#god these jerseys are so ugly

[owcsautism]

ssg m&g

[stanleyoffseventh-oldblog]

the specific catch 22 situation of wanting more dewey 2 content (always, forever, i'll never give up on you babygirl) and also wanting to puke in my mouth a little when i see him in leafs colors.

im suffering for you connor. we're both in this together

[sunrizef1]

Here We Go

Pairing: Dad!Kylian Mbappe x Mom!Leclerc!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, real Madrid, Fabrizio Romano sneak diss

Authors Note: Technically a part 2 to baby baby but could also be read on its own

Requested: Yes/No

——

y/nmbappe

liked by lorenzotl kylianmbappe and 4,888,661 others

y/nmbappe weekends 🤍

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user1 I love them

user2 my favorite wag

user3 white hearts = Madrid????

user4 he’s so pretty 😭

user5 where’s the inaugural Charles comment

charles_leclerc he plays piano???

y/nmbappe better than you, probably

charles_leclerc 😒🖕

user6 Ahhh I love kylian dad content 🥹

user7 lmao when are these pictures from???

kylianmbappe 🫶

liked by y/nmbappe

user8 she’s his own personal photographer

user9 🤩

arthur_leclerc is this your account or his

y/nmbappe my bad I’m in a happy marriage

arthur_leclerc I accept your apology

user10 y/n can’t catch a break with her brothers lmfao

user11 my favssss

user12 baby nmbappe 🥹🫶

——

y/nmbappe

📍Italy

liked by champagnepapi rubendias and 15,008,997 others

y/nmbappe summer went away ☀️

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user12 SHES SO PRETTY 😭😭😭😭

user13 she posts kylian so much I forget she’s stunning

user14 I’m sensing a swimsuit-related breakdown from the Leclerc brothers

user15 oh my god it’s the rare post of herself, eating this up 🫶

user17 lmfao, Frankie de jong in the likes??? Ik he’s Barca but come on man 😭

champagnepapi 🤩

charles_leclerc boo 🍅🍅🍅

arthur_leclerc she’s married bro

lorenzotl no 👎

user18 LMAO YALL SEE THE DRAKE COMMENT??? 😭😭😭

user19 the leclerc replies in screaming 🤭

joeyb_9 😮‍💨

charles_leclerc 🫵🐅☠️

arthur_leclerc this is why you don't have a Superbowl

lorenzotl mahomes better

user20 Jesus these poor men 😭

user21 these comments are so entertaining 🤭

kylianmbappe belle fille 🤍

y/nmbappe mon amour 🤍

charles_leclerc anyways, put a shirt on

y/nmbappe im not gonna yell at you since you've been defending my honor under every comment

charles_leclerc you're welcome 🫡

y/nmbappe still not putting a shirt on though

arthur_leclerc 👎

lorenzotl where is your child

y/nmbappe with Charles

lorenzotl oh no

y/nmbappe dw, alex is there too

alexandrasaintmleux baby mbappe is lovely 🥹🫶

charles_leclerc baby leclerc*

user22 😭😭😭

——

y/nmbappe

liked by antoinegriezman pierregasly and 3,998,776 others

y/nnbappe happy euros 🐢🤕

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user23 VIVA LA FRANCE 🇫🇷

user24 poor kylian 😭

user25 the turtle in the caption????

kylianmbappe zizou??? 🤨

y/nmbappe you don't like zizou???

kylianmbappe you know I do, but you should be wearing out last name 😅

y/nmbappe i forgot the nmbappe one at home 🫶

kylianmbappe just wear one of mine 😗

y/nmbappe lol, ill wear urs tomorrow Ky 🤍

user26 lmao the zizou jersey

user27 kylian couldn't wear the France mask???

user28 thank god 🙏 that one was lowk ugly

charles_leclerc hows the face @|kylianmbappe

kylianmbappe still broken, thanks man

charles_leclerc 🫡

user29 my favourite brother-in-laws

lorenzotl at another international tournament without me 🤨

y/nmbappe get a job

user30 I love that kit

arthur_leclerc yay france 🇫🇷

liked by y/nmbappe

user31 awww the youngest leclerc are accepting the French nationality again 🫶

user32 did y'all see kylian with baby mbappe after the game?? 🥹

——

y/nmbappe

liked by kylianmbappe lorenzotl and 4,888,997 others

y/nmbappe happy Father’s Day to the love of my life and the best husband and father anyone could ever ask for 🤍

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user33 AWWWWWW

user34 🥹🥹🥹

user35 BABY MBAPPE IS BACK ON THE FEED 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

user36 wait this is so lovely 🥰

user37 how old is baby mbappe now???

user38 he's like 5 or 6 no one knows his exact birthday 🤷‍♀️

user39 they grow up so fast 😭

user40 🥰

charles_leclerc ill be nice to him just for today

kylianmbappe thanks man 🫡

charles_leclerc only because you're raising my nephew

y/nmbappe charles stop bullying my husband

charles_leclerc I'm not bullying him. If I was bullying him I wouldve used a turtle emoji by now

user41 happy fathers day!!!!

user42 my favourite football family

arthur_leclerc happy for you, sœur 🫶

y/nmbappe thank you Arthur, I appreciate the maturity

charles_leclerc this feels targeted

lorenzotl if the shoe fits bro

user43 🤍🤍🤍

kylianmbappe je t'aime mon coeur 🤍 im so grateful for you and our family 🤍🤍🤍

y/nmbappe ky 🥹🤍🤍

user44 awww this is so sweet I'm gonna melt 😭

——

y/nmbappe

📍Circuit de Barcelona Catalunya

liked by charles_leclerc kylianmbappe and 4,998,001 others

y/nmbappe then and now 🤍

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user45 OH MY GOD LOOK AT YOUNG CHARLES 😭😭😭

user46 he looks like a child 😭

user47 kylian looks pretty much the same meanwhile Charles is not that person at all anymore 😅

user48 if I was Charles I would not let someone repost those pictures 😔

charles_leclerc DELETE THIS

charles_leclerc REMOVE THIS NOW PLEASE

charles_leclerc I NEED THIS SCRUBBED FROM THE INTERNET

charles_leclerc IM NOT THAT PERSON ANYMORE DELETE DELETE DELETE

charles_leclerc YOURE GONNA RUIN MY IMAGE

user49 Charles 😭😭

kylianmbappe oh wow

y/nmbappe yeah, dont worry baby, you look great

charles_leclerc PICK UP THE PHONE AND DELETE THIS

user50 leclerc/mbappe meet-up 🫶

user51 ik carlos is freaking out somewhere about being so close to kylian

alexandrasaintmleux can you send me that first picture pls love 🫶

charles_leclerc DO NOT SEND HER THAT

y/nmbappe i sent it 🫶

charles_leclerc GOD DAMN IT Y/N

user52 lmao kylian looks so bored next to Fred

user53 oh my god Charles is losing his mind

charles_leclerc this is why baby leclerc likes me better than you

y/nmbappe if you keep yelling at me i am going to put that child in full red bull gear

charles_leclerc 🖕

——

y/nmbappe

liked by maxverstappen1 kylianmbappe and 6,008,981 others

y/nmbappe karting with uncle Maxie 🤍

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user54 oh… oh no

user55 Charles is gonna kill someone

user56 hey, baby mbappe looks sick though

lorenzotl hahahahaha

user57 I'm glad someone in that family finds this funny 😭

user58 I'm so scared

charles_leclerc ...😑

charles_leclerc you're kidding me

charles_leclerc I am going to kill max

charles_leclerc why would you do this to me

charles_leclerc I can't believe you'd do this

y/nmbappe this is not that surprising pls be fr

user59 😭

kylianmbappe I don't care what team he wears 🤷🏾‍♂️ did baby mbappe have fun?

y/nmbappe lmao, yeah he did. He loves Max sooo 🤷‍♀️

kylianmbappe 🤷🏾‍♂️

user60 I fear for Max’s car next race

maxverstappen1 I’m glad he had fun 😅😅😅

charles_leclerc drive safe next race “uncle Maxie” 😒

maxverstappen1 oh okay, love u 2 man 🫶

charles_leclerc 😒😒😒

user61 😭 free my man max

arthur_leclerc not that I’m thrilled about the Red Bull suit but I do feel like Charles deserves this in some way

charles_leclerc I hate all of you so much

user62 pfttt they’re so funny 😭😭😭

——

y/nmbappe

📍Monte Carlo, Monaco

liked by carlossainz arthur_leclerc and 7,000,111 others

y/nmbappe does anyone know who this man is??? He crashed our family dinner 🤦‍♀️

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user63 CARLOSSSSSSSS

user64 VAMOSSSSSS

user65 my love 😍🫶

user66 lmao the Madrid jersey, this man has a quest he’s trying to fulfill

user67 and when kylian goes to Madrid, yall will be thanking Carlos. Mark my words.

arthur_leclerc idk who he is but can you tell him to help me with bringing the plates out

y/nmbappe I sent him inside 🫡

user68 I would love to know kylians reaction to the jersey

charles_leclerc I would like everyone to know that before he got here, this was just leclercs and their partners

lorenzotl and then, in rolls a large Spanish man

y/nmbappe he brought wine, leave him alone

carlossainz you only like me because I brought alcohol??? 🤨

y/nmbappe ofc not carlito, we all 🫶 you

carlossainz good, because I love your husband

user69 lmfao Carlos is just here for the madridistas

user70 I bet their dinners are fun asf

carlossainz HALA MADRID!!! 🤍🤍🤍

y/nmbappe yeah, yeah, thank you Carlos

y/nmbappe maman needs your help with dinner

lorenzotl no she doesn't 🧐

y/nmbappe shut up lorenzo

user71 ahh I love them 🥰

kylianmbappe I'm not sure I'm allowed to publicly interact with Carlos unless he takes the jersey off

carlossainz come to Madrid hermano 🇪🇸

y/nmbappe hes not allowed to reply to that comment, carlos 😐

carlossainz 😢

——

y/nmbappe

📍 Santiago Bernabéu Stadium, Madrid, Spain

liked by judebellingham carlossainz and 12,008,661 others

y/nmbappe Hala Madrid 🤍

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user72 I can feel Carlos’ excitement through the screen

user73 wow I'm so glad that this transfer was revealed by the club yesterday!

user74 yeah! Isn't it so cool that none of the big journalists revealed this beforehand??! 🤩

user75 KYLIANNNNNNN 🇪🇸🇫🇷🇪🇸🇫🇷

kylianmbappe 🤍

y/nmbappe 🤍

user76 YAYYYY

charles_leclerc wait, come back to France, I'm gonna miss you and baby leclerc

carlossainz SHUT UP, ITS MY TURN NOW!!! VIVA LA ESPAÑA

charles_leclerc this is why Lewis is taking your seat

*This comment was deleted*

charles_leclerc I'm in pr jail 😔

carlossainz as you should be 🤨

user77 wait I'm gonna miss y/n being a psg wag

user78 but now she's a Madrid wag 🤩

judebellingham welcome! ���� 🤍

y/nmbappe thanks Jude 🫶

user79 JUDE & BABY MBAPPE??? JUDE UNCLE CONTENT??!

user80 gonna need bestie camavinga back tysm

arthur_leclerc glad to see baby leclerc repping the kit I bought him 😗

y/nmbappe 😐 thank you, Arthur

arthur_leclerc some enthusiasm would be appreciated

y/nmbappe no

arthur_leclerc fair enough

lorenzotl as long as you come back to Monaco sometimes I'll be okay

y/nmbappe even if I don't, I'm sure you’ll all continue to spam comments on my Instagram posts even if I refuse to reply

lorenzotl we dont do that

y/nmbappe 🤨 @/arthur_leclerc @/charles_leclerc

arthur_leclerc …shes definitely right

charles_leclerc yeah that seems pretty accurate

charles_leclerc I love you guys… even if you are abandoning me

y/nmbappe we love you too, especially baby mbappe 🤍🤍🤍

charles_leclerc baby leclerc*

y/nmbappe shut up 🥰

——

Tags: @casperlikej @evie-119 @c-losur3 @llando4norris @lokideservesahug

[theemporium]

[22k] in attempt to bridge the decades old rivalry between the two gangs, a marriage of alliance is proposed between the new jersey devils and the new york rangers. the last thing you expected was to find yourself offered on a silver platter to your enemies. and you certainly didn't expect your future husband to be the likes of the devils leader himself, nico hischier.

new jersey mob masterlist || nhl mob masterlist

warning: this is a mob au. topics and themes such as violence, blood, murder and gun use are prevalent and constant throughout the fic. please keep that in mind if you choose to proceed with this fic and the whole series.

read part one here

.

It was chaos the second you walked through the door.

You had never seen the house in such a state: orders being yelled out, people pushing past each other, guns and weapons being loaded onto belts and into bags, screams so loud they were basically incoherent. 

Somewhere in the mess, Nico had taken your hand and refused to let go. You couldn’t find it in yourself to pull away just yet either. 

He tugged you through the bustling crowd of people, pulling you towards a large dining room in the back of the house—the one used for the weekly family dinners—when the incoherent screams began to make sense. You could hear each of their voices so clear, so distinct, so angry. 

It made something in your own chest tighten and twist into something ugly.

Jesper was the first one to notice you both. Or maybe he was the only one willing to tear his eyes away from the heart-stopping sight in the middle of the room. 

You had seen Jack in many states. You had seen him in his usual everyday, bubbly and loud moods where he was charming and sweet and a little sassy. You had seen him drunk and clingy and throwing himself around like he was unstoppable. You had seen him silent and angry and huffy when things didn’t go his way, when he messed up or didn’t do something up to his personal standards. 

You had seen him so many ways and yet, nothing could have prepared you for the sight of him now. 

He looked dead. 

There was no other way to put it, no way to sugarcoat it. He was laying out on the dining table they used for family dinners: his face was black and bruised and cut up, his clothes were ripped and wrecked, his shirt was practically nonexistent and giving you a clear view of his torso. 

It was shredded. 

You had seen men die in a million different ways, fast and slow and easy and torturous. You had seen men on the brink of their life, begging and pleading and praying to a god that wasn’t watching over them. You had seen men beg for mercy. You had seen men so arrogant they could barely finish their sentence before the bullet was put through their head. 

But you had never seen something like this—or maybe you had never seen someone you care about like this.

There were large gashes spanning across his stomach. They were huge and deep and gruesome to look at. And it was bloody. So bloody. So much blood seeping out of his wounds and staining his skin, his clothes, the table, the wood. 

Everything. 

And his body was unresponsive. His eyes were closed. His skin was pale. 

And he looked dead. 

Jack Hughes looked dead and it made you queasy. 

It hadn’t even clicked to you where the screams were coming from, or rather who they were coming from before you heard Jesper talking.

“They can’t do anything to help him until he moves,” Jesper rasped, something quite like fear lacing his words as he spoke. “Nico, he’s freaking out and he’s—”

“I’m not leaving! I-I can’t! He can’t leave me!” 

Your eyes snapped over Jesper’s shoulder, finally spotting Luke being held back by Kurtis and Kevin with sombre looks on their faces. He was thrashing against their hold, angry and worried and upset. For the first time since you met the boy, it hit you just how young he really looked when his emotions really took over. 

“Get him out of here,” Nico hissed, short and snappy but the concern could still be heard. 

“We can’t,” Jesper repeated, exasperated. “We tried—” 

“Let me,” you spoke up, not even waiting for a response from the two boys before you headed straight towards Luke and the others.  

“He can’t be dead,” Luke yelled, his voice raspy and broken. “He—He can’t!” 

“Luke,” Kurtis tried, squeezing the boy’s shoulder. “They need to—” 

“He’s not allowed to die!” Luke pleaded, his voice almost sounding like a choked out sob. “He…we…he can’t!”

“And he won’t,” you said in a firm voice, even if the words tasted like battery acid on your tongue. “He won’t die if you let them help, Luke.”

