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missadangel · 11 days ago

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The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC)

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XXIII. Farewell (Smut!18+!MDNI)

“Prope quaere amicum, propius hostem”

Seek your friend near, your enemy closer.

When you arrived at Palatine Hill with Marcus, you noticed that Geta's imperial carriage had already arrived. As soon as you stepped into the courtyard, Commander Darius recognized you and approached. He informed Marcus that Julia and Geta were already in the great hall, clearly aware of the plan as well.

As you made your way toward the hall, Marcus and you heard voices coming from inside. He muttered, “Your Aunt Antonia must be here already.” He then quickened his pace.

“Why would she come here?” you asked.

Marcus glanced at you as the guards opened the door. “You'll find out soon enough, my lady. Don’t tire yourself; I’ll handle the talking,” he said, stepping in ahead of you.

As you entered, everyone turned to look at you. It was clear that Geta and his mother were in the middle of an argument. Your aunt was standing on the right side of the hall, with two members of the Senate. After exchanging a glance with Marcus, she looked at you and smiled, but you couldn't smile back; the tension in the hall was palpable, making it impossible not to feel it.

“You!” Julia pointed her finger at Marcus, her anger palpable. “You all played a game against me! How dare you!” Then she turned to you, her body trembling with rage. “It’s all your fault!” She screamed at the top of her lungs. In a swift motion, she grabbed the sword from the waist of one of the guards beside her. The guard was taken by surprise; perhaps it was Julia’s authority as empress that caused him to hesitate for that brief moment. But by then, it was too late for him to realize he had made a mistake.

Yes, it was a mistake that he allowed her to easily draw his sword from his belt while she attempted to attack you with it. However, this action was absurd and futile, especially considering that Marcus was standing right next to you. Before you could even react to Julia’s clumsy attack, Marcus quickly grabbed your wrist, pulled you behind him, and stood in front of you as a shield. Meanwhile, Geta firmly grabbed her mother by the arm and shook her until she dropped the sword.

“What do you think you’re doing? How far are you going to go? Are you really my mother? Look at you! I can’t even recognize you! You’ve lost it!” Geta roared.

“Can’t you see they set me up? And all because of this girl!” She pointed a finger at you, and you reacted by rolling your eyes.

“Enough!” Geta shouted, enraged.

Your aunt Antonia looked at you and Marcus, then breathed a sigh of relief before turning to Julia. "You speak as if we were holding you responsible for something you didn't do, Lady Domna. Did you think you wouldn't be held accountable for your actions? Your day of judgement has come; you can no longer escape justice. You will pay for what you have done. All of Rome will know what you have done to my sister, and your reputation will be ruined.”

For some reason, you found a strange satisfaction in the desperation in Julia’s gaze as she glanced at the council members beside her. After all, she deserved it.

Antonia continued, addressing the council members. “Your Majesty, the consuls, who are close friends of your father, are here to testify about your mother’s involvement in the death of my sister, Empress Marciana.”

"Tell me everything; I want to know it all,” Geta said, casting you an evasive look. It was clear that he was very upset about the terrible actions his mother had taken. One by one, the consuls recounted what Julia had done. Hearing the details again made your chest tighten, and your legs trembled. If Marcus hadn't been holding your hand, you might have collapsed. After absorbing what had happened, Geta looked at his mother with a disgusted expression and declared her crimes, pronouncing judgment on her. As a result, Julia was sentenced to exile. You witnessed your aunt’s face as Julia was forced out of the hall by the guards, despite her protests and shouts, and you realized that she was enjoying it. Yes, Julia certainly deserved the punishment, but you couldn't bring yourself to smile with joy at her plight; it felt wrong, especially when Geta appeared so sad.

As Antonia and the council members left the hall, Marcus approached Geta.

“Emperor Geta, I know this might not seem like the perfect moment, but there’s a crucial matter we must discuss—something you need to know.”

Geta frowned as he handed him the message from Elagabalus.

“I’ll be outside,” you said, glancing at the two of them.

“You don’t have to leave, sister. You can stay-”

“With your permission, Your Majesty, I need to speak to my aunt alone.”

He nodded with a smile and began reading the message. You exchanged a look with Marcus, then turned and left the hall, leaving the two of them alone.

Your aunt was outside, talking to two Senate members, and she looked quite pleased. You approached them, “Could you please leave us alone?” You fixed your gaze on them, feeling increasingly uncomfortable with everyone who knew the truth about your mother’s death and had kept it hidden from you all this time.

"Aurelia, my beautiful niece," Antonia said, smiling at you. "I told you we would get rid of Julia, and now we have as I promised. That whore finally got what she deserved.”

"I wish you had told me about the plan; maybe I could have helped." You said, you were curious about her response, but you had a feeling you already knew what she would say. Her answer confirmed your guess.

"You might be right, but your husband, General Acacius, wanted to keep you out of it. He is very protective of you, dear."

"He is indeed.” You nodded. “But I don't think he was pleased when you told him about your plan."

"You're right; he didn't like it, but he also wanted to get rid of Julia. After all, she posed a threat to his own son��and to you, my dear.”

“It’s not hard to imagine how you convinced him. But what if the plan hadn’t worked? What if Geta was someone who didn’t trust Acacius? Have you ever considered what could have happened to my husband then?”

She swallowed and took a deep breath. “I understand your concern, but he values and respects Acacius. Besides, I’m sure he would never do anything to upset you.”

You sighed. “That’s the real reason, isn’t it? You wanted me involved in the plan because you wanted to use his feelings for me to your advantage.”

A confident expression appeared on her face. “If you had gone to Geta and told him everything, he would have believed you, and everything would have been easier. But I knew you wouldn’t do that because I can see that you care about him too. That left me with no choice but to make this plan.”

“You don’t care, do you? Not about Geta’s disappointment, his sadness, or even the danger Acacius has put himself in. All you wanted was Julia.”

“That’s true, and I won’t deny it. Aurelia, all I care about is you and Marcius. Your brother is not someone I will concern myself with, and your husband is a good soldier; he can take care of himself.”

“But he’s the only one I truly care about. Look, you’re my aunt, and I care for you like a mother, but I don’t want you to involve my husband in any dangerous plans without my knowledge again. He’s more precious to me than anyone else, and I’m just as protective of him as he is of me. Please understand that."

Antonia nodded, but her expression was not very pleased.

You soon noticed Nerissa approaching you, accompanied by several slaves. One of them was cradling her son in her arms. You looked at him and smiled.

“My Empress,” you greeted her, and she returned your smile, though it was short-lived. “How is my little dove?”

You reached out your hands to take the baby from the slave, but she hesitated. It quickly became clear why; she was waiting for Nerissa's approval. After glancing at her, she nodded, and she handed the child to you. You cradled him in your arms and gently stroked his blonde hair. “Is Geta still insisting on not naming him yet?” you asked.

"Hopefully he will soon; it's just not the right time yet. We don't have much alone time, you know. His Majesty has been very busy lately." There was something unsettling in her tone. "By the way, could you tell me what happened to Lady Domna? I'm sure you know why the guards were taking her away, since you're here.”

You kissed your nephew on the head, noticing that he had fallen asleep in your arms. “Geta will tell you all about it; don’t worry about that.”

“I doubt he'll tell me,” she replied, holding out her hands to you. Reluctantly, you handed your nephew over to her mother, wishing you could keep him a little longer. After taking him, she returned him to the slaves and gestured for them to leave. Once she was sure it was just the two of you, she approached you, her expression more serious than you had ever seen before.

“Aurelia, don’t you think you visit him too often these days?”

What was that supposed to mean? I had only seen him once or twice since the wedding.

“I’m not sure how you mean.”

“Let me be absolutely clear. I do not want to see you here. I insist that you refrain from coming unless it is a serious or important matter. This is not good for him, and I am determined to ensure that my marriage remains intact. You understand what I mean, do you not?”

“Nerissa, why are you—”

She interrupted, rolling her eyes."Gods above, Aurelia, don't pretend you don't know how he feels about you. I'm not naive, I can see everything.""Nerissa, I..." You gave a troubled sigh. "Look, he'll realise he's making a mistake eventually. He'll notice your love. You need to be patient and—"

She shook her head. "But that's not going to happen if you're always around him. Help me. Stay away from him. Please.”

She took your hand and looked at you with pleading eyes. “Please, Aurelia.”

Although you were upset, you nodded in response. She quickly pulled her hand back at the sound of approaching footsteps. Marcus was coming toward you, accompanied by Darius. You cast a furtive glance at him, and Nerissa turned away. They both bowed to her as she walked into the great hall. You could sense Marcus's curious gaze upon you, so you took a moment to gather yourself and smiled at him.

“My lady, are you ready to leave now?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yes, General, let’s take our leave, please.”

Darius bowed his head as he departed.

Marcus leaned closer and asked, “Are you not feeling well?”

You took his arm and gently rubbed it with your hand. “It's been a long day. I want to go home and rest.”

He nodded. “Let’s leave then.”

Eight months later.

With each passing day and every fleeting month, your belly swelled and rounded. The gentle kicks and fluttering movements reminded you of the warmth of the little one nestled inside, growing, and so did your son, Marcius. At first, he learned how to sit, then he managed to crawl on the floor, then he managed to stand by holding onto the furniture around him. One day, he finally took his first step toward his father, who was sitting at his desk, smiling widely in return and cheering for him.

His first words also came out slowly during this time. When he called you "mother" for the first time, he may have spoken inaccurately since it sounded like “ma-ma” and probably not consciously, but it was enough to bring you to tears. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever heard, and you knew it was a moment you would never forget.

When Marcus was at home, he would hold his little hand and take him on fun walks around the villa. They’d often head over to the stables to check out the horses, their shiny coats glimmering in the sun. Those times together were the absolute best, filled with laughter as he soaked up every moment with his son.

The little one, who had nearly all his teeth, seemed to enjoy every bite of food and every morsel. Watching him grow was a real joy, like waking up to a new happiness each day. The villa, which had been quiet, was now full of life. It was alive with giggles and the delightful sounds of a growing child, transforming the space into a vibrant home filled with love and bliss.

As time went on, Marcus found himself extremely busy implementing extensive measures against a potential threat. His diligent efforts succeeded in persuading some of Elagabalus' allies to withdraw their support; however, the threat had not yet been fully neutralized. Consequently, Marcus decided to collaborate with his legates to devise a strategic plan aimed at permanently eliminating the threat. The possibility of war became increasingly apparent and eventually seemed inevitable. After a period of tranquility, a series of disturbing events began to unfold. Elagabalus, with the support of the Carthaginians, re-established alliances with the Gauls to strengthen his position and ultimately succeeded in seizing the southern region, targeting Numidia.

Two months later, following a rebellion in the region, news arrived of the execution of the Roman governor. The Numidians officially recognized Elagabalus as emperor. Unfortunately, this was not the worst of the news; the most troubling information came from the southern legions. All the southern legions, including Marcus' legion, were neutralized, forced into submission.

Marcus was devastated by this news, hardly eating or drinking for two days. You were very concerned for him. With your significant support, he ultimately began to feel better and regained his composure. Subsequently, he proceeded to develop a comprehensive action strategy without delay. He began to visit Palatine Hill and the Fields of Mars nearly every day, often staying until late at night. The situation was more serious than anyone had realized, and if immediate action was not taken, the consequences for Rome could be irreversible.

At that time, news came from Palatine Hill about Geta, who had been poisoned. Marcus spoke with Commander Darius about Geta's condition, recalling similar incidents in the past. They decided to collaborate on a solution before word of this reached the public. You were deeply concerned about Geta and wanted to go and see him, cure him. However, your growing belly and frequent cramps made it difficult for you to do so. Besides, Marcus did not want you to go anywhere after what happened during your last childbirth.

So, you decided to summon Hanno for his healing. Marcus agreed and took him to Palatine Hill himself, knowing that Hanno was better than all the medicii in the palace.

It soon became clear that the poisoning was caused by a fish dish that Geta had eaten, leading to a collective sigh of relief as it was confirmed that the incident was unintentional.

However, everyone involved in cooking and preparing the food was still punished.

You decided to visit Geta because you felt uneasy and were still haunted by Nerissa's recent behavior towards you. She had become a completely different person now, and trust was no longer in the equation. You wanted to believe you were mistaken—maybe you were exaggerating—but deep down, you knew you couldn’t be certain. You recognized that you had a great opportunity to pursue something you had been considering.

