#bc recently i’ve felt like i don’t have one and that i can’t get it back

[a-bad-case-of-the-stephs]

OOH WAIT been meaning to ask this bc I know ppl have lots of varying opinions on the matter:

Batgirl: Convergence

How do we feel about it, Re: Steph?

It's been a long time since I most recently reread it so I can't really summon too many thoughts on it- I remember doubting that Steph would've quit being a vigilante in the dome, even if I liked her nursing career, I liked her roommates dynamic with Cass, and I liked a couple of Steph's jokes and bits (yelling at killer moth that he's wasting her time, singing "We Are The Champions" when she knocked out catman). I also remember loving how Steph was drawn but that's just cause I'm way biased towards Rick Leonardi's art.

Would love to hear your take on it though, bc I've heard people say they love how it depicts Steph, or they hate how it depicts Steph, or they're indifferent, etc etc. curious for your thoughts

Okay I won’t lie I hadn’t read Convergence Batgirl before receiving this ask, because I didn’t know about Convergence Batgirl. I’m not going to get into it bc no one cares but the way I started reading comics was a little stupid insane, so I’ve read a LOT but there is a chance any book which wasn’t published in an ongoing or which I couldn’t find out about by reading ongoings I just might not having heard of.

All this to say: glad to know about it now! Thank you for asking me about it! I’ve read it twice now but my review and opinions might change with time and as I think about it more. Also this is really really fucking long, hope you don’t mind.

I had a pretty similar take to you abt Steph’s nursing career. I really liked Steph being a nurse, it felt like a good choice for Steph. But I also had similar and pretty major gripe with it: I just can’t see Steph giving up Batgirl to be a nurse unless it’s an evolution of her character. We all know Steph is stubborn as fuck and I can’t see her abandoning the mantle of Batgirl with anything less than an absolute decisiveness about how she could best help people. It would never be a backing down, as Convergence seems to portray it as. I just can’t see Steph quitting being Batgirl the way she does in Convergence, because of nebulous reasons which never really get explained, and especially given her Batgirl 2009 progression.

I was a fan of the moment Steph mentions her pregnancy. Steph mentions her pregnancy/her baby two times I can think of in the entire time between the aftermath of her giving birth and the new 52: when she talks to Cass on the rooftop and when is dying at the end of War Games. Two is not a lot of times. Would more mentions make the arc somehow better written? No. Would it benefit Steph’s character? Maybe, maybe not. Do I think it says something that DC has the balls to do a horribly executed teen pregnancy arc but not the balls to meaningfully acknowledge that choice again as consequential to Steph’s character? Yeah.

I think especially given how much time has passed for Steph and how much she’s grown as a character, her thinking about her pregnancy and especially how it’s shown as something that she uses to help her help people, is pretty well executed and intriguing to me. Again especially so because we get so little reflection about the pregnancy from Steph normally.

One little nitpick about it though. Steph reassures the pregnant teenager she’s aiding with birth that the amount of pain as she pushes is ‘normal’ and reassures her that Steph gets it. The dialogue doesn’t make as much sense if Steph had a c-section, which she did. It’s not like the biggest issue, just something small. (I’m like the Cinemasins of stephanie brown aren’t I? Damn.)

I was also very curious about the gendering of the baby, it’s something Steph does during War Games as well, referring to the baby as a girl despite specifically choosing when she gave birth not to know the gender of her baby. Even her dream sequence in Robin #65 is very very careful with language, the baby never is gendered. Once I feel like I can chalk up to author error, but if it’s occurred twice now I feel comfortable assigning an in-world explanation for this. I’m thinking it’s projection, just how Steph sees her baby and thinks about ‘her’. The dream sequence and her own twisty way she combined her own childhood with her baby’s potential one and plain old intuition combine and cause Steph to start thinking of her baby as a baby girl post pregnancy. She isn’t trying to think about it. She actually spend a good deal of time trying not to think about her baby, especially at first, about its eye color or where it’s sleeping at night or its gender. But inevitably thinking about her baby as a girl just trickles into her brain, until she doesn’t think twice about it and she refers to her baby as a girl even in the rare conversation, even while knowing she made that choice to not really ever know. (Okay tangent over)

Steph as an animal lover is interesting to me, as an extension of her defender of voiceless / victims shtick I think it works for her, but on the other hand it makes me think of the panel where she kicks this evil goose and then I laugh. I genuinely can’t think of any other notable moments of Steph and an animal interacting, besides the evil goose and the other brainwashed animals in the Robin 80 Page Giant. But sure, Steph as an animal lover is cute. No gripes with that. I like the description of her eyes as cow-like, that was fun to me.

Unfortunately Cass’s characterization felt off to me. I liked that they lived together, that was cute, but Cass didn’t really seem like herself. I don’t think she made a single expression the whole book. Also they gave her blue eyes which is crazy to me.

I did find it really funny when Steph jokingly refers to Cass as honey. I thought it might’ve been a Future State esque situation again where DC lets them be a (plausibly deniable) couple ONLY in alternate universes to the main continuity. Obvs not how it ended up playing out in Convergence, but still funny to me.

I wasn’t a fan of how much Steph devalues her own skill. I felt like a solid chunk of Steph’s internal narration was downplaying her abilities and doubting herself. It’s in character, don’t get me wrong, specifically in any pre batgirl2009 story. But it felt super out of place in a story which takes place after Batgirl 2009 has occurred. Because bg2009 serves as such a huge self confidence and self worth glow up for Steph, it felt like a huge step back for her. It’s one thing if it was just about her being out of practice, but it went beyond that. I can also see Steph having periods of lower self esteem and regression to old feelings about her self worth, but it feels like we’re missing an inciting incident for that. I would say her quitting Batgirl is the obvious answer, but the issue is I don’t think Convergence does a good enough job justifying that choice either, so I feel like I need an emotional inciting incident to explain Steph’s choice to quit Batgirl as well.

I thought it was a strange choice to say that Steph and Tim became a couple In the nebulous post bg2009 but pre-convergence-Dome period of time. I like the terms they were in Red Robin and Batgirl (2009) with the slightly sour but playful banter of exes who know eachother too well. This portrayal felt much less grounded in their history. The romantic throughline also came out of left field to me, given we didn’t find out that Steph and Tim had even gotten back together only to have broken up again until the second issue.

I will say I love the way Kwitney brings the realistic toll a crime fighting lifestyle would have taken on Steph and Tim into the story. It rarely gets explored, and I love when scars or long term injuries get acknowledged. Also kind of a sweet scene despite it all.

On the topic of Steph and Tim in Convergence Batgirl, I really liked this panel.

Something about this really speaks to me. I have to think on how it works w Steph’s character more, but I really do like this for her. And also the ref to Tim and Steph’s first date w the swing set is cute.

The thing with Convergence: Batgirl is that it’s asking a question about Stephanie Brown. By making her the champion for Gotham, and constantly comparing her to those better suited for the role, the comic pushes this question over and over again; Why is Steph ‘special’? Why her?

It’s a specific question abt why she would be chosen to be the champion, but it’s also a more general one which investigates the nature of Steph as a character. It’s a question she’s been leveled a lot as she’s been alternatively valued or devalued over time.

Kwitney comes to one main answer: Steph is good because Steph is resourceful and unpredictable. It’s Steph’s creativity and willingness to talk things out and pursue nonviolent solutions which allows her to best killer moth, (did the dome turn him back to a normal guy you think? Pretty sure he was still a Huge Moth Monster last we saw him) subdue the stampeding crowd of Gothamites, and convince Catman to surrender in order to win the challenge.

While this answer works, I don’t think it’s quite right. In fact, I think Batgirl Convergence accidentally refutes and reverses the real thing that makes Stephanie Brown ‘special’: her indomitable perseverance and will.

Steph gives up Batgirl, which is not portrayed as a choice to evolve into a role she feels she could help more people as, but as a kind of ‘giving up’ that ultimately turned out for the best.

Steph seems to give in to Tim, at first expressing anger over being dumped by being ghosted, because Tim no longer wanted to date her when she wasn’t Batgirl, and then seemingly giving in to his desire to rekindle their relationship without even discussing the situation again or expressing her feelings of betrayal. Those feelings aren’t resolved, they are abandoned.

And Steph wins as a champion, the genesis for Convergence’s investigation into what makes her a worthy vigilante, by convincing Catman to give up, stating that if he didn’t, she would. Does she actually give up in the fight? No. But the language of ‘giving up’ as Steph’s only path to victory in a game about what makes her valuable is so intriguing to me.

For the record, I don’t think Stephanie in Convergence Batgirl is constantly quitting, or somehow not stubborn. She perseveres, yes, but I do think there is a strong irony in these big story beats in Convergence revolving around Steph doing the very opposite: giving up.

And while Steph is certainly resourceful, and certainly unpredictable, her strongest point to me will always be the fact that she never does give up, no matter what the odds, no matter what she’s told. So in that way, I do think Convergence Batgirl fails. It asks this question about what makes Steph a worthy vigilante and then refutes the best answer entirely. Because of that, to me, it fails to explain what makes Steph special, it fails to answer the key question it asks to a standard I’d agree with.

Side note, I don’t know why Steph can never get writers who have written for her before. I find that unfortunate. That being said, I do think Kwitney did a solid job of understanding Steph’s character. Not perfect, but to me it’s clear she tried to ground Stephanie in her past.

I feel I might be more critical if I didn’t have new52 Steph Brown to stack it up against. At least this is a pre flashpoint story where I know her history as a character is pretty much intact. This world, even if elements are different, feels familiar.

Overall, it was a nice read despite its flaws. I think it messes up some important things about Steph’s character, but it also gets quite a few things right. My opinion might change with more time though. Thanks again for the ask, I’m curious as to what you think if you wanna weigh in!

[gregmarriage]

SUCH a ‘do everything you can in certain areas of your life, so you can at least feel like you have something resembling control over it’ girlie x

[777nicetits]

She leaned back on her chair, legs coming up to her chest as the robotic voice read the most recent donation out loud.

makegatoradethicker sent $10

how is living with schlatt like?

The girl had a sweet smile on her face as she heard the TTS go off. "Thank you for the ten dollars!" She looked up at the camera. "How is living with Schlatt like?" She repeated the question, taking a moment to think about it. "It's pretty nice. He's pretty chill. Jambo and the little guy are definitely the best part of it though."

Her eyes went off to her second monitor, hugging her legs as she read chat.

🜲 brinzioo tell us moreeeee

harriscamm thats it???