His eyes snapped away from Jack, away from his dying brother on the table, to look at you and it broke your heart. It broke your heart to see the fear and anguish and misery, a haunted look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite understand but shattered the pieces of your heart into dust regardless. 

“I can’t do this alone,” he whispered, no longer tugging against the hands pulling him back as he stared at you with a hopeless expression. “I don’t want to do this without him.”

“You won’t,” you said it like a promise. 

Luke shook his head, his eyes red and glossy from tears. “You don’t know that—”

“I do,” you interrupted. “I do know that. It’s scary, I know. But you’re not alone and neither is Jack. The doctors are going to do everything they can, Luke.” 

A small ‘ooft’ left your lips as the boy stumbled forward, as his body fell into yours and you caught him as best you could, letting him press his face against your shoulder and let the fight leave his body. 

“Let’s give them space, okay?” You whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Stay with me?” 

“Of course,” you murmured, squeezing him tighter. 

…

You had spent almost every day with Luke Hughes for the better part of the last four months.

You had seen the younger child charm in him, the slightly awkward but endearing allure that captivated a part of you. You never had any siblings, destined to be the only child your parents had, but you liked to think in another world you had a younger sibling quite like Luke: one that was good-natured and irritating and sassy and witty. 

You liked to think that in this world, in this lifetime where you met under unwanted circumstances, that he was more than the boy appointed to be your bodyguard under Nico’s command.

Even from day one, he had never seemed like the young, obedient henchman following the instructions given to him by his boss in an eager attempt to please him. He became a friend, even if it took him a few weeks of wiggling his way into your life until you accepted it. You cared for him more than you ever cared for the younger boys back in New York that made feeble attempts to get on your good side to get an in with Jacob.

You had been denying a lot of emotions and feelings and truths to yourself over the last few weeks and Luke was one of them. You cared for the younger boy. You saw him as a friend, as a brother even. It hurt when he was upset with you, ignoring you for a few days. 

And it hurt seeing him now, so broken and hopeless and a shell of the boy who was usually finding new ways to get under your skin. 

“He’s all I have left,” Luke murmured, his cheek squished against the pillow beneath his head. “I know the Devils are a family but—”

“I know,” you assured him before the guilt of his words could swallow him whole. “He’s your brother. No one is judging you.” 

“I should be beside him,” Luke rasped. 

“What Jack needs right now is the doctors,” you murmured, pushing some curls away from his face and watching his eyes flutter shut. “And you need to rest.” 

His eyes snapped open. “I can’t—”

“You will,” you said with a pointed look. “You can stay here. If he wakes up, I’ll wake you up.” 

Luke swallowed. “Promise?” 

“Promise,” you said with a soft smile.

“You’re a good person, Rogue,” he whispered as he slumped back down against the pillow, no longer fighting the exhaustion. 

“Yeah, you too, kid,” you said fondly. 

You didn’t move from your spot until the boy had fallen asleep, his breaths slowing and his face looking a little more peaceful as he rested. And even then, you remained for a little longer just in case. It was only once you were sure Luke was asleep and okay that you moved to stand up, throwing a blanket over him before you snuck out of your own bedroom. 

You almost jumped out of your skin when you turned around to find Nico leaning against the opposite wall, waiting for you. 

“Sorry,” he shot you a sheepish smile. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“I didn’t expect anyone to be outside,” you admitted, slumping against the door as you mirrored his smile. “How’s Jack?” 

“He’s gonna be okay,” Nico said, and you felt the relief hit you like a truck. Even if you hadn’t wanted to admit it out loud (especially around Luke), you were terrified of the other outcome, that Luke would wake up to his brother gone. “Probably won’t be happy he will be stuck on bedrest for a few weeks.”

You snorted, despite yourself. “He will be bummed but at least he will be alive.”

“How’s Luke?” Nico asked, a crease between his brows as he tried—and failed—to hide his concern. 

“He’ll be okay too,” you said with a soft but sad smile. “I know Jack is his brother but…god, seeing him like that was heartbreaking.” 

“Thank you,” Nico murmured, watching as your face morphed into one of confusion before he nodded towards your bedroom. “For what you did for him.” 

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” you said, the emotions of the last hour or so finally catching up on you as you tried to ease the suffocating feeling around your throat. “I always wanted a roommate,” you added, though the joke fell flat. 

Nico frowned. 

“Sorry,” you winced a little. “I was just going to sleep on the floor anyways—”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Nico quickly intercepted. “You can sleep in my room.”

You paused, raising your brows. “I thought that wasn’t until we were married.”

His lips twitched. “We can make some exceptions.” 

…

The second you stepped into his room, you almost wanted to laugh. 

Maybe it was the rush of emotions or maybe it was the fact that after four months, some things about Nico Hischier were so predictable to you and his bedroom was one of them. It had dark wooden floors and matching furniture. It was black silk sheets and a door that led off to a walk-in wardrobe where you could almost imagine all his suits neatly hung up. It was fit for a mob boss. 

And then there were the things that did genuinely catch you by surprise. 

The bookshelves stocked with a variety of titles you both recognised and had never heard of before. Trinkets dotted around the room like small reminders. Photo frames holding pictures that almost made him seem like a normal person, like he was just some twenty-something year old who wanted to decorate his space with sweet memories. 

It was just another one of those things that made your chest tighten. 

You had been staring at a photo on his dresser—one of him, Jonas and Timo grinning shamelessly at the camera whilst they sat in some bar—when you heard the man let out a sigh. He was slumped against the edge of his bed, running a hand through his hair and almost looking out of place in his casual wear from the picnic. 

And he looked exhausted. Dejected. Crushed. 

Your feet were moving before you could stop yourself, before you could second-guess your actions. 

Nico lifted his head as you stood in front of him, his legs spreading a little wider as you stood between them and replaced his hand with your own. His eyes fluttered shut, enjoying the feeling for a few moments before you spoke. 

“Jack and Luke will be fine,” you murmured, nails lightly scratching against his scalp as he let out a deep sigh.

“I know,” he swallowed harshly. “I just worry. They have been through so much and today could have been avoided and—”

You lightly tugged on his hair for him to continue. 

Nico looked contemplative before he spoke. “Did Luke ever tell you about Quinn?”

Your brows furrowed together. “Who’s Quinn?” 

“He was Jack and Luke’s oldest brother,” Nico said, his lips pressed together in a thin line.

You blinked. “Was as in…?”

“Dead,” Nico confirmed with a nod. “They used to live in Toronto. They got into some shit with some bad people up there but Quinn never made it out alive. Jack and Luke were lucky to make it to New Jersey.” 

“Oh my god,” you breathed out, the realisation hitting you like a punch in the gut. His freakout went beyond just caring about his brother, it was about potentially losing his second brother. “How old were they when—”

“Luke was thirteen or so,” Nico said with a blank face. “Jack turned sixteen a week after it happened.”

“Fuck,” you swore. 

“Yeah,” he flashed you a sad smile. “Fuck indeed.” 

You frowned. “They came to New Jersey alone?” 

“I remember the day I first met them so clearly,” Nico murmured, swallowing back the thickness in the back of his throat that made it hard to mutter out the words. “They were so young and hopeless and—” He paused for a moment. “I promised myself I would never let them feel like that again. I know what this world is like and I know it’s impossible to put that on myself but I never wanted to see them or any of the others look like that again. And that was exactly what I saw in Luke today.” 

“Nico,” you whispered softly.

“M’sorry,” he huffed out, tucking his head down as he let out a sad, pitiful laugh. “You just spent the last hour comforting Luke, you don’t need to do this again.” 

“You care about them so much,” you murmured as you tugged his head back, as his chin rested on your stomach as he looked up at you. “And you put so much pressure on yourself to be the one they can lean on. But you need someone who takes care of you too.”

“I like taking care of them,” he whispered, soft and honest. “I like taking care of you. The Devils are my family and it’s my job to look after them, to be the one they can always rely on.” 

“Let me be that to you,” you whispered back, your thumb lightly stroking against his cheek. “You don’t have to do this alone.” 

He leaned into your touch. “This is enough. This is all I need.” 

And it felt hard to ignore when he whispered those words to you. It felt hard to push down the feelings you had been having for the last few weeks, to ignore what you think you had known for a while but couldn’t quite admit to yourself. It felt hard to ignore the truth. 

You lowered your hands until both hands were cupping his face in your palms, your eyes meeting his warm gaze, your body trapped between his legs. It was close but not close enough and you never wanted to leave the twisted embrace. 

It took less than a second before you leaned down to press your lips against his. 

In an instant, Nico’s arms were winding around your thighs and tugging you closer. He kissed back like it was instinctive, like he had been waiting for the moment to approach. He kissed you like he loved you, in a way you had never experienced before. He kissed you like you had the rest of your life ahead of you to live off of these kisses. And you found that you really wanted that.

“I want to marry you,” you whispered, watching his expression change with the admission. “I don’t care about the wedding. I don’t care about finding the perfect venue or getting the most expensive flowers or any of it. I just want you. I just want to marry you.”

Your thumb pressed against the dip of his dimple as he smiled at you. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded. 

His hands gripped your thighs, tightening his hold. “God, if I knew all it would take was one kiss, I would have made a move sooner.”

You snorted, trying to push him back but he just pulled you closer. “Shut up.” 

“I’ve been waiting for you to catch up,” he added, but there was something affectionate in his voice.

“We may have been a little unconventional in the way we got here but I mean it,” you said, your palms still holding his face. “I want to marry you, Nico.”

“I can’t wait to marry you, baby.”

…

You weren’t shocked to find Luke already in the room, sitting by Jack’s bed where you had expected him to be since he woke up the following morning.

You were shocked to find that Jack was already awake.

If you were being completely honest, he didn’t look much better than when you last saw him, bleeding out on the dining table. But he was awake. His eyes were open, there was somehow still a smile on his face—even if it was a little tender—and he was talking, which was more than you were expecting to see. 

He had been the one to spot you by the door first, flashing you a somewhat sheepish smile as he nodded you to come in. 

“Found time in your schedule to see lil’ old me? I’m honoured.” 

You shook your head, though it was almost fond. “Good to see they didn’t break your sense of humour.”

“Gonna need to do more than almost kill me for that,” he joked, the words leaving his mouth before he even realised. 

Your eyes instantly snapped towards Luke. There was a mixed expression on his face, one you couldn’t quite figure out but it was giving you the same overbearing need to hold him in your arms like you had done the previous night. 

“Too soon,” Luke grumbled.

“Sorry,” Jack murmured, his eyes softening as he reached for his little brother, as he took his hand and gave it a soft squeeze. Like a reassurance that he was still there.

“Well, there will be no more attempts because Nico has put you on bedrest indefinitely,” you quickly chimed in, crossing the room to stand by where Luke sat. 

Jack’s jaw dropped. “What? No fucking way.” 

“Yes fucking way,” you snapped back, giving the boy a look. “You’re out, Hughes.”

“This is unfair,” Jack huffed, leaning back against his pillows and trying to hide his wince as he did so.

“It took us twenty minutes to get you to sit up,” Luke deadpanned. “For once in your life, listen to Nico.” 

“Whatever,” Jack huffed. “I get jumped out of nowhere and yet, I am punished for it.”

“Nico is already on it,” you told the boy. 

“If this is just going to be the same argument, I’m gonna go get breakfast,” Luke muttered as he stood up from his seat, wincing a little as he stretched his legs. “Do you want anything?” 

You shook your head. “I already grabbed something with Nico earlier.”

Luke shot you a curious look but didn’t say anything before he left the room. His brother, on the other hand, was less than subtle. In fact, he was just downright blunt. 

“Since when did you and Nico become so close?” Jack retorted, the pout long gone and replaced with a smile that oddly resembled the Cheshire Cat. “Anything you want to tell me?” 

“He’s my fiancé,” you retorted. “I am bound to be close to him, aren’t I?” 

“Oh, he so wore the white tank in front of you,” Jack snorted, only to wince a little afterwards. And yet, his injuries didn’t stop him from being a meddling gossip. “Did his plan to make you love him back finally work? Am I finally free from his two hour rants about which cufflinks you’d notice?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Rest, Jack.” There was a small pause before you continued. “I’m happy you’re okay.”

His face softened. “Thank you for looking after Luke for me.”

“Anytime,” you murmured, giving him a soft smile. You hesitated for a moment before you reached out, squeezing his hand the way he had done with Luke earlier. “For both of you.” 

Jack didn’t say anything but he nodded like he understood and, for now, that was more than enough for you. 

…

It was the following Sunday when you received the call from Jacob Trouba.

It was ironic how much could change in a short space of time. Just a few months ago you were cursing his name for not reaching out after you stepped out of that meeting room, spent nights almost wishing he would finally reach out. The alliance was about bringing the Devils and Rangers together, and yet you just felt iced out from your previous life.

And now? 

Now, you were staring at his name on your phone screen and you felt…indifferent. The feelings of awe, admiration and respect you once held for the leader of the Rangers was now gone, replaced with a sort of irritance that left a crawling sensation under your skin. 

You waited three rings before you finally answered the call, lifting the phone to your ear with the oddest desire to hang up and end the call already. But you were curious and you knew he would never speak first.

“Calling on God’s day,” you mused. “This must be important.”

“It’s nice to hear your voice, Rogue.”

“Surprised you remember my name at all,” you snapped back, your fingers tracing over the spines of the books on Nico’s bookshelves. Despite the fact your room was now free, you had spent every day since in his room. You didn’t see that changing any time soon. 

“Don’t be like that.”

You knew he was goading for a reaction. You could imagine the scene so clearly with him sitting in his office, leaning back in his chair with a knowing smirk on his face. You almost rolled your eyes at the thought.

“Is there a reason you’ve phoned me?” You asked, straightforward and blunt. 

“Always so straight to the point. I’ve always liked that about you.” 

This time you did roll your eyes. “Jacob.” 

“Oh, c’mon, baby.” Your jaw clenched a little at the nickname, your stomach twisting in disgust at the word leaving anyone else’s mouth but Nico’s. “Don’t tell me you’ve become all stuck up and boring over there.”

“I thought I wasn’t your problem anymore,” you chimed, fingers fiddling with some random trinket as you spoke. 

“I’ll always care about you, Rogue.” 

“So you called to be sentimental?” You deadpanned. 

“I apologise for wanting to catch up with my best girl.” 

“Not your girl,” you gritted out. “Never have been, Trouba.”

“Oh, Trouba now? Guess Hischier has really gotten into that head of yours. It’s fine, you’ll snap out of it when you come back home.”

You froze, your brows furrowing together. “Excuse me?” 

“I am breaking the alliance. The deal is off the table. You’re coming back to New York.” 

You scoffed. “No, I’m not.” 

“I do not permit you to marry him anymore.” 

“I don’t give a fuck what you permit me to do,” you bit back, your irritance growing into something more angry. “You can’t just break the alliance, Jacob, you signed a contract. You both signed—”

“I don’t give two shits about the contract or the alliance or any of it. I expect you back in New York by Wednesday.” 

You laughed, dry and unamused and severely pissed off. “Jersey is my home now.” 

“So that’s it? After everything I do for you, and this is what I get in return?” 

“Oh, cry me a river,” you retorted. 

“Fine. Stay with the fucking rats.” 

“You’re the one breaking the alliance!” 

“And your future husband is the one that sent his pretty boy sniffing around my territory!” 

Your jaw clenched. “It was you who attacked Jack?” 

“Yes. A shame the bastard is alive. But that’s what I get for sending a couple of idiots to do the job.” 

“And you’re responsible for just Jack?” You questioned, something quite like dread and anticipation swirling in your stomach. 

“I look forward to seeing you crawling back to me, Rogue. I bet you look pretty on all fours.” 

The line went dead before he finished his sentence. 

…

The click of your heels were frantic as you approached Nico’s study. 

You hadn’t bothered knocking, pushing the door open with the words ready on the tip of your tongue, only to find a handful of people already in the room. You froze for a moment, taking in their various expressions of concern, annoyance and contemplation. Your shoulders practically sagged in relief when your gaze caught Nico’s.