You visited him and spoke with Geta about Hanno and asked him to stay in the palace as a medicus. Geta agreed, especially because Hanno was the one who had healed him. However, Hanno initially resisted the idea. When you reminded him that Vicius had once served as a medicus there, he found it hard to refuse and ultimately agreed as well. This duty was perfect for Hanno, as you wanted to ensure he wouldn't be involved in anything that could endanger his life further.

Moreover, you sought to have Hanno at the palace to oversee the well-being of Geta and your nephew, as he would serve as a reliable source of information regarding any potential threats or concerns. Although Marcus was not entirely keen on the idea, he admitted that he was surprised and even looked proud as he complimented you on your intelligence.

It was also during this time that Decima and Octavius were married in a joyous ceremony held in your villa. Decima often came to the villa during the day to see you and Marcius, as her husband had been as busy as yours of late. She was happy to be married, and you were happy to see her so. After that week, the midwife came to examine you and told you that you might go into labour in a fortnight. She was almost sure it would be a girl this time. You didn't like her smug talk, but you felt like you were going to have a daughter, too.

However, it was Marcus who was the happiest about this news.

On a night when the moon hung high in the sky, casting a silver glow that illuminated everything below. You woke up in the quiet, feeling hungry. This discomfort had become a familiar companion, echoing the restless nights that had plagued you of late. Shadows danced across the walls as you blinked your eyes, unable to sleep.

Each night was filled with interruptions. Sometimes, it was the urgent call of nature that pulled you from your sleep; other times, it was the gnawing hunger in your stomach demanding attention. And then there was Marcius, whose cries served as an unmistakable reminder of his needs. Because of this, you often found yourself sleeping during the daylight hours.

You slowly opened your eyes, blinking against the dim glow of the bluish moonlight cascading through the window, filtering softly between the curtains. The light flickered blissfully on the ends of Marcus's curls, creating a halo around his sleeping form, while the shadows obscured the details of his face. You could still make out the gentle rise and fall of his chest, a reassuring rhythm in the tranquil stillness of the night. You sighed, admiring his charm. You could watch him sleeping like that forever.

A sudden heavy pressure stirred deep within your stomach, soon morphing into an overwhelming wave of hunger that washed over you like a tide. With great effort, you propped yourself up in bed, carefully pushing aside one of the pillows that Marcus had arranged under your arm for comfort. Each movement felt cumbersome, the weight of your large belly making even the simplest gestures a challenge. As a sharp cramp seized your stomach, you let out a soft moan, the sound barely escaping your lips. The sound roused Marcus, who, ever the light sleeper, opened his eyes in an instant, concern etching itself across his face.

"My love?’"

"Oh, apologies, I didn’t mean to wake you."

"Do you have to go to the latrina again?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep, eyes blinking slowly as they adjusted to the dimness.

"No, not this time, I...’"

He sat up, the sheets slipping down to his waist, and placed a warm hand on your back, his fingers brushing gently against your skin. "What’s wrong, Aurelia?"

"I can't sleep because I'm hungry," you confessed, your voice almost a whisper, tinged with shyness. It felt strange to mention, especially since it had only been a few hours since dinner.

Marcus chuckled softly. "You're saying that like you’ve committed a crime." He bent down and placed a tender kiss on the top of your head. His masculine scent gave you butterflies in your stomach, but your hunger outweighed your desire. "I’ll get something for you. What does my beautiful wife want to eat?’"

You shrugged pursing your lips. "It doesn’t matter; I just need to fill my stomach."

He grinned as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Alright, I’ll bring you whatever I can find."

As he approached the door, you whispered softly to avoid waking Marcius. "Marcus."

He paused, turning back to look at you.

"Can you get some figs too? I’m craving them."

His laughter rang out like music in the quiet night. "Whatever you wish, my princess.”

Not long afterwards Marcus returned to the room with a tray full of food. You reacted to him by clapping your hands gleefully. "You're the best husband; I am a very fortunate woman indeed."

He sat down beside you and kissed your cheek. "You can't be more fortunate than I am," he replied.

As you enjoyed your meal, he sat beside you, peeled the figs, and placed them in front of you for you to eat. In just a few minutes, you had nearly finished everything on the tray, while Marcus observed you with curiosity and with a smile on his face. Suddenly, you felt a wave of embarrassment. "I ate like a savage, not like a lady, didn't I?”

"And I’m sure I don’t look beautiful like this," you said, teasing him.

You expected him to laugh in response, but instead, his gaze deepened, filled with something more intense. He gently brushed the sticky honey from the corner of your lip with his thumb, an intimate gesture that sent a thrill through you. "On the contrary," he murmured, his voice low and sincere, "I find you even more beautiful like this. You possess a beauty that transcends appearances—one that enchants me in any form.”

You were captivated by his deep, dark brown eyes, and time seemed to stand still as you gazed into their depths. In that moment, the spoon slipped from your grasp, and a golden stream of honey cascaded down onto your upper sternum, gleaming in the soft light. Marcus let out a soft, playful chuckle, his voice a warm whisper that sent shivers down your spine as he leaned closer. The heat of his breath enveloped you, tantalizingly brushing against the delicate skin above your breasts. With deliberate intention, he traced his warm tongue over the honey that had dripped, the sensation igniting a rush of warmth that made your heartbeat quicken and your breathing deepen.

When he pulled away, he grinned and licked his lips. “Mmm, sweet, but nothing compares to the taste of you.” He said, pulling you closer and kissing you. When your tongues touched, you moaned as you could taste the honey on his saliva. You tossed the spoon onto the tray and wrapped your arms around his neck, fully immersing yourself in his embrace. You wondered if he was aware of his own masculine scent and the incredible taste he possessed. Kissing him was so pleasurable that it induced a state of dizzying bliss, as if time itself were slowing down while you explored the depths of his mouth. As your tongue delicately traced the contours of his, he responded with a deep, resonant growl, his hands firmly cradling your hips. Your legs were on either side of him now and you were practically astride him. Your big belly was getting in the way a bit, preventing you from wrapping him completely. But Marcus didn't mind; he wanted you naked and grinding on him straight away, in the most convenient way. He realized he should have approached the moment with more tenderness, yet the intense waves of desire washed over him, leaving him breathless and disoriented. In that instant, he made a decision about perfect position to take you. He pulled his head back, breaking the kiss, his dark brown eyes burning you to the core.

“What is it?” you gasped, your eyes dazzled, your hair a chaotic tangle, partly obscuring your face.

He took your hands, leaned back on the bed, and pulled you down on top of him.

“Lift the hem of your tunic,” he said, his tone almost commanding.

You hesitated for just a moment before you started to gather the fabric.

“Show me,” he urged, breathing heavily.

You blinked, confused. “What?”

“Bring it up here.” He licked his lips, and heat flooded your face.

"Um..."

“Come and sit on my face, Aurelia.” He sounded impatient.

“But Marcus,” You murmured, but he was past caring.

“Now,” he rumbled deep in his chest.

"Impatient, I see," you giggled. As you lifted the skirts of your tunic, leaving yourself completely exposed from the waist down, he quickly got out of his own clothes and lay back down, even more eager and impatient than before. The dull, almost painful throb of his length needed relief. He took himself in hand and groaned as you parted your knees and showed him your pretty slit.

“Perfect,” he whispered as if he saw for the first time.

Actually, the thing is he couldn't find an oppurtunity to get inside you because he had been incredibly busy for a few days. And that was the only thing he craved right now. “So beautiful.” And it was. So perfect and beautiful that he had to take a deep breath for an instant or he would have released at just the sight of you. He slid his hand up his throbbing shaft and squeezed the tip hard. He didn’t want to spend himself on the sheets, he wanted to release deep inside you, inside his wife.

“Marcus?”

“Darling wife, have mercy and give me your sweet taste,” he groaned earthily.

You whimpered as one of his hands grabbed your hip roughly to urge you over his chest. “What if you can't breathe?" you said, noticing it was a very silly thing to say as you bit your lip. “As you can see, I've gained some weight, and—oh!"

"Then I’ll die very happy," he snarled, moaning against your slippery cunt. You tasted so good. He cursed everything that prevented him from tasting you for days.

What the hell had he been thinking?

He dragged his tongue between your slick folds and over your pretty pearl, again and again, delving into your tight sheathe in a tease that had his cock twitching in anticipation. Your wetness maddened him. He held your hips tight as he licked and sucked your cunt, pushing his tongue deeper and deeper. He often whispered how much he loved the sweet, heady taste of you and your cheeks still burned as if you were hearing it for the first time. As you watched the slickness run down his cheeks and glisten on his beard, your shame turned to desire and your skin felt like it was on fire. You moaned as he thrust two fingers inside you, feeling the pressure of his signet ring. It was too much and not enough, the feeling you never wanted to end. You instinctively bent down and grabbed the roots of his hair as his tongue tormented you.

Soon, you found your release, screaming his name as you came. He still hadn’t had his fill when he heard your wail and felt your convulsing around his swirling tongue. Slick gushed from between your cunt, the sheer sensation of it taking your breath away.

He pulled his soaking fingers from you and licked them clean. "My lovely princess," Marcus murmured, his lips red and slightly swollen from his rapt attention to your cunt.

He crawled up and made you sit on his lap, making you wrap your legs around him.

He grinned at your big belly. "Will you be comfortable if I take you like this?" He asked softly, drawing kisses across your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, and your plump lips, while his fingers gripped the straps of your tunic tightly and pulled the fabric down your shoulders.

You nodded while tasting yourself as his tongue slipped between your lips, tangling with your own. He held you close as he rolled onto his back and positioned you above him. You were wet enough to straddle him, rubbing yourself against his length, making him groan. You had to stifle your own scream, remembering you were not alone in the room as you pressed yourself against him. You liked to ride him a lot, enjoying how his hands supported your hips and how deep his cock felt inside your walls.

He was too, enjoying a lot as he rocked his hips against yours, feeling as if he was much younger than he was. There were almost two decades between you, his hair showing silver streaks that marked his age as just over forty, while you were only two years past girlhood. He was so eager and strong in making love to you that his age was no obstacle to him. That was something that would never tire him out, not ever. Yet, he often found himself wishing that he had crossed paths with you during his younger years. For him, every single day without your presence, even those from the past, was nothing but wasted.

Even now, when you were on top of him and he was thrusting himself deeper and deeper into you, kneading your breasts possessively, you could see it in his movements. There was no need for words; his brown eyes revealed his thoughts and emotions with every glance, which only you could truly understand. It wasn’t surprising that his feelings mirrored your own. You were both aware that this could be the last time you shared such intimacy, especially considering the imminent arrival of your second child. As you came together, your pleasure intertwined, and soon you found yourself savouring the last traces of your pleasure when, suddenly, your womb convulsed, and Marcus caught you with a firm grip, preventing you from slumping onto the bed. He sighed as he placed his palm on your chest, feeling the rapid beat of your heart beneath his hand. Gently, he laid you down on the bed and adjusted the pillow under your neck for your comfort. As he spread the sheet over you, he noticed soft movement on your belly, a tender reminder of the life within. He placed his warm hand above your tummy, his touch soothing as he began to speak softly to the little one growing inside you. Gradually, you felt a wave of fatigue wash over you, and with each soothing word of his, you surrendered to the gentle pull of sleep, lulled by the serenity of his presence and the rhythm of his voice.

The next day, Cato arrived at the villa early to deliver news, and Marcus left without even having breakfast. Marcius reacted to his father's departure by crying, so you took him to the stables to calm him down. He had been behaving this way lately; he loved spending time with his father and seemed so happy when they were together. However, whenever his father left the house, he would start to cry. You kept telling him that one day, when he was older, he could go outside with his dad, but he was too young to understand that yet. When his father returned home in the evening, holding him in his arms, Marcius was the happiest he could be. It was heartwarming to see them together like that.

In the afternoon, you sent someone to Palatine Hill to fetch Hanno. You needed to speak with him to find out how Geta was doing. With the birth approaching, you didn't want to leave the house, especially since Nerissa preferred you to stay inside. You had only seen Geta a few times after Julia's funeral, and the last time you spoke with him about Hanno was almost a month ago. He hadn't looked well during that conversation, and you often found yourself worrying about him.