🜲 ✪ joliieeee no fun!!!! tell us the teeeaaaa

“The tea? There’s no tea.” She laughed it off. “Okay, I’ll tell you guys this. I…” She paused for a second or two, for the dramatics of it, “Have been on a mission recently. I’ve been trying to make Schlatt eat more vegetables and fruits.”

She chuckled, watching as her chat laughed along with her.

“I already got him to try some little carrot snacks. Which were like, carrot slices with some honey, some chili pepper sprinkled on it and a side of Brazilian style seasoned mayonnaise.” She lifted her right hand closer to the camera, thumb up. “He really liked it! He ate like a full bowl. And, uh, yesterday for dinner I tried a new hidden chicken recipe that my mom sent me and, I don’t think he knows that,” she snickered, hand coming up to her mouth, “There was some broccoli in there, and he ate it all. So,” she shrugged, her lips turning into a straight line, “A win is a win, I guess.”

🜲 ✪ joliieeee omg girl 😭 you make it sound like he’s a little toddler

She laughed loudly at the comment, reading it out loud for the whole stream. “Honestly? He kinda gets my maternal instincts acting up sometimes. Like, he’s not stupid, but sometimes he’ll do something or say something and I’ll be like… ‘My brother in Christ, how’d you get this far?’”

chiklittle schlatt himbo comfirmed?????

🜲 chiquitamalassa KEKW

🜲 christiantryhard did bro just get sonzoned????

✪ jajajeny that is an insane sentence u just said KEKW

🜲 ☯︎︎ ♐︎ ✪ candidcandance when he makes ur maternal instincts act up >>>>

She was having the time of her life reading her chat. The second those words left her mouth she knew it’d get clipped, twitter is about to have a field day with this one.

“Okay guys, enough, enough. He’s gonna be so mad at me, you guys will have me kicked out.”

🜲 ☯︎︎ ♐︎ ✪ candidcandance he’d never kick you out bc that means he’ll have to go back to taking care of himself on his own

That made her chuckle, but her smile was quick to fade once the TTS went off once again.

jschlatt donated $100

I can’t believe you put broccoli in my food, mommy. I’ve

never felt so betrayed in my whole life.

She faced the camera, making direct eye contact with the lens as she tried her best to keep a straight face, failing miserably. She didn’t even wanted to look at chat right now. And even if she did, she wouldn’t be able to make anything out by how fast it was going.

“Mods, ban this weirdo!”

tried something here, ngl i really like it.

[slightlysaltysometimes]

latest jay post got me thinking: i went on these one depression meds and theyre the only ones who worked and i started eating more cus i felt well enough too but put on weight and immediately dropped them. or like im so busy working in the medical field and with adhd i just often dont have time, so imagine moving in with jay and he cooks for you and makes sure you now have a good eating diet instead of few snacks and ton of caffiene for the day so naturally you put on weight and he just is FROTHING at the mouth.

this ask has me frothing at the mouth. i’m going to marry you anon

reader starting to gain weight bc jay cooking for them…

(content warnings for weight gain, AFAB body but no pronouns or gender mentioned, dress used as a plot point, swearing, 2nd person POV, very suggestive near the end, pet names used: ma, sweetheart, baby)

Starting to live with Jason is a dream.

You thought he was a near perfect boyfriend before (well, at least perfect for you), but now?

He’s a househusband. You mean it in the most affectionate, positive way possible, but he genuinely insists on cooking and cleaning entirely by himself. You compromised with him by agreeing that you’ll put away clean laundry when it’s done, but he doesn’t allow you to finish any more domestic labor with your work keeping you so busy.

It’s been a long shift, being on your feet and working for almost 14 hours. So, getting home at 8:39 PM, you expected Jason to have just ordered some takeout or pizza for dinner due to your absence.

Your keys jingle as you unlock the front door to your shared apartment, yawning as you step inside and toe off your shoes. “Jayce, I’m home!” You call out, hanging up your keys and setting down your bag.

But he doesn’t come out of his office our your shared bedroom. He’s in the kitchen, an apron around his waist and a grin on his lips.

“Hey, ma.” He murmurs as you drape yourself over his back and nuzzle between his shoulderblades. “Long day?”

“You have no idea.” You grumble, pressing the smallest of kisses to his spine. “You’re cooking? You could’ve just ordered takeout earlier, you didn’t need to wait up for me.”

“I wanted to.” He replies, almost scoffing. “I’m not gonna let you eat a granola bar and call it dinner.”

You can nearly feel your heart melting in your chest.

“You really didn’t have to.” You reiterate. “But thank you.”

You two haven’t said ‘I love you’ yet, but you’re incredibly tempted. Jason is so easily spooked by love. So you show him with your actions, instead. The gentle kisses and caresses, the gentle nights and even softer mornings.

And by the way he cooks you your favorite foods after long shifts and hard days, you’d wager he’s doing the same.

Recently, you’ve noticed a small trend in your clothing.

Some of the smaller items you have are a little too tight lately. Plus, you can’t wear your bra on the tightest setting anymore, and your usual hole on your belt is a little too restrictive when you fasten it.

Jason is helping you clip your bra when he notices.

“Don’t you wear it on the other hook?” He murmurs, clipping it on the second. “I know I’ve helped you with this before.”

You hum, turning around and pecking his lips as a thanks for the assistance. “Yeah. I might be gaining some weight recently, it might be the new medication I’m on. Might need to do more cardio or something.”

Jason frowns. “You’re already doing more than you should. You are not gonna try and push yourself even more.”

You roll your eyes, huffing. “Whatever. I probably won’t gain much more weight, anyway.”

You were such a fool.

Over the next several months living with Jason, you’ve had to go up a clothing size, up a bra band size, and up a half-size in your shoes.

But every time you bring it up with Jason, he brushes it off, just reassuring you that it’s normal for hormones to cause weight fluctuations and that you’re perfect the way you are.

Finally, you’re trying on an old dress when you can’t quite fit into it, and you break. You can’t just let him ignore it anymore.

“Jason.” You sigh, calling him into your bedroom. “Come here.”

Jason is there in just a few seconds, grinning when he sees you in the dress. “Hey, baby. Feeling nostalgic or somethin’?”

You roll your eyes. “Try and zip it up.”

He quirks an eyebrow, but he does. And it doesn’t get any further than your mid-back.

“This fit me fine a few months ago.” You say, sounding equal parts confused and annoyed. “Loosely, even.”

The rest of your words fade into the foggy background as Jason’s mind runs wild.

You only notice when his hands move and he starts to unzip the dress, then slipping his hands into it and caressing your sides.

“You’re so beautiful.” He mutters, voice thick with… Something. “Look at you. You were so thin before, remember? You didn’t even eat two full meals a day. Maybe 1000 calories on a good day.”

“That’s an exaggeration.” You scoff.

Jason noses against your neck, mouthing at the soft, sensitive skin. “Barely. Fuck, you’re so pretty. Stunning. I love cookin’ for ya, you’re actually eatin’ right now. Your body is catching up. Your metabolism is slower ‘cause of your diet before, and now you’re actually getting the shit you need.”

You sigh, realizing he’s right. “Damn it.”

He frowns, biting gently at your shoulder. “This isn’t a ‘damn it’ moment, baby. Look at you.”

His hands start to wander. One caresses your stomach as the other wanders up to your chest. “Fuck. Sweetheart, haven’t you noticed? Your bra’s too small.”

You frown. “No it’s not, I just got a new one.”

He smirks, thumb ghosting over where your chest almost spills from the cups. “Yeah, it is. You went up a cup size.”

After that day, every time you tried to start a diet or new workout routine, he would vehemently disagree until you gave in.

This morning, though, he’s staring.

You’re in just your underwear, and he’s staring as you stretch and dig through your wardrobe for something to wear.

“You’re off today, right?” He asks, voice rough from sleep.

You don’t even hear him until he’s right behind you, his large hands on your hips.

“Yeah, I’m off.” You respond, suspiciously eyeing him when you turn around.

He’s shameless in his ogling, not even bothering to warn you before he picks you up effortlessly.

“Wha- Jason!” You exclaim, holding tight to his shoulders. “Put me down!”

He smiles wickedly, plopping you down on the bed and pulling you flush to him as he leans down and captures your lips with his.

“Fucking gorgeous.” He murmurs, biting your bottom lip and making you gasp. “You’re so *soft*. You know how hard it is to stop myself from practically groping you all the damn time? Your hips, your thighs, your stomach….”

You don’t even have the opportunity to think before he’s squeezing your hips and pulling back to look at you properly. “Can I have you, ma? Please? I’m hungry, baby, and I really want those pretty fuckin’ thighs around my head.”

These changes to your body are new, but maybe not as bad as you thought.

[bratbarzal]

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)

[blossoms-phan]

Hi! I am a X escapee relatively recent Dan & Phil returnee who loves your posts, you seem so reasonable. I have just been given what felt like a 90 min presentation detailing how my innocent assumption that Dan and Phil were anything other than platonic housemates was incorrect and offensive.

The lecture i was given included every reference that highlighted, amongst other things: their "obvious" separate bedrooms, bathrooms, towels, angles of items shown in bedrooms, closets, mentions of wanting to go out and meet other men, lack of real concern (X words, not mine) at each others medical emergencies and every use of bro and friend that they have said post hiatus. It was very detailed, they were very insistent and I was very apologetic. I decided to flee the X hostility and head back to tumblr, but here everyone appears to think they are together. So now I am confused and don't want to offend a whole new group of people.