“You already know.” 

He nodded in response. 

“How?” 

“The shredded alliance contract left burning at the front door was telling enough,” Nico answered with a frown. 

“Fuck,” you muttered. 

“He has someone working for him,” Nico continued. “Someone feeding him information. From Candy to the warehouses to Jack. Someone was telling him everything and we didn’t even fucking know.” 

“What?” You shook your head, stepping into the room and closing the door behind you. You were in his circle for years, someone he trusted, someone he confided in. You would have known about a spy in one of the Rangers’ biggest enemy territories, especially long before he was contemplating the alliance. “No, that’s not possible. I don’t know how he—”

“Do you not?” Timo questioned. 

You blinked. “What?”

“Do you not know how?” Timo continued, something written across his expression that you couldn’t quite work out. “You’re close to Trouba, no? One of his lackeys?”

Your eyes narrowed. “Are you insinuating something?” 

“Does a duck quack?” He retorted.

“Enough,” Nico interrupted, his lips turned downwards. “We don’t know for sure who—”

“Jacob Trouba is practically flaunting around New York that he gutted Jack,” Jesper chimed in. “He has someone he trusts—someone we trust too—whispering in his ear.” 

“And you think it’s me?” You spluttered out, your shock clearly written across your face. “Are you fucking serious?” 

“I am just pointing out the facts,” Jesper responded.

“I wasn’t even here when half of the attacks happened,” you retorted. “I didn’t even know I was coming here until that day in the meeting room.”

“So you say,” Timo muttered, eyes narrowed. 

“I have spent every day for the last four months here,” you gritted out through clenched teeth. “What do you think I was doing? Sending carrier pigeons to Trouba?” 

“You have a phone,” Timo pointed out.

You let out a humourless laugh, throwing the phone towards the boy as he effortlessly caught it. “Check it if you’re so sure.”

“We are wasting time,” John spoke up, having stayed mostly silent as he stood by the desk, brooding as he usually did. “And arguing is getting us nowhere.” 

“Wherever he is leading you, it will be a trap,” you pointed out, ignoring the glares some of the boys were sending you and, instead, focusing on the one man you could rely on. “Nico, please. I know him. I know how his head works.” 

Nico’s jaw clenched, a pained look in his eyes that made your heart twist in discomfort. But it was his words that cut through you, leaving it a little harder to breathe as he spoke with a blank face.

“Maybe it’s best if you stay behind.”

“You think I’m the rat?” You whispered, your voice cracking despite your attempts to keep it even.

He couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eye after that.

…

“Not you too.” 

Luke didn’t say anything, staring blankly at the wall in front of him.

“Are you serious?”

Luke remained silent.

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter,” you muttered under your breath as you threw the book down on the bed beside you, a failed attempt to distract yourself from the sick feeling in your stomach when you thought about what Nico was going to walk in to. “They need the fucking babysitter! They are the ones walking straight into a trap!”

Luke still remained silent.

“Do not fucking do this now,” you grumbled as you pushed yourself to stand up, rounding the bed and walking towards the boy. You almost scoffed as he moved just as quick, stepping in front of the door, blocking your way out. “You don’t seriously believe I’m the rat?” 

“I am just following orders,” Luke stated.

“Luke,” you stood in front of him, your hands on your hips. “Do not fucking play with me right now. We spent every fucking waking moment together, do you really think I would do any of that?”

His eyes snapped down to you, a conflicted expression painted on his face. 

“Do you really think I would do that to Jack?” You continued, your voice a little softer and you watched as the boy swallowed harshly.

“No,” he rasped, his voice rough but honest. “But there is a rat. Someone did do that to Jack and I—”

“I know,” you murmured, winding your arms around his torso. It didn’t take much for the boy to return the hug, to find comfort in your embrace. “We will find them. I promise. And I will personally let you be the one to give them what they deserve. But we need to help the others first before Trouba gets to them.” 

“How can I help?” 

You pulled back, a somewhat sheepish expression on your face. “Depends. How well do your puppy dog eyes work on Jack?” 

…

“Absolutely not.”

“Jack—”

“Nuh uh. Not happening.” 

“Dude, come on—”

“It’s bad enough that I am stuck in this bed whilst everyone else gets to go have fun,” Jack huffed, though the pile of pillows surrounding him did little to help sell the angry expression on his face. “I am not giving you my baby on top of everything else.” 

You shot him a look. “You boys and your motor toys.”

Jack blanched. “She is not just a toy, she is—”

“A motorcycle,” Luke intercepted, shooting his brother an apologetic look.

His eyes narrowed. “Why can’t you just take one of the cars?” 

Your gaze wandered to the floor, slightly sheepish as you shrugged. “I can’t drive stick.” 

“Luke can.”

“Luke isn’t coming.”

“Wait, what?” Luke snapped his head around to look at you. “Yes, I am. You’re not going in alone.” 

“It is bad enough that the rest of them are already there,” you bit out. “I am not letting you risk yourself too. You saw what he did to Jack.”

“I was caught off guard,” Jack grumbled.

“I am going alone and I am not arguing about this,” you said, hands on your hips as you waited for the boy to do the exact opposite and start arguing with you. 

And just like clockwork, he did.

“How the hell am I supposed to help from here?” Luke questioned, a crease forming between his brows and the beginnings of the classic upset Hughes’ pout starting to show. “Jack is the injured one, I am completely fine!”

“Stop reminding me,” Jack sighed deeply.

“You can help from here,” you stated. 

Luke shot you a look. “How?” 

“I don’t care how you do it and I don’t care what lies you have to tell but get on that phone and get the others back as fast as you can,” you said, your face remaining serious. “Nico wouldn’t have taken them all. They are probably waiting somewhere as back up. Call them and get them back here. Lie, bribe, blackmail—do whatever.” 

Jack blinked. “You really think it’s that bad?” 

“I think killing them would be too easy for Trouba,” you said honestly. “I think there is a bigger picture we are not seeing and tonight is not the night to figure out what that is. At least not under Trouba’s discretion.” 

Luke stared at you for a few moments. “Fine. But stay safe or whatever.”

You smiled, playfully patting his cheek. “Don’t worry about me, kid. I can handle myself.”

…

“So, she was right.” 

Nico slowly turned his head to look at Timo who was on the chair next to him, his arms and legs tied tightly just like his were. He shot the other man a look, his face remaining blank and unimpressed. 

“Got yourself quite a wife there, Boss. Smart lady,” he continued, flashing Nico a slightly strained smile. 

“Your ability to act like we aren’t completely fucked is admirable,” Jonas deadpanned from his spot on the other side of Nico. “On the off chance we get out of here alive—”

“Which we probably won’t,” Timo supplied. 

“—Nico will kill you for that comment alone,” Jonas finished.

“I wouldn’t,” Nico spoke up. “I would let her.”

Jonas snorted. 

Timo nodded. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

“As endearing as this whole moment is,” another voice spoke up from the other side of the room. “You are really making me regret not bringing gags with me.” 

“Kinky,” Timo mused. 

Nico shot him another look. 

“My bad for trying to make our last moments enjoyable,” Timo huffed.

“Would be enjoyable if the ropes weren’t tied so badly,” Jonas grumbled. 

“God,” Jacob growled, pushing himself off the desk and walking towards where the three of them were currently stationed. “I don’t know how that little bitch could stand you for months. Thirty minutes and I don’t know if I want to put a bullet through your heads or mine.” 

Nico’s jaw clenched. “Watch your mouth.” 

“Aw, touched a nerve?” Jacob smiled as he closed the distance, crouching down a little so he was face to face with the Devils’ boss. “Possessive over your wannabe wife, Hischier?”

“Keep her out of this,” Nico growled, his teeth gritted. 

“Hm, it’s cute you think you have any power here,” Jacob commented, his next movement a flash of blurred colours. It wasn’t until the pain erupted in his nose and he could feel the blood starting to drip down his face that he realised Jacob had smacked him with the handle of his gun. “Don’t make me muzzle you like a fucking mutt.” 

“Bite me, Trouba,” Nico snapped back. 

“He might be into that,” Timo murmured.

“Dude,” Jonas hissed. 

Nico let out another groan, his head snapping to the side as Jacob pistol-whipped him once again. 

“Hey!” Timo exclaimed, the legs of his chair scuffling against the floor as he tried to fight against the restraints. 

“You were annoying me,” Jacob said with a shrug as he stood back up. “And his pretty face annoys me.” 

Nico lifted his head, spitting the blood pooling inside his mouth in Jacob’s direction before flashing him a smile. “You think I’m pretty?”

Jacob shot him a blank look. 

“My wife thinks I’m pretty too,” he continued, something almost sadistic written across his face. “Remind me, did she ever think you were pretty?” 

“I think,” Jacob began, the telltale click of the safety lock being removed echoing through the empty office space. “I’m sick and tired of having your lot become such a problem for me.” 

“Yeah, I could really tell from that alliance you signed,” Nico deadpanned. 

Jacob let out a dry laugh. “There is no honest man in this life, Hischier. You’re a naive bastard if you believe anyone other than yourself.” 

“He does know contracts are legally binding, right?” Timo muttered. 

“Yeah, because everything we do is so legal,” Jonas drawled, unamused.

“Why sign it?” Nico questioned, his eyes trained on the man in front of him. 

“It was fun messing with you,” Jacob said with a shrug.

“Bullshit,” Timo snorted. “You just laid back for four months for fun? Yeah, sure.” 

Nico glanced at his friend before returning his gaze to Jacob. He noted the way his jaw clenched, his eye twitching a little in frustration. He tried—and failed—not to take pleasure in the small signs of annoyance. 

“Because the plan didn’t work out the way you intended,” Nico guessed, and assuming from the small, irritated huff Jacob let out, he was right. “Because you had to hold back and work out some things but, like a petulant child, you ran out of patience. That’s why the attack on Jack was so messy. You threw caution out the window.”

“You seem far too interested in the fine details for a man in your position, Hischier,” Jacob grumbled. 

“Call it a dead man’s curiosity,” Nico retorted with a smile.

“Speaking of death,” Timo piped up. “You are keeping us alive for a surprisingly long time.” 

“Because he needs something from us,” Nico assumed.

“You think you’re so smart,” Jacob hissed. 

“Well, he knows how to tie a better knot,” Jonas grumbled under his breath.

Nico shot him a look, only for Jonas to shrug in response. 

“I’m just saying, you can tell he doesn’t do the dirty work.” Jonas added.

Jacob looked unimpressed. “I don’t typically lower myself to dirty work.”

“How noble,” Timo snorted.

“What are you waiting for?” Nico poked, his eyes narrowing a little with determination. “Why keep us alive? One bullet through my head and you would have everything you want. But you’re hesitating.” 

“You done with your conspiracies?” Jacob bit back.

“Whatever it is you want, you’re not going to get it,” Nico told him, so sure of himself. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Jacob responded.

Nico shrugged as best he could in his restraints. “I would.” 

…

As a Ranger, you were one of Jacob’s top enforcers. 

It was the unexpected factor that made you effective. The others were tall or buff or intimidating, but you were able to get away with a lot more—call it taking advantage of the inherent and ridiculous misogyny within the mob life. 

But your effectiveness and skill was the exact reason why Jacob Trouba trusted you, why he let you in on the private meetings, why he kept you so close within his circle. It was also one of the main reasons why the initial arranged marriage caught you off guard. 

You weren’t made for marriages of alliance, you were made for this.

The forty-eight floor office building in Lower Manhattan was an abandoned project that failed extensive safety acts but was too expensive for the city to knock down—in the books. Off the books, it was a grey area the police tended to look away from and not prod too much. It was the perfect place for someone like Trouba—who controlled the majority of the crime and underground businesses in New York, who didn’t like any more eyes on him than he allowed. 

It was a building you were familiar with, one you had spent many days and nights in for the years you stood in Trouba’s circle. You knew the ins and outs, the various corridors to sneak around and hide. You knew the exact rooms where the screams and pleas of a man would be deaf to the bustling city outside. You knew which floors were reserved for the kind of things people with weak stomachs tended to avoid. 

And, for the first time ever in your life, you stepped into the building with a sense of dread lingering over your head. 

Every time you had ever stepped into this building, you were indifferent. You were there to complete a job and you always did so. You never hesitated or second-guessed yourself. You went in, you did your job and you left. 

Because never once had there ever been the life of someone you cared about on the line—never once had you ever feared you wouldn’t be able to save someone’s life, rather than being the one to end it. 

And yet, the mere idea of walking into one of these rooms and finding out you were too late was eating you alive as you made your way in through the side entrance, trying not to take the lack of men stationed around the building as a sign that you weren’t fast enough. 

At least, it was eating you alive until you were distracted by your phone buzzing in your pocket.

“You better have a good fucking reason to be calling me right now.” 

“First of all, that was rude. I am bed-ridden and lonely. You could at least say hi.” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“And second of all, I wanted to make sure my baby is okay.” 

“Your motorcycle is fine, Jack,” you deadpanned. 

“One scratch on her and we are going to have problems.”

“However will I escape your wrath when you are bound to your bed?” You questioned, the sarcasm dripping from your words as you made your way through the corridors—one hand holding your phone and the other clutching your gun. 

“That was also rude.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes again. “Why did you call, Jack?” 

“Well, there’s good news and bad news.”

You paused for a moment, straightening your back. “Good news?”

“We got everyone back. Jesper is a little pissed. John is really pissed but that is on Luke for lying about—”

You quickly interrupted. “And the bad news?” 

“Timo and Jonas are with Nico, so you are now on a three man rescue mission—”

“Which would have been easier if you let me come,” Luke yelled from somewhere in the background.

“And he is waiting for someone. Supposedly. We are assuming whoever the rat is.” 

Your brows furrowed together. “How can you be so sure it’s them?” 

“According to the dude Kurtis bet up for some information, Trouba has been sending money to the rat for months. Today was meant to be the day they met, and supposedly Nico was the price they demanded.”

“He doesn't even know who his rat is?” You scoffed. “I’m assuming there’s no real name attached to the account.” 

“Unless you know a Barbra Parker who lives in Brooklyn and attends weekly zumba classes for senior citizens and sometimes attends church when she wants to gossip, then no. We have no name and no more clues towards whoever Trouba has been paying.” 

You let out a sigh. “Great.”

“On the bright side, Jesper did admit he was wrong for accusing you and I got the admission on video for you to blackmail him with.” 

You laughed a little. “Thanks, Jack.”

“We got your back, Rogue. You’re a Devil. But if Nico asks, this was totally my idea and he owes me dinner at that fancy steak place I got banned from three years ago.” 

This time you did roll your eyes before hanging up. 

…

Nico watched as Jacob Trouba paced the room, the nerves emitting from him like a bat signal for weakness as he kept glancing down at his watch. He had never seen such obvious and badly concealed emotions from a man like Trouba, it was almost off-putting to watch if he weren’t trying to work out the little puzzle in his head right now. 

Most of the pieces were there, but there was something glaringly obvious that Nico was missing and it was starting to irritate him.

“It’s actually quite sad to watch,” Timo commented. “He looks like a distressed polar bear.”

Jonas flashed him a confused look. “What?” 

“You know, those videos where the polar bear is in a zoo enclosure and gets really stressed and starts exhibiting weird behaviours?” Timo said, only to receive blank expressions in response. “What? I literally sent you the video a few weeks ago. Assholes.”

“You sent it to me when I was down in Philly,” Jonas retorted.

“Excuses,” Timo huffed. 

“We really need to discuss your hostage conversation topics when we are back,” Nico deadpanned. 

“Hard to have that discussion when you three will be dead in a few hours,” Jacob spoke up, turning to finally look at them for the first time in the last thirty minutes. 

“Seems like you’ve been stood up, Trouba,” Nico assumed, the amusement clear in his voice despite the fact he was the one who was restrained. “It happens to many men, you’re in good company, I’m sure.” 