As you were feeding Marcius some fruit, you heard a horse neighing outside, and soon after, Hanno appeared in the courtyard. He smiled as he looked at you and Marcius.

“Hanno, or should I call you Lucius now?” you asked.

He grinned. “I still can't get used to that name.”

You pointed to the lectus and gestured for him to sit. “You’re a Roman citizen now; you should get used to it.”

He took his bag off his shoulder, sat down across from you, and sighed. “It still feels like a joke,” he said, waving his hand at Marcius.

“You've grown a lot since I've seen you, little man,” you replied.

Marcius mumbled something and handed Hanno a grape. Lucius smiled at him as he put the grape in his mouth and chewed it. Marcius clapped, and you joined in the laughter.

“He likes you,” you said.

Lucius reached out, picked him up, and sat him on his lap. “I like him too.” He then looked at your belly. “How do you feel?”

“I'm fine; I'm just having trouble sleeping.”

“What does the midwife say? Is everything going well?”

‘Nothing to worry about. “We’re just waiting now; let’s hope Marcius’ brother or sister arrives soon.”

Lucius opened his bag and took out a wooden carved toy horse, giving it to Marcius. “Here, little friend. I made this for you.”

Marcius seemed happy as he held the wooden toy.

You smiled at him. “That’s very nice, Lucius. Thank you.” You turned Marcius, softly rubbing his head. “Did you like it, my beautiful boy?”He showed the toy, murmured something, and repeatedly bumped it against the floor while playing in his own way.

Lucius reached back into his bag. “Your brother Geta wanted me to give this to you. He said it’s for Marcius.” He held out something wrapped in cloth, and as he handed it to you, a soft tinkling sound emerged from within. You unwrapped the cloth and discovered a pair of gold bracelets along with a note.

“These bracelets were the first gifts my father, Septimius Severus, bestowed upon me. I am passing them on to my nephew, so he can wear them as he grows into a remarkable young man.”

You took a moment to reflect as you examined the bracelets. They exhibited a level of elegance and were embellished with meticulous craftsmanship that is typically reserved for members of royalty, particularly a prince.

Lucius leaned toward you.

“Are you alright?”

You didn’t realize you were crying until he asked. You nodded as you wiped away your tears. “I just realized I miss Geta; it’s been a long time. Is he doing well?”

He looked away.

“Has something happened to him?” You suddenly noticed you were short of breath, which had been happening a lot lately.

"Calm down, Aurelia. He is well. He has been getting tired recently, and there have been a lot of consuls coming and going from the palace. I saw them arguing with the empress the other day."

"Why were they arguing?"

"I'm not certain, but there are a lot of rumors about them. Slaves love gossip."

"What rumors?"

“Nonsense, don't worry about it right now.”

“Please, tell me.”

He huffed in response. “They claim they don’t sleep in the same room, you know. It’s probably a lie—just stupid gossip.”

You wondered why Nerissa would treat Geta that way.

“What about my nephew?”

“He's fine, don’t worry. He seems to be getting ready to take his first step, but he’s not as eager as Marcius,” he said, stroking her head.

“I miss him so much,” you said, pursing your lips.

“Please be patient a little longer. Do not attempt to go anywhere in this situation.”

“That’s why I sent for you,” you replied, laughing at him.

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not sure if I’m a fighter, a medicus, or your informant anymore.”

You squinted at him. “Or, are you unhappy serving your princess?”

He grinned. “Not at all, your highness. But now that I’m free, I say I...”

“What is it?”

"I want to return to Alexandria," he said in a low tone.

You felt a tightness in your chest. "What? But why? Aren't you happy here?"

"I am, but they say the whole southern region is about to erupt in chaos soon, and there’s someone I need to see. I have to show her that I’m still alive."

You raised an eyebrow. "Her? Someone special, I suppose?"

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, breaking into a shy laugh. "You could say that."

"I see. It's your decision, after all. You're a free man now."You smiled at him faintly, even though your heart felt heavy.

But then, an unexpected sharp pain sliced through your lower abdomen. A contraction gripped you, and your breath caught in your throat.

"Aurelia?" Concern laced his voice.

"Just a contraction," you managed to say between gasps, your breaths coming quicker as you closed your eyes tightly, willing the pain to pass. Yet, to your dismay, a sharper wave of agony crashed over you.

Norell saw you from a distance and rushed toward you. “Domina! My lady!”

It didn't take long for you to realize what was happening as the contractions became stronger and closer together, now even intensified. "The baby's coming," you said with a troubled grin.

Lucius took your other hand. "Are you certain?"

You nodded. "I'm absolutely certain, Lucius!" you shouted, gripping his hand tightly as another contraction struck, sending incredible pain through you. You looked at him with urgency.

"Get the midwife in here!"

The other slaves exchanged worried glances, but then they hurried off towards the quarters where the midwife was staying.

“Can you make it up the stairs, my lady?” one of them asked, eyes wide with concern. You groaned loudly, the sound reverberating through the room as you steadied yourself to stand. “I think I can,” you replied through gritted teeth, summoning every ounce of strength within you. In a swift and decisive movement, Lucius scooped you into his arms, lifting you and carrying you up the stairs.

“You stay with Marcius here!” you shouted to Norell, who nodded in response. You forced a warm smile at Marcius who gazed at you with curious wide eyes, his little brow furrowed with concern.

When Lucius entered the room, he laid you on the bed and propped up several pillows behind you. Moments later, two slaves entered alongside the midwife, their expressions a mix of determination and concern. Then Tullia rushed in, her breath coming in quick, anxious bursts. “My lady!”

“Tullia! I need you to summon my husband immediately!” you commanded.

“I will tell them now, my lady,” Tullia replied, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “But it may take some time before the general arrives; he mentioned he would be at the barracks.”

“I'll go and fetch him,” Lucius said, his demeanor reassuring. “You don’t need to concern yourself with anything else, alright?”

You reached for his hand, held it tightly. “Thank you, Lucius.”

He smiled at you before leaving room.

The midwife bent down to examine you and asked for permission before lifting your skirts.

“Labour has begun, my lady. We must get ready at once.” She looked at the slaves. “Prepare hot water and clean cloths immediately!”

The slaves scurried from the room, their footsteps echoing as they hurried to fulfill her commands, the tension in the air thickening with each passing second.

“I can’t do this without my husband,” you whimpered. “I need him to be by my side.”

“But I’m afraid the baby can’t wait much longer,” the midwife replied gently, her voice like a soft balm against your fraying nerves. You nodded, swallowing your worry as you desperately wished for Lucius to bring Marcus with him soon.

The soldiers on guard at the imposing entrance gate of the barracks stood alert as they caught sight of a horse and its rider approaching. One of them raised his spear high, the metal glinting in the sun, and shouted, “Halt! Stop right there!”

Lucius expertly pulled on the reins, and the horse reared up, its legs striking the air as he steadied himself. The soldiers scrutinized him intently, their eyes narrowing as they took in his dusty cloak and determined expression.

“No civilians allowed here! Turn back now!” one soldier barked, his voice harsh and commanding.

Lucius met their gazes defiantly, his eyes ablaze with urgency. “I need to see General Acacius! This is important!”

“Are you deaf?” the first soldier snapped back, annoyance creeping into his tone.

The second soldier, sensing the tension, placed a hand on his friend's shoulder to calm him. “Tell us what you need to say; we’ll deliver the message to the general,” he suggested, his voice slightly softer but still firm.

Lucius shifted his mount, turning slightly towards the sturdy wooden doors of the barracks. He refused to dismount, his resolve unwavering despite the soldiers’ barriers. Every second felt precious.

“It’s urgent!” he declared, frustration lacing his words. “What part of that don’t you understand?”

At that moment, a commanding voice echoed from inside the barracks, issuing the order to swing open the heavy iron gate. The soldiers, clad in shining armor that reflected the afternoon sun, moved purposefully toward the entrance. Centurion Verus and a man who Lucius didn't recognise came outside. They were deeply engrossed in hushed whispers, so preoccupied with their conversation that they failed to notice Lucius standing nearby.

“Make sure Acacius doesn’t find out,” Verus murmured, his brow furrowed with concern. "That man is exceptionally clever, which makes me uneasy."

“Don’t worry, sir; everything is going as we discussed,” the other man assured him.

Suddenly, Verus's sharp gaze locked onto Lucius, his body tensing. “What are you looking at?” he snapped, his voice laced with an edge of hostility.

Lucius turned his eyes away; he didn't care about their conversation at all. All he wanted was to reach Acacius, no matter what. Other soldiers brought their horses forward, and Verus and his companion glanced at Lucius before spurring their horses into a rush, dust swirling around their departing figures.

"General Acacius!" Lucius' booming voice through the gate enraged the soldiers.

"How dare you shout like that?"

"I'll cut out that tongue of yours!"

It wasn't the general himself, but someone whom Lucius recognized with relief.

“What is going on here? What is this disgrace?” Octavius barked, a mix of surprise and annoyance crossing his face as he recognized Lucius. “What brings you here?”

“Sir, he insists that he must see the general—”

“Octavius, this is urgent! The general needs to come with me to the villa immediately!”

The soldiers exchanged bewildered glances, their expressions shifting from curiosity to shock as Lucius addressed the general's right-hand man by name. They were further taken aback when Octavius, instead of erupting in anger, maintained an air of smug indifference.

“General Acacius is quite busy at the moment. Just tell me what it is,” Octavius replied, dismissively waving a hand.

Lucius, frustration etched across his face, could no longer contain himself. With a low curse, he dismounted his horse and strode purposefully toward Octavius.

“Aurelia. Lady Aurelia is in labor and has sent for her husband,” he said, lowering his voice and raising his eyebrows for emphasis.

Octavius's entire demeanor shifted at that moment; he went from appearing brave to displaying a sense of urgency as he turned on his heel and rushed back to find Acacius.

The sun was setting as Marcus, Octavius, and Lucius arrived at the villa. While another day came to an end in the city, a new life was about to begin in the villa.

Marcus dismounted from his horse with a rush of excitement, his feet pounding against the cobblestone courtyard as he hurried forward. The urgency of his steps left Octavius and Lucius struggling to keep pace, their expressions a mix of curiosity and concern.

Entering the villa, Marcus was immediately met with the startling sound of your anguished cries emanating from upstairs. His heart seized with apprehension, compelling him to dash towards the stairs. Just then, a shrill, yet joyous, baby cry echoed through the corridors, freezing him in his tracks. A broad smile broke across his face as he turned to share this precious moment with Octavius and Lucius, who mirrored his elation.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Marcus raced up the stairs. Bursting into the room, his eyes were drawn to a vision of beauty: a delicate infant cradled in Norell's arms. The soft glow of the dim light highlighted her velvety pink skin and wisps of golden hair that fluttered gently around her tiny head, leaving him utterly mesmerized.

“It’s a girl, General,” Norell announced with a note of triumph in her voice.

A wave of emotion washed over Marcus as he contemplated her words. “A girl,” he thought, his gaze locked on the enchanting child. “A very beautiful girl, just like her mother...” He felt warmth fill his heart, knowing their family was blossoming once more.

Her mother...

He longed to see you before cradling the newborn, but his heart nearly seized as he caught sight of your closed eyes and the deep concern appeared on the midwife's face. “What’s happening? Why are her eyes closed?” he demanded, a frown shadowing his brow as he noticed the blood-soaked cloths clinging to your body while he hurried towards you.

“General, it was a very difficult labor,” the midwife replied, her voice trembling as she fought to maintain her composure. “She lost a lot of blood and must be utterly exhausted.” As Marcus pushed the damp hair from your forehead, the beads of sweat cascading down your face, he called your name softly. But when you remained unresponsive, his concern transformed into palpable desperation.

“She’s not herself! Do something!” His voice erupted, a roar of anguish that reverberated through the room. The midwife touched your cheek with tentative fingers, her heart racing as she swallowed hard.

“My lady!”

Suddenly, the joyful atmosphere in the room shifted to one of concern. Upon hearing the sounds, Lucius hurried upstairs and appeared in the doorway. Marcus looked at him urgently, “Do something, please!”

Lucius quickly approached, opening his bag to retrieve several vials and some cloth. The midwife and the others watched him anxiously, including Norell, who appeared at the door, cradling Marcius in her arms.