I think what set the X people off was i said "partner" as I was under the, I now know, incorrect impression that they went public years ago. Oops. Don't trust the internet is what I have learned from this. I thought all this drama would have died out long ago, but I assume this is a topic to stay far away from still? Thanks

hi anon! first of all, thank you for saying that (still can’t believe I’ve garnered enough attention on here that people specifically like my posts!), I really appreciate it. second of all imma be so real with you I am a person that still primarily refers to “X” as twitter bc I refuse to get with the times so this greatly confused me until I realized there was only one possible platform with those kind of people you could be talking about. i’m sorry you endured that exhausting sounding lecture and welcome you to phannie tumblr with open arms 🫶

i am here to gently reassure you that you can take what dnp say and do and show and form your own opinions about it, don’t let anyone tell you you’re right or wrong for drawing conclusions or making assumptions. however I will also be so bold and tell you why that individual is so blatantly wrong and maybe clear some of your confusion.

first of all, i think dnp would refer to themselves as anything but "platonic housemates." it all comes back to this but i dare someone to look me in the eyes and be so fr when saying that just because they've never stated in words "we're dating/boyfriends/partners etc" the simple fact that they share a mortgage on a "forever home" together, (according to them) spend literally all their time together, are partners in work/life/play (vacations), share families (dan being uncle to phil's niece) implies anything other than them being life partners. i'd also like to draw attention back to possibly the most blatantly open statement either of them has made about the nature of their relationship, in dan's video titled "basically i'm gay" where he describes them as "actual soulmates" and more. there are lots of people who have been discussing/answering posts about the concept of a "hard launch" recently which i could direct you to and i am of the mind that there's nothing wrong with conceptualizing the idea of a hard launch or them being more open to sharing details of their romantic relationship to an extent, but BIG is the most profound public statement of the nature of their relationship and, in my humble opinion, "the" hard launch as dan QUITE LITERALLY says "more than just romantic" and goes on to say he and phil are private people and that that's all he will say of it for now (keep in mind it's been 5 years since this statement- still relevant but minds can change, specifically theirs in terms of what they feel more comfortable and open sharing in a post-comeback world)

now moving on to the "references" you mentioned. again, highlighting literally any of this as "proof" that they are just friends or whatever is utterly ridiculous but i'll still go through it for funsies. i'd like to challenge this person that claims they have "obvious" seperate bedrooms by saying... what is so obvious about it?? dnp are highly aware that whatever they share with us will be analyzed or viewed under a microscope, so obviously they've carefully chosen which parts of the phouse to show us and they're not going to be like oh yeah this is OUR bedroom where we sleep TOGETHER every night. now i'm aware that yes, the "black" bedroom with dan's closet is more obviously a dan room that has been claimed as "his" bedroom. can't find it to link rn but they have posted a photo of the shelf of that room and while it is mostly dan stuff on the shelves, there was also a photo of phil's family and some of phil's books and items on the shelves. storage? sure, but if someone wants to claim that makes it so obviously dan's room then i can say that having phil's stuff in there could also point to them sharing the space. the room that phil films amazingphil videos in has been called a guest room/bed by them both, and in terms of rooms we've seen that just leaves the green room. imho everything points towards this being another guest room/possibly a room for family specifically to stay when they come- iirc nothing has been said to claim this as phil's room other than the fact that there is a painting by his dad and he occasionally films in there. i'm not going to pretend to know the ins and outs of their sleeping arrangements, but i think for two adults that own a huge house together and spend a lot of time together and have a lot of their own things it's perfectly reasonable to have "separate" bedrooms, multiple bathrooms/their own towels (?? i don't get this one i assume they're referring to the part of the golden pig video but like. obviously they have their own towels wtf lmao) and utter those things more on camera and then sleep together/share spaces in their own time.

once again, dan and phil know what they're doing. they are in control of what they show and share. calling each other "bro" and "friend" is an intentional choice and very much second nature at this point after doing it on camera for years. also it's not wrong or implies that they aren't romantic- i am of the opinion that they are friends first and they know that too. however, in a post-hiatus/comeback world, it almost feels pointed at this point. like a joke. a wink wink, nudge nudge, look-to-camera "we know you know" thing that they're keeping going just because they can.

in terms of the "going out and meeting other men" bit i assume they refer to jokes made by dan in the wad era? again, i'm not going to dive deep into this but dan is a comedian and post-coming out, wad and those other shows were the first time in his life he was able to be openly, unapologetically gay and himself and i think he was allowed to make a few grindr jokes for the fun of it. if dan values privacy in terms of his personal life, i highly doubt he would go around telling everyone he was hooking up with dudes- these are jokes plain and simple. but if you're interested @freckliedan has a wonderful post about dnp and the concept of monogamy/them sleeping with other people that i don't entirely disagree with and that is worded much better than i ever could so. i'd also like to talk to this person bc in what fucking world have they EVER shown a "lack of concern" at each others medical emergencies????? this is possibly the most baffling claim out of all of these to me. dan could not have made it more clear how scared/worried/traumatized he was by phil literally almost dying recently, and there have been more instances than i can count of him just being there for phil during all of his more recent health issues/scares. if this is referring to the eye incident, again i'm not going to pretend i know all the ins and outs of their relationship bc i don't- we know what they tell us. literally everything about this they said in a joking way, i don't know why people got their panties in a bunch- phil sending dan alone doesn't mean he doesn't care about him or anything, i honestly don't think he wouldn't have been much help going and i think they both kind of knew this, they were just playing it up to be a funny anecdote because they're entertainers. it's what they do. they've been making stories out of their lives for 15 years.

this is getting far too long and rambley as i don't know how to rein in my yapping when responding to asks but. i promise you're fine. discussing their relationship isn't "drama" or some forbidden thing, it happens on here a lot actually. except you will find most people on here use critical thinking and what dan and phil knowingly share with us, as adults with brains, to draw conclusions about their relationship based on everything from the way they look at each other to the little ways they tell us they care about and love each other bc they do. and that's not something they shy from now. come join us! don't let people tell you you're wrong for thinking they're partners bc in the nicest way possible, they literally are (if you want to sugarcoat it and say life partners instead of romantic go ahead bc they've literally described themselves as companions through life which is a more poetic way of saying partners imo) and respectfully anyone who thinks otherwise is in denial at this point

[sitp-recs]

hi! how are you?

so I read a fic some time ago that destroyed me…… like literally. I enjoyed it but at the same time I didn’t. but now I can’t stop thinking about it bc everything on it was so revolting and fucked. how to make a fic get out of our system? is it possible 😅 not to be dramatic but this fic almost made me lose interest in the whole ship lmao I just wanted to read something I enjoy again, you know? and nothing hits :( and when it does I’m almost finishing the fic and something horrible happens (that wasn’t really tagged) and I endure it until the end 💀 anyway if you have any fic that you read recently that is very romantic and monogamous or even if they are exes but they don’t date anyone else because they just can’t move on, pls share with us!! and it doesn’t have to be drarry, it can be anything. Im going through your lists and whole blog tbh looking for something that will save me lmaoooo I’ve read almost everything that interests me and you recced. (btw your break up make up list is amazing!) still I think the spark left me 🫠 ugh sorry for yapping

I’m sorry to hear that, anon :,( I think we’ve all been there at some point, god knows how many times I felt blocked, uninspired or just unable to connect to any fic. Personally, I find it helpful to take short breaks from fandom and focus on other hobbies for a while. Those fics will always be there when and if you’re ready to return! Also, imho you shouldn’t have to “endure” any fics that you find upsetting. I don’t typically have any triggers but I certainly have tropes/topics that don’t interest me much (or at all), and I have no qualms abandoning a fic when they show up unannounced 🤣

Now, it’s a bit hard to rec something randomly without knowing more about your fic tastes, but since you’re interested in romantic/monogamous stories, I thought I’d share some recs along those lines. This is a personal selection that might not work for you, but if it does I’ll be pleased to know that you’ve found that spark again :) Take care xo

Short fic:

Take the Moon by tackytiger (M, 15k)

Harry Potter has always wanted a family of his own, and when a deadly blood curse forces him into a marriage bond with his best friend Draco Malfoy, it looks like he might just have found one. It's just a shame they’d always planned to break up after a year…

Two Zinnias and the Scent of Lemon by @the-starryknight (M, 16k)

The Ministry didn’t turn bad overnight. Harry didn’t suddenly turn rogue either. Between covert Legilimency links and Polyjuice disguises and running and running and running, Draco has forgotten what it is like to have a safe harbor that isn’t a person. If there’s an art to fighting back, then they’ll find it hand in hand.

Us, in Lieu by Tepre (E, 29k)

Teddy needs help and Harry needs funding. Draco sits in the other room and plays the piano.

Long fic:

Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them by nerakrose, dustmouth (T, 96k)

Malfoy is way too interested in coroner reports for somebody who's definitely not looking for ways to die, Harry wants to be friends with him, and Ginny wants to break up with Harry.

Who we are in the shadows by Quicksilvermaid (E, 100k)

What happens when you’re forced to become the very thing you despise? Ex-Auror Harry Potter, tossed out of the Ministry for something he had no control over, has been looking for a way back to his former life.

Far From The Tree by aideomai (E, 112k)

The arrival of Harry Potter’s children—snapped back in time, the children themselves guessed, twenty or so years—was the most interesting thing to happen at Hogwarts for years.

[jungshookz]

just a small compilation of yoongi and y/n being platonic soul mates

➺ pairing; lveb!yoongi x lveb!y/n pre-namjoon (sorry namjoon u r not a part of this) 

➺ genre; so much friendship fluff i love platonic love so much 

➺ wordcount; 2.8k

➺ summary; yoongi and y/n love and care about each other very much but they’ll never actually say it outright bc real friends never do that! yoongi loves y/n a lot and y/n loves yoongi a lot and to be honest I AM JUST TOO SOFT FOR ALL OF THIS!!!!!!!!!

➺ what to expect; “and don’t lie to me again, please. i’m supposed to have your back and i can’t do my job if you’re hiding things from me.”

➺ currently playing on cee.fm; how sweet it is (to be loved by you) — james taylor 

»»————- 🧸 ————-««

yoongi and y/n get drunk and discuss very important things 

“ah…” you suck in an air of breath through your teeth, patting your chest a few times as the whiskey trickles down your throat

you’re not much of a drinker but yoongi insisted that this was the best whiskey he’d ever had and the only reason why you agreed was because he said if you mixed it with apple juice, it’d just taste like apple juice with a spicier kick 

“you are such a baby.” yoongi snorts, downing the rest of his glass before setting it down on the table, “you don’t have to drink if you don’t want to.”

“i do…” you shake your head, leaning back against the couch, “i don’t, but i also do.”

it’s not often that the two of you spend a sunday evening getting drunk in your apartment but you’ve had a rough week with the business (you’ve had to deal with many, many impatient and annoying customers this week) and yoongi just hasn’t drank in a long time and he recently got paid so why not spend it on some good quality alcohol?? 

“we should play a game or something.” yoongi turns and leans back against the arm of the couch before kicking his legs up onto your lap, “we should do something while waiting for the pizza, otherwise we’re both going to fall asleep.” 

“a game?”

“a game.” yoongi nods, reaching over to crack open the fresh bottle of jameson whiskey (surprisingly smooth, actually. and you do taste the alcohol but you quite like it with the apple juice), “what do drunk people talk about?” 