Jacob clenched his jaw, rounding towards him. “You little—” 

“Watch how you talk about my husband, Trouba.” 

All four pairs of eyes snapped towards the entrance. 

You stood there, your hands holding onto your gun tightly and pointing it directly at your former boss—your former friend—with your finger on the trigger. It was an odd feeling, one you had never really experienced before. Because as much as you wanted to tell yourself you felt indifferent towards Jacob—that maybe even a part of you despised him for the way he treated you over the last four months—there was a louder, more vocal voice in your head reminding you just who he was to you. 

Just who he used to be to you. 

And it was so fucking disorienting. 

Something quite like surprise and elation crossed Jacob’s face. “Rogue.”

“Drop the gun,” you nodded towards the gun in his hand. “Right now.” 

He smiled, his head tilting a little. “You know I’m not going to do that. And I know why you’re really here, you can drop the act.” 

Your eyes narrowed. 

“Not quite on your knees,” he continued, his grin growing when Nico let out a string of curses. “But I knew you’d come back to me.” 

“Your ego is truly astounding,” you mused, your eyes glued on Trouba. You couldn’t look towards Nico. Not right yet. Not until you had dealt with the man in front of you. “Almost as pathetic as your mind games.” 

Jacob cocked an eyebrow. 

“I mean, of all the people to choose as your rat,” you continued, watching as his face dropped a little as the lie passed your lips. “You really thought I wouldn’t find out?”

Jacob huffed out a laugh, dry and a bit tense. “Rogue—”

“Meanwhile, you don’t even know who your rat is,” you added.

His jaw clenched a little. “I do.”

“Do you?” You questioned.

“You were always the smartest one in my ranks,” Jacob mused.

“And yet, you sent me away,” you finished for him. 

“But you came back,” Jacob grinned, as though he had planned this all along, as though he was the mastermind. “Like I always knew you would.” 

“And you need your ears checked because I think I have made myself very clear where I stand,” you gritted out. 

“Don’t tell me you have gone soft for him?” Jacob scoffed,  looking at you in a mix of disbelief and amusement. But when your gun remained pointed at him, he only laughed. “Yeah? You expect me to believe you’re going to do it? Fine then.” 

You watched as his gun moved away from Nico, watched as the barrel of the gun was pointed towards you instead. Something prickled under your skin, your hair standing on the nape of your neck. You have watched that gun in his hands kill so many people and now it was directed at you. 

It felt so wrong and, yet, you didn’t lower your weapon either.

“Is this what you wanted? Some noble showdown to prove yourself to them?” Jacob goaded. “They will never trust you. You will never be one of them, no matter who you marry or who’s dick you suck. You will always be an outsider. You will always be a Ranger.”

Your jaw twitched. “I stopped being a Ranger the second you sold me off like fucking cattle.”

“Rogue, baby, you never stopped as long as I say you haven’t,” Jacob smiled, all-knowing and smug. “Now, put the gun down. The game was cute but it’s getting a bit dull now. You’ve put on your little show, you’ve made your point. It won’t happen again. Scout’s promise.”

You stared at the man for a few moments, stared at the person you once knew so well. “You know the difference between me and you?” 

He raised his brows. “What?”

“You’re far too sentimental over shit that doesn’t ultimately matter anymore,” you said, your finger pressing down on the trigger before you even finished your sentence. 

Jacob let out a pained exclamation, his body falling towards the floor as his hand instantly went to the bullet wound now oozing blood from his thigh. His grip on his gun was still firm but before he could even raise it, you shot him once more on the opposite shoulder, letting his cries of pain bounce through the room. 

“Take this as my one and only mercy, Trouba, for the man you once were to me,” you spoke, blunt and indifferent as you approached the man. Your foot was pining his wrist down, letting you throw his gun towards the other side of the room before you turned back to him. “Next time you even touch a hair on my family’s head, I’ll put a bullet through yours. Remember that.” 

Jacob didn’t even get a chance to reply to your threat before you slammed the handle of your gun against his temple, knocking him out cold as he laid motionless on the ground. 

“Fuck, that was hot.” 

Your head snapped around, finally settling on the three men tied to the chairs in front of you. You took a quick glance over Jonas and Timo, happy to see a limited amount of blood on them before your eyes finally stopped on Nico. It was almost embarrassing the way relief drowned you at the sight of him smiling at you. 

“Fucking hell,” you murmured out, your body moving on autopilot as you stumbled towards him. You took his face in your hands, unbothered about the blood drying on his face as you leaned your forehead against his. “I fucking told you I was right.” 

Nico huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, baby, you did. Should listen to you more often.” 

You smiled a little. “You have time to learn.” 

“All the time in the world, Rogue,” he confirmed, his nose nudging against yours. 

“This is really cute and that was really badass but could you two please stop so she can untie us and we can go home?” Timo spoke up. 

“Please, it’s insulting having these terribly tied knots holding us down,” Jonas added.

You laughed, pulling away to look at the other two with a fond smile. “Yeah, let’s go home.” 

…

“You know, I am pretty sure it’s considered rude to sneak away from the party when the party is for us.” 

“I don’t see you trying very hard to go back to the party.” 

“Well,” Nico said with a heavy sigh, trying to bite back his smile as he let you pull him towards the counter you were currently sitting on. “I am a weak man when it comes to the whims of my beautiful, cunning, scheming wife—” 

You snorted, your arms wrapping around his neck as he stood between your legs. “So dramatic.”

“You still married me though,” Nico grinned, his hands on your thighs as he shamelessly played with the edge of the little white dress you put on for the occasion. “You’re stuck with me, baby. I’m all yours.” 

“What a tragic life sentence,” you mused, your eyes softening a little as you leaned in to press a quick kiss against his lips. “What have I got myself into?” 

“Hm, let’s see,” he started, puffing his cheeks a little before he let out a sigh. “We are basically at war with the Rangers and all their allies, there’s an unknown rat in our ranks that knows we are on their tail and one of my best men is still out of service until further notice. Add in the fact that we have a handful of rocky aliases to strengthen across the country, especially the west coast, and you have a pretty big fucking mess you’re walking into.”

“But it’s something we will solve together,” you said in a determined voice, your hands moving to cup his face so you could stare into his eyes. “Me and you. In sickness and in health and in huge fucking messes.”

His lips twitched. “I don’t remember that in the wedding vows.”

You shrugged. “I’m paraphrasing.” 

He laughed softly as he fisted the material of your skirt in his hands. “There is no one else I would rather have standing by my side, Mrs Hischier.” 

“Good,” you huffed, lifting your chin a little as the mischief shone in your eyes. “Because in the wise words of a smart man I know, you’re stuck with me, baby. I’m all yours.” 

His grin widened. “And that is more than enough for me.” 

Your smile pressed against his as he leaned in to kiss you again, a soft sigh leaving your lips as you sunk into the embrace. The music thumping through the speakers could still be heard, even so far from the actual party, but in the arms of your husband is exactly where you wanted—no, needed—to be. 

You huffed out a small laugh, though you couldn’t find it in yourself to bat his wandering hands away as he squeezed your thighs before tugging you closer to the edge of the counter. You pulled back a little, taking in his flushed cheeks and shining eyes and felt something quite like fondness explode in your chest. 

“I am so in love with you, Nico Hischier,” you whispered, like a soft confession shared just between the two of you. 

“I’m glad you’ve finally caught up, baby,” he whispered back. “It’s about time people know.” 

“Know what?”

But his grin only widened, the love and adoration he held for you so clearly written across his face as he cupped your face in his hands. “That my girl is a Devil, through and through.” 

And as you stared back at him with a similar expression on your face, there were a few things you knew for certain: Nico Hishcier was the leader of the New Jersey Devils, he was a kind and fair man despite the world you lived in, and that you were truly and utterly in love with him.

And you knew that you would stand by his side whatever the world threw at the two of you. 

For better or for worse. 

Until death do you part. 

.

[dragon-chica]

Cryptid Hunting - Eddie & Venom x Reader

Fandom: Marvel / Venom

Dear gods it's been a long time since I wrote but this duo? marry me.

You have a love for monsters and stories, folklore and cryptozoology especially the more interesting creatures, in particular.

Eddie once had asked you if you really believe in all those stories, legends and cryptids and folklore. He found them interesting and entertaining, especially some of your favorites you shared with him, but didn't consider a lot on the subject.

"Babe, your body contains an alien slime that cured your cancer and eats your ass. This is just a cursed child that flew out a chimney and haunts New Jersey. No offense, Venom, honey."

"NONE TAKEN."

"That's fair."

You had always wanted to try cryptid hunting just for fun, but could never convince anyone to join you for a night of tomfuckery in a creepy area with legends and rumors.

Eddie though, had no excuse.

Your reasoning was, he's a journalist, he should investigate this story, spinning your laptop around with an article on a chosen cryptid for him to look at while you also read about it from one of your cryptozoology and folklore books.

Your second reason was, he's your boyfriend and "Please, please, please, please baby?"

Which of course he could never say no to, not that it helps that Venom is also now pleading along with you.

"YES EDDIE, PRETTY PLEASE? WE CAN FIND IT AND EAT IT. AN EXOTIC SNACK, AND WE WILL IMPRESS THEM."

Both his lovers pleading for him to do something? He's a lovestruck sucker as is, even if it is walking around like a couple of dumbasses in the dark. He's done weirder.

You honestly didn't actually expect him to agree though, and are ecstatic that he does.

Your excitement and the big kiss on his cheek is already worth it he thinks.

"SEE EDDIE? WE ARE AMAZING PARTNERS. MORE CRYPTIDS AND MORE KISSES."

You make a day out of it, a roadtrip.

With snacks. Lots of snacks, and one guy at a gas station that was just awful. "HE DIDN'T TASTE VERY GOOD EITHER."

All in all, Eddie was having a good day. Time off spent with his favorite beings, a scenic drive, wearing shoes. Not really expecting much of the "cryptid hunt" besides walking around in the dark and talking to the woods like ghosthunters.

But you and Venom were hyped, as soon as you parked in a secluded area and geared up with flashlights and a video camera, he didn't know who was more excited.

Venom was hovering over his shoulder, head whipping around so much he was spinning Eddie as he went, following you "to a good spot."

You sat in the woods for awhile together waiting for it to get dark, wrapped in a cozy hoodie and leaning against Eddie while reading to him different stories from one of your cryptid books.

When darkness settled around you and something could be heard walking through the brush, you flashlight spun toward it.

"DO NOT WORRY MORSEL, WE ARE THE LETHAL PROTECTOR. YOU ARE SAFE."

Eddie did not expect, at the sound of something moving closer in the woods, for Venom to jump out of him, and into you. Backing up with black good around your hand now shaking with the beam towards it.

"What the hell V?" he whisper shouted while your other hand covered your mouth trying to hide a snicker.

"THAT'S ENOUGH HUNTING FOR TONIGHT."

A weird trilling sound came for the forest and Venom encased you, going full form and grabbing Eddie over your shoulder before sprinting back to the card and tossing him inside.

Your flashlights, heavy duty and bought just for this, were long forgotten while multiple tentacles rummaged around Eddie before finding the keys and slamming them in the ignition.

"What's wrong V? i thought you wanted to eat a cryptid for me?"

You try to soothe and pet him while Eddie gets his bearings again.

"NOT HUNGRY. THE UGLY MAN GAVE US INDIGESTION. BESIDES, EDDIE WAS SCARED."

"HEY!"

Eventually, against Venom's protests on Eddie being a chicken and too scared to continue, Eddie trekked back to retrieve your gear, Venom back with him and switching from full cowl to hiding inside him again while you waited in the car.

[chleem]

Not a big deal pt2

miniseries; basketball player drew x high scl student reader

Summary: You lose your virginity to a random guy at a frat party miles away from your home. A few days later, you find out that he’s your brother’s competitor, for the regional colleges’ basketball tournament. 

Genre: strangers to lovers, smut, angst, fluff

Warnings: cursing, age gap (18 & 24), protected sex (read at own caution

⋆.˚ please dont copy or translate my work!

♡⸝⸝ p1 | index | p3

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Can I have your number?”

A guy from the WCU team came up to you, while you were waiting for Luke. Your parents left due to a job emergency, and left you with your 'responsible' older brother. But currently, he was taking forever in the men’s locker room, and you were getting hit on by a guy from the WCU basketball team. 

He wasn’t ugly, but not handsome either. He was tall (duh) and…just, not your type. He said his name was Gus, and forced some small talk with you, which resulted in him asking for your number. 

“Um, sure,” you awkwardly smile, even though deep down you didn’t want to give it to him. When you reach for his phone, he purposely makes his hand brush against yours, which just gives you the ick. 

Huh. Let’s give him Luke’s number. That would be funny as fuck. 

You type in Luke’s number, giving him a smile as you hand it back to him. “Thanks,” he smiles, gross, and then texts something. “Did you receive it?”

You pretend to check your phone, and nod. “Yeah.”

“Great, um, then… I’ll text you,” he bites his lip, slipping his phone back in his pocket. Is it the end of this conversation? Please, let this be it. But of course, it isn’t. “We have a party, going on tonight.”

“Really?” You pretend to be intrigued. 

“Yeah, to celebrate the winning team. You should…you should come,” Gus invites. 

Oh shit. You really didn’t want to go, especially if you were going with this guy. Please, make something happen so you can reject this guy. 

And as if God heard your prayers, he sends an angel to your rescue. Just, not the angel you expected. 

The door of the men’s locker room opens, and both of you glance to see who it is. 

Drew. He comes out in a fresh set of clothes, wet hair, towel around his neck, and duffle bag hanging on his shoulders. Fuck. He looked soooo good. 

“So are you up for it?” Gus asks, turning to you. You literally had to force your eyes away from Drew. Plus, Gus says it loud enough for Drew to hear, who’s not even a meter away from you. 

You get ready to reject him, when Drew suddenly joins the conversation, wrapping an arm around Gus. Your eyes widen at his interruption, him smiling as he glances between the two of you. “Gus, who’s this you’ve got here?”

His blue eyes stare into yours; bringing you back to that night. 

His question lingers in the air, and he squeezes Gus’ shoulder to get an answer out of him. “Um, y/n. This is Drew, our captain.”

You didn’t know why, but you hoped that Drew would tell Gus that he knows who you are, and that you’ve met before. He doesn’t; instead, he says, “Nice to meet you,” followed by a wink. A wink that Gus doesn’t notice, too busy staring you down. 

Oh. Oh. You feel yourself get a degree hotter, physically. 

“What were you guys talking about?” Drew asks, glancing at Gus. 

“Um, just the party tonight. I’m asking y/n if she would like to come with me.”

Drew turns back to you, his eyebrows furrowed. Fuck. What did that expression mean? “It sounds very interesting,” you say, faking a smile at Gus. “But uh, I support the ECU,” you joke, pointing to the jersey you were wearing. 

The two guys' eyes scan your body, but only one of them really got to see what was underneath the jersey. “It’s open to the public,” Drew says, his eyes still lingering on your body. 

You bit down on your lip, trying to suppress your smile. Okay, so maybe he would like to see you at the party. “Where is it?”

“The hotel next to ECU, where we’re staying. Room…302, I believe?” Gus turns to Drew for confirmation, who just nods, forcing his eyes back to your face. 

You stare at Drew, who’s got a small smirk on now. “Open to the public,” he murmurs again, the smirk turning into a small smile now. 

God must hate you, because he sends the devil to your side during the crucial moments. The door to the locker room opens yet again, and when you glance at who it was, it was Luke. In fresh clothes, just gotten out the shower, and looking like he wanted to murder someone. 

His expression turns even meaner when he sees you with the WCU team members. He goes and stands closely beside you, his presence very pressuring. “What- what’s going on here?”

Fuck. Luke sounds like he wants to pick up a fight. You glance between Gus and Drew, who looks alarmed but confused at the same time. “Nothing; you took forever,” you tell your brother instead, hoping he can brush it off. “You should go get a cab.”