Marcus sank onto the edge of the bed beside you, gripping your hand with a fierce intensity that reflected the crushing weight of his helplessness. The world around him blurred, leaving only your still form in focus, and his heart felt as if it were being wrenched apart. “No... Aurelia, please... my love... please...” he whispered, his voice thick with despair; your motionless figure was like a dagger to his soul.

Lucius was taken aback by Marcus's sorrow. In his past as a medic, he had witnessed men shed tears over the woman he loved, but this was unlike anything he had ever seen before. What could make such a strong, sturdy man so miserable if not pure love itself? A love so profound and great that it cast doubt on Lucius's very own affections for the woman he cherished. Fortunately, there was no loss yet. He probed the vein in your neck and was relieved to find a sign that you were alive. He sighed deeply. “She has a pulse, but it’s weak,” he murmured.

“What do you mean? Tell me she's alright!"

Ignoring the urgency in Marcus's tone, Lucius uncorked one of the vials, releasing a pungent aroma that hung in the air. He carefully soaked a rag with the strange liquid and brought it close to your face. At that moment, Marcius looked up and said, “Ma-ma.” The room fell silent; everyone turned to him, tears brimming in their eyes, including Marcus, as hope flickered faintly amidst their despair.

You came to your senses, jolted by a pungent and unpleasant odor that clawed at your nostrils. The sharp scent stirred something deep inside you, and as a medicus, you instantly recognized its purpose.

When you finally opened your eyes, your surroundings came into focus, revealing Marcus' concerned face hovering closely above you. Your heart twisted painfully in your chest as you spotted a single tear glistening on his cheek, cascading down the rugged line of his scar like a painful memory trying to escape.

“Marcus! Why are you...?" you began to ask, but the words faded as vivid images of your last moments rushed back. Panic surged through you, and you gasped. “Has something happened to my baby?”

He gently pressed his hands against your shoulders, stopping your attempt to sit up. His warm embrace wrapped around you like a shield, and he exhaled a shaky breath, burying his face in your hair as he planted plenty of soft kisses on the top of your head.

“The child is fine, my lady. Please don’t worry,” the midwife replied.

Everyone seemed unusual; something had definitely happened. However, once you saw that the baby was well, you didn’t care what it was. You felt incredibly tired to care though.

“Just concentrate on being well yourself,” Lucius said.

You smiled weakly; he was right. He then stood up—being a medicus, he knew what the midwife had to do next. Everyone left the room except for Marcus and midwife. As the midwife carefully wiped the remnants of your labor away with warm, clean water and soft cloths, the slaves rushed to spread fresh, crisp sheets on the bed with deft hands.Through it all, Marcus kept his arms wrapped around you, his grip unyielding and protective. When the time came to dress you in fresh clothes, it was he who gently assisted, his fingers brushing your skin with the tenderness of a feather.

After nursing the baby for the first time, he helped you ease onto the soft bed, then settled in beside you. “You frightened me so much, Aurelia. For a moment, I thought I had lost you,” he whispered, his voice trembling. His fingers danced through your hair, caressing it softly as if he were untangling not just the strands but also the worries that clung to you. Snuggling closer, you nestled your head against his warm collarbone, finding solace within his embrace.

"The baby's neck was wrapped around the cord, and the midwife and I fought desperately to free her. I felt such relief when I finally heard her cry, but exhaustion washed over me, and I must have lost consciousness. Please, don’t worry; we’re both fine now.”

“Thank the gods, my love,” he murmured. “They have spared your life and our daughter’s. I’ve traveled through hell and back to heaven in a single day.”

You kissed his cheek, then turned your head to check Marcius, who was mumbling sweet nothings in his sleep, and then at your daughter— wrapped snugly in her swaddle beside you, her small chest rising and falling with each breath.

"There are four of us in this room now, General. What do you think about that?" you teased, your voice a playful whisper.

His lips curved into a warm smile, the kind that lit up his entire face. “It would be difficult to capture my feelings in mere words. All I can say is that I am the most fortunate man on earth.” You turned your head, locking eyes with him, feeling a rush of warmth. “Marcus, I feel the same. I’m truly the most fortunate woman to have you as my husband, and our children are too since they have a father like you.”

As you stifled a yawn, fatigue tugged at your eyelids, heavy with the weight of the day. He leaned in, planting a soft, tender kiss on your forehead. “You need to sleep now,” he murmured, his voice a soothing melody that wrapped around you.

“Rest well, my love.”

That week was dedicated to your recovery. You spent most of your time lying in bed. Being a mother of two children was even more beautiful and challenging than you had imagined, but the feelings you experienced were so wonderful that you couldn't have been happier. Your aunt and cousin Paulina came to visit you, and you noticed that her daughter had grown up too. You wished that one day you could see her and your daughter running around and playing together, you hoped to live long enough to witness those days.

The villa must have had one of its busiest weeks. Geta was among those who came to visit you and the children. He seemed to be doing better, but you could still sense that he wasn't truly happy, which concerned you. Decima, who couldn't be with you on the day you gave birth, came to see you and the baby the very next day. She spent all day at the villa helping you, only returning home in the evening. She also shared the wonderful news with you that she was expecting a child. Although you told her you didn't want to tire her out any further, she insisted on staying to help.

Everything was going well and blissfully; there was joy in your home, and everyone was happy. However, outside the villa, the real world still existed in all its cruelty. On the last day of the week, there was a council meeting, and the decision you dreaded was made: war was on the horizon once again.

The threat posed by Elagabalus in the south was no longer something to take lightly; it had to be eliminated as soon as possible. Preparations had begun, and the Roman army was on the verge of entering a significant battle it had not faced in a long time.

Marcus was busier than ever, dedicating countless hours to training soldiers and developing effective strategies. You could see the slight tension in his expression, even as he smiled at you. When your little girl woke you up crying in the middle of one night, you found Marcus asleep at his desk, and your heart tightened. You weren't sure what troubled you more: the impending goodbye that would come too soon, the anxiety of waiting for his return without knowing when it would be, or the fact that he had been so exhausted lately while preparing for war.

One morning, he was up early again, sitting at his desk and studying the map spread out in front of him. You softly got out of bed and walked over to him.

"What keeps my husband so busy every morning and evening?" you asked.

He looked up and met your gaze. "My sun, I ask for your forgiveness for waking before you have risen.” He opened his arms, inviting you into his embrace, and you accepted his invitation, sitting on his lap. He gently touched your cheek and scrutinized your face. "Forgive me for not giving you much time these days, my love."

"I'll forgive you if we have breakfast in the meadow," you said.

"Your wish is my command," he replied, smiling.

You smiled back, wrapped your arms around his neck, and kissed him.

The meadow was a breathtaking tapestry of color and life on that enchanting spring morning. It felt like a slice of heaven, where vibrant flowers unfurled their petals to the warm sun, and the trees were adorned with delicate, budding branches that danced gently in the breeze. The air was filled with the cheerful melodies of birds, harmonizing their joyful spring songs as they flitted through the branches.

You had brought Marcius here for the very first time, and the pure joy on his face was radiant. He delighted in chasing after butterflies, their wings painted in brilliant hues, while he reached out to touch the colorful blooms swaying around him. With his newfound ability to walk, he took unsteady steps, often toppling over in his excitement, but his spirit remained unbroken.

Still, his little body could only take so much. After a delightful day of exploration and play with his father, he finally succumbed to sleep, his eyelids fluttering as he nestled into Marcus's arms. Marcus sat beside you in the lush meadow, holding him close, a serene smile gracing his lips as the peaceful ambiance of nature wrapped around you like a soothing touch.

“Aurelia… There’s something I need to tell you.”

Your heart quickened, a mix of curiosity and intuition stirring within you; the tension etched on his face revealed the truth before he even spoke. “I must leave Rome soon. After months of preparation, the moment has finally arrived. Our southern lands are under dire threat, and the peril grows more menacing with each passing day. We must take decisive action to eliminate it.”

“What is the battle plan, General?” You asked, your voice steady, even as a whirlwind of emotions surged inside you.

"We have successfully assembled the largest navy ever created, and the requisite ammunition and catapults are currently being loaded onto our warships. The Carthaginians possess a numerical advantage; however, a portion of their fleet is expected to be stationed at Numidia and Alexandria by this time. It is imperative that we act swiftly to leverage this situation and secure the city of Carthage. Given the absence of their commanders and a majority of their military forces, the city is currently vulnerable."

It was easy for him to explain his battle plan, but it was very difficult for you to listen and imagine him fighting there. He touched your cheek. "Aurelia, my love, this war is unlike the others. We must be prepared for anything. That's why I will leave Cato and Felix here; they will be in charge of protecting you."

You felt a lump arise in your throat. "Marcus, what are you saying?"

"If we are defeated and I..." He paused, exhaling deeply. "If I am unable to return..."

"Marcus, please—"

He pressed his thumb against your lips.

If I am unable to return, it is evident that Elagabalus may advance here with the intention of eliminating Geta. While this scenario is remote, there remains a possibility that they could lay siege to the city. The Praetorians may not be able to hold out for long. Please bear in mind that if anything happens to Geta, our son will be next. Take him and our daughter to where Felix and Cato will guide you. Do you understand? Promise me that you will do this."

Suddenly, your eyes brimmed with tears. "Marcus, I couldn't bear to live if anything happened to you. And you are saying…"

"You will live, my love," he said. "For our son, for our daughter, and for me. Even if it's not in Rome, you will find a way to carry on." As he spoke, he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek, wiping away the tears that stained your face. "Promise me now, please."

With a trembling breath, you nodded, the words escaping your lips like a soft, mournful whisper.

"I promise.”

Days and weeks passed, and at last, that day had arrived—the day you had feared the most, the day of separation. Anxiety wrapped itself around you like a suffocating blanket, stealing your sleep and filling your mind with troubling visions. The nightmare that haunted you only deepened the sense of dread, stirring a storm of helplessness within.

As Marcus leaned in to kiss you goodbye in the sun-dappled courtyard, a wave of desperation surged through you. Every fiber of your being urged you to drop to your knees, to plead with him to stay. But you resisted, forcing yourself to stand tall, to embody the strength you hoped would comfort him. You wanted him to remember the curve of your smile, the resilience in your posture.

In those final moments, as he turned to bid farewell to Marcius and your little girl, he glanced back at you. His smile was bittersweet, his gaze lingering, as if he were trying to etch your image into his memory forever. In that shared silence, the weight of unspoken words hung between you, a testament to your love and the invisible thread that would bind your hearts despite the distance.

You accompanied him out of the courtyard and wished to join him on the travel to the port of Ostia. At first, he was resistant to the idea, but your persistent insistence wore him down, and he eventually agreed—on the condition that Felix and Cato would accompany you there and back to the villa.

When the carriage arrived at the harbor, the sun was at its zenith. Marcus pointed out the fleet preparing to sail. You were mesmerized, having never seen such a large number of ships gathered together. The soldiers recognized both of you and saluted, and you returned their greetings.

From the deck of the ship, the salty breeze carried the soldier's voice across the water, “General, the wind is at our backs! We’re ready to set sail, sir!”

Marcus nodded and turned to you. “I’m afraid the time has come, my lady.”

Suddenly, you couldn't hold back your tears. Marcus gently cupped your face in his hands and wiped the tears away.

“My love, every time we part and I see tears in your eyes, my heart feels like it stays here with you. I think of you even when I wield my sword. So please, don’t cry anymore. Our children are entrusted to you in my absence; be strong for them.”

"My brave general, I hold my head high and my heart is content. But don't you know that I am in love? I miss you, I cry, I wait, but I know how to be patient. Let my tears be your companion, and let my love be your shield. I fervently wish for you to come back, safe and sound, to my waiting arms, my love. I will not allow fate to take you from me, and as your princess, I forbid you to die.”

He smiled, took your hands in his, bringing them to his lips for a soft, lingering kiss. “I promise, my princess, I will return to you in victory,” he vowed, his voice steady yet soothing. “Let the expansive blue sky be your confidant while I am away. If you listen closely to the harsh winds that whip through the air, you will hear the whispers of my heart. The rain will fall, carrying with it my love for you.”

A wave of emotion swept over you, and you sobbed, clinging to him as if he were your anchor in a stormy sea. He wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in your hair. Time seemed to stand still as you held each other tightly, your tears soaking into the fabric of the red shawl he wore over his armor. He inhaled your familiar scent, etching the moment into his memory, feeling as if it were the last time.