“they don’t talk. they call their exes.” you joke, yoongi rolling his eyes at your teasing smile

“for your information, i only did it one time. and she didn’t even pick up, so i just left a voicemail. and i don’t even remember what i said in the voicemail.” 

“one time too many.” your eyes widen a little at the reminder of that chaotic night that involved you chasing yoongi around the street trying to get him to give you his phone but his legs are longer and he’s very speedy when he’s drunk so it took you a while until you finally managed to pry his phone from his clammy hands 

love really does make people crazy 

“what’s your biggest fear?” you ask, turning to look at him 

“oh, we’re going to be that type of drunk tonight, are we?” yoongi snorts, reaching up to scratch the side of his nose before pursing his lips in thought and looking up at the ceiling, “probably that i’ll never be good enough in all aspects of my life, but to be honest, mostly when it comes to any romantic stuff. i’m terrified that i’ll try my best with someone and that my best still won’t be good enough for them, and i know i shouldn’t be so dependent on what someone else thinks about me, but if i was dating someone and i felt like i wasn’t good enough for them and then they told me to my face that i wasn’t good enough for them, that would probably send me into the biggest depression spiral i’ve ever had in my entire life. what about you?” 

yoongi looks back down at you to see that you’re staring at him with wide eyes before you reach over to pour some more whiskey into his glass, picking it up and holding it out for him to take 

“…flying cockroaches.” 

“that’s valid.” 

y/n keeps (choosing) to make the same mistake and yoongi’s kinda over it 

“you know, i was just doing some thinking when i was getting the ice cream and i don’t understand,” yoongi shuts the front door behind him before kicking his sneakers off, leaning against the wall with one hand, “didn’t you guys end things, like, a year ago?”

“he reached out in february n we’ve been seeing each other since then…” you sniffle, wiping at your red eyes as you look at him from your curled-up position on the couch, “…didn’t tell you because- i know how you feel about him-“

“he’s a fucking dickhead, that’s how i feel about him. he’s a walking red flag in a very concerning way- like, i have some red flags but they’re the ones that make me seem hot and mysterious, not the ones that make people wonder if i’m a narcissistic sociopath- also, are you telling me you’ve been secretly dating this man for the last-“ yoongi pauses, counting the months on his hands before his eyes widen slightly, “holy shit, you’ve been hiding this from me for the last eight months?” 

you press your lips together as you avert your gaze sheepishly, “…yeah. i’m sorry…” 

“well, what happened this time? why’d you guys break things off?” yoongi plops himself down on the couch next to you, pulling the two pints of ice cream and the cheap wooden spoons out of the thin plastic bag

“he- he was kind of seeing other people at the same time because we never made things exclusive-“

“well, were you seeing anyone else?” 

“no- and… he told me that i wasn’t allowed to see anyone else but he was- so- so basically he started dating-“

“ah, ah-“ yoongi holds the wooden spoon up to shut you up before letting out a laugh, “i’m gonna be so real with you, i don’t feel any sympathy for you at all.”

“i’m not asking for sympathy-“ your voice wavers slightly (you were definitely asking for sympathy and also you fully expected yoongi to come in here and just validate all of your feelings but to be fair you’d probably also feel some type of way if you found out he’d been lying to you for the past eight months of your friendship), “i’m just… sad…” 

“gee whiz, you’re sad because you made a choice to reunite with a known horrible human being!” yoongi exclaims sarcastically, peeling the lid off of the first pint while he shakes his head, “you have to take some accountability here, y/n. it’s not that he forced you to be in this weird relationship with him- and you know, i get it, when you’re reunited with an ex, old feelings come up and yada yada, but you already know the type of person shownu is, so i don’t really know why you’re surprised that being involved with him ended up with you needing emergency pints of ice cream… again. i feel like we’ve had this conversation so many times. it’s getting boring!” 

“i don’t know, yoongi, i thought things would be different…” you mutter, picking at your cuticles, “i thought he’d changed-“

“people rarely change. small habits, maybe, but people rarely change. and you have to take responsibility for the way that you let people treat you, too, because at some point it’s not just because oh yoongi, i was dumb, oh yoongi, i made a mistake, oh yoongi, he seemed so genuine when he was apologising to me — at some point you have to accept the fact that oh, yoongi, maybe i’m the one who has the power to not be crying over a piss-poor human being.” yoongi snaps, turning to look at you with a frown 

he only feels 1% bad when he sees chubby teardrops forming at your waterline and he lets out a quiet sigh before handing you your pint and a spoon, “you know i’m just saying all this shit because we’re friends and i care about you.”

“i know.” you sniffle, taking the pint from him delicately and scraping a little bit of ice cream off the top, “‘m sorry.” 

a moment of silence passes as yoongi gets comfortable with his own pint, his lips pursing as he looks back over at you in all your sad glory 

“i’m sorry things didn’t work out with him. i know you really liked him. but he’s genuinely a horrible person and in the long run, you’re going to be grateful you didn’t end up with someone like that.” he pokes you with his foot to get you to look up at him, “and don’t lie to me again, please. i’m supposed to have your back and i can’t do my job if you’re hiding things from me.” 

yoongi’s really passionate about getting strangers to try y/n’s strawberry cinnamon buns 

“what the hell? these are so good. you should sell these. why don’t you sell these??“ yoongi sucks strawberry glaze off his thumb before his eyes widen, “you could really turn this into a business, you know.”

“i don’t know…” your cheeks flush a little as you wipe flour off the counter, giving him a little shrug, “don’t know if i’ll be successful…” 

you had some spare time today so you decided to whip up a batch of strawberry cinnamon buns (they’re just like regular cinnamon buns except you also add a homemade strawberry compote in the layers, no biggie) and yoongi came over just as they came out of the oven, so you offered him one and obviously he said yes because he’d be crazy to turn down a little treat 

“sure you’ll be successful. you’re really good at baking, and if you start now, you’ll at least have some sort of income after we graduate.” yoongi frowns, “you can’t talk about yourself like that. you have to, like, manifest your success and speak it into existence and all that shit-“ 

“maybe one day…” you purse your lips before offering him another shrug, “i dunno if people’ll like em.” 

“STRAWBERRY CINNAMON BUNS! HOMEMADE STRAWBERRY CINNAMON BUNS-“ that one day comes a lot sooner (as in, this is happening an hour after yoongi suggested you start your own business) and you can’t help but stand off to the side shyly as yoongi continues pushing for people to try your buns

“come on, give this a try and tell me they’re not the most incredible thing you’ve ever put in your mouth-“ yoongi hands someone a free sample in a paper cupcake liner and the stranger looks at it before holding it back for him to take

“this looks great, but i’m allergic to strawberries-“

“well, that’s what your epipen is for, pal-“ yoongi slaps him on the shoulder before pushing him aside and turning his attention to other people, “strawberry cinnamon buns! free samples of homemade strawberry cinnamon buns! get over here and put my friend’s buns in your mouth- oh.” he immediately stops, turning around to look at you, “so sorry, did not mean to sound like i was pimping you off-“ 

you shake your head with a giggle, watching fondly as yoongi spins back around and practically chases someone down to get them to take a free sample from him 

yoongi gets stood up and he’s never seen y/n so upset before 

“who did this to you.” 

yoongi looks up from where he’s sitting on the cobblestone steps to see you standing there, your eyebrows furrowed tightly and your lips set in a tight frown 

if he squints, he’d probably be able to see fumes coming off the top of your head by how upset you seem 

“took you long enough.” he jokes, getting up from his butt and picking up the bouquet of wilted flowers next to him 

he messaged you twenty minutes ago about the situation and you literally got here in warp speed 

“who did this to you?” you ask again, and yoongi shakes his head 

this night has been humiliating enough and he really does not want to go into further details 

“don’t worry about it.” he clears his throat, holding up the bouquet for you to take, “for you, madamoiselle.” 

“you didn’t tell me you were going on a date.” you take the bouquet, bringing it up to your nose for a little sniff before smiling lightly (you love tulips), “love tulips.”

“i know. and it was a second date, technically.” 

“second date??” you ask incredulously, shocked that yoongi hid not one but two important pieces of information from you, “when was the first date??” 

“i didn’t wanna talk about it… i… didn’t wanna get my hopes up in case things didn’t work out and obviously things haven’t worked out.” yoongi shoves his hands into his pockets as he walks alongside you, “whatever, it’s stupid. i hate dating apps.” 

you twist your lips in thought as comfortable silence washes over the two of you 

you know that he’ll probably want to talk about this later, but right now it seems like a bit of a sore spot so maybe you’ll bring in up in a week or so 

or you’ll just wait for him to bring it up to you 

“you hungry?” you loop your arm with his as the two of you walk slowly, and you perk up a little at the sight of a diner two blocks down (they have really good cheesecake there) 

“well, i was supposed to have dinner an hour and forty-five minutes ago, so i guess i’m a little hungry.” yoongi snorts, kicking a pebble off the sidewalk before letting out a huff, “i don’t know. i could eat.” 

“…tuna melt time?” you squeeze his arm and he lets out a loud groan almost immediately 

“oh my god, you are so gross, you know that??” yoongi shoves you off his arm playfully, “who in their right mind likes warm tuna and cheese- you’re basically eating, like, cat vomit-“ yoongi makes a face and you can’t help but laugh, feeling a little better now that you’ve seen him smile a little 

“tuna melt, tuna melt…” you sing softly, yoongi letting out another groan before shuddering

“this could actually be a dealbreaker in our friendship, i’m telling you- only sick freaks like tuna melts-“ 

“guess i’m the sickest freak around, baby-“ 

y/n picked a gross drink from starbucks and refuses to admit she doesn’t like it 

“i still don’t know why you decided to try that.” yoongi shakes his head, holding his wallet out for you to take so you can put it in your purse for him, “what is it again?”

“apple… cinnamon cold brew something?” you shrug, raising the cup for a quick glance before shrugging, “trying something new!” 

“we both know what happens whenever you try something new.” yoongi grumbles, taking a sip of his own iced americano, “you try it, you don’t like it, you refuse to admit you don’t like it, and somehow i’m the one who ends up having to finish whatever it is you picked for yourself because you decided you wanted to be spontaneous.”