You push his shoulder to get him moving, but he doesn’t budge. He furrowed his eyebrows at you, before turning to Drew. Your brother wasn’t born yesterday; he knew they were hitting on you. “She’s a minor.”

Your brother always said that, whenever he found guys hitting on you. It scares them away, but you didn’t want Drew to be scared away. 

“I’m not,” you say firmly, trying to meet Drew’s eyes. “I’m 18 already.”

“Shit,” Gus comments, shocked. “I didn’t- I wouldn’t have hit on you if I knew you were so young-"

“So why are you still standing here?” Luke rudely comments. 

You just focused on Drew’s reaction; he’s looking elsewhere now, his other hand now scratching the side of his face. He’s definitely in shock, because you didn’t tell him that you were 18. But, what’s wrong with being 18? You’re a legal person now, so, was it that big of a deal? 

“Yeah, so sorry,” Gus apologizes, which doesn’t make you feel any better. You feel much worse. Wow, thanks a lot, Luke. 

You don’t miss how Drew’s eyes flicker over your body, while shock is still written on his face. 

“You should be. She’s still a kid,” Luke continues to say. “Didn’t know you were jerks off and on court.” Okay. Now your brother was just being petty about losing. 

“Could say the same about you,” Drew suddenly speaks up, his eyes turning to Luke. He stops scratching his face, biting on his lips now. 

Right. You’re suddenly reminded of Luke’s push at Drew towards the end of the game. Fuck. You wanna ask if he’s okay or not. You don’t even glance at Luke; he’s probably even more upset now.

“We gotta get going though, we’ve got stuff to do,” Drew adds, squeezing Gus’ shoulder again. 

“What stuff? Hitting on more minors?” Your brother gives them a nasty smirk, thinking his comment ate. 

“Actually, the local news are interviewing us,” Gus says, which comes out as a flex to your brother. “But, again, so sorry.”

“Yeah, we’ll, see you around,” Drew says, awkwardly glancing between the two of you. His eyes meet yours for a brief moment; and it was filled with shame and guilt. 

It doesn’t take an expert to analyze that look: he regrets sleeping with you. 

They walk outside the building, Drew taking his arm off Gus. Your eyes can’t help but follow them, watching their every move. You see Gus showing Drew something on his phone, and he grabs it out of his hand, examining it. Huh. What did he show Drew?

“They didn’t deserve to win,” your brother’s comment makes you pull your eyes away from them. Right, you’re reminded of this fucker that you’re unfortunately related to.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Is the first thing you say, genuinely pissed. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“What? Sorry for trying to protect you,” Luke says back, the anger in his voice matching yours. “Seriously, I don’t get enough credit for being a loving brother.”

“‘Loving brother’?” You laugh, as you walk towards the door, pushing it open. “No, you were just being a jerk. That was purely for your ego.”

“Ego my ass,” Luke follows behind you, the two of you walking side by side but not looking at each other. “You think I want to spend my time worrying about you?”

“Well, that’s exactly how you spend your time,” you angrily reply. 

“Can’t help it; I’m your brother, y/n. Nothing will change that,” Luke says. You roll your eyes, stopping at the cab sign, hoping a random cab will drive by. “But y/n, can you promise me one thing?”

“What?” You furrow your eyebrows, turning to your brother. 

His expression softens, and he lowers his voice. “Don’t- don’t get involved with the WCU guys, okay? Can you promise me that?”

Too late. “Why?” You ask, curious. 

“Imagine if I became friends with someone you hated a lot,” Luke says, and you imagine him with your classmate that you found annoying as fuck. Yeah, that image pisses you off. “Same goes for WCU. That…if I won, that would’ve been the turning point for me. But I didn’t. And I have every right to be upset.”

You stay silent, biting down on your lip. Shit. “Any guy, y/n. I wouldn’t care. Just, not them. Promise me that.”

How can you promise that when you’ve broken it in the first place?

A cab drives by, saving you from having to answer. “You got money?” You ask instead, holding your hand out to gesture the cab to stop. It stops, and you open the door. 

A small smile appears on his face, shaking his head lightly. “You owe me a lot,” he says, as you get in. 

“And you don’t complain, because you’re my ‘loving brother’,” you throw his words back at him, as he gets in the cab. 

He shakes his head again, before telling the driver the address to home.

Shit. This was awkward, you think. No involvement with WCU guys. Impossible, when you lost your virginity to one of them. And not just any one of them, the captain of their basketball team for god’s sake. 

——

How did you end up alone with Drew, in his hotel room?

Despite what your brother said, you still showed up at the WCU party. A very rude thing to do. But you figured, as long as no one from his team saw you here, it would be safe. For all he knows, you’re at the library studying. 

It went well at first; you showed up at the hotel room Gus told you, wandering around awkwardly. A few minutes and couple of drinks later, you bumped into Gus. He's definitely more flirty and pushy now, under the influence of alcohol.

It was Drew that saved you, butting in and forcing Gus to refill his drink. 

And now, you were in his hotel room, sitting at the foot of his bed. Drew leaned against his small kitchen sink, staring at the floor. This was more awkward than talking to Gus. 

You take the chance to look around; his washed clothes hanging by the window, unmade bed, messy dining table with his textbooks, and his luggage opened, some items just spread onto the floor. 

You play with your fingers, looking everywhere but Drew. Why did you agree to be alone with Drew, in his hotel room? It was weird, and very dangerous. 

It felt like time had stopped, until Drew spoke up. “So…you’re 18?”

“Yeah,” you nod awkwardly, your gaze turning to Drew. He bites down on his lip; looks of guilt written all over his face. You did not like that. “Been 18 for a very long time. So…”

Silence. Again. 

Drew seems to be in a spiral, trying to process everything. 

The silence was nerve-wracking; what was he thinking about? 

“Wait…” he starts, running a hand through his hair. He looks at you with furrowed brows, his eyes squinted slightly. “You…you’re…were you a virgin that night?”

Shit, shit, shit. 

“Tell me the truth, y/n,” he seriously says, scratching the corner of his mouth nervously. 

Something about his blue eyes make you want to surrender everything to him. You look away; focusing on the floor. “Yes,” you breathe out, “that was my first time.”

“Fuck,” Drew curses, and you glance at him. He’s clearly stressed, even starting to walk back and forth in front of you. “Fuck…I asked you that night. Why did you lie?”

“Would you have fucked me still?” You ask, sounding way bolder and rude that you expected. “Even if I told you-“

“I’m 24, y/n,” he interrupts. 

Drew’s 24? That’s…six years older than you. Oh wow.

But for some reason, you just can’t find yourself hating this age gap. It was one night, and both of you consented to it. So, was it that big of a deal?

“Do you wanna…sit?” You start, seeing how stressed Drew was. Drew hesitates; but eventually sits down on the spot you patted. You lick your lips nervously, glancing between his lap and yours. “Do you regret it?”

You ask; only because you need to get it off your chest. It was suffocating you; wondering it he regrets or hates that he slept with you. “No,” he answers almost instantly. You look up at his eyes, behind the stress, was softness and admiration in them. “I don’t. I enjoyed it, I…I enjoyed it.”

That makes you smile, and you shyly look down at your lap again. “Me too,” you whisper. And you can’t believe it, but you admit to him, “you set the standard high for me.”

That actually makes him laugh, and he covers his mouth in attempt to remain serious. You smile even wider, butterflies in your stomach that are proud you made him laugh. He shrugs, “Pretty easy when I have no competitors.”

You poke the side of his ribs, causing him in flinch in pain. You furrow your eyebrows, “are you okay?”

He rubs the part you poked, but shrugs, “just fell on my back today. Wasn’t bad.”

Oh. Luke pushed him. That must’ve hurt like hell, yet he’s acting careless. “You’re lying. Lemme see,” you reach for his shirt, and surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you. Instead, he leans down on the bed, tucking his arms behind his head. 

Woah. This angle of Drew, was crazy. You gulp, trying to ignore how hot he looked in his position and focus on examining his lower chest. You lift his shirt, and see some bruises that you didn’t see the last time, all over the side of his abs. Shit. “I’m gonna kill him,” you threaten, anger building up at Luke.

“Happens all the time,” he says, hooded eyes looking at you. “Really; this isn’t the worst that’s happened to me.”

“Hard to believe,” you look at him, your head slightly tilted. You couldn’t help but trace your hands on the outline of his abs; what a perfect body he has. 

“Broke my arm two years ago,” he says, and you gasp, to which he just nods. “Yeah, and the guy refused to pay for the bills. Really, your brother’s not the worst.”

“Did I tell you he’s my brother yet?” You suddenly rethink, wondering how he knows you’re related to Luke.

“You guys look identical. Almost thought you were twins.”

Very offended, you press on his bruise, causing him to flinch, hard. You giggle, putting your hands back in your lap. “Don’t say that, ever again.”

“Yes ma’am,” his eyes land on your lap. “Keep doing that.”

“Do what? Press on your bruise?”

“No; the thing you did earlier,” his voice suddenly drops lower.

You trace on his abs again, “this?”

“Yeah,” he says.  

The sudden urge to kiss him is strong. And the way Drew looks at you, he wants to kiss you too. 

“I want to kiss you,” he admits as well, a small smile on his lips. 

You kiss him lightly as a response, leaning onto his body. Drew seems to miss you, because he kisses you urgently and hungrily. One of his hand wraps around the back of your neck, flipping you over. Now, you were under him, the feel of his dangling necklace was against your throat.

You kiss him, trying your best to show him how much you’ve missed him as well. But, it seems like Drew was winning, with his boner pressing your lower stomach. You couldn’t help but laugh, and Drew pulls away from you with a confused expression. “What?”

“Awww, does kissing me turn you on?” You tease, feeling bold and confident with Drew on top of you. You run your hands through his hair, feeling how soft it is. 

“Insanely,” he admits, a small smile on his lips now. He returns to kissing you, before moving his lips down your neck. He sucks on the skin there, causing your back to arch in pleasure, your lips moaning his name. 

His hands slip under your dress, playing with the fabric of your underwear. But just as his hands get ready to slip in, he suddenly comes to a stop. He rubs your inner thigh, resting his head against your neck.

Then, he gets off of you, laying on the spot beside you.

What? You’re really confused, and you sit up, looking down at him. He’s covering his face with his hands, and you ask, “Why did you stop?”

“I… I don’t have a condom.”

Fuck.  

“Plus, this isn’t right.”

Excuse me? “What, what are you talking about?” You laugh nervously, wondering where he was going. His hands were still covering his face, so you had no idea if he really means anything he says. 

“You’re 18. This isn’t right.”

“Wow,” you scoff in disbelief.

You thought that when he kissed you again, it meant that he was okay with this. But he isn’t. In fact, he’s nowhere near okay with how young you were. Then why did he kiss you again? Why get hard at the simple act of kissing you? “Unbelievable,” you murmur, looking away from him. 

This age gap is a bigger deal to him than to you, it seems.

“I just…this isn’t right,” he says, coming out unclear since his hands are covering his face. 

You furrow your eyebrows even harder. Why won’t he look at you? Is it that shameful? Having involvement with you? “Why are you covering yourself?”

He doesn’t respond; so you admit, “now you’re making me sad by not even looking at me.” 

That makes him take his hands off his face, and you meet his blue eyes. He’s trying to not express it, but it’s really evident; Guilt. Guilt for wanting to sleep with you. “This isn’t right,” he repeats again, more softer this time.

You look away from him, biting down on your lip, “good to know.”

Drew sits up now, and he wraps his hand around yours. You quickly pull away; you feel disgusting now. Disgusted, by how he’s disgusted by you, by your age. You’re so stupid, thinking that Drew was going to want to sleep with you again.

Silence. Again. 

“I really like you,” he suddenly admits. 

“But you don’t want me,” you say, finding his sudden confession really stupid, not at all flattering to hear. 

“Don’t say that.”

“But that’s how you feel, isn't it?”

"No. Not even close," he murmurs, so low that if the room wasn't dead quiet now, you wouldn't catch it. “Do you like me too?” This question, he asks much louder, and you feel his stare burning down the side of your face.

“Does it matter? ‘This isn’t right’,” you throw his words back at him, which makes him lick his lips awkwardly, looking back down at his lap. Why can't he make up his mind? God knows you have, but what about Drew?

You roll your eyes, standing up.

“Where you going?”

“Leaving. I’m so stupid for even coming here in the first place.”

You look down at him, expecting some kind of reaction at least. But no. His eyes stay glued to his lap. And still no reaction, as you walk out his hotel room. He doesn’t follow you, call your name, nothing. He does nothing, nothing to try to stop you from leaving.

——

“Where’ve you been?”

No answer.

“Why are you dressed like that?”

No answer again.

“Y/n.”

Luke grabs onto your arm, stopping you from escaping to your room. 

You look up at his eyes, seeing the concern in them. 

And you don’t know why, but you cry. You cry, and Luke just brings you into his arms, hugging you. Being in his arms make you cry even harder, the tears flowing out like a waterfall. 

Luke doesn’t question it; simply just hugging you. 

You didn’t know that a boy from West Carolina would effect you this much. Affecting you physically and emotionally. Weird. 

Do you like me too? Yes, you think. I like you, even though I know nothing about you. I like you, even though you’re years older than me. I like you, even though I’ll never see you again. 

I like you, which is not a big deal. Not at all.

-------------------------------

word count: 3.4k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: 😶‍🌫️ y'all prob hate me for this ending... BUT im open to making a third part ! imo, at the end of the day, drew will still feel weird for being with an 18 year old, despite being crazy attracted to her. idk, depends, would you guys want a third part, or is this a good end?

anyways, thanks for reading and enjoying the first part! flashing lights ch5 will be out this week <3

other | index | pt1 | pt3

[bratbarzal]

On Your Side (NH13) / Prologue

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy Jensen

WC: 13k

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

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

Series Masterlist

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

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

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

Poppy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course he did, she thinks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She does.

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

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

“Then why are you all grumpy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She wishes he would stop saying her name. 

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

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

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

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

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

She really wishes he wouldn’t call her that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Very.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Half?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So Poppy knows that Nia knows something happened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Awesome! What’s left to do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There is no me and Nico,”

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing happened!”

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

“He has a girlfriend, Nia.”

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

“Since when?” Nia frowns. 

“Since the summer just gone.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

They didn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nico

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Talia was great.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he knew something still wasn’t right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why was Poppy packing up her desk?

Why was she avoiding hanging out with the team?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So that’s what they had been talking about. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe you should ask her?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aren’t friends anymore.

Avoiding the whole team all year.

Jack is driving her home.

He’s her favourite.

Aren’t friends anymore.

Shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Turns out, 4 months might be too late.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jack: need ur help

Jack: urgently

Jack: wake up dude

Nico: I’m not driving anywhere for you

Jack: not asking u to

Jack: u will like this I promise 😌

Nico: what do you want?

Jack: need u to keep Poppy company

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

Jack: been on her own for a few hours

Jack: so she’s grumpy 👎🏻👎🏻👎🏻 👹👹

Nico: doubt I can change the grumpy part

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

Jack: don’t need to

Jack: ur a grump too

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

Jack: u going down or no?

Nico: fine

Jack: I’ll be back in 1 hr :)

Jack: love u cap 😚

Nico: 🙄

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

> Chapter One

[ferg0s]

sorry sorry i meant a freak good at soccer 😭 not freaky shidou type 🤨

I’m doing both 😈 cuz I can.

Isagi would rather eat wet concrete than talk to a girl. It wasn’t that he was ugly, he had gotten his fair share of confessions, but it was the fact that he just didn’t know how. And the occasional timer he did talk to a girl he just rambled out soccer or stumbled on his words. Like a bumbling idiot.

As much as he was excited with the prospect of having a female partner to practice with - it dawned on him too late that he would actually need to converse with said person. That’s where the anxiety picked up. What would he talk about? Soccer, duh… but what if she wants to be his friend? What if she asks what his favourite colour is? Is black an acceptable answer?

