't have too much time."
"Which is why you're only stepping out for a bit of air, right? Real quick, I promise." Spiderman replies good-naturedly. "It'll help clear your head."
MJ huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. "Where would I be without you?"
"It's Spiderman's job to help all of the citizens of New York... and you look like you could use it, so,"
MJ slides his window open even wider, already throwing a leg over the sill. "My hero."
Together, they drop down a few stories, just free-falling and enjoying the chill of the late evening for a few seconds, shrouded by the dusk's descent that was already darkening the vast sky above them.
MJ gasps breathlessly when Spiderman shoots out a web and sends them sailing over congested streets filled to the brim with cars and trucks, over tall street lamps and past bright digital billboards advertising all kinds of products.
They zoom past more buildings, arcing gracefully around corners. At one point, MJ dares to loosen a grip on Spiderman's shoulders and splay his fingers out against the wind.
They fly together like birds for a minute more, soaring through the air and then rounding right back on the path they carved into it so Spiderman could deposit his friend right back home.
MJ said they didn't have much time, right? And Miles was satisfied with their short little hangout anyhow. He got his hands on his crush, had him clinging onto his arms and his neck the entire time they were airborne. It was getting late and he had to head back to Visions himself as well.
"Take me up to the roof real quick," MJ pants into his ear. Miles tries very hard not to think too much about that as he wordlessly follows orders and makes a beeline for the roof access.
Together, they land near the edge, overlooking the concrete jungle that was Manhattan, surrounded on all sides by tall buildings that seemed to reach up to heavens, still much taller than MJ's own building.
It was a miracle they weren't seen together, but that might've been because of the glitter and glitz of the city night all around them. New Yorkers never really looked up anyways.
Below them, the traffic and the bustle of the city continued at its usual pace; a constant thrum of vibrations, sounds and lights as they flowed up and down the streets like blood cells traveling through veins.
Both boys leaned their elbows onto the roof's raised edge and peered all around them, enjoying their temporary peace, catching their breath.
"I'm real glad I met you, you know?" MJ says, uncharacteristically sincere. His face was an open door now, but he was still unable to meet Spiderman's eyes.
Miles thought it might be appropriate to keep his mask on for now.
"Man, I only swung us around for like a few minutes. You don't need to confess your love for me, I'll take a thanks as payment. That's all." He joked but still tried to keep the sarcasm light. Didn't want to ruin the moment, after all.
MJ offered a crooked smirk at that, but then sobered up again. "Nah, really, man. I mean it. I'm not sure where I'd be right now if I hadn't transferred over to Visions and literally bumped into you. Crazy how life works like that, huh?"
"Right, especially since you were my biggest fan before that," Miles reminds him. "Serendipity or whatever."
MJ nods slowly. "Serendipity. Yeah... exactly. Sorry. What did you just say?"
Caught off guard, Miles hesitates for a bit. Play dumb, Morales!
"Uhh, what did I just say?"
MJ laughs, punching Miles on the arm before folding his own arms over his chest. "I was a fan of the old Spiderman before you came along. When he died..." he averts his eyes, studying his shoes. "Yeah, that sucked. But then you came along out of the blue... anyways. I just took it as a sign, that's all."
Miles dramatically wilts against the side of the roof. "Daaamnn, bro. I just swung you around the city for a bit! I gave you a free ride, and I don't even get to be your favorite? I see how it is."
MJ bursts out laughing. "Don't worry, Spiderman," he says, holding up his hands placatingly. "You're on your way to replacing him soon enough! Keep giving me those free rides. And uh... thanks," he finishes lamely, raising his hand to shoot his friend a salute. "Yeah. Thanks. For this."
They smile sheepishly at each other for a few seconds and Miles swears he's going to start roasting alive in his suit pretty soon from the way the warmth in his chest was radiating outward towards every limb.
Butterflies were swirling inside of his gut and he swears he can hear the sappy music from a romance movie Miles watched recently playing somewhere near them. Maybe now was the time to... stop avoiding his feelings? Take that leap of faith, right?
He's done it many times before. This time was probably no different than any other time where he's been thrown way out of his comfort zone only to be kinda glad it happened, in retrospect.
He opened his mouth and started to speak at the same time MJ did.
"So, Em--"
"Uh, so--"
They jumped in unison, wide eyes meeting wide lenses. MJ dipped his head.
"Oh, sorry I was--" Miles chuckled, bopping his forehead with a hand. "S-sorry, what were you gonna say?"
He winced at the jarring awkwardness of it all. The sappy music went silent, the mood thoroughly ruined.