“nuh-uh.” you frown, yoongi holding the door open for you as he rolls his eyes 

you can be such a baby when it comes to arguments like this — it’s like you never want to admit he’s right even though you know he’s right 

“nuh-uh-“ he mocks, barely avoiding your whack as the two of you walk side by side, “the pineapple-walnut scone from that gluten-free bakery, that weird alfredo-truffle-pesto pasta dish you ordered when we went to get italian on valentine’s day, that godawful cauliflower crust pizza you got for brunch one time-“ 

“but i like this drink!” you take a hearty sip before swallowing, your lips puckering for a second as your eye twitches and you immediately stop walking to look at the drink

…perhaps the barista was having an off day but there’s something a lil funky going on in your mouth right now 

“oh my god, i fucking knew it-“ yoongi groans, his shoulder slumping as he looks at you with a raised brow, “who in their right mind would order an apple cinnamon cold brew something-“

“it’s not bad!” you insist, bringing it up to your lips for another sip, your other eye twitching now as you swallow thickly 

oh dear god 

is it supposed to be chunky?? are drinks normally chunky like this??? 

“just give it to me.” yoongi gives you a deadpan expression as he holds his iced americano for you to take, “take mine.” 

“no, no-“

“y/n y/l/n, give me your godawful drink right now-“ 

“are you sure?”

“are you sure?” yoongi mocks again, tsking at you when you take his drink from him and he takes your drink from you, “i knew this was gonna happen, and i still let you order your own drink… the next time we’re at starbucks, i’m ordering for you-“ 

🎙️ ask y/n for her strawberry cinnamon bun recipe (talk to my characters!) 

📚 why not explore the rest of the library while you're here? (go say hi to yoongi and y/n in la vie en bonsai!) 

💫 or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series!)

🌟 or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits!) 

[laweyd]

Hi! How did you start putting your work out? Not in like a "publishing how-to" way, but in a "I'm ready to just send this off into the world". I have so many things that I'm sitting on, but I can't find it in me to send them off. I don't know what it is. But I feel like it's time and I can't push myself to do it.

Hello!

I began posting when I was 13 and I think I just had no shame (not only bc I was young) also mainly because no one knew who I was in real life so I felt like I just made a “persona” of myself at the time before I began opening up more over the years 🤔

Unfortunately I can’t pinpoint a good way to be more open about it as I can also see how it can be hard as art is personal and it seems like you are putting yourself out there which can be frightening 😵

Sometimes you just have to put yourself out there and post because … it’s not like you don’t want to post you just need a little push in some way!

It just happen to be a skill or like a habit that you aren’t used to at the moment so it can seem frightening and uncomfortable.

This can’t be compared, but I recently went to the cinema alone recently which is something I’ve always wanted to do, but what stopped me is that I’ve never done it before. I found the idea simply frightening and incredibly uncomfortable hahah

I’m not sure what I expected because everything did go well 🤣 like they just had to check my ticket that’s all hahah I felt fairly anxious and scared at the time because it was my first time which was fairly uncomfortable! But it’s not like I didn’t want to go alone either! I had to step out of my comfort zone which made me so anxious even thought all I had to do was to show my ticket, walk in and sit down and enjoy the movie. I did want to see more movies at the cinema even though my friends weren’t available at the time!

After experiencing it and going several more times, I made it as a habit and became less anxious as I know what I expect from the experience ! This also goes for trying out new interests and hobbies and hopefully you can see the connection with the anxious/scared feeling of having to post online as well.

Sometimes you will be the one to take the push forward and do it yourself or you can have someone do it with/for you. At some point you just have to push the «post» button yourself.

I also post my drawings during midnight and head straight to bed hahah 🫣 I get overwhelmed fairly quickly so it works to calm me down as I wake up with a clear head instead of being anxious throughout the day. I also used to do it before I go to work/school/workout etc that would keep me busy throughout the day from thinking about the drawing I just posted.

It’s a bit messy answer, but I hope you can see the connection of it and I hope it helped just a little bit🫣!

[gurugirl]

Hi, idk really why I want to ask you this but sometimes I just feel so insecure about the fact I’m still a virgin at 23. I haven’t even kissed someone. I’ve always been so insecure about my looks that I’ve never wanted to get intimate with someone, and i know I’m not ugly but I just feel like now the fact I have never had anything makes me feel repulsive. I’ve been on dates but I’ve just never felt that interested in them? I like my alone time too and I feel like I can’t be bothered trying to force a relationship when I want to work on myself. I’m going travelling in 6 months for a year and I doubt I’ll meet someone when I’m travelling so I’ll be 25 almost when I come back and still a virgin. Is that bad? I know I should take things at my pace but I just feel like there must be something wrong with me if I don’t really want to with anyone I’ve met who’s been into me? What should I do?

I got wordy here so a read more was necessary ↓

Hi hon. I say this anytime someone asks me about having not met some milestone yet - but you still being a virgin at 23 really doesn't define you at all and it's not weird. I bet I could post a poll right now and ask who's still a virgin past the age of 23 and you'd see a lot more virgins than not. In fact, I just had a recent anon who is also 23 and a virgin (pretty sure I posted this ask yesterday - check the #ask tag on my blog if you'd like) so you're not alone. Not even close.

Milestones, especially something like when you should lose your virginity, should all be done away with. There's no timeline for something like that. And I'm sure you've heard it before but you definitely want to enjoy your first time having sex and do it with someone you trust and not force yourself to get it over with. While I think virginity is mostly just a social construct, it can be a big deal to us as individuals.

You aren't repulsive, there's nothing wrong with you, and you get to decide when and with whom you do have sex with. No one but you. I actually think you sound like you have a good head on your shoulders. You've gone on dates and have made the mature decision that you weren't that into the people you dated, you know you're someone who enjoys your alone time (me too hon), you already know better than to force a relationship (some people don't get this concept bc they're scared to be alone and by the time they realize what they've done it's too late), and you're about to go on a year-long travel which is huge and there would be so many people your age terrified to travel for a year. You're brave, adventurous, and smart.

I think you're way more amazing than you realize, just from this ask I can pick up how mature and emotionally intelligent you are. Don't compromise. You're doing absolutely amazing. And also don't discount yourself that you're not going to perhaps meet someone on your travels. Who knows what will happen? Maybe you'll still be a virgin after the year is up - but that's perfectly okay too. Be open to what could happen and keep doing what you're doing.

Also, it's going to benefit you to not talk badly about yourself. Start telling yourself how impressive and how unique you are. Do away with saying such negative things. Seriously. No more of that that! You're going to be just fine. Remember that you're still young, you're smart, and you're about to do something that most people in this world cannot say they've ever done, nor would they be brave enough to (enjoy wherever your travels take you!).

xoxo

[be-my-ally]

Caught in a Trap

This has been a WIP since…. January? It predates my Tumblr anyhow - the concept is, uh, ridiculous, a cheesy rom-comesque situation. But for some reason, I just love having pretend arguments with Elvis - it’s honestly one of my go-to scenarios. Then, this prompt came along and I thought, huh, I’m pretty sure this would work with this, so I dug it out from the depths of my files and here we are xx 

prompt fill: “How are we going to solve this problem?”

pairing: Elvis (1961/2) / fem!Reader 

warnings: 18+, kind of manipulative!elvis, accusations of cheating, fake date, kissing, the suggestion of oral sex… but nothing actually pictured (honestly …. this is because i feel like all i’ve done recently is write the exact same description of it …. so if anyone wants to send me those time machine instructions so i can get some more inspo that would be *great*) . fictional member of the entourage as like a billy-esque person, but just a teeny bit older. Jerry hanging around when he may not have been - i’m envisioning he just popped over for something rather than working for e in this one but that may just be bc i wrote him into it and need an excuse for him to be there.

summary: essentially an alternative, younger, take of the older, sexier ‘We can’t go on together’ - Confronting Elvis about his casual kissing and the aftermath of being told ‘sure, its fine if you want to find someone else to take you out’ - spoiler…. It’s not fine. 

wc: 4.4k

as always for the dolls @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @thatbanditqueen @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love @missmaywemeetagain

It’s difficult, having these conversations with him, they somehow always turn accusing - both of you slinging accusations at one another. But you can’t keep watching him go on as he is, can’t keep watching from the sidelines where he’s ensconced you between the walls of Graceland. It’s painful at best, humiliating at worst, watching him with his hands on the necks of other girls, kissing their cheeks - or god forbid their lips at the gates, in the car. Wherever he happens to be. He’s always liked girls, chased after them ever since he was old enough to want to and he didn’t often see much harm in chasing now either. Maybe you would see less harm yourself, in his careless affection for his fans,  if you felt like he was putting in enough effort to you - that you weren’t just being taken advantage of. But as much as you struggle through, logically knowing he loves you, it doesn’t really feel like it at the moment. It comes to a head one evening when he stalks through the front door, furious that you’d leapt from the car and stormed up to the house when he was “just talking! I was just talkin’ to her! What did you want me to do!”

You’d awkwardly stood there in the foyer, chest heaving with your emotions but uncertain what was best to say, when he’d continued his rant; 

“Oh naw, C’mon now, you wanna have it out, let’s have it out. C’mon, what’s the problem?” You sigh, 

“Noth-” He huffs at you, crossing his arms, his reddish-brown suit crinkling with the motion, as if telling you he knows that’s a lie. “Ok, fine. I don’t see why you always gotta let ‘em be all over you.” That’s barely the half of it, but no good ever comes from these arguments with him. 

“They’ve been waiting out there for hours, it’s the least I could do!” He shakes his head, “No, this has gotta be more than just some lil jealous thing, so go on - what’s wrong, I’ve not been treatin’ you enough?” You flinch as if you’ve been slapped, its a mean accusation and he knows it; the implication that’s all you’re there for, as if you hadn’t been there before; hadn’t waited with barely a phone call a week for two years for him to come home. Despite your best efforts you can feel your eyes filling with tears, though you attempt to furiously blink them away, knowing he hates it. He sighs, “Nah, I’m sorry baby, that wasn’t, that wasn’t fair, what is it?” He grabs your arm, slinking around so that he’s cupping you against his chest, “C’mon no need for that, what is it botherin’ you?” It’s almost comical, the degree to which he is in denial about his own affinity for being the problem, but you’ve already had enough of the discussion and just want it to be over now. So you clutch at straws, mind grabbing the first thing that he might find as an acceptable reason for your poor mood; 

“Elvie - Baby, I just, I never get to go out anymore.” He huffs again, pulling back a little so he can look down at you, he rolls his eyes, as if he’s about to disagree before he looks to the side, deflating a little. 

“No, you’re right. It’s not fair to you - pretty young dolls should be taken out every night of the damn week,” You frown, you’re barely two years younger than he is, “but baby, I gotta, gotta work, I’m just so goddamn busy at the moment sweetheart, I can’t just, I just don’t have the time.” You pout at him, understanding but still unhappy. He pulls you around to sit down, sitting beside you, your thighs touching. 