It felt like Ego had a personal vendetta against him because he was the last to have a partner. But he has seen the others interact with theirs, and the girls seemed nice enough. Just as shy and nervous as the guys. That put him at ease. At least he wouldn’t be the only one feeling awkward.

“Oi-“

He snapped his head to where the voice came from. His heart dropping when he saw the girl standing infront of him, hands in her hips as she stared daggers at him. “Isagi Yoichi?” she asked, her tone far from the nice polite one the girl the guy next to him got. “Y-yes.” He replied, straighten up in the cafeteria bench he was sitting on. He scanned him, and he had never felt more naked in his life, and gave a ‘hmnf’ and sat down across from him. “A-and you are?” He asked, trying to muster up a smile. “(Y/N),” you replied bluntly. There was an awkward moment of silence, with Isagi trying to force himself to ask you the most basic questions while you had started to talk to the girl next to you.

It seemed like you had little to no interest in him. He had tried to approach you several times, hoping to establish a base plan with you regarding training - but you brushed him off and went about your own thing. You reminded him of Rin.

It wasn’t until practice that he actually got to talk to you.

“So I was thinking-“ “don’t think, just pass the ball to me.”

Oh god, you were exactly like Rin. And you played like it too - which just made him retreat in his shell more. Dealing with Rin was nerve wracking enough but ontop of that you were a girl. He was twice as scared of you.

Maybe it was out of fear, or the way you naturally had a commanding tone - but he would just follow whatever you told him to do. Like a literal lap dog. Until one day he decided he had enough, and decided to challenge you. Two stubborn forces going head to head, fighting for the ball with no chance of giving it up. He felt his legs get tangled with yours as you tried to save the ball from his grasp.

He felt himself falling and opened his eyes to meet the orbs of yours.

“I usually save this for the second date-“ you chuckle. His heart rate picked up when he realized what had happened, and the feeling of your body underneath his came to him in an instant. He scrabbled off you and began to apologize. You dusted yourself off as you got up, chuckling. “Take a girl out for dinner first-“ you joked. But that just fueled his embarrassment more rather than get a chuckle out of him.

There was no way to even attempt to get the ball from you without violating any sense of personal boundary. Much to his dismay. You were shorter compared to him and had more agility, so he needed to try and cover as much ground. In the heat of the match, his hand reached out and accidentally tugged on your jersey shirt. “Wow - that eager, huh?” You chuckled, looking at him with a grin. Maybe it was your tone, or what you were implying - but it always caught him off guard.

Those little comments you made were his personal level of hell.

“Is this an excuse to be near me?” You’d smirk when he’d try to get the ball from you.

“You like it rough, huh?” You’d chuckle when he would forcefully take the ball from you.

“I like a guy who takes charge,” you’d giggle when he would tell you the strategy to get a point over the simulated goalie.

The other boys complained about the uniforms the girls wore, saying they wanted to see some ass or sum. But Isagi didn’t. He chalked it up to; “they’re not pieces of meat, they’re excellent soccer players and we should focus on that - not their bodies.” But he wasn’t being a feminist by choice. He knew what would happen if you managed to get your hands on one of those spandexes. And when he walked onto the field to see you in one, he prayed to God that maybe you’d lose the teasing.

But you didn’t.

He hated how good you were, it was your specialty to keep the ball on you at all times. Your foot work was insane. Better than his. You kept the ball under lock and key it seemed, and youd needed to get ready close to unlock it. And that’s what he did - and the dance for the ball began. “Wanted to see it up close huh?” You joked. He didn’t respond, trying to focus on the ball, his head low. “My eyes are up here-“ you chuckle. He immediately looked up - not wanting you to get the wrong idea. His mistake.

“Not the spheres that need your attention-“ you laugh as you run past him after scoring a goal. “I was just looking at the ball,” he mumbled as he followed you to the middle line. But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t take a peak after that incident. He could tell that you’d bend over infront of him on purpose, him adverting his gaze or turning to tie his shoe for the 67th time in an hour. Whenever you needed him to not look at you, you’d puff out your chest and fake yawn.

God he hated you so much.

Being frustrated with the lack of points he had during the 1-on-1 between the two of you, he went all out. He just needed 1 goal. One fucking goal ( out of the entire week you two had been together ) to show you that you and your antics didn’t affect him. His mistake - you could see every move he made when before he even thought about it - but you didn’t expect him to lose his usual composed nature. His movement was erratic and not controlled.

You felt his legs hook under yours as dived for the ball. His legs stretched out as he tried to kick it out of your hold. He let out a gasp when he felt pressure on his lower stomach, opening his eyes to see yours once again. The weight of your body on his lower torso signalling what position you were in. Luckily, he had instinctively reached out and grabbed you, saving your head with his chest. He let you go, hearing you groan as you sat up.

You looked just as disoriented as him.

“That’s a foul-“ you say as you look down on him. He didn’t care - he would let you take a hundred penalties if it meant you were off him right now. Straddling his lap as you dust off the dirt from your arm, and him looking up at you like a deer in headlights. It took you a minute to realize what position you were in - and he saw the lightbulb turn on your head. He knew that look.

“I think I messed up my hip-“ you groan.

No. You hasn’t. You were moving just fine, he thought.

You reach down and grab his hands, placing them on your hips. He was dumbfounded. “Doesn’t it feel weird?” You ask, feigning innocence. “I- I think it’s fi-“ “no see,” you interrupted before moving your hips. Grinding on his groin. His breath got caught in his throat. “Doesn’t it feel weird - with the bone and stuff?” You ask. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, a faint blush appearing on his cheeks. “I d-don’t think so-“

This was a new level of torture.

You bend down, your chest pressing against his. God the material was very thin. He could feel the cups of your bra on his chest. You lean into his ear, his hands gripping your hips at the sudden sensation of your breath on the side of his neck.

“If there is one fucking bruise or cut on me - I will fucking kill you. Understood?” “Understood-“ he replied.

You got off him and he swore you kicked his leg after you did.

You were terrifying. But in a way, you taught him so much. Because of you his ball handling (idk man I don’t play soccer bear with me) skills has Improved, quite a lot. And they came handy in the U-20 match.

“You copied that from me-“ you scoff as you walk up to him after the match. He had come to see his parents, and after they walked off he had planned on heading back to the bluelock boys. “You came?” He asked, already breaking into a nervous sweat. “Of course - nothing else to do.” You laugh. “Plus I told you I’d kill you if there were any bruises on me and there is so-“ you chuckle

Wait a minute. Were you… flirting? With him?

“Oh- sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He replied, his voice trying not to tremble. One thing had had learned by playing with you was that you were a direct attacker (again bear with me), so he cleared his throat and decided to take a risk. “How about I make it up to you? How about some ice cream?” He asked.

You raised your brow at him. “It’s fucking freezing outside-“

He felt his heart shatter.

“But that’s when it tastes the best,” you smile.

[issacballsac]

“Being Ben’s S/O„

He’s a bit dramatic at times but that doesn’t stop him from being the best boyfriend to you! Gn reader (I rlly hope I got his character right)

Reilly | O’Really

Forces you to help him bleach his hair

Has a mini panic attack when his roots start growing back in

As you may or may not know he bleached his hair to differentiate himself from Peter so he would be pissed if his natural colour came back too fast

“Is that brown I see?”

“What. No, where? Are you serious, I just bleached it!”

If you are a frequent gym-goer he’d go with you

Y’all are each others spotters

“You got this, lift it!”

“I’M TRYING.”

If you don’t go to the gym often/not at all it’s alright he’d encourage you to go with him but would respect if you didn’t want to

Platonic or romantic relationship doesn’t matter he’s def gossiping with you especially about spiderverse shit

“I was just assigned on another mission and everything cause some kid came here and prevented Pavitr’s canon event and now wants to prevent his own canon event! Can you believe it?”

“Ben. What the fuck is a canon event?”

Can’t keep a secret

If you ever took him in a date to the carnival he’d start crying

Average bumper cars enjoyer

Very dramatic but if you lived the life he did you’d prob be seen as a bit dramatic too

In addition to this it would prob take a while before he tells you his entire past

Like he’s given you parts but never the whole thing

Give him time and he’ll tell you eventually

Shares headphones with you to show you his music taste and Vice versa

You guys have matching jewelry of some sort

Necklace, ring(non-marriage), bracelet, etc.

Comic Ben no, because his thoughts are written out in the narration box, but spider verse Ben narrates out loud while you guys are on a date or even just hanging out

No matter if your clothes fit him properly or not he’s wearing them just cause

Ofc he’d let you wear his too granted his closet isn’t very…diverse?

He doesn’t have bad fashion sense but like his closet is hella empty 💀

That hoodie though…🦀

Gives little kisses every morning even if you didn’t fall asleep together he’ll make sure to give you the routinely morning kiss

I see him as more of a little spoon? Feel free to disagree but I feel like he would want to be in your arms regardless if ur arms are slim or muscular

He DOES NOT CARE about appearance or anything like that bro jus wants someone to love him FR😭

Back to the silly shit

He cries during romantic movies

Especially if it’s a tragic one

His sobbing ruins the movie FR💀

“God—Ben can you cry quieter?”

“I’m sorry I just can’t believe she died before he could even tell her his feelings!”

Ugly crier fs

Isolated himself from the world after watching the notebook for the first time

Loves playing iMessage games with you especially 8ball and cup pong

He definitely cheats in Uno

Whether or not you help him cheat is up to you

Just know if you call him out on it he’s not talking to you for like a week

If your a regular dude he likes to show off with his powers and everything

If you’re a hero/villain/vigilante etc. he still shows off perhaps even more than before especially when your out doing whatever your doin💀

I could rlly talk abt him forever

He’s actually pretty smart just not in a common sense way

He’d make you come with him to get his ears pierced bc he’s a pussy

I love him and he IS hella strong and shit but he would definitely be too afraid to get his ears pierced

Getting thrown into a car? No problem!

Needle near ear? No.

He can cook a lil bit

No chef but if you want chicken and rice he WON’T give you food poisoning!😁🫶

Better at making drinks

Likes cuddling with you, watching random YouTube videos, and eating goldfish

Has a ritual of rewatching all Jersey Shore seasons at least once every month

Idk if it’s canon but he def doesn’t have a drivers license and you drive him everywhere💀

[izvmimi]

cw: smut, minors dni, exhibitionism/public sex, dubcon, reader wearing a dress and heels, repost!

Kunigami has not been the same since the Wild Card.

While he struggled to explain to you exactly what had transpired once he’d left the Blue Lock facility and shown up suddenly on your doorstep, even before he spoke you could tell something was seriously amiss. Hair slightly overgrown and shaggy and an odd look in his eye, he told you he missed you and nothing more. You had many questions, having missed your friend just as much, but Rensuke didn’t allow any more inquiry to the subject than that and it was a short reunion, given you were still high schoolers, your parents were home and as usual they would rather you study than entertain a boy.

The next time you met up with him, some of the gloominess that stuck to him appeared to have disappeared, and your date went smoothly. Kind and considerate to almost a fault but with a little bit more of an edge when he protected you from bullies, he was mostly the same Rensuke you grew up with.

Years later, Kunigami seems to have healed and is back to being quiet but in a way that’s no longer heavy and somber. The relationship between you two is as strong as ever and he remains sweet - 

to an extent.

The darkness is still there somewhat, and it rears its ugly head whenever he loses a match. 

Before the last ten seconds elapse to zero, you’re already making your way down to find him. There’s a corridor in the bowels of the home stadium that is rarely frequented, and perfect for encounters of this nature. In haste, you slip your panties off underneath your dress and over your stilettos, stuffing them into your purse. 

Your Rensuke doesn’t take long to appear, and the wild eyes are back. 

He never used to be a sore loser. 

But now, frustration gnaws at him so easily, and the only way to help is offering up the space between your legs, and you now share an understanding, falling into this routine whenever things don’t turn out the way you or he would like. 

His lips press against yours roughly, and you can taste the salt of his sweat. He’s worked so hard, running up and down the court and every bit of his effort lingers on your tongue. He bites and nips at you roughly, harsh breaths replacing normal speech.

“You did your best,” you murmur softly, and you know he hates your pity in this very moment as he sinks to his knees. He gathers up your dress and sucks at your lower lips quickly swelling with arousal and you whimper; hastily, he grips you by the asscheeks, firmly planting your thighs around his glistening neck. You squirm but he keeps you still, eating as though sucking and swallowing is the only way to pacify him, and your moans intensify.

“‘suke, it’s too much, hold on-”

He tortures you for just a moment longer; you squeeze your arms tighter around his head and your legs close tighter around his neck until eventually he sets you down carefully, a tiny shred of mercy still left in him. Legs wobbly, you lean against his chest, burying your face into his drenched jersey.

“Ren, it’s okay if-”

“Bend over,” he instructs. The impatience and gruffness to his voice reminds you that if you don’t move quickly enough he’ll do it for you and you turn over. Pressed against the wall, he slots himself inside you with a hint of pain, masked by a hard slap on your ass.

“God, you’re always so ready for me,” he hisses into the side of your neck. A bite, and then he begins to thrust, and you revel in the sharp, ferocious, angry thrusts into you - nothing like the soft gentle love he makes at home, but anxious and irritated. Like this, slapping your ass cheeks, growling into your neck, and dragging his cock in and out of you, you’re nothing but a stress ball and willingly so. 

“You’re the only person who fucking understands how pissed i am right now,” he mumbles, nibbling at your neck. It’s true, and you love him, but all you can think of right now is how good he makes you feel, especially when his large hand clasps over the front of your neck and tightens.

“Everyone is so fucking useless except you, I don’t know why I even bother, I can only carry so many of these bastards on my back-”

You nod, knowing the vitriol he spews now, he’ll soon recant. It takes some getting used to, this new mean part of him, but it’s there and it’s a part of him, and when he finally cums and leaves you dripping between your legs, he spins you around and kisses you. 

His eyes have changed, but not all the way.

“Was I too rough this time?” he asks, apologetically. A hand brings yours to his mouth and he kisses the back. 

“No,” you kiss him back. It’s not like it’s never happened as he is a little bit too strong for his own good, but not today. 

“Don’t forget our safe words. I’ll remember them no matter what.”

Another kiss, as you slip your panties back on. 

“i’ll see you after postgame interviews,” he promises. you nod.

It’s a new side of him, but you like it when he’s mean.

[poursomesunaonme]

hello my sweetest beanie. congrats on your milestone!! i love your event idea so much 💕may i request a sakusa drabble for your event?

he loves to use ‘darling’ as a pet name but also can be so sarcastic about it. which makes me think of him as the king of the meet ugly

i’m thinking “itch” as the lyrics and whatever strikes your fancy with sfw/nsfw. thank you bb 💐

GOD I OVE HIM SO MUCH TY PHON !!

cw: friends to lovers, mention of ushiten hehe, smooch, black jackals cameos

"although i'm oversaturated / know i'm earnest too / and i know i'm eager / but i can't fucking wait for the day that i finally get to kiss you"

“c’mon, c’mon.” tendo’s in the same boat as you, just rooting for the opposite team. you ignore the red-haired man’s pleas, watching intently as kiyoomi swiftly takes position as the ball makes it to the setter. it’s a perfect pass.

the ball flies straight into kiyoomi’s hand, and with a practiced ease, he lands the hit right in between the players in the back line. the entire crowd jumps up to cheer. from the corner of your eye, you see satori slump down as his boyfriend’s team loses, but you can’t console him now, not when your best friend just won one of the biggest games of his life.

you sprint down the stands, careful not to lose your balance in all the excitement. you know that he had to meet with his team first, debrief and all that, but you couldn’t wait to meet him in the spot he said that he would be after the game, win or lose. you fiddle with the hem of your shirt—a copy of his jersey that he told you to please not get because it’s embarrasing, but you did it anyway. that’s what friends are for, after all.

you hear a rowdy crowd from behind the main doors and suddenly, they burst open, revealing the tangerine head and the legendary setter. they scurry off after waving to you, knowing that you’re kiyoomi’s friend. teammate after teammate file out, but no sight of him. you begin to let out a sigh, but your breath stops as soon as he steps out as the last of his team.

his mask just hands barely underneath his nose when his eyes flit around the scene, landing on you. the corners of his eyes crinkle in a smile that’s conveniently hidden behind his mask as he walks over to you. his pace is slow, and you quickly close the distance by sprinting up to him and nearly jumping on him to give him a massive hug.