Both of you sensed Octavius standing respectfully behind him, waiting for his general to board the ship. It was time for Marcus and his soldiers to leave the harbour and say goodbye to their homeland. Before stepping onto the deck of the ship, Marcus turned to you to meet your eyes one last time and, despite the heaviness in your heart, you managed to give him a smile—one that shimmered with unspoken words and memories, a final farewell that echoed the depth of your feelings.

In Marcus's absence, the days stretched endlessly, each one dragging like the weight of sorrow pressing upon your heart. The beautiful memories he left behind, along with your children, were your only sources of support. You found yourself missing him more deeply than ever before, a longing that gnawed at your soul.

As night fell and you lay in bed, Marcius curled up in the very spot where his father used to sleep, and you wanted him to sleep there until his father returned. You forbade the slaves from washing the last clothes he wore. Each night, you cradled his burgundy tunic, the soft fabric still carrying his familiar scent. As you breathed it in, it wrapped around you like a tender embrace, evoking memories that brought both comfort and a deep ache of longing as you fell asleep.

When Cato delivered a letter from him a few weeks later, you were overwhelmed with happiness. You went to the room to read the letter in solitude. Your heart raced as you sat on the bed and opened it.

"My beloved wife, my dear princess, my radiant sun. As I write this letter from the heart of the vast sea on a dark night, where the moon remains hidden, I want you to know how profoundly I feel your absence. The silence around me is overwhelming, and as I gaze out from the deck, I see only the endless waves stretching far and wide—no land in sight, just emptiness that echoes my longing for you. Then a wind stirs, and I whisper how deeply I miss you and how immeasurable my love for you is, how I wish that this breeze could carry my words to you before my return. As dawn breaks, a flock of birds appears on the horizon, gliding gracefully away from the shore. They soar towards Rome, towards you, towards home. I wish to join them and fly towards you. I wish to land on your chest and die there, only to be awakened by your sweet kiss, bringing me back to life. Then we could lie in our room, in our bed, holding each other, never wanting to wake up. Until our son and beautiful daughter call out to us…"

You lingered over the letter, reading it over and over, the soft paper cradled between your fingers. As you pressed your lips to the words he'd written, you could almost feel his warm fingers brushing against your skin. The familiarity of his handwriting wrapped around your heart like a soothing embrace. Determined to respond, you resolved to pour your heart into a letter of your own tomorrow. But for now, you knew you needed to gather your thoughts and find the right words, all while bracing yourself against the tears that threatened to spill.

It had been several days since you received Marcus's letter, and you were eager for any news from him. After nursing your little girl and ensuring she was sound asleep, you slowly descended the stairs. You heard some noises coming from outside and felt excited to see Cato—could he have brought news from Marcus? However, when you saw his expression, your excitement turned to worry and fear. You knew that something had happened, and you knew it couldn't be good.

“Cato?”

You felt a rush of concern as you noticed Decima was at his side. She dashed toward you, her body collapsing into your arms as sobs wracked her body, sending a jolt of anguish through your chest. You grasped her shoulders firmly, trying to soothe her.

“What’s wrong?”

Cato’s gaze fell to the ground, his eyes refusing to meet yours, as if too burdened by the weight of the news he carried.

“Speak, Cato! Tell me at once!” you urged, desperation creeping into your voice.

“My lady,” he began, his voice steady yet heavy with sorrow. “There was news this morning. Our navy… our fleet has come under attack by the Carthaginian navy in the Mediterranean. Many of our ships have been sunk, and we have been informed that the general and Sir Octavius's ship were among them.”

“We don't know the details yet. The legates and commanders who stayed in the city will convene with Emperor Geta today. An emergency meeting has been called.”

“Get my horse ready,” you murmured, urgency lacing your tone.

Cato blinked in surprise, hesitating. “My lady, forgive me, but now may not be the right time to go there—”

You silenced him with a fierce glare that brooked no argument.

“Now!” you commanded, your voice rising with an intensity that cut through the air like a clarion call, summoning the slaves into action.

Cato rode alongside you as you made your way up Palatine Hill. A sense of suspicion filled your mind; you were convinced that Marcus was still alive, and you believed there had to be a way to reach him. You grasped Unio's reins to bring her to a halt, she neighed loudly. You jumped down and noticed the guards looking at you in surprise, but you didn't pay them any attention. You rushed inside.

A few soldiers and guards were standing outside the great hall, and Cato ran to catch up with you as you moved toward the entrance. You walked between the soldiers and approached the door. The guards were taken aback to see you. They hesitated, unsure whether to open the door for you, as a meeting was taking place inside.

“Open the gate now!” you commanded.

“Did you not hear Lady Aurelia?” Cato snapped at them.

The guards looked at each other, but eventually, they opened the door for you.

As you entered, the first person you noticed was Commander Darius. Geta stood directly across from him. Centurion Varus was also present, along with two other men. They were all engrossed in a discussion about the map spread out before them. When they heard the door open, they all turned their heads toward you.

“Oh sister, the news must have reached you too,” Geta said worriedly.

Everyone in the hall greeted you, saying, “My Lady.”

You nodded to them and went straight to Geta's side. "Any recent news?"

"We're still waiting," he replied, his voice heavy with anxiety. "Also, we cling to the hope that the fleet will return soon."

You shook your head. "It'll take days."

"Seven days at least," Varus interjected, his tone grim. "The fleet may return without the general, and we haven’t heard from him yet."

You shot him a fierce glare, refusing to entertain his words. "What do you mean? He's not dead; my husband is still alive!"

"I hope so, my lady," Varus replied, his expression grave, "But we must prepare for every possible outcome and fortify the city against an impending assault. The general took nearly 30,000 troops with him, and our defenses were weak. I warned him that his strategy was flawed, but—"

"You know very well that my husband, General Acacius, has never faltered in any of his strategies," you protested, your voice trembling with emotion that surged within you like an approaching storm. "Something is amiss. Someone must have betrayed him; could it not be?"

Varus flashed a tense grin, his discomfort palpable in the charged atmosphere. "Regardless, we have no time to engage in such discussions. We must urgently select a new commander, a general, Your Majesty, to lead the troops that protect the city."

"The Council will convene tomorrow in an emergency session," you asserted, the weight of responsibility heavy upon your shoulders. "A decision will be reached then; the most seasoned commander will be chosen. For now, head to the barracks and send word to the navy. We must ascertain the general's condition once and for all."

"Yes, Your Highness," he replied, a formal salute snapping his posture straight before he exited the hall. As the door closed behind him, an uneasy feeling settled in your gut; you couldn't shake the unsettling way he had looked at you. You might be mistaken, but you feel he is somehow involved in this situation. But how? More importantly, if he is indeed involved, what might his next action be?

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your likes, comments and reblogs are soo important to me, and thank you for all support, love you all❤️

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#fanfic #fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal #pedro pascal gifs #pedro pascal fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #general marcus acacius #marcus acacius #gladiator ii #marcus acacius x oc #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x ofc #marcurelia #marcus acacius fanfiction #general acacius #pedro pascal gladiator #acacius #gladiator 2

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yandere-daydreams · 11 months ago

Text

Title: Intoxicated.

Pairing: Yandere!Fae King x Reader (OC).

Word Count: 1.0k.

TW: Non/Con -> Dub/Con, AFAB!Reader, Aphrodisiacs/Sex Pollen, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Unhealthy Relationships, Orgasm Denial, and Obsessive Behavior.

[Commissioned piece. Donate to Palestinians in Gaza here.]

His chambers reeked of honey and lavender.

A stark improvement when compared to the raw stench of sweating bodies and animal fervor that’d hung over the celebrations still raging on in his banquet hall, but strong thick enough to turn your stomach, still choking enough to leave your head spinning, your vision distorted and dark around the edges. A thick, lilac smoke clouded the air, courtesy of the herbs smoldering in jars of stained glass on a nearby windowsill – only adding to your current haziness. It went without saying that none of it, of course, was aided by the clever, slender fingers slowly drawing lazy circles into your clit, the stimulation too much to block out entirely but not nearly enough to bring you any real satisfaction. It was hard to be frustrated, though, when you considered who that stimulation was coming from.

Aisling had positioned himself behind you, propped against the ornate headboard of his almost comically oversized bed. Two long, hoofed legs stretched out on either side of you – flecks of golden pollen still dusted over his dark fur. His chest was bear and cool where it pressed into your back, and his unoccupied hand alternated between wrapping snuggly around your midriff and prying your thighs apart when they attempted in-vain to shut. His touch, like most other things about him, left much to be desired. You’d lost track of how long you’d spent here, how much time had passed since he carried you out of those wretched rituals his kind called revelries, but couldn’t have been any longer than a few minutes, even if it felt like a small eternity lapsed by every time you let your eyes droop shut. He prided himself on his adeptness in all things frivolous and pleasurable, and you couldn’t imagine him taking this long to bring you to climax.

“I’ve grown quite fond of your meekness, you know.” His voice was a deep rumble, less a string of words and more a prolonged, inflected purr. Cold lips ghosted over the curve of your ear, and his fingers found a new pattern; one with enough force behind to it make your head lull forward, a slight whimper slipping past your grit teeth as the loose knot in your core began to tighten. “At first, it was rather irking to realize I would never be able to make love to you under the light of the full moon to the accompaniment of my finest bards, but I think I’ve come to like how—” A quirk of his wrist, a strange crescent-like motion. You withered against him, your hips bucking stiltedly into his hand. “—reserved your kin tend to be. It feels more intimate, locking ourselves away like this. Like we share a common secret.”

That fucking smell. The sickening sweetness of it seemed to claw and tear at your lungs, to lodge itself in the hollows of your skull and send a warm, steady pulsing down the length of your spine with every slight movement of Aisling’s fingers. You let your eyes fall shut, your hands kneading at the silk of his sheets as the knot sitting in your core coiled ever-tighter, as you came so, so close to that—

As Aisling pulled away, his touch skirting over the inside of your thigh before forcing two fingers into the dripping entrance of your cunt. You couldn’t bite back the fractured whine that bubbled past your lips, arching your back as he spread and curled his digits inside of you. “Still,” he went on, sighing in mock-disappointment. “I feel like our relationship has been far from reciprocal, as of late. I do adore taking care of you, and I don’t mean to sound unthankful, but—” Another pause, another sigh. “I am beloved to all folks of the land and air, worshiped by the valleys and mountains alike, and dearest to all beings with the wisdom necessary to appreciate true beauty. Why is it that the one I cherish most so evidently detests my very existence?”

“Be—” A broken moan cut you off, draw out by a particular scissoring motion of his fingers. It was a fight to find your voice again. “Because you’re a fucking prick.”

“Your honeyed praises will have to wait, for now.” The heel of his palm ground into your clit, but the friction was too soft, too half-hearted to do anything. His lilac smoke seemed to claw its way down your throat and dislodge a pathetic string of whimpers and mewls, filling the new vacancy with a sort of… a sort of liquid heat, strong enough to leave you panting and hot enough to have you squirming against him, eager to get that much closer to his frigid body. Your desperation earned a melodic laugh from Aisling, a tender nuzzling of his cheek against yours. “Oh? Do you have something you’d like to ask for, little fawn?”

He forced a third finger into your terribly empty cunt, and something inside of you seemed to break open. “Please, Aisling, I—” You paused, gasped as his fingers curved against the clenching walls of your pussy. “I need to cum. I can’t take another—”

Whatever you might’ve said dissolved into a broken, pained moan as he drew back entirely, his slick-stained hand moving to your chin and tilting your head back, his lips finding your own before your shock could fade into hurt. Pointed, cat-like fangs burrowed into your bottom lip as his rough tongue laved over your own, the gesture less of a kiss and more of an attempt to permanently attach a part of him to a part of you. His taste was one of fresh fruit and sugared cream, and by the time he pulled away, you were panting, heaving, clambering to stay as close as him as you possibly could, to get as much from him as you possible could. Aisling only laughed as you rushed to straddle him, taking your face in both hands and pulling you into another long, lingering kiss – his mouth just as sweet as his poisons.

“Such a beautiful song,” he muttered, pulling back far enough to speak, but not leaving quite enough distance to disguise the crooked smile spread across his lips.