It hadn’t been a total lie; you weren’t happy about the evenings sat waiting at home, just hoping tonight would be the night he shows up when he said he would. He stares out the window a moment, clearly thinking. He meets your eyes, holding your gaze for so long that you feel like you have to look away before saying, “Well gee honey,” his tone full of faux nonchalance, “maybe, uh, maybe you can go on dates if you wanna. Find someone to take you out when I can’t. Just…just as long as you’re being good on ‘em. Real good, mama, you hear me?” You’re a little confused what’s being proposed but you hurriedly nod all the same, “I don’t wanna hear about your mouth bein’ places it shouldn’t.” You’re quick to agree, 

“Of course, it’s more, I just want the company El, I still don’t have many girlfriends here in Memphis now, but I don’t wanna be kissing anyone but you.” He pats your leg, nodding almost magnanimously, clearly pleased at his generosity of the suggestion, 

“Well then sure, honey, go and have fun. Actually, that’ll solve my problem with the Colonel too.” 

So with that permission, when two weeks later one of the boys - Tommy, approached you and asked timidly if you wanted to go out with him that night, “I-uh know you’re with Elvis, but I know you have a, uh, agreement of sorts, and I’d uh love to spend the evening with you doll.” You had gladly agreed. Elvis wasn’t even going to be home, and he had said you could go out; who better than one of his boys? 

You’re surprised, in the late evening, how good of a time you’re having, even as you can’t help but compare; Elvis would have opened that door for you. Elvis would have had a bouquet in his hand, if not something more extravagant. Elvis would have sat on the same side of the table as you. Elvis wouldn’t have flinched away when your elbows touched. Still, for being with someone who wasn’t Elvis you were having a nice enough time and it was fun to spend some time acting your age again. Being normal. It wasn’t necessarily something you’d want to do super often but both you and Tommy were aware your heart was elsewhere and so you didn’t have to worry about letting him down, and he made sure you were both still having a good time. It was honestly just nice to be out, and not accosted while doing so. You’re sucking up the last of your milkshake, well aware the date is going nowhere and therefore not ashamed to noisily suck up the dregs, the loud noise making Tommy chuckle. 

“You know doll - when EP suggested this I thought he’d gone insane, but I’ve had a good time tonight.” The pet name flowed off of his tongue as easily as it seemed to in all of Elvis’ southern entourage but you can’t help but wince internally a tiny bit at his usage. However, you’re immediately distracted by the rest of his sentence, the last of the milkshake turning to what felt like pure ice running through your throat to your tummy, 

“Sorry, did you just say… Elvis suggested this?” Tommy suddenly looks a little bashful, eyes wide,   

“Uh - yeah, I thought…he said he thought the press would stop hounding you so much if uh - you looked unattached from him? Said people were starting to guess you were uhhh goin’ steady stead of just seein’ him. So he told me to take you out - dinner and a movie, make sure we were seen and uhhh…. told me I could do whatever you asked….you know keepin’ up ‘ppearances but to keep my hands to myself.” You’re stunned, and feel so, so very stupid. You’d honestly thought he liked you, at the very least as a friend, and while you had had no intention of it being anything but an evening that might make Elvis jealous you still had liked the attention.  

“…sorry, are you saying that you were paid to go on this date with me?”

“Uhhh look, I thought you knew! I thought it was a joint thing, and I uh wasn’t paid anything more than I norm-lly would for an evening’s work. Ain’t like I took much persuadin’ - you’re a pretty girl!” Well there was that at least. “I didn’t meanta offend ya or anythin.” he sounds sincere, and while you’re still shaken by this revelation your brain is running through scenarios that may make the evening still worthwhile. You smooth your features, and smile up at him glancing at him under your eyelashes 

“Well-there’s one way you can make it up to me.” It’s like he can tell where your mind has gone and he looks sideways nervously, 

“Uh, well see here though doll, Elvis… he’ll kill me. He’ll kill me dead.” You let out a little, fake, giggle. 

“Oh no it’s just a game -  he’s just foolin with you, the silly goose.” You worry you might be laying it on a bit thick but he definitely is starting to relax. “Look, I uh, don’t think he’d be thrilled to see anything in the papers but look, if you let Jerry catch us in the caddy; I’ll double whatever Elvis was gonna pay you…” He still looks uncertain, and you panic for a second before you get a sudden flash of inspiration - “And I’ll make sure he doesn’t go mad at you.” He still looks worried but is clearly on the fence, “… and I’ll put in a good word with Jackie for you.” His face lights up. Jackpot. 

It’s awkward as you drive back, both of you preparing for it, he clearly wants to know why on earth you seem to have lost your mind but is evidently too afraid to ask. And you’re spending the time wondering the exact same thing, but, at the end of the day… Elvis can only be so mad, right? He does basically the same thing all the time. When he pulls into the spot designated for the car, you turn to him - there needs to be ground rules. 

“Ok. Hands above my waist. At all times.” He nods, eyes wide, “Ok, ok this’ll be fine. Just a kiss - a regular kiss, no tongue or anything.” He nods again, rapidly, like the fear is subsiding somewhat and he can’t quite believe his luck. 

You don’t have to wait long, you’d timed it almost perfectly for when you knew Jerry would be heading out to meet his current girl. You can see him stand there and put his hand up to his forehead, attempting to block your headlights which you’d ‘accidentally’ bumped on when he started to walk up.“Ok,” You look over at Tommy, inching across the seat, “Ok, quick before he goes,” You don’t allow it to go on for very long, but certainly long enough and it’s only shortly after when you pull away, acting as if you were in a daze; quickly flicking off the lights and killing the power entirely. When you glance up again, Jerry’s gone.

‘Shit.’ You think, feeling uneasy all of a sudden. It was one thing to give a performative kiss, for a reason -  to a fan begging for it, but quite another to have potentially done so without an audience. It makes you feel strangely guilty about the whole evening. You thank Tommy again, making it clear it’s time for him to leave; he gets out when you do and starts to heads towards the house but before he’s taken three steps you’re calling back to him,  “Uh Tommy, just in case - unless he sends for you, I’d probably lay low until I have a chance to speak to him.”  He looks back at you and nods. Despite your assurances (and his clear desire to go out with Jackie) you can tell he was still apprehensive about facing Elvis. He changes the direction he was heading in, instead heading for the back entrance - clearly about to go and find some of the other boys to hang out with - or maybe bum a lift home from one of them, while you get out of your car, smooth your dress and hair and head for the front door. 

You walk in, expecting pretty much a party since it was the right time of night for that to be happening and hear nothing but Elvis at the piano; your stomach plummets, it’s rare he’s home at this time, and even rarer that he’s clearly alone - you feel even guiltier about what you’ve done. He’d clearly wanted you to have him to come home to, no doubt knowing you’d choose him over anyone. You head straight for the music room tucked in the corner of the foyer and see him sat there, mindlessly playing humming along but looking out the window. 

“Hi Honey,” You go to greet him with a kiss, but he turns to face you and you realise you’ve severely miscalculated; 

“Hi Honey” he mocks you in a high pitched tone, it deepens as he continues to stare directly at you, “Jerry just called me from the car. He had some mighty interestin’ gossip to tell me.” He pats the bench “why dontcha sit down and let me share it with you.” You look around nervously but he really has cleared the place out and there’s no one to excuse yourself with, nor can you think of any good reason to refuse him, so you do as he demands. You hope Tommy had headed back out himself. You try to keep your face expressionless forcibly relaxing your jaw, anxious not to let Elvis know you’re worried; how’re you the one who’s feeling so nervous? Although you’d expected some reaction you hadn’t expected to have to face up to the consequences so soon. Despite everything telling you not to, you sit close to him, thighs touching. You’d normally hook an ankle around his, but that’s a step too far today. His fingers play a little tune while you wait for him to talk. 

“You steppin’ out on me baby?” His tone is level, in a way that says his anger has gone past hot temper and straight into cold fury. If he wasn’t so enraged you might find him amusing, sounding a bit like a petulant little boy pretending to be a man. You look over at him, suddenly furious that he, who orchestrated this whole evening, might take offence that you took part in it.

“If I was it’s because you arranged it.” He hits a flat note. 

“Because you asked me to.” He’s got an edge of a condescending tone about him, and he talks slowly, like he’s spelling something out for you. “You told me I never take you out anymore and you’d find someone who would. I found someone for you. Thought you’d be happy.” He shrugs. 

“So….what exactly is the problem here then?” Your tone is less than polite, but you had expected him to rage at you and his opposite reaction has unnerved you. You go to stand up, exhausted already at the argument that he appears to be ready to have again. It wasn’t how you’d expected this to go - you thought he’d apologise, make up, move on; although you should know by now that he rarely, if ever, apologises for anything. As you round the corner by him, his hand whips out and he grabs your wrist, 

“I ain’t done talking to you yet little girl.” You have no choice but to pause where you are, 

“I don’t see what’s left to talk about - I did what I said I was going to do, and you arranged it. Did you want me to say thank you? Thank you for insulting me like that?” 

He looks over at you and he’s talking fast, lowly like he wants to get his point across as quickly as possible. His head dipping to look up at you from under his eyelashes, his hand that wasn’t clutching you gesturing with his speech; 

“N-ow baby, I didn’t have an issue with you bein’ taken out, you’re right I probably don’t spend enough time treatin’ you to all that … although I think you get enough treats. But….Jerry’s just told me there was somethin’ else goin’ on. That’s different from bein’ taken out to dinner baby,” his eyes flash, and he looks you dead in your own, and despite how awkward you feel you can’t look away, his accent growing stronger as his emotions get the better of him; “that’s you steppin out o’line, steppin’ out on me. How are we gonna solve this problem?”

He’s still got a hold of your wrist and he’s holding onto it so tightly, you’re positive it’ll bruise if he holds on much longer. His eyes are burning as he looks over at you, and you can’t help but let yours fill with tears. He shakes his head and wiggles your arm, 

“No. Darlin’ don’t you start with them crocodile tears until we got this all straightened out.” He tugs you to stand in front of him as he swivels to sit sideways on the bench. As you try to swallow your tears indignation rises within you; 

“You’re not being fair. You step out on me all the damn time El. Lord above, I’m surprised if you’re not out more than you’re in.” He frowns, “and more than that, you arranged it all tonight! manoeuvred me about just how you wanted! How did you expect me to react Elvis? Of course I wanted to get back at you. Give you a little taste of how I feel all the goddamn time.”