“congrats!” you all but shriek into his ear, wrapping your arms around his neck. “i’m… i’m so proud of you.”

the tops of his cheeks redden from above his mask as his eyes flicker away when he grumbles a thank you, but wraps his arms around your waist. the hug is brief, as he doesn’t enjoy too much physicality with anyone, but his hands stay on your hips when you pull back, knowing his boundaries. he looks down at you, then pulls his mask off his ear to reveal a small, proud smile.

“thank you,” he says a little louder, the adrenaline of the game still pumping through him too much for him to keep up a stoic appearance. “thanks for being here.”

“i don’t think satori would’ve let me miss the game,” you breathe, your hands still around his neck. you don’t want to let go, even if he’s sweaty. “but i wouldn’t have missed it for-”

you’re effectively interrupted by his lips crashing into yours. you make a small sound against him, but dont draw away. instead, your grips tighten on each other. everything else melts away, even his teammates turning around to see his the way your jaw hangs open to let his tongue explore your mouth.

“damn, oomi!” atsumu calls before shoyo shoves him out of the door. you pull away from each other as that, kiyoomi’s eyes shining as he looks down on you.

“let’s… let’s get dinner tonight, yeah, sweetheart?”

submissions for the promised event are now closed but you can still click here to go to the nav page

© all work belongs to poursomesunaonme. do not copy and repost.

[talesfrommedinastation]

My Neighbor Doug on different locations in 'The Bad Batch'

So I did as was requested by my poll, and asked Doug what he called (and thought of) the various different places in which 'The Bad Batch' took place.

Need refreshers? Doug's interpretations of The Bad Batch: Main Characters

Doug's interpretations of The Bad Batch: Side Characters

Here we go:

--------------------------------------------------

Tipoca City: The Mall on the Ocean. You know it either smells really nice, clean and like fresh perfume, or it smells like ass and balls. It’s duty free, of course. Daddy Warcrimes totally plows the liquor section when Ryan-from-Accounting won’t stop annoying him and Daddy Rambo sprays on the sample Sauvage cologne to get the ladies. 

("I thought he was married?"

"He need the reassurance. Y'all know guys like him.")

Onderon: Damn-It-Jared’s Trailer Park. It’s where he and his goofy-assed hippie friends fire weapons and drop acid and scare the wildlife. It’s like Oregon, but stupid. Just like Damn-It-Jared. And Daddy Warcrimes comes down and murders civilians, because the man craves police brutality the way I crave a drink after watching the Saints lose. 

Saleucami: Tremor-Land. Look at this place and tell me you ain’t expecting giant worms and Kevin Bacon to pop out of nowhere. Also, Not-Wolverine’s wife gives me Reba McEntire vibes, trust me. They seem like a fun couple, I’d love to drink beer and shoot guns with them on a Sunday. 

(Cut and Suu = Not Wolverine and Not Wolverine's wife)

Pantora: Not-Quite-Austin. Its where young hot people go to get drunk, get into street fights and then leave. You know, where That Chick That’s in Everything gets into a motorcycle race with Daddy Rambo and then they look for the Gun Safety Muppet and Little Orphan Blondie is lost and I guess they sell Toaster Strudel at one point to the three eyed goat for cash?*

Meat Muffin, what in the hell did I just write? 

Corellia: Where-Anakin-Lost-His-Legs and Jorge’s Unemployed Sisters are collecting scrap metal for cash.

(“This is not where Anakin lost his legs!” 

“How do you know?”

“ I watched Episode III?! Did you?”

“Eh, they’ll update it, just watch.”)

(FYI, I wish Trace Martez and Tech had more scenes together. They would have been a cute nerdy couple)

Bracca: Planet Dump. Seriously, there’s a planet devoted to garbage. Is it New Jersey? It’s just creepy people floating around trash? Man, it’s like Thor Ragnorok, but sad. Think Valkyrie would show up at some point? Julio had a headache here and strangled someone, I get it, migraines ain’t fun. 

Ord Mantell: Great Value Cyberpunk. Do humans even live here? Well, Houma BBQ bitch and her ugly clutch of mutant boyfriends do. Her bar totally looks like someone practices eye surgery in the back like in Minority Report. 

Raxus: Space Country Club. Oh, this place nice and clean. I mean, dang, it looks like a gated community where everyone plays golf and is mean to their neighbors. I bet they have an amazing Christmas lights display but don’t allow ‘riff-raff’ to come in and bully anyone who doesn’t join their HOA. My sister’s in one outside of Miami, and it turned her into a bitch, trust me. 

Daro: Not-Quite-Fort-Bliss. I don’t get this place. It’s where Manny’s hanging out with other army guys but they don’t like him, even though he’s a good soldier? What the hell, the Empire is run by mid-level corporate dumbasses who think their online MBA makes them a god. 

::proceeds to go on a rant about MBA Rob, his nephew, and the clowns like them::

Safa Toma: Tank Girl’s Home. It’s like Tatooine but fun and crazy. It’s where the Rhino that Sells Used Buicks and his pet iguana live and force people to race in used car parts.**. 

Pabu: Space Daytona. It’s nice, it’s pretty, but I kept thinking the Empire was going to nuke it at some point. Hey, Church Lady says it’s her home away from home…where’s her other home? New Orleans? Shit, that’s a thought.

Eriadu: Space New Hampshire. It’s foggy, got mountains, and filled with angry old white people who can’t seem to retire. You know Tarkin totally screams at waiters and lives to make the poor check out girls at Publix cry. Just like his bitchy daughter, Stepsister Beth. 

(Doug now headcanons that Tarkin is Emerie’s dad…which makes zero sense, but whatever.)

Ryloth: Space Arizona. Everything seems rich and nice and the women are vaguely hot, cool canyons and mountains and whatnot. But then dig a little bit and everyone’s rat-in-a-shithouse insane and there’s guns everywhere. I like Hera and her daddy, he’s cool. Like him riding his space motorcycle and flinging that spear at folks, more of him please. 

Weyland: Spooky Lab Land. It’s where Stepsister Beth and Ryan-from-Accounting have family reunions with her asshole dad, his bitch wife Laura, and the gang. They’re into science and not making eye contact with anyone because there’s shit in the lava lamps that might be humans. 

Serrano: Space Coeur d’Alene. It’s got pine trees and mountains, real pretty, but it’s easy to fling trash and bodies everywhere and every other person is Doomsday prepping. You ever been to Idaho? Real pretty, but real off, ya know? 

*= I was struggling to breath after this. What in 'The Witch' was he thinking?!

**= Millegi and his racer. I had to stop texting Doug for a bit at this point, I was cry-laughing so hard I couldn’t see. 

[chrollogy]

atsumu is definitely a greedy man.

it's how he pushed himself into the professional athlete he is, always demanding more of not only himself but from those around him. the difference with him though, is that his greed is a greed that stems from love.

after all, that's what atsumu embodies: love in its purest form. it's his justification for why he's so drawn to you, why everything you do to him has him acting this irrationally, just for you to glance in his direction. some might call him pathetic, but he likes to think of it as an unwavering devotion. and he's sure you'd agree too.

the glittery gold and black jersey only cements his certainty. he could spend a lifetime blowing his load to the image of you bent over all pretty for him, your pussy sucking his thick cock in like your life depends on it, the last name "miya" placed squarely on your back. there's something about seeing the fabric bounce with each one of his thrusts that makes him want to carve a deeper place into your heart, like his jersey on you is proof that you're his.

"fuck, you're so tight, babe. you're gonna make me cum if you keep tightening up around me like that... fuck, d'you like that? like it when i hit it from behind?" he slurs, his vision already hazy with pleasure. he doesn't want to waste even a second looking away from you. his hands push up against the hem of the big jersey, but he makes sure not to crumple up his name as his big palms play with tits, gripping at your body and trying to press up as much of himself as he can against you.

god, you feel so small against him. it's like his jersey's threatening to eat your body up whole, and it makes his cock twitch dangerously inside of you. you're so good to him, too good to him, and instead of satiating him, it only fuels him more. he wants every part of you, the good and the ugly, the moral and the immoral, the presentable and the hideous. the jersey sporting his name clinging to your skin is just a physical marking of that.

atsumu is definitely a greedy man.

😁 NONNIE MY LOVELY NONNIE I AM VERY MUCH NORMAL ABOUT THIS YES THANK YOU :D !

[bunnymcfoo]

So @pacific-coast-hockey and I attended the live auction for the Cuda's ugly sweaters last night and man, it was extremely entertaining and well worth the price of admission (free). He got photos, and I think he's going to add them here, but I kept track of which jerseys went for what, and a few random notes. So here's my half!

IN ORDER:

Radim Šimek - $1400 - I've very rarely seen Simmer look that pleased by anything, and it was a genuine treat to see him smiling over the very active bidding war for his jersey

Tanner Kaspick - $750

Cole Cassels - $900

Leon Gawanke - $925 - his jersey went to someone holding up a Go Gawanke sign, which was very cute

Scott Sabourin - $1550 - I think there was some recency bias at play with the bidding here, given his fight and jazz hands on Friday night. He was not smiling the way the other guys were & Kasper and I were joking that he wanted to go HOME

Nathan Todd - $950 - that man has a very shiny bald head

Shakir Mukhamadullin - $1200 - he looked very adorably pleased by the bidding war and this total

Ozzy Wiesblatt - $1075

Magnus Chrona - $1050 - His jersey went to someone wearing his University of Denver hoodie and he looked extremely happy about it

Ethan Cardwell - $1000 - Guys, I cannot tell you how adorable Cardsy and every single thing he does are. Holding up his jersey to be auctioned was no exception

Brandon Coe - $850

Nikolai Knyzhov - $1050 - I have no notes here but please know I love Knyzy and would die for him

Daniil Gushchin - $950 - I'm genuinely surprised this didn't go higher? Also, as I type this he's not listed on the roster on the Cuda's website, but that doesn't mean anything. I hope. 😬

Bradley Marek - $850

Bradley Kemp - $900 - he looked quietly pleased at this and I'm more than a little shocked that his jersey went for more than Coe's

Valtteri Pulli - $850

Eetu Mäkiniemi - $900 - how on Earth did his jersey not go for more? It's an enteral mystery

Bordy - $1900 - he did this very cute thing where he gestured to go on, go on when it looked like this bidding was stalling at around, like, $1200. It went to the female half of the eternally drunk Michigan fan duo, who was absolutely not going to be outbid by anyone, not even God himself

Kyle Rau - $750 - I felt bad for him following Bordy, but honestly, $750 isn't bad considering that he uhhhhh signed with the Cuda, like, two days ago or whatever

Artem Guryev Arty Party - $950

With the (I think) $650 that Frenzy's jersey went for, the Cuda raised an awesome $21,400 for Working Partnerships USA, along with whatever they got for chuck-a-puck and 3.147 stuffed animals (our group contributed, like, 12 of those, go team us!)

All in all, an excellent weekend for the Cuda :)

[theemporium]

[1.9k] sometimes it isn't easy being the fourth hughes' sibling. sometimes the pressure to compete with your brothers gets overwhelming. sometimes you just need a tall, hot swiss man to reassure you in the hidden crevices of a bar in jersey.

first nico fic completely influenced by @httplando

.

There was nobody in the world that was prouder of your brothers than you were. 

It took an insane amount of skill, talent and effort to even reach college level. To be scouted and sought after, to gain the attention of coaches in much higher leagues than the kids’ team in middle school. To play for a college, to gain the attraction of professional teams, to be drafted into the NHL. It was fucking insane for one brother to reach all those goals, let alone all three. 

But that was exactly what Quinn, Jack and Luke had done. 

All three of them shared a dream and all three of them have achieved it. And you genuinely could not be happier for them. You saw everything behind the scenes. You saw the work they put into it, the countless hours of training and practicing to hone that raw talent into pure skill. You know exactly what each of them sacrificed to achieve their goal of playing for the NHL. 

And yet, despite how genuinely happy and proud you were, it fucking sucked to be their sister because everything you did felt inadequate in comparison. 

Nobody in your family ever consciously went out of their way to make you feel that way. Never in a million fucking years would they ever pull something like that. But it didn’t mean that you didn’t have these feelings, that you didn’t feel that pit of bitterness and something equally as ugly and self-deprecating burning inside you whenever your parents would gush over your brothers. 

“My boys,” Ellen cooed, reaching to place her hand on Quinn’s cheek, considering he was the closest to her. “You all played so well.”

Quinn let out a small scoff. “Yeah right.”

“Hey, just because you didn’t win, doesn’t mean you didn’t play well,” Jim had retorted with a light nudge of his shoulder. 

“Couldn’t beat us this time, captain,” Jack commented, a wolfish grin on his face as he gave his older brother a mock salute that made Luke snort. 

Quinn’s eyes narrowed, but there was a smile on his face. “Next time I’ll get your asses.” 

Luke grinned. “Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Regardless of who won,” Ellen spoke up, a reprimanding look on her face that managed to shut the three of them up in seconds. “I’m proud of all three of my boys, living their dream and being the damn best in the league.” 

“To the Hughes boys!” Jim jokingly toasted, lifting his glass in the air and the rest of you joined and clinked your drinks together. 

And you know. God, you fucking know that none of it was a personal jab towards you in any way, shape or form. But it was hard to fucking deny the sting you felt as your parents gushed over your brothers. It hurt when you realised there wasn’t really much to gush over when it came to you.

You had made up some shitty excuse about needing to pee when you felt the tightness in your chest. You hadn’t given any of them a chance to be concerned about your abrupt departure. You didn’t even utter a single word as you pushed your way through the crowd of the bar, the establishment heaving with members and fans from both teams. You didn’t even glance at the girl who swore at you when you barged your shoulder against her a little harsher than intended as you pushed past the toilets and into a small alcove instead.

All you could focus on was the band wrapped around your chest, getting tighter and tighter with each breath. All you could focus on was the way your lash line welled with tears that would ultimately make your mascara run. All you could focus on was the thoughts rushing through your head, far too fast for you to even fully keep up. 

All you could focus on was the fact you really weren’t okay. 

You didn’t even look up when you heard a door swing open from one of the bathrooms. You didn’t look up when you heard footsteps. You didn’t look up—or even realise—there was someone standing a few metres away until you heard a familiar voice. 

“Hey, are you okay there?”

And despite the whirling thoughts and panicked breaths, you knew exactly who that voice belonged to. And when you finally lifted your head, the shield of hair finally exposing you to the person, you could see the exact moment Nico Hischier realised it was you. 

And it took a few seconds to realise just what a state you were in. 

You felt your cheeks prickle in embarrassment. You could feel the way your entire face heated up and your stomach dropped a little at the fact Nico of all people—your brothers’ captain and the man you thought about in ways that you never should—was seeing you like this. 

“Woah, hey,” he muttered out, a frown curved onto his lips as he quickly closed the distance between you two. 

And he was overwhelming. So fucking overwhelming in a way that had your head spinning for so many different reasons. It should have felt suffocating when he squished into the small alcove of the hallway with you, especially someone of his height and build.

But it wasn’t. 

It was almost comforting, or maybe that was just how Nico was. You had seen it plenty of times with his teammates, the way he wrapped his arm around them the second they were targeted on the ice or being chirped at by the rivalling team. You watched the way he would calm them down, hold his ground, keep everything in control. 

Maybe that’s what made him such a good captain. 

“I-I’m sorry,” you managed to blubber out, a sad excuse for a laugh escaping your lips as you tried to pretend your lungs weren’t burning for some air. “I’m okay!”