"Oh, well, uh--" MJ looked just as flustered as Miles felt. "N-nah, sorry, I was just gonna say that... that it's been a little while now. So I should probably be heading back," he gestured awkwardly over his shoulder towards the side of the building, trailing off.
"Riiiight, right. Yeah, duh. Of course. Just, uh," Miles turns so his back is facing his friend, gesturing at it as if to say hop on. "Lost track of time, I guess. My bad,"
"What were you gonna say?" MJ asks, right next to Miles' ear as always.
Silently, Miles tucks that part of himself away again for later.
He was really 100% willing to risk it all and go for it, just fully display all of that for a measly chance at getting to date the most popular kid at school right now, and one of the coolest people that he's ever met. He would kick himself if he weren't carrying him right there on his back.
What a stupid idea, Miles. Real dumb, even for you.
In a fraction of a second, he stuffs his emotions right back down in him. Time and place. Not the time, not the place, he reasons. They'd just met a few months ago, and they got off on a pretty rocky start. It just wasn't the time to be making such rash decisions. Yeah, that was it.
"Nah, forget it. I think I was just gonna ask if you wanted to come with me and Ganke to our favorite comic shop this weekend, but that's a dumb question--"
MJ suddenly squeezed his hands tighter around Miles' shoulders. "Duh! It's a dumb question because the answer is obviously yes, of course."
"You like comic books!? Since when?" Miles exclaimed in shock.
"I'm beating you as the top student in chem class right now. You are not nerdier than me. Stop playin' with me." MJ grumbles grumpily. He digs his chin vindictively into Miles' shoulder.
Miles' loud bark of laughter echoed off the rooftop as he takes a running leap towards the ledge, hops on it and promptly sends them plummeting several stories down.
MJ's cry echoed around them even louder.
After about a minute or so, MJ's back inside of his room and they're both trying very hard to suppress laughter so hard that their cheeks hurt and they're crying tears.
Thankfully, outside of the bedroom door, MJ's family never heard a thing.
#spiderverse#punkflower#miles morales#hobie brown#it started off angsty and then i had to go and be all sappy about it baaawwww#i reread a lot of this story trying to regain the memories of what exactly i wrote before and man that first chapter sure was a bummer huh#i was like.... maaannnn these boys have to put up with SO MUCH and i need them to just be kids again for my sanity#as a treat#yeah i hope y'all enjoyed and also thanks so much for being so patient with me if you've been waiting for updates OTL#guess how i'm trying to stay sane this winter! i'm writing about wholesome fluffy sappy maybe-but-maybe-not boyfriends i fuckin guess#will they won't they... i think that's how you sum up spidermanxMJ dynamics in four words right?#but yeah i think y'all already know that these 2 are endgame in my heart no matter what#so its not like i'm leaving a devastating cliffhanger or anything lol :p#a lot inspired these two dorks and their fluffy and frustrating relationship and that is: mj and peter in the mcu movies#i felt like they were a p good summation of what a young and closed off mj would be like with a dorky nerd who has a big secret#and also just. miles. and his relationships in the comics in general. gosh he is simply too sweet...#they're two teens still figuring shit out yanno? maybe they'll have their romance in college lol#and andrew garfield and emma stone's relationship was also so cute... idk i just love a lil rivalry going between partners too sue me#i can see a rivalry happening between this spiderman and mj for surrrre#so many options to choose from!!#anyways thx for reading!#mi writing#clown paint
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Chapter 29: The Fairy Proxi & The King's Guard Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Additional Tags: Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Alternate Universe, Character Study, War, world building, Trauma, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Political Intrigue, Found Family, Angst and Humor, Warriors is a very complicated person, Warriors also does not know Time is Mask, Warriors (Linked Universe)-centric, Canon-Typical Violence, Heavy Angst, Manipulation, Morally Ambiguous Character, Please read content warnings before each chapter, Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Physical Abuse, Implied Sexual Content, Power Imbalance, Implied/Referenced Torture, Blood and Injury, Disabled Character, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat Summary: “You are going to hear a lot of terrible things about me. Most of it is going to be true.” Being the hero who saved Hyrule from a bloody war was a thankless job that left Warriors with more regrets than he cared to remember. He only started to heal after meeting his fellow heroes from across time and joining them on their quest to defeat the black-blooded monsters. But when his time-hopping journey takes him back home, he finds his kingdom on the brink of war once more. This war threatens to ensnare not only Warriors, but his newfound family as well. Warriors will do whatever it takes to keep them safe, even if that means becoming a traitor to the kingdom he gave up everything to save. But the harder Warriors works to protect his family, the more the secrets of his dark past come to life. Who is Captain Link Walton, the Hero of Warriors? What happened to the two other heroes he had once fought alongside all those years ago? When this is over, will Warriors even have a family left to save or is he doomed to repeat his past mistakes? (Once, there were three brothers: the captain, the engineer, and the child. Their story did not have a happy ending.)
I was going to joke about how not even AO3 outages can stop this fic, but an AO3 outage did in fact prevent me from posting last night.
Did I use that time to fix all of the obvious flaws in this chapter? No. This chapter is a plague upon my existence, and I wish I had bludgeoned it to death with a baseball bat.
In this installment of, ya know, this whole mess:
Link tries to help the mysterious light he found in the snow
Warriors endeavors to establish a foothold of power within Castle Town
Hey kids! Do you like learning the names of random old men? No? Too bad :)
>> Read It Here >>
#there is a significant pacing issue in this chapter that I address a bit in the chapter notes#also i will finish replying to comment later. just gotta make dinner and actually relax tonight#either way thank you for being patient with as both ao3 and this story fights me#me rambling#lu ctb#linked universe#linkeduniverse#lu warriors#lu#legend of zelda#lu fanfiction#linked universe fanfic#lu time#lu legend#lu sky#lu four#lu twilight#lu wind#lu hyrule#lu wild#lu spirit#loz#loz fanfic#legend of zelda fanfiction#the legend of zelda#lu call them brothers#update announcement
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I think that comparisons between access to prescribed stimulants and medications like insulin are categorically inappropriate, and I will personally hand to anyone a card to mock people making that comparison. However, today I called Walgreens to ask whether they'd gotten Adderall in (because I called last Wednesday and they were out of stock, and I know from having experienced this multiple times over multiple months that they get new shipments on Wednesdays) and the woman on the phone told me they were out of the generic (which my prescriber only began prescribing because the name brand was out of stock) and that the name brand would be $326 unconvered, but that my insurance would cover a 5 mg dose, which, due to the laws around schedule 1 substances, means I would have to call my prescriber to have them resend the Rx to the phamracy, but this time for 3x daily 5 mg capsules. And I just said thank you and hung up but inside I was like ma'am, I know it isn't your fault but this is actually exactly what one would cook up if the intention was to torture a person via the process of accessing their stimulant prescription.
#and the first step of getting the rx sent in a new form would be typing in the name of my current prescriber#which i literally do not know offhand because i have been being shuffled between various PAs or whatever for over a year since my og dr left#which has been fully fine because the Adderall man does not need to know my business and the only times theyve poked at my personal life ive#been like excuse me...i am here for stimulant and we do not need to discuss that but thank you very much#so it is fine except when i need the providers name to start a like 4 step process#which also involves me calling walgreens specifically to fill the rz#bc they cannot fill the rx without the patient calling directly first for schedule 1 substances#as in yes the prescriber can send the rx and they can have it in stock and they will not fill it until the patient calls to fill it
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Heyhey :)
I don‘t wanna stress you but I just wanted to ask id you have any updates how the new chapter is coming along? I can‘t wait for it! (but take your time, I‘m just impatient)
thank you for writing this amazing fic! Byee
These kinds of asks don’t bother me at all or stress me out :) I don’t mind yall asking for status updates (as long as you’re nice about it)
((this is also just a me thing I know some other authors don’t like it))
it’s going good! Iroh & zukos talk is done FINALLYYYYY (7k) & we have Jee & Bato half done!
So all that’s left is Katara & Sokka / Zukka pov
so I’d say I’m halfway? But the hard part is over (looking at you iroh & zukoooooooo) it took me a while to finish that & life has been super busy. But I wrote half the bato pov (3k so far) in one sitting so…. The rest could wrap up quickly. Unfortunately, I think we’re still a week or two out.
I wish I could give you a few lines or something but I’m indecisive and idk what to pick sorry <3
#I’m sorry I am being soooooooo slow#I know I don’t have to apologize but I will anyway#The zuko & iroh talk was difficult because I wanted it to be realistic and also satisfying#It ended up being more emotional than I thought#Zuko has been really holding it all in poor guy#Anywayyyyyyy next chapter is going to be a lot of good talks#Bato & Jee still being some of my faves to writw#They remind me of a not traumatized older zukka so that’s probably why#Sorry I don’t have better news anon#But thank you for being patient with me!!!!#leaving it all behind#LIAB#ITF#ask
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