“Baby,” His tone as if he’s talking to a child, “I’ve told you before - it’s different for me I’ve -“

‘I swear to god E, if you say you’ve got needs one more fucking time, we’re through and I really mean it this time.” He sucks in a breath, like despite all he’s done he didn’t expect the ultimatum, and usually you’d expect it to annoy him further - for him to tell you fine, go then. But he doesn’t, instead he looks down, suddenly forlorn as if you’ve knocked the wind from his sails. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say doll, I can’t bear the thought of you with someone else.” He’s still looking down, at your feet, like a little boy being told off. You hate how it immediately endears him to you again, how you’re immediately thinking of ways you could make him feel better. 

“Well why should I have to bear it with you?”

He looks sideways, “It’s ju-just,” he’s clearly nervous and he stutters through the next, “baby I have spoken to the Colonel ‘bout all this, d-d- don’t think I haven’t, he just ain’t keen on me having a girl at the moment. I don’t see how you can come with me everywhere and it not be clear we’re together.” You shake your arm where it’s still in his grip, forcing him to look at you. 

“Well El- are we together? Because there’s puttin’ on a show for whatever reason and then there’s sneakin’ girls back when no-ones looking.” Your own accent is coming out stronger as you get louder. 

“There ain’t no other girls darling,” he sighs, “I dunno how many times I’ve gotta tell you that.” 

“That’s just not true, if it was we wouldn’t be having this conversation in the first place.” He shakes his head, hair starting to come out of its coiffed position with the force of it,

“I swear baby you’re the only girl for me.” You nod, and step forward to put your hands on either side of his face. He leans into them, eyelashes fluttering unconsciously. 

“I know you think that when I’m here, but what about when I’m not?” 

“I-I don’t know how you’re turning this onto me doll, when you’re the one kissin’ someone else tonight. I’ve been here on my lonesome waiting for you to come home.” You laugh, squeezing his cheeks causing his lips to pucker as he talks, 

“Elvis. That’s my life every night.” He frowns. 

“Darling, they don’t mean nothing though! I swear it’s just for show! I haven’t had another girl in any way that matters since I met you baby.” You frown back at him, that wasn’t what you’d heard, and ‘not in any way that matters’ doesn’t mean not at all but his earnest expression, with his eyes wide, seems desperate for you to believe him. “Please baby, you hafta believe me.” He pleads, and you can feel yourself slipping, 

“Hmmm. Well….if you say so.” You shrug, about to pull away to take a breath and attempt to regain your thoughts without his eyes imploring you.  He stands, wrapping his arms around your midriff, with a little wiggle before you can get any further away. A hand travels up to your neck, almost feeling like he’s scruffing you, but his thumb rubs over a pressure point and you can feel the tension in your shoulders ease with each gentle stroke of his finger. 

“I swear, mama.” You look up at him, his lips parted - blue eyes earnest, for once not clouded by eyeliner or make-up, “I swear, I- I uh like the attention but I mean I’m a hot blooded man, I can’t turn that off baby, and if a girl’s gonna throw herself at me, I’m not gonna shove her away.” You frown, you’d been about to cave in to anything he said, but you’re hesitant again now - unsure what you’d be agreeing to if not, essentially, giving him permission to do whatever the hell he likes. His hand grips your hip tighter, as if he can sense he’s losing you. “No, c’mon baby, you know it makes sense - it’s, it don’t mean nothing, I swear it, I swear it on, on,” He looks around desperate for divine inspiration, “On my Mama’s grave I swear - you’re my girl.” You’re taken aback by that, it wasn’t something you’d ever heard him say before and Gladys’ name wasn’t ever brought up in any kind of jest. You can’t help but totally believe him. You duck your head, hating yourself a little for making him swear such a promise, 

“Oh no, Elvis, I only kissed him to get back at you - make you jealous.” He tucks your head against him, holding you close and shushes you, 

“I know sweet, I know. Bet he wasn’t even a good kisser was he? He’s just a boy, ain’t a man like you need.” You shake your head against his chest groaning a little at what you’re about to confess, playing in to his little pissing competition. 

“No…wasn’t good at all. Hadda….had to lead.” Elvis laughs, 

“Oh no, sweet little thing like you shouldn’t hafta be in charge. You oughta be taken care of.” He tips your head back and brushes your tears away with his thumbs. “No more tears mama,” and he kisses you, gently - twice on the mouth before moving to the side of your face. Butterfly kisses, before leading you by the hand over to the sofa, “Lemme take care of ya, doll.” 

He sits, legs parted and his hands grip your hips holding you in place before dragging you closer, it forces you to look down at him. Simultaneously making you feel a little small, and a little like a child, you thread your fingers through his hair, weaving the strands, stiff with gel and spray past your knuckles to tilt his head up. He smiles up at you, a little private half-smile, his eyes crinkling and you’re helpless to anything except leaning down to press a kiss against it. He takes the opportunity of the momentum of your leaning down to tug you onto his lap. Breaking your hold on his hair, and the touch of your lips on his. He takes a moment to situate you, tugging with a hand under your thigh to pull you ever closer to him. Once you’re firmly tucked against his side his other hand travels up your back to support your head, as if you needed it, gripping your neck, the other a heavy presence on your thigh. You shift, helplessly trapped by his hold on you - as if you’d even want to get away, unable to do anything but melt against his chest. 

You glance about, sure that the silence and solitude you had found him in was soon to be broken, and nervous about going any further if there was a threat of being interrupted. 

“Nah, baby, no-one’s around,” He leans forward, kissing your neck, “Let - “ he moves closer, to your cheek, murmuring against your skin, “me, make it up to you.” He whispered right against your lips. You sink into him completely, lips parting of their own accord, and he delves into them. It’s perfect, despite the slightly awkward angle, and you can’t help but sigh a little breath of relief at the feeling of it, so different from the gentle, chaste kiss in the car. Utterly perfect with his sharp nippy little teeth and darting tongue. He pulls you back, shifting you back but lower, until you’re pretty much horizontal on the sofa, pulling his hand out from under your neck to lay you down completely. He shifts, tumbling off, onto his knees. 

He pulls you around with a grip on your thighs before positioning you exactly how he wants, on your back, with your feet planted firmly down, legs spread. He tugs you closer to him, so that you’re almost coming off the couch yourself, pushing your legs apart further so that he could kneel between them. You aren’t sure about this. Not in, essentially, the very first room of the house - not, right by the front door.

“C’mon I’ll make you feel good doll, and then, then I’ll take ya upstairs and you can apologise real pretty to me too.” You frown, about to protest - to suggest, ‘hey how about we go straight upstairs now?’ when all thoughts are gone from your mind as he pushes your already bunched up dress further up and leans in, his breath hot against your panties. He’s … very good at this, and you’re under no illusions that by the time he’s half carrying you on wobbly legs up the stairs that you’ll have completely forgotten about any of those other girls, and by the time he’s placing you on your knees in front of him in the bedroom, that you’ll have totally forgiven him for any future transgressions as well. 

[d0gbite]

hi!! if ur comfortable sharing, I was curious abt how u were able to differentiate being dog and being a wolf? what is specific to you about each that made it clear that you are both and not only a dog or only a wolf? I’m a dog. currently questioning if I was ever a wolf at all or if I’m another canid. I relate more to being dog like and don’t actually share many traits with wolves. I think I just “feel” like one bc of their environment, them being a canine, and bc of exposure/interest. so idk if I should even id as one anymore lol.

hi!! i’m so glad you asked me this because i love talking about it & was thinking about making a post on it anyway

i’ve known i was a wolf for a very long time. since i was a little kid, even, so i don’t entirely remember how i found that out. i just always have been. i’ve always had a huge love of wolves, and felt like deep down i was one of them at heart. i felt like i belonged with them.

it’s only more recently, in the last 3-4 years, that i’ve felt more like a dog. i’ve always been obsessed with dogs (they’re my special interest) but never felt attached to them the way i did with wolves.

to me, the biggest difference is how i experience each of them. i feel as though in my soul, i am a wolf. i have a wolf’s soul in a human body. i relate to them on such a spiritual level. i don’t have many wolf traits, either (so you’re not alone in that), but i know i am one with them and i know deep down there’s a wolf in here. my very being feels longing for the northern/canadian forests. i know i’m a wolf because of how deep in my soul i feel the need for freedom, pack loyalty, wilderness, howling at the moon.

on the other hand, in my mind, i am a dog. i have a dog’s brain in a human body. i relate to them on a more psychological, emotional, mental level. i believe it’s partially from trauma, but definitely not entirely. i started realizing that my dog type is more prominent when i started feeling lots of dog impulses and wanting dog things; barking, chasing things/people, being hopelessly loyal, needing an owner, feeling obedient, etc. it feels much more domestic, more content with my current human-adjacent life. being a wolf feels like yearning, being a dog feels like comfort.

i do feel a lot like you do, where i relate more to being stereotypically doglike. i also often think maybe i just feel like a wolf because i love northern forests and wolves, because i’m not much like wolves. but that doesn’t necessarily mean you aren’t also a wolf. heck, i’m also a cheetah, and i’m nothing like cheetahs lol. sometimes it’s just random.

sometimes when i’m feeling uncertain or insecure about my identities, specifically wolf, i’ll watch documentaries or videos about them. pictures aren’t as helpful for me personally, but looking at them can be useful too. i always know i’m still a wolf because despite the questioning and second-guessing, i can’t help the feelings of belonging, familiarity, kinship, comfort, and yearning i get from watching those documentaries. and even when i watch documentaries about different kinds of wolves (like the vancouver coastal sea wolf), i feel a familial love, but not the same belonging. not the same identity bond.

i hope this helps!!! identity is such an interesting thing, and exploring and figuring them out is so beautiful. even if it takes a while, it’s worth it. you’ve probably heard this a million times, but take your time, and it’s okay to be mistaken :]

[titsthedamnseason]

cobalt empire couples ranking by most anticipated???

also do you read any ce fics on ao3?

hmmmm interesting and super hard to say. weirdly eliot or beckett are maybe my most anticipated.