But he didn’t look convinced. 

“Is this okay?” His voice was soothing, calming almost. 

You blinked, taking a few seconds to realise he had lifted his hands from his sides and another few seconds to realise what he was asking before you dumbly nodded your head. 

You blinked again, and Nico’s hands were cupping—almost engulfing—your face as his thumbs softly swiped away the tears falling down your cheeks. You watched the way his eyebrows furrowed together in concern, his cheeks flushed from whatever he had been drinking to celebrate the Devils’ win. 

“Did something happen?” He asked, so gentle in the way he spoke like he didn’t want to spook you. 

“Just…thinking,” you replied with a weak smile, your breathing still a little erratic and uncertain—and he seemed to notice.

“Breathe with me,” he murmured, taking in a deep breath and giving you a pointed look until you followed his lead. “Just like that, schatz, that’s it.”

Your eyes never left his as you copied his movements, as you took deep breaths until the band around your chest seemed to ease and the burn in your lungs was long gone. Your eyes never left him as his eyes wandered over you, almost like he was double checking you were in fact okay and not physically hurt in any way, shape or form.

“It hurts,” you whispered, catching the boy’s attention as his eyes snapped up to look at you. “It hurts when I realise I can’t really compete with my brothers. Quinn is a captain, Jack is one of the best players in the league, Luke is killing his rookie season and here I am, not even sure what I want to major in and I—”

“Hey, hey,” Nico quickly interrupted when he realised your breathing was starting to pick up again. His thumbs continued to run soothing circles over the apples of your cheek, though the frown on his face remained. “You don’t have to compete with them.”

“I know but,” you paused for a moment, and he waited as you tried to gather the words. “They are them. They are the professional hockey players. They’ve known what they wanted to be since they were practically born and I don’t even know what I want to do with my life.”

“And that’s okay,” Nico assured you, and it felt a little ironic coming from another professional hockey player.

You shook your head, letting out another laugh. “And I don’t even know why I am telling you any of this because you probably want to go and celebrate your win. I mean, you do not need to be standing here and listening to my stupid problems—”

“I don’t mind,” Nico said, a soft smile on his lips. “And they aren’t stupid. Your feelings are never stupid, schatz.” 

He was your brothers’ teammate. Forget that, he was literally Jack and Luke’s captain. You had known him for as long as Jack was a part of the team. You had known him as long as he had been friends with your brothers. And yet despite in that time, you could count on one hand the amount of interactions you’ve had with the boy by yourself. 

And yet, here he was, standing in front of you with his hands holding your face and a smile that made your chest feel tight all over again. He was looking at you like your feelings were valid, like he understood. He was looking at you in a way that so many people never could. In that moment, you didn’t feel like the fourth Hughes’ sibling—you just felt like you.

But before you could even let the voice in the back of your head urging you to let the overwhelming emotions take over, the sound of your brothers’ voices snapped you out of whatever daze you were in.

“God, how long does it take for her to pee?” Jack. 

“I don’t know, she’s a girl. Maybe it takes them longer.” Luke.

“You both are so fucking stupid.” Quinn.

“I should go,” you whispered to Nico, and something in your stomach clenched as though you were about to be caught doing something scandalous. A part of you wished that was the case. “I’m sorry you had to—”

But Nico shook his head, his smile a comfort as he took a step back. “Don’t apologise.”

“Right,” you murmured as you gave him a shaky smile. “I’ll…see you later?”

He huffed out a laugh. “I’ll see you later, schatz.” 

You had quickly stepped out of the alcove before you could embarrass yourself further, finding yourself face to face with your three brothers who were busier bickering than realising you hadn’t even exited the bathroom.

You felt like your body was on autopilot for the rest of the night, but your eyes kept wandering in hopes of finding a certain someone. In hopes that you could see him with your own two eyes and confirm that the feel of his hands on your skin was, in fact, real. In hopes that maybe he was seeking you out too. 

And something in your stomach twisted in delight when your eyes met his across the bar, a grin on his lips that felt more easy-going and teasing than the soft smiles he had given you earlier. And some part of you knew that even if your interactions with the captain had been limited beforehand, something in the air shifted the second he placed his hands on you.

Because you had an inkling feeling that tonight wouldn’t be the last time you found yourself hidden in a secret place with the Swiss man, and something quite like hope sparked inside you that maybe the years of secretly crushing on your brother’s teammate was going to turn into something more.

.

[fishisvibing]

Is it weird to say I'm attracted to slytherin sirius like he's a gryffindor at heart but for some reason he didn't want to leave regulus in that house alone so he decided to just "yuck screw this there's no way I'll let my babie brother suffer from those blood purists and mad cousins".

So anyway, here is my slytherin sirius au. It's built solely on my delusion and my love for black brothers being besties (sirius is still a menace to reg bc that's older sibling behavior)

Sirius became a slytherin but not by slytherin standard, he drove slughorn insane with his pranks and detentions every now and then. Anyway, sirius didn't like snape at first but after being his roommate for 2 weeks he decided he had had enough. In his opinion, snape was downright ugly, the greasy hair to the oily face, also his sitting posture would break his spine before 20, so to not hurt his eyes from the sore image, sirius offered that he would try his best to make snape look decent. "who asked?"

"me, now off to the bathroom, we have a lot to do."

By somehow they managed to get on good terms, but still they are not really that friendly. Sirius continued to prank james and other houses bc he was bored and simply "dang this potter dude has a lot of tricks up his sleeves!". Soon second year came and regulus entered slytherin house. And sirius was like "thank god I'm so lonely here you don't know who I have to put up with" while pointing at snape.

"I didn't ask you to take care of my appearance, it is what it is and none of your concern!"

"ew who's this? Is it the guy you wrote about? Also why is your hair like that?"

"Your brother is even worse than you, what did I even expect?"

Idk it seems funny to me sirius only had reg as his only/best friend in slytherin and snape tagged along somewhere during second year and they became a weird group (solely bc sirius wanted snape to look decent "I cannot accept a roommate that looks like a smelly old bat" and reg was amused by that)

But here's the thing, in third year, sirius had a huge HUGE crush on james. He often went to james' quidditch practice so he could comment on how james was such a loser made that dive so perfect, how reg can easily crush him the way he threw the quaffle was so satisfying. After spending 2 hours spitting nonsense on the pitch he returned to his dorm and yelled to snape's face like "you wouldn't believe potter is not only smart but also funny, and he's good at sport, do you know he can stand on his broom like that is so impressive and hey look at me im talking to you, dude, you're boring, imma go and bother reg". So basically reg and snape were his receiving end whenever he caught a glimpse of james or just got pranked by james.

Things got worse when sirius became quidditch commentor, for some reason the previous commentor accidentally swallowed slime in potions class (it was sirius' fault, he just wanted to yell his lung out on the microphone when his little baby brother debuted as slytherin seeker). Also he could compliment james without making it weird (that's what he thought, brilliant isnt it?). So because of the way he spoke and hyped up the players and the crowds, he was still a quidditch commentor till fifth year which can be said as his downfall year. Just because he couldnt get pass his MASSIVE CRUSH for james. In sirius' words, quoted by reg and snape at some point:

"Potter just gets thicker every year, what did he even do in summer? Fighting giants?"

"Have I ever told you guys that that birdnest of a hair potter has looks so soft? I wanna touch it, do you think he would let me touch if I accidentally fell on him?"

"Not to make you sad reg, but potter wears that quidditch jersey better than you."

"how come potter played such cruel pranks on you snape? He thinks I'm not worth enough to pull those on me?"

"in transfiguration class today, potter conjured such a huge rabbit out of a hat and it hopped around him, isn't it so cute that he's an animal lover?"

Not to mention his quidditch comments on james, it just got bolder and unfiltered each year. Sirius even went as far as making pranks that publicly announced his love to james but in a subtle way. Remus was his new victim (victim as in remus described himself), sometimes he would bribe remus with honeyduke chocolate so he could spill whatever he knew about james but so far he only knew that james like the color red and he liked to eat toffee, his glasses broke thrice a week and his favorite dentention was cleaning the trophy room so he could change the names to 'james potter the great' because there was this one time sirius was cleaning the medal which had "excellent ballet performance for hogwarts wizard 6 times a row - james potter the great" and sirius was utterly confused bc why would james learn ballet.

sirius also knew about remus' fury problem, he was not a nosy brat but in his first year, he often got nasty hexes from luscious and his gang so he ended up staying in hospital wing a lot, he noticed that once every month remus would go there to take his medicine then the next morning groaning in bed. He figured everything out in the second term and he must admitted that attending school with a werewolf was the coolest thing ever, not that he can go up to remus and tell him that. In fourth year, he heard james and peter whispering about animagus and james' pranks had reduced a lot since now his focus was elsewhere. Sirius was curious so he started stalking them which later he was asked by reg "are you on a phase that you're so obsessed with your crush you start to do questionable things?", "shut up reg I always do questionable things, now shoo, don't forget to tell snape to wash his hair!"

"how do you brew potion for animagus transformation?"

"It's a long process, why?"

"nothing!"

so by fifth year, he joined james' group on remus' moon dancing adventure. They didn't even know where this big dog came from and why it followed them but since moony was comfortable enough to let the dog play with him, they were all okay.

The length sirius would go to impress james was beyond comical, well, only reg and snape found it like that since sirius was a entirely different person when out of his comfort zone. He appeared cold and aloof all the time, fake smile and faint smirk here and there. Sometimes when people mentioned james and him in the same sentence, they would find him scoffed like that wasn't amusing at all, but on the inside he was SQUEALING like a teenage girl.

"did you hear that? James and sirius? Isn't that sound so right? It's like we are fated!" - sirius on his 97th retelling probably

"Yeah so why don't you go back to your room and let your brother sleep!" - reg, a tired slytherin student

While school work was not nothing but a piece of cake to him, sirius was still struggling with group work. He once drove a girl to tears in third year just because she couldn't master her spell in her seventh try, classmates were scared to be paired up with him, they always had this saying "black is pretty but his mouth is mean and his temper is like a mandrake out of a pot". Snape was always pair with lily bc apparently besties for life or whatever and now he stuck with doing assignment alone. He can see avery and rosier batting their eyebrows at him and sirius was like ew who would want to work with them? Peter by some magical way was crying and begging remus to help him, that left james with no one, well, he could go with lily but she was with snape, marlene was with dorcas and mary being the coolest girl was already with another student from other house. So sirius was now half staring at james and half staring at flitwick hoping he could get the hint and just let them be partners.

They did become partners. Yay. The best thing was that both of them knew about each other's abilities, what they were capable of and how far can they drive each other to their limits. Everything was like a fever dream to sirius, especially when james found some new spells and he wanted to teach sirius (it's a mutual thing), he would come up behind him and hold his hand to move the wand "MOTHER DEAR, IF I RUN AWAY FROM HOME, JUST KNOW THAT I'M MARRIED TO THIS MAN AND PLEASE NEVER DRAG ME HOME"

And then his downfall came, james knew, HE KNEW ALL ALONG, he knew yet he continued to act like nothing happened and sirius was just a fellow school prankster. Sirius was devastated, actually he wouldn't have known about this info if he hadn't heard remus talked to james about him. He still remembered precisely the words spat from james' mouth.

"of course I'm aware that he likes me, but what can I do about it? Tell him I fancy him too? You know I don't swing that way, besides, watching him make a mess of himself like that is quite amusing right? I mean- he's a cold prince in and out but you gotta admit this side of black is damn right hilarious."

Too embarrassed, sirius bolted towards his dorm with his hands on his face, crashed into his bed and laid there for hours till reg came and begged him to eat. He continued to sulk for weeks till christmas holiday came near. Sirius was sitting with reg at slytherin table in the great hall when james came and asked if they could talk. For some reason and being heart broken was one of them, he yelled at james to leave him alone and he didn't want to pull pranks anymore and james could go fuck himself bc he was a selfish prick. After spilling everything without thinking, he turned back to look at reg with wide eye who was also wide eye and had his jaw drop. "I ruined everything, didn't I", sirius muttered aggressively, "totally-"

before reg could even answer him, james sat down across from sirius, took his hands and looked him straight in the eyes. Sirius could feel reg's jaw almost hit the table before he hurrily excused himself and moved back to a few seats down the table. "Look black-, can I call you sirius? Since there are both of you here and addressing black may be too confusing."

"Never knew we're that cool to be on first name basis but sure."

"Alright, then, I wanted to ask why you seemed to avoid me these weeks?"

"I'm not avoiding you-"

"You are, usually you would jump at me to pull whichever crazy pranks you have in your mind, you always call me out in the corridors just to mock my hair, first of all, thank you I style it myself, second, if you want to touch it, here!"

sirius was absolutely horrified bc james did indeed take his hand and shove it into his hair which was extremely soft.

"You haven't come to quidditch pitch to spill nasty comments about me or joke that the giant squid could be a better chaser than I've ever been! You looked so sad at the table that you didn't even bother to open the package the owls delivered! And when you did, you just looked at it and sighed???"

"Huh? What's all this? Why do you suddenly care for me? What I'm sad about about is none of your business!"

"BECAUSE I sent those chocolate to you! Curse you and your spoiled rich ass taste in chocolate you posh! Do you know how hard it was for me to ask your equally stupid brother to let me know what kind of chocolate you like? And to find the exact one because according to him you like rum and cherry chocolate and hogsmeade doesn't have those!"

"Why chocolate?"

"I saw you flirted with pomfrey in first year so you could get more chocolate! So as a normal function kid at that time, I thought you must love chocolate a lot because I do too!"

"oh- BUT- wait, you... you care enough to know what I usually do to spite you... why?

"and here I thought I'm the dense one. Do I have to really spell it out? Fine. I do fancy you sirius, I fancy you a lot, hell, I even fancy you to the point I asked remus not to spill my secrets to you when I know you were bribing him. I want us to learn about each other when we're officially dating you know?"

"But you said you don't swing that way! You said I made a fool out of myself is hilarious to you! You're joking and that is cruel potter!"

"NO- NO, no, l'm sorry if that's what you heard but never would I dare to do that to you. I'm a romantic at heart, I spent the first three years here waxing poems to evans and yet she never bats an eye, then by fourth year I was captivated by you, I didn't realise at first because there was no way the school's most popular boy would divert his attention to me! I try to come up with many ways to confess but somehow turning into 'love pranks' were easier and you also did it too, it was even more impressive than mine so I'm like- stuck at one point where I can't come up with anything to make you look indulged. Please don't avoid me anymore, I love your nasty comments a lot, even though you never mean it and you kinda proved your point when you said you loved my arms in the last match with ravenclaw..."

So yeah they did confess to each other and be happy boyfriends. Much to reg and snape's horror now was that sirius often waltzed into common room with stack of love letters or sometimes doodles from james, he would spend all night reading those aloud and sing those horrible love songs james composed. What even worst was when snape woke up in the middle of the night because he was thirsty just to see james decorating sirius' bed post with little red and gold socks and little stag figurines. For reg, being a seeker was that you have to focus on your task to find the golden snitch before the other team did, but with james' booming voice across the field, he could hardly focus.

"Hey pretty black with grey eyes! This one is for you!" He screamed and then tossed the quaffle full force into the slytherin goal. "I SCORED THAT, WOULD YOU LIKE TO GO TO HOGSMEADE WITH ME THIS FRIDAY MR PRETTY COMMENTOR?" "10 points for gryffindor! And sure mr potter, pick me up precisely at 10, you late and you'll lose your kiss privilege!"

"POTTER! BLACK! The game!!"

"SORRY PROFESSOR!"

If reg could just catch the golden snitch right now he could save the whole audience from the sappy opera soap from his brother and james. But oh well, his brother was happy now so that idea didn't matter much.

This is just a bit about my slytherin sirius au, he's still the normal sirius but the only difference is he wears green instead of red. I also have part B, it's about james' POV but I'm too lazy now hehe.