“Perhaps, by the time we’re finished, you’ll love me enough to deserve to.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere fae #yandere monster #yandere oneshot

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lionneee · 7 months ago

Text

Aemond is the Prince Regent

English is not my first language, be kind.

Masterlist

Taglist

•Warnings: incest, p in v, smut, oral (m), taking of sexual themes, smut, chocking, talking of wounds.•

OC!Aemond x Sister!Reader

He looked at the doors of the council room, just waiting for her to enter.

He was enraged.

He liked how everyone in the meeting seemed to be afraid of him.

Yet not everyone.

He was to be feared. He enjoyed the glances of horror of the people who looked at him as he walked in the keep.

Yet, he believed he could summon him, with haste.

Even more, due to his brother's decision, he had to put up with that toad.

He clenched his jaw as he looked at the doors opening.

Finally. Some peace.

“Brother.” Her voice sounded like a melody to his ears. Almost enough to seath his anger.

Almost.

She walked closer, calmly, keeping her hand clasped on her lap.

“You do not look… content.” She said as she walked closer, until she stood in front of him, laying back on the table.

“Mh.” He looked up at her, as he leaned back on his seat, his leg thrown over the other.

“You look quite comfortable on your chair.” She commented as she looked down at him. “Eman ryptan, ao might daor umbagon konīr syt bōsa. Īlva lēkia glaesagon se paghagon.”

-Yet I have heard, you might not stay there for long. Our brother lives and breathe.-

He sighed and looked away.

“Syt sir.”

-For now.-

“Kostā daor pryjagon zirȳla arlī.”

-You cannot strike him again.-

He looked back at her.

“Do you think I’ve summoned you here to tell me what I’ve already known, sister?” He hissed, annoyed by her pointing out the obvious.

He already knew that.

“No, I don’t.” She answered, taking his hand in hers, bringing it to her mouth to kiss it. He hummed in appreciation, looking how her lips pouted to kiss his skin, how soft they felt on his hand. He shifted in his chair, spreading his legs.

“Ao gīmigon skoros naejot gaomagon.”

-You know what to do.-

She looked at him through her lashes, then, without much hesitation, she knelt in front of him.

“They’re stressing you, brother?” She asked as she started palming him through his trousers, gently. He sighed as he let his head lean back, closing his eye.

“They listen. Most of them. Some still don’t respect my opinions. My choices.” He said as she slowly started to undo his trousers, pulling them down just enough to be able to slip a hand under his undergarments and take his cock in her soft hand, pulling it out in the light. Her mouth watered immediately at the sight. Thick and pale. She just had to move her hand a bit, to see it grow to all his longness.

“You’re always so ready for me, brother…” She mumbled as her gaze never left his cock. She darted out her tongue to lick his undershaft from the base to the end, wrapping her lips around his tip, sucking gently.

He groaned as he moved his hand on the back of her head, stroking her hair gently.

“Everything for my sweet sister.” He looked down at her, meeting her gaze full of lust and admiration. “Now take care of me.” He clenched his hand on her hair, pulling her down on his cock.

As much as he loved her, he was in no mood for gentle.

She immediately complied, taking his cock in her mouth, her tongue swirling around him as she moved her head up and down and in circles, keeping not a much fast speed, but focusing on the intensity of her movements.

Aemond’s body jerks at the contact of her tongue, a low, guttural moan escaping from his chest.

“Yeah... that feels so good." He grunted as he tightened even more his grip on her hair.

She hummed around him as she kept her hands on her back, sucking hard on him, moving her head up and down, her movements getting faster.

He moaned loudly, his head thrown back, his hand pulling on her hair instinctively

“You’re so damn good at that." he mutters, his voice thick and rough in pleasure. He pulled her off his cock for a moment, so he could bend down and look at her face, her chin already wet in saliva, her eyes seemed lost as she looked at him with a smile. He squeezed her jaw with his other hand, pulling her to his face so he could kiss her, feeling in her mouth his own taste. He grinned as he pulled back from the kiss, yanking her back down on his cock, that she greedily took again in her mouth, sucking and hollowing her cheeks, as his hand guided her movements now.

“Was my sister born to suck my cock? Mh?” He growled as he started to push her past her comfort level, pushing her head down enough to make her gag around him. She moved her hands up, wanting to put them on his thighs, but he quickly moved them away.

“Hands behind you. Don't make me repeat myself.” He warned her, watching her as she clasped her hands behind her, clenching them into tight fists as he kept using her mouth, pushing his cock as far as it could go.

He cared for his sister, he really did. Unlike their brother or their nephews, she had always been kind and sweet to him. She didn’t care if he was different.

“I am different too, you know?”

She whispered to him one night, after he had isolated himself in the library, humiliated once again by one of their nephews' jokes.

She had always taken care of him, way more than even their own mother did.

He still remembered how she ran to him, hearing about the fight at Driftmark. How she kept his hand in hers as she observed the Maester suing his eye.

He heard her chuckle ringing in the walls of his desert room.

He immediately froze, looking at her.

Not her too, please.

“Have you seen Luke’s face? It looked like a big dirty sack full of air.” She chuckled.

He remembered smiling at her foolish comment, her words, somehow, reassuring him that she would have always been by his side.

She had always been composed, intelligent and kind. Their brother once told him he would have rather marry her instead of Heleana, because she was prettier, easier to bed.

His control snapped all of the sudden.

She was his. His alone.

He pushed her head all the way down, until her lips touched the base of his cock, her nose pressed against his pubic bone, and the sound of gagging escaped her throat repeatedly.

“Suck it.” He growled. “I know you can do better sister, are you here to relieve me or enrage me even more?” He hissed as he bent down, closer to her head. She whined as she coughed around his cock, he could hear her choke, trying desperately to swallow around him as she tried to breathe through her nose.

He moaned as he let himself fall back on his chair, letting her rise lightly, but only to keep her and thrust his hips up, the tip touching the back of her throat repeatedly, making her whine every time.

“Sh-sh-shh…” He hummed as he kept thrusting up in her mouth, his movements quickly becoming more abandoned as he lost himself in the pleasure.

“Fuck— You’re gonna make me come, sister—“ He mumbled closing his eye shut. She moaned around him, the vibrations sending a shiver down his body, and she hollowed her cheek tightly, creating the perfect friction to make him tumble over the edge.

“Fuck— Seven Hells, swallow it— Don’t you dare waste a drop—“ He growled as he pushed his hips up, pulling her down. She whined loudly as her hands stayed behind her, taking all he gave him. He relaxed back on the chair, watching her raise his head the moment he retrieved his hand from it. She looked at him with her cheeks wet of tears, and chin of saliva, smiling as she showed her white painted tongue. He smiled down at her as he caressed her cheek, looking at her swallow.

“My sweet sister.” He praised as she leaned her face towards his hand, seeking attention like a purring cat.

She was scared to enter. She had heard from the Maesters that his brother's situation was delicate, cryptical.

She had only seen him when he returned from Rook’s Rest, still with his armor on, melted on his skin, clinging to him like the last thing he would have worn in his life.

Yet he lived.

She couldn’t tell what she was feeling at the moment. It was a mix of contradictory emotions.

She was… happy? That her brother was alive. She was anxious that he might remember, and ruin Aemond. She was angry, because he could have died and spared himself his life as a Futile King. She was scared of his condition. She was scared to not be able to look at him anymore.

Even more, she was scared to look at him, and despise Aemond for what he did.

She was sad. Because his brother was hurting.

She took a deep breath, walking in the King's chambers, finding her mother sitting not so far from the bed, and Aegon resting. She didn’t let herself linger too much on him.

She couldn’t yet.

“Mother.” She said, walking towards her. Her mother sighed as she looked at her, standing up to step closer.

“Did Aemond tell you anything?” She asked her.

“No, the Maester did.” She pointed to Aegon.

“No…” She sighed, looking to the side. “Not that, my girl.” Her mother looked down as her daughter’s gaze grew confused.

“Then what, mother?” She asked, intrigued.

To be fair, she and Aemond did not talk a lot when they met in the council room. Though she used her mouth a lot.

“He released my seat at the council.” Her mother admitted.

So he did it.

“I’m sorry, mother.” She simply said, looking down as well.

“You know Aemond.” Her mother stepped closer, putting a hand on her cheek to raise her head, to make her look at her. “You know him well, since childhood. You might know his pain better than I ever did-“ She grabbed her harm to pull her even closer. “Please. You must help him. This anger he keeps for the Blacks will only ruin us all.”

She looked at her mother for a long moment.

So that’s how she did it? She suddenly understood why Aemond couldn’t bear her anymore.

“I do not know much, mother.” She stepped aside. “And you know just as much that Aemond is not one to be… redirected.” She looked back at her. “Do you not trust his education better than Aegon’s?” Alicent stepped back, looking at her.

“Aemond might be well educated, but he’s young.”

“Just two years older than Aegon.” She pointed out, making her mother scoff.

“He is reckless. He is not plotting a war but a revenge. His revenge.” Her mother stepped closer again.

“Won’t that do us good? If his revenge will make us win the war, farewell.” She spoke calmly.

“Do us good?” She repeated, shaking her head. “We have to win a war, yes, but this- This is not-“

“Do you still care for the enemy, mother?” She interrupted her before she could say anything more. Her mother pressed her lips together.

“Your brother needs peace.” She simply said before walking out the room.

“Jace, stop!” She laughed out loud, rolling on the ground.

“Why do you want me to stop if you’re laughing so hard?” Jace chuckled as he sat over her, tickling repeatedly on her sides.

“Stop! My belly is hurting!” She kept laughing, trying to roll away from his hands, but to no avail.

“She said stop!” Suddenly, Jace disappeared from over her, she saw him on the ground, Aemond on top of him.

“Aemond-“ She mumbled as she moved her hand towards them. She got lifted up from her armpits from someone behind her. When she looked around she saw Aegon smiling down at her.

“Aegon? Why is Aemond hurting Jace?” She asked, arching her brows in confusion and concern.

“They are just boys, little one.” He raised his shoulders. “Let them have their fun.” He put his arm around her shoulders.

“Fun? Is that fun?” She asked as she looked back one last time before her brother walked her away from the garden, back inside the Red Keep.

“It’s their fun.” Aegon explained, as he guided her through the hallways that she still had trouble orienting herself in.

“I want to try that fun too!” She clapped her hand, looking up at Aegon as he smiled down at her.

“Then we’ll try, little one, I promise.” He assured her.

It took her a while, but then she moved in the room. She walked on the other side of the bed, raising her eyes slowly.

He looked…

She couldn’t find a word to describe it. She covered her mouth with her hands as she sat beside him.

“Brother—“ She sobbed, surprising herself with her tears.

Aegon slowly opened his eye, rolling it towards her.

“Brother—“ She grabbed his hand carefully, keeping it in hers.

She had plotted many times with Aemond behind Aegon’s back. They drew the perfect plan.

But it was never Aemond to hurt him. Always the blacks.

Al they would have done was… push him towards his death, carefully.

“I’m sorry—“ She whispered. She was overwhelmed. Fear, sadness, even betrayal. She knew Aemond hated his brother deeply, but never, never, she truly expected him to do something like this.

A pang on her stomach made her almost throw up.

Should she be scared? Should she fear Aemond too?

“I’m sorry, brother—“ She sobbed as she leaned down towards him, careful not to touch any of his wounds.

“L-lit-little o-one—“ She heard his weak, broken voice, almost a whisper, and it only saddened her more.

“I’m sorry-“ She sniffled “P-please-“ She mumbled as she looked back up at him.

She felt his hand squeeze her back.

She breathed in deeply, trying to compose herself again.

“D-do you remember…?” She asked weakly. She looked closely at him, she saw how his eye slightly widened.

Suddenly, all she felt was fear.

“No.”

Liar.

The doors opened, and she quickly pulled back, standing up from the bed and wiping her tears before facing whoever entered.

“Sister.” She looked at Aemond, staring down at her with a hard gaze, his voice venomous.

“Aem-“ She wanted to explain herself.

“Leave us. I’d like to have a word with our king.” He interrupted her as he looked away from her, his single eye focused on Aegon.

She looked back at Aegon one last time, seeing him still looking at her as she silently walked out.

She heard the door to her chamber open, but she didn’t even turn on her seat to know who it was.

“What were you doing with him?” His voice was calm, collected.

So he was very angry.

“Can’t I visit our wounded brother?” She answered as she finished brushing her hair, standing up from her vanity in only her thin nightgown.

He quickly caught her arm, looking up in annoyance as he pulled to him, staring down at her.

“You were crying.” He stated.

“He stank a lot.” She simply said, to cover her affection towards Aegon.

“You do not fool me, sister.” He breathed out a laugh.

She didn’t answer, she simply stared at him with a hard glare, but his amusement was quick to change. He gripped her arm tighter, as he pulled her even closer, their faces mere inches apart.

“We are in this together, remember?” He hissed angrily, walking forward, pushing her harshly back, making her step back towards her bed.

“Aemond stop-“ She warned, trying to free her arm.

“Stop? But you started this, remember?” He chuckled coldly. “So many years ago, you started this.” He repeated, as he threw her back on her back, making her land on the mattress with a gasp. “You don’t get to tell me no, now.” He crawled on top of her before she could move, sitting on her lap to keep her down. “Do you not love me anymore, sister?” He tilted his head to the side.

“Of course, I love you-“ She stated as she tried to slip away. He grabbed her hands and pinned them down the bed over her head.

“Then why all this struggle?” He asked mockingly as he raised her nightgown alway further, until her chest was exposed to him. “Why are you trying to move away?” He asked as his eye darted down on her tits, grabbing one in his hand, not so gently, and squeezing it. She whined as she kicked her feet, arching her back slightly.

“Shh… We can’t be loud here, sweet sister.” He hummed, as he removed his hand from her breast only to untie his pants, while the other kept down her wrists.

“Aemond—“

“Shut up.” He growled as he raised slightly only to pull his pants down enough to free his cock. He looked down at her tits as he slowly started to jerk himself, just enough to grow hard on her body.

“Just relax, sister.” He muttered, as he spread her legs with his knee, settling between her legs. He aligned his cock to her core, rubbing his tip over her clit only to see her squirm for his own pleasure, an amused smirk in his face. Then, he started to push inside her, even if she wasn’t wet enough to receive him, he kept pushing, making her squirm even more. “I’ll take care of you.” Said that, he spat down on his cock, thrusting inside her until her walls wrapped around him completely. He grunted lowly, opening his mouth at the pleasure of being finally inside her once again. Her tightness, her warmth welcoming him in the most delicious way.

“Gods, sister…” He breathed out as he looked down at her. “Why try to stop this-“ He begins to move his hips, his body driving into her with a slow and steady rhythm, as he pressed his forehead against her temple, looking down at her as her mouth opened, a string of moans coming out of her. “-If it makes you feel this good?” Aemond’s eye stayed fixed on her face, watching the expressions on her face as he moved against her. He could see the pleasure in her eyes, and the sounds she’s making only drive his need even higher.

He moves faster, each thrust driven by the primal need to take her, to keep her tightly on his side.

"You feel so good, sister.” His voice hoarse with need. “So perfect." He punctuated his words with particularly hard thrusts, his eye watching her reaction.

“Seven- Aemond—“ She cried out as she pressed her lips together, trying to contain every sound that threatened to come out too loud. He laughed at her struggle, kissing her cheek softly, a high contrast between what he was doing to her. His movements kept growing faster, rougher, delivering himself every time with a loud slap of skin and juices.

"You're so tight, sister," His voice ragged. "It's like you're trying to cling onto me, holding me inside you." He groaned as he felt her clench around him. “Oh, you already gonna come?” He grinned. “Did sucking my cock keep you on the edge all day, sweet thing?” He leaned closer to her ear. “How much more until you start begging?” He continued to move, his pace getting more intense, his body rubbing against hers, his hands gripping her hip tightly.

“Oh— Gods, Aemond—“ She moaned as she panted. “You feel so good-“ She whined as she bent her legs, widening them more as she looked down, seeing how his cock was abusing her cunt repeatedly.

He let out a low, guttural moan at her words, her sounds driving him wild. "You feel so good like this... so tight—" He growled, the sound coming out feral and primal, his body pushing against hers with increasing force.

"Aemond- Brother I— Lēkia!”

-Brother!- She arched her back violently, her body starting to shake all over as he felt her clench on him tightly. She could feel herself on the edge, the tension in her body ready to snap.

“Come for me, sweet sister. Māzigon syt issa.”

-Come for me.- He ordered, moving his hand from her wrists to her neck, squeezing tightly, and that, did it for her. She clenched her jaw tightly as she came around him with a high pitched scream, her hips jerking against his, her body tensing and relaxing by the force of her orgasm.

He gripped her hip tightly, the feeling of her coming apart beneath him sending a wave of satisfaction and possession through his body. "Yes— gods." He groaned in her ear, his body responding to the intensity of her orgasm, his own release close behind.

"I-I'm close-" he gasped out, his body moving against her with a frantic, desperate fervor.

"Gods, you're going to make me—ah-" His words were cut off as he lost control, his body tensing and shuddering as he pulled out at the last moment, keeping his hand on her throat as he quickly wrapped the other one around his cock, jerking himself furiously, drops of his sperm falling down on her stomach, tits , and a few even in her face.

He buried his head in your neck, his body trembling with the intensity of his orgasm, his hands gripping your body tightly as he rode out the waves of pleasure. "Mine. Mine. You stay on my side. You stay with me.”

Taglist: @ka1afbr @cynic-spirit @ladythornofrivia @zenka69 @queenofthekeep @adorewhatever @diannnnsss @kotadislikesthissite @iloveallmyboys @valyrianflower @dixie-elocin @gelacat0413 @quinquinquincy @mamawiggers1980 @darylandbethfanforever9 @rhaethoughts @believeinthefireflies95

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reverieblondie · 2 months ago

Note

I already sent this thought to someone, but I think you might like it, too!

Tiefling bachelors accidentally scratching up the surfaces they were bracing their hands on while engaged in a moment of carnal passion with his partner, like not small superficial scratches, I mean his claws left gouge marks. Imagine he is all nervous/embarrassed about it only for his partner to inform him that is actually incredibly hot.

I look forward to seeing your thoughts (if you desire to share them).

A/N: This took me forever! But I loved every second it was so fun! these scenario ones are always my favorites! I love love the Tiefling bachelors but I wanted to add some of my moots OCs that I love. We have Kieran from @dark-and-kawaii wonderful mind (thank you for the screenshot and thank you for making this man I am obsessed!) We also have Syvaris who I instantly fell for when I saw him on the discord server made by @tealfling (He is so dreamy and I am so happy for @faerunsbest oc Dwylla for snatching up that tall man, also thank you for the photo to use!) Hope you enjoy its all 18+! MDNI!

Rolan

"Your... A- Ah~ Annoying, you know that?" Rolan growls in your ear as his claws dig into the sides of your thighs. All you can manage is a breathy giggle that turns into a whine as he pushes into your wet core deeper. The ridges stretch you as he sinks deeper, Rolan's brows are furrowed, and his eyes shut tight as he feels you clench on his cock like a vise. "So…so… tight… per-perfect," his voice mumbles as he gets lost in the feeling. This is a far cry from how he was acting earlier, you had been bothering him all day with countless pointless questions, touching his arms and hands, then acting oh so innocent about it. The last straw had been when you barged into his office and sat on his desk, hiking up your dress to show just a teasing hint of your thighs, of course, in an effort to interrupt his oh-so-important studies. Rolan was definitely taking out some built up frustrations when he finally broke. Grabbing you by your waist, Rolan pushes you down on the desk and finally kisses you; it is desperate, hungry, and completely perfect. You didn't think Rolan was ever going to stop kissing you, not until he started talking about how you drive him crazy. Now, here you lay back on the desk as Rolan's long nails scratch his oak desk, and he ruts in, bouncing you to take an inch deeper with every thrust. The pleasure of the stretch is overwhelming, and then there's the sight of him over you, his golden eyes shining, and the way his hair hangs down; he is completely enthralling. You should have bothered him to this point months ago... "Rolan... you're perfect." Your sweet praise rings in Rolan's ears, making him scratch his nails deeper down his desk. You feel his tail thrashing around till it's gripping your leg like a vice; all you can keep doing is gripping his tough skin, singing his praises, making his cock throb, and you too keen further. Rolan, fueled by your praise, loses himself in you as he lifts his foot on top of the desk angling his cock to hit against your G-spot in mind-numbing bliss. Rolan's own praise continues to switch from common to infernal as he desperately chases both of your orgasms. He's been pinning for months, and now that he has you, he's desperate to please you. When he finally pushes you to that edge, it's intense. Once you have both come down from your orgasms, Rolan's face is flushed from more than just the 'workout.' He's avoiding eye contact even as you try to ask him what the matter is. "Was it me?" you finally muster as you feel your chest sinking. Rolan turns to you quickly, holding your naked body close to his, "It's me… I was… unhinged… you probably-" you cover his mouth with your fingers, causing him to become quiet, "You were perfect… Rolan, truly perfect." Rolan looks at his sharp nails and ruined desk, "It didn't scare you?" You lean in closer to his lips, "Only excites me…"

Hours later, Lia brought up Rolan a late dinner (considering he had missed it earlier doing whatever). When she knocked on the door, she could have sworn she had heard hissing whispers and something being shoved. Rolan answers the door out of breath but uncharacteristically cheerful; it was suspicious... Lia looks around and sees large gashes on his desk and on his study walls. "What happened here?" She says, placing the tray down on the ruined desk; Rolan stumbles about clearing his throat till picking up a tome (one of many on the floor), "I was working on a difficult spell." Lia looks around, "I guess it's one hell of a spell…" Before she can further look around, Rolan is thanking her for the food and pushing her out. Must be very eager to get back to his work…

Zevlor

The first thing he asked you when you came into the storage room was if anyone saw you sneak in after him. The Second question he asked you as he walked towards you from the darkness, his fiery eyes locked on yours, was if you could keep quiet." Of course "was what you promised Zevlor, and of course, at that time, you had meant it… but now that your legs are wrapped around his textured waist and his thick cock is ramming in and out of you, bouncing you against the supply shelf, you're finding it difficult not to scream his name. Zevlor is also finding it equally as difficult not to moan your name as yours as you take him in so well, your tight warmth practically sucking him in deeper as your slick walls flutter around him. Your nails bite into his shoulders with every roll of his hips. Zevlors breath is hot and heavy against your neck, his teeth threatening to bite your delicate skin as he presses sloppy kisses against you. It all just riles you up more, rolling your hips to meet his thrust pushing his hot cock to sink in deeper, nudging that sensitive spot in your cunt, forcing you to see stars. A deep groan rips from Zevlors throat as your cunt quivers on his cock with a rush of your arousal squirting onto his abdomen. In an attempt to keep himself quiet, he bites into your skin while his hands claw up and tear at the supply shelves, even forcing some things to fall and crash to the ground as his hips move erratically to chase his high. Later, he will embarrassingly apologize for acting like an animal, but you just kiss his lips and say you want to see that passion again.

You're trying not to blush as the rest of the caravan's refugees look at the ruined shelves and materials marked by claws. When Zevlor finally shows up from being called, he gives a simple answer: "Animals must have gotten in and messed around," he says, trying to hide his smile. You promised that your rondeau tonight would happen outside the grove so you could be as loud as you like.

Cal

You could have had anyone you wanted at the party; as the hero of the hour, everyone was trying to catch your attention, but you picked him out, and Cal couldn't be happier. Cal almost feels like he can't breathe as you kiss his neck before running your tongue over his ears. You giggle as his tail twists and sways erratically, his clawed hands holding tightly onto your bedroll, carefully trying not to rip it. Cals is trying so hard not to lose control, but little does he know that's exactly what you're after. Cal has always been so sweet and strong… All you want him to do is to let go and finally release all that built-up tension. So after much soft teasing with sweet whispered desires, you reward when Cal finally snaps, taking you in his arms and kissing you like he's never going to see you again. You, of course, were soft to start… but your want can make you ravenous as Cal's hands ran over your body; of course, it led to you stripping him in a fever, eager to feel his hot hands all over your skin, caressing your sides, teasing your inner thighs, and twisting your breast… You just couldn't help it anymore when you finally pushed him down to sink onto his girth. Cal's clawed hands rip fistfuls of your bedroll apart as you bounce on his cock; he eagerly matches your pace with his hips ramming up into your wet cunt, making your eyes roll in ecstasy. Your sweet Cal looks up at you with half-lidded eyes concentrating on your pleasure, he wants to please you, and when you bring his hand to circle your clit he's in bliss. Your cunt clenches down harder on his thick cock, making a growl rip from his throat as he tries not to cum too quickly. But then you start begging… begging for him to cum inside and claim you as his. With a moan and a loud tear, you feel him cum in hot spurts that make you desperate for more of him. Later, Cal will be so embarrassed and nervous about ripping up your bedroll; of course, he offers to give you his, but you just smirk, "I don't mind it all ripped up; it's a good reminder of you for the road."

The next day, as you're packing up your things, still feeling quite melancholy about the tiefling departure, you're about to pack up your ruined bedroll when a clearing of a throat causes you to turn. It's Halsin, and in his hands, he has a bedroll. You look at him confused, and he just smiles. "Heard from a blushing young man that you needed a new one." Of course, Cal wouldn't leave you with a ruined one. During your small reverie of thinking about Cal, Astarion walks past with a smirk, "Hope it's claw proof, that or get that teif some claw covers for next time."

Dammon

His forked tongue licks at your dripping sweat as it rolls down your throat. Dammon pins you against the back wall as one hand holds your hips as the other keeps him steady leaning you both steady. His weight presses against your body as his thick cock stretches you open. Your hands and legs wrap tightly around him as he fucks you in the back of the forge. You had been so needy and couldn't wait for him to take you upstairs, you needed him now. So thus leading to you two tangled together in the back of the shop. You're both nude and sweating as the forge fire roars. As you chant his name Dammons pace gets rougher, his cock slamming in so deep you begin to see stars. Feeling your tight warmth starting to clench on his cock has his mind going blank. First, you feel his sharp nails on your hip pierce your skin, then you hear the scratching down the stone wall as his hips get faster, the pace getting sloppier but never relenting. Dammon always knows how to give you exactly where you need it every time. His breathing is rough and shallow in your ear before he lets out a dark growl, "Cum on my cock. So I can fucking fill you..." Dammon is rarely so demanding, but you just can't help yourself when he is. Dammon comes to bed later rather quietly… when you ask him about it, he says he's embarrassed for getting so rough, when will he learn that's your favorite…

The customer looks at the back of the forge's wall, tilting his head at the scratches all over the stones. "What happened to your back wall?" Dammon flushes, stammering before you come and place a hand on the small at his back, calming him. "Just your typical late night at the forge. Nothing to worry about."

Kieran

He smiles down at your blissed-out face, "Feels good, doesn't it, bunny?" All you can manage to do is to open your mouth and whine as his cock keeps punching against your cervix, brushing your smooth, slick walls with the hard ridges of his cock. Kieran smirks down at you, so malleable for him; he hicks your legs up further, forcing your knees up to your face, successfully folding you in half. "You're so full you can't even think right now, huh?" You urge yourself to answer, but with the added heat of his body slamming onto you is leaving you in a lustful daze. You end up just grabbing his shoulders, digging your nails further into his flesh, practically threatening to make him bleed, "Please…" Your pleading is music to his ears as he pounds you harder, his nails not only ripping through the wooden headboard but ripping your skin in the process. The sharp feeling is quickly dulling into toe-curling pleasure as Kieran continues to fuck you at a rough pace. "Please… Please!" you continue to breathe as you quench down on his cock, causing him to groan in your ear, "Oh bunny, you don't even know what you're begging for, do you?" Kieran rolls his hips at an agonizingly slow pace making your eyes cross as his tail finds your clit. "What would your boyfriend think of you now? Begging like a whore for another man's cock in his bed nonetheless…" you hardly hear his taunting words as you cling to him, babbling as his nails continue to carve into you; if you didn't know any better, you would think he's carving his initials… "poor bastard just didn't know how to treat you…" Kieran grabs your hips and starts to bounce you in his cock, smiling at how you come undone for him so easily. Honestly, Kieran is not remorseful in the least for scratching everything up.

Your boyfriend stumbles into your shared bedroom and pauses when he sees the bed broken and everything else he owns ripped to shreds. He looks around, perplexed until he sees a letter waiting on the broken nightstand. "Sorry about the bed. Try finding something more durable. Also, I took the girl." - K.E.

Syvaris

Syvaris was just expecting to take a nice refreshing dip… but he hadn't expected to be interrupted during his wash in the river. Syvaris had a feeling he was being watched, it was only confirmed when he stopped his meditation to see you peeking at him from behind a tree. You, the same sweet little thing he had helped save earlier that day spying on him…, and he couldn't find it in himself to mind, especially when it's someone so pretty like you acting so naughty. All Syvaris had to do was wave his hand to beckon you closer, "care to join me?" was all he said to get you to strip bare for him and join him in the crisp waters. It was clear you were wanting this just like he was. The coolness of the water made you feel a shiver throughout your body; it was short-lived. However, as you swam closer, he wrapped his warm arms around you, bringing you to his lap. Syvaris chuckled as he let you roam your hands over his wide chest. A passionate make-out followed where he prepped you with his long fingers in your wet cunt. The next thing you knew in the lust-filled blur was him having switched your positions to have your back pushed against a rock as he stretched your cunt taut, and he sunk into your warmth. Syvaris seemed determined to ruin you for any man after him with the way he rammed into you. Syvaris continued to shower you in praise as his lips caressed your sweat-laced skin, and with every kiss, every whisper, every thrust that threatened to go straight to your womb, your pussy fluttered and gripped him like a vise. Such a sweet little thing… he promises to come back for you when his journey is over, but for now he wants to stay in this moment for as long as he can, holding tight to you as he digs his claws into the rock holding you as he fills you with his cum. You won't be able to forget him… especially not when you're going to be leaking him for days…

You are stuck in your reverie as you look out into the cool waters. You were meant to be down here to wash laundry in the stream, but when you look in the distance, you see that same place where you shared your night with your hero. Syvaris had left with a promise to return, and you knew deep down it was true… but you still worried…. "Are those bear scratches?" one of the girls with her own basket says in shock, part of you has half a mind to confess… but you keep Syvaris and your secret tight to your chest.

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saturnville · 8 days ago

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for me, baby | kelvin harrison jr.

pairing: kelvin harrison jr x black fem oc summary: in which she flips the switch. warnings: 18+ steam. suggestive content. wc: 770 something. an: one of my goals as a writer was to enhance my detail, so I challenged myself to put as much as possible within a certain word limit. hope y'all enjoy. may or may not continue this based on reception <3 remember: likes are nice, but reblogs and comments are encouraged!

tags: @kirayuki22 @greedyjudge2 @notapradagurl7 @irishmanwhore @honeytoffee @theogbadbitch @jazziejax @kumkaniudaku

"Be a good boy and say it for me, baby."

The words coiled around his spine, wound tight like a violin tuned too sharp. She’d never spoken to him like this before. Not with that voice—low, deliberate, dripping with something too smooth to be an accident. Her sweet voice was replaced by something much darker, sensual, and commanding.

He should’ve responded. He was quick-witted and always had a rebuttal, but for the first time, his mouth felt heavy and useless. His brain couldn’t compute a response no matter how hard the nuts and bolts fought to assist the gears in turning.

He squirmed under her gaze. Those pretty eyes he had fallen in love with had done more than crack the cacoons that held the butterflies still in his stomach—no, they commanded a war that stirred his loins in a way he’d never experienced before. It was a delicious disruption of the status quo.

She had always been the soft one. The one who let him lead, guide, and direct; she let him dictate the rhythm of their push and pull. And yet, here she stood—calm and expectant as if she hadn’t taken Poseidon’s trident and wielded the tides so effortlessly, tilting the balance of power with a single sentence.

His fingers twitched at his sides. There was an ache in his joints, a slow burn that grew hotter when she took a measured step closer. Close enough for him to smell the arousal between her legs. Close enough to feel the warmth of her breath fan across his jaw, which fell slack to make room for a shuddered breath to pass through.

His pulse stumbled. Her eyes followed the thump, thump, thump that presented itself beneath his exposed collarbone. And she smiled—heaven help him—the smile that would have him handing her his wallet and telling her to swipe his card whenever and wherever. But it wasn’t innocent. Not sweet. Borderline rude if he had to admit it. She planned it.

His teeth found his bottom lip, dragging across it as he exhaled slowly and shaky. “Where are you going with this?” He murmured, though his voice lacked its usual tenor and conviction.

She tilted her head slightly, considering him. Her hair draped over her shoulder as she took another calculated step toward him. She lifted a single hand with excruciating patience and ran her fingers down his chest. They fell at his belt, clutched the leather, and fingered around the buckle.

He was lost. Completely and utterly lost.

It was no longer her words but how she looked at him. She got under his skin with the most straightforward look. Her long eyelashes, which guarded doe-like brown eyes, brushed against the high points of her cheeks. And those lips, wet from the tongue he deeply desired to feel against his skin, begged for his on hers. His pride warred with his curiosity. With his intrigue. With the way his body betrayed him, answering her before he opened his mouth.

Her fingers skillfully slid along his buckle, loosening it just enough to allow her hand to slide in the space between his abdomen and waistband. She threw a leg over his, her throbbing center settling above his. He fought hard to contain any sounds, but a measly whimper passed by his lips and ascended to her ears, fueling the newly inflated ego she displayed.

She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his ear, tracing her tongue around its shell before nibbling on the tip. Kelvin’s head fell back, and a rush of wind escaped him. “Say it,” she whispered again. He exhaled sharply through his nose, tongue dragging over his bottom lip as he swallowed the lump in his throat. His hands slowly crept up her thighs, but she pushed them away with a heavy hand. "Good boys get to touch. All you gotta do is say it for me, and you can have me any way you want, baby."

His stomach clenched deliciously. His instinct was to push back, reclaim the control that seemed to wane rapidly and remind her of who set the pace between them. She gave him nothing to work with—no space to flip the script—just a slow, steady pressure of her expectation.

He was almost humiliated at how easily she had him on edge. Was this how she felt when he toyed with her until she was a withering, blubbering mess beneath him? He must have been a fantastic teacher if she had learned to subdue him with nothing more than a single well-placed touch.

It was barely above a whisper, but when the word left his mouth, she smiled in full—slow, wicked, victorious like she’d won something big.

“Please. I wanna feel you.”

Because she did.

#saturnville #black!reader #black reader #kelvin harrison jr. smut #kelvin harrison jr. x reader #kelvin harrison jr.#kelvin harrison jr. x black reader #kelvin harrison jr. x black oc #saturnvillewrites

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eclipseiz · 2 months ago

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The Gladiator PT.2 18+

Part One

pairing- hanno/lucius x fem! oc 1790 words

(♡ synopsis)- general acacius's daughter became intrigued by the violent gladiator she saw perform in the games and just had to meet him. (lucilla is not her mother)

warnings- p in v, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), fingering

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Sabina quietly moved around the pillars of her home, careful not to make a sound but gave up when she saw Lucilla sitting on the edge of the fountain dipping her fingers into the water.

Sabina walked forward and removed her hood, “I hope you were not waiting for me.”

Lucilla softly gasped and turned to face the young girl. “I didn't see you in your chamber. I waited for your return.” she stood

Lucilla’s eyes looked watery and Sabina took note of how her hands shook, “What is troubling you?”

The older blonde smoothed out her wrinkly dress and took a deep breath before responding, “That gladiator he did something that made me reminisce of a memory long ago.” she paused and brought her bundle of herbs to her nose smelling for comfort, “It's him Sabina, it's my boy, my Lucius.” she gave a teary smile.

Sabina couldn't believe what she was hearing. The man whom she just had sex with was her step-mothers long lost son. She had heard tales of the boy ever since Marcus married the woman. “And you're sure of this?” she reached for the woman's hands.

“He has those same bright blue eyes I remember and he performed just as his father would have.” she sobbed, “Your father and I have created a plan to free him.” she looked around before continuing, “Marcus shall move into the gladiator quarter with a select group of trusted soldiers.”

The General's daughter took the information in and nodded, “Sounds of a solid plan.” she backed up taking in all of the information she had received.

“Where did you run off to tonight?” Lucilla asking with furrowed brows.

Sabina bit her cheek, “Ravi asked for my