i LOVE eliot’s trope and this is the first TRUE forbidden love story we will see from kbr (they have sort of claimed to have done it in the past but i think this is the most authentically polarized couple they have done. like yes raisy and marrow were sort of forbidden and so were all the bodyguards technically but eliot and winnifred are straight up ENEMIES their families will be RAGING and the DRAMA i will be living for it)

and beckett i’m really excited for because i love him but we dont get to see that much of him in other books. he is super private and busy and of course we should have seen him way more in sulli’s books but i’ve already ranted enough about that for a lifetime. i also love his initial set up with BOTH jo and leo and am happy kbr are writing another poly romance. i simply wasn’t invested in kitsuletti but i ship beckettjoleo (i know they have a better ship name that im simply too tired to remember rn) way more off the bat and since i liked sulli’s books more on the reread im hopeful im going to have a better reading experience this time. poly rep is super important but also way oversexualized so im super curious to see how they handle it and how ill like it this time around

next is probably ben. you may know but i used to be a harriet HATER until my recent reread of luna’s books and then i realized im just a miserable human and i gave her a makeover in my head bc kbr gave her a fugly style and now i recognize the queen that she is. super excited to see ben’s dynamics with his family firsthand and see how him bringing a girlfriend into the fold will go down

begrudgingly i will put charlie next. we all know i have a love hate relationship with this man but i can’t deny that makes me want to read his book so maybe i finally decide one way or the other. or maybe im just meant to have complicated feelings about this character forever idk. but i also know ill enjoy reading charlie and beckett’s twin bond, his dynamic with his parents, his relationship with ben, and whatever drama him and roxanne will cause with beckett (this plot line is a little confusing to me tbh but i want to see how it unfolds. like high key why does beckett even care i feel like the protectiveness they are setting up is baseless and will fizzle out quickly but im curious regardless)

audrey next because MY GIRL!! she shouldn’t be this low but in fairness we don’t even know WHO she will be with so there’s not much to anticipate 😭 but it does make me strongly wonder who her love interest will be and i love when hopeless romantic characters get their happily ever after bc im cheesy like that

sorry to tom i have no idea why im not invested in the threads kbr have been laying out for him but hopefully that will change. adore him as a character but his trope / storyline hasn’t hooked me so far and tbh i think phoenix is a bad name i wish the love interest was called something different LMAO

sorry that you asked for a simple ranking and i wrote a full essay we all know i can’t be normal about kbr books but i numbered my ramblings for you to make it easier to read (and of course by “read,” i do mean “skip”)

and as for the fic - nooooo i didn’t even know such a thing existed tbh. the last time i checked for addicted / like us fics years ago out of pure curiosity there were like 3 lol. truthfully i likely will never read any. i never ever read fic for a series or couple that is unreleased because it almost always ruins the reading experience for me / i have very little desire to and would much prefer to wait for the real thing. with kbr books in particular i have never felt the need to seek out fanfic because they write so much fan service already (this is usually a diss but i mean it as purely a compliment. they write SUCH entertaining scenes that you could only find in fanfic for any other fandom) and since i have their patreon that is so much bonus content i would never dream of needing more. their stuff is already perfectly written and has such high reread value that ive never felt the need to look for something extra that i felt was lacking from my reading experience

[shrinkthisviolet]

📓🤐✂️🌹 for the WIP game please?

📓: the plot of a WIP I haven’t (and probably won’t) write

I once had a vague idea of Savitar tempting Kara with Red Kryptonite…and then teaming up with her under the influence of it (not as a ship fic ofc—I love Barry & Kara as besties, and frankly who said taking over the world was a couples-only event anyway?)

I’m still fascinated by the idea, but…I doubt I’ll ever write it—I’m not familiar enough with Supergirl around the time of Flash s3. I’d love to read it though! More Red K Kara fics should be written in general tbh 🥰 and Savitar should get to interact with more characters than just Killer Frost, Barry, and briefly Cisco.

🤐: unpublished dialogue

“Barry and I tell each other everything.” “Mm…not everything.” Iris West was no fool. It didn’t take her long to clock her dad’s meaning, and when she did, she winced. “Is it that obvious?” He smiled knowingly. “Not to him.”

~Westallen role reversal

Currently a backburner WIP, though I hope to finally write it in 2025! It isn’t a powers reversal, but rather a feelings one—Iris is the one pining for years, while Barry is oblivious (Barry is still the Flash…and the 1x15 kiss will still happen, but neither of them will be dating anyone at the time). I love it so very dearly 🥰 it’s inspired by this post!

✂️: cut plot lines

Oooh well I’ve talked before about how Morgan was originally gonna have super strength, but I changed my mind bc I realized that if she had the same powers as Griffin Grey, there’s no way I can explain how she doesn’t age herself out of existence (I thought about naotoech but…ehh I’m not that good at navigating the pseudoscience of this show). Forcefields felt more like her personality anyway…and this show has established that the accelerator made everyone “more of what they are”. So this fits better imo!

🌹: most recently written line from a WIP

“I wasn’t talking to Caitlin.” Barry scowled. “I was talking to you. Why can’t you just leave well enough alone? Wasn’t the stuff with Hartley bad enough?” She flinched.

~1x15/1x16 fic

Don’t worry, things aren’t what they seem! All will be clear when the fic is posted :)

wip ask game!

[i-never-forgot]

I wanted to ask for curiosity sake BUT!!! What does Lu wear/look like when he’s evolved into a fully fledged Lucario? We’ve seen Eliana but I don’t think we’ve seen him yet, and I’m SUPER interested :O

I’m not great at drawing Pokes besides Eevee (especially from memory) so the one other time I’ve drawn a Lucario recently I decided…not to post it🥲

But! I don’t give Lu enough attention (plus I’ve been meaning to post some more refined sketches of this duo), so…here you go!😊

Team Relic!

I’ve previously shied away from giving them any specific identifying features because I am frankly terrified of unique character design (I’ve never been particularly good at it tbh…I always draw a blank on what I could include that wouldn’t be terribly cliche…all my OCs weep bc of this lol), but I decided to try my hand at it.

Eliana as an Eevee is taller than average, perhaps the greatest indicator of her physical age despite being a first form Pokémon (still tiny tho). Her paws are a darker shade of brown, similar to the tone in the inside of her ears, and instead of having a somewhat coarse, stiff, straight fur like most Eevee, hers is smoother, silkier, and almost curly (to reflect the texture of her hair as a human more closely). Her fur is also a tad longer, so some of these errant cowlicks are visible. She wears the knot of her scarf in the front sometimes because she does (thankfully) have enough dexterity to tie it on her own, but it takes her a while. Most of the time Lu does it for her.

[Lu develops a habit of either smoothing down said curls with his paws or introducing her to the concept of mutual grooming as a response to either of their occasional insomniac episodes or when one of them is anxious, but only in the privacy of their room. Otherwise, he keeps a paw between her shoulder blades under her ruff and strokes the fur under his pads as a self-soothing tactic, such as when running into Team Skull.]

As a Leafeon she grows extra lithe and lanky, so she has a bit of fawn clumsiness at first because she’d gotten so used to her shorter legs. Her nose scar from Grovyle is fully healed by this point, so it’s faded a bit, but she hadn’t been able to see the dead patch of skin where Dusknoir’s Ice Punch frostbit the flesh around her throat and rendered it hairless before, so she wears something over it almost all the time bc she hates the reminder.

[Later on she continues to wear it bc it distresses Dusknoir to see it a whole lot—it’s hard to coax him back from his guilty spirals, so she only goes “naked” when her things need to be washed after exploring.]

[She doesn’t even realize she has to allow herself time to photosynthesize a certain amount of time per day so the first week she couldn’t figure out why she felt so awful until Sunflora pointed out that her ears and tail looked a bit wilted. Sun baths and afternoon naps become a main stay after that point, although Lu does have to occasionally remind her when she starts to feel down without realizing she’d forgotten to do so.]

[She feels a little naked without her ruff because she’d grown the habit of tucking her chin/mouth into it when stressed out, so when she swaps her Guild scarf for a Virid Collar, she’s grateful to have the extra fabric to nuzzle into when she’s overwhelmed.]

[She can also contort into the oddest shapes to sleep. Lu can’t understand it, but it’s because she and Treecko would often have to wedge themselves into crevices and cracks to rest.]

Lu is pretty much your run-of-the-mill Riolu, although he’s a little slimmer and taller with a bit of a longer narrower snout.

However, when he evolves into Lucario, he fleshes out and gets a bit bulkier after all the exploring they’ve done. His chest spike is broken in an accident, and he develops early gray hair along his muzzle (losing your best friend prematurely to sudden vaporization will certainly affect your stress toleration in the long run huh).

[His fur thickens up in the winter and he’s the best to snuggle with, but given the fact that Treasure Town is coastal it rarely actually gets cold enough to last the whole night without having to peel yourself away for a chance to breathe.]

Let me know if there are any other details or questions you wonder about :)

[torturedcoveydepartment]

Reasons why I fit - or don’t fit into each district of panem. No bc this is something I ask my friends ALL THE TIME & I always come up with amazing reasons for each and everyone BUT NOT MYSELf… sooo..

District 1 (luxury)

- Spending 2$ is like sticking a spear through my heart.. uh yeah

- Not really into that expensive stuff ASIDE FROM DRESSES. I WANNA GO TO THE METGALA..

- Jewlery is lovely..

District 2 (mansory)

- There’s no possibility I fit into this one by any means. Would cry. I hate stone quarries and that job is not flattering to me. NEXT

- Would get executed for flirting with a peacekeeper.

District 3 (technology)

- I asked my friend recently how I make an at sign (@) bc I have no clue. By now I’ve forgotten. I suck at technology and question which control CTRL is. NEXT

District 4 (fishing)

- I hate eating fish and anything from the sea

- Wouldn’t let my dad kill the fish he caught because I felt bad for it.

-Considers it murderer. NEXT LMAO.

District 5 (Power)

- I’m scared of electricity.. we did an experiment in class once and HELL I WAS AFRAUD OF GETTING A SHOCK. NEXT

District 6 (Transportation)

- I can’t drive. Only bike and walk. NEXT

District 7 (Lumber)

- I have a summer cottage by the woods..

District 8 (Textiles)

- I enjoy sewing until I mess up 5 minutes into it.

- Kinda like experimenting with fashion and colors.

District 9 (Grain)

- I like corn? I like oats sometimes. Oat milk is great actually.

District 10 (livestock)

- OH NO. I would grow a bond to the animals and cry when they get slaughtered. I also don’t know how to ride horses or take care of cows, or pigs or whatever.

District 11 (agriculture)

- I killed my cactus

- Managed to grow a zucchini plant

District 12 (mining)

- Wanted to become an archaeologist as a child

- I used to collect rocks LMAO

WHAT AM I EVEN…… 🤭 honestly I’d probably be a covey nomad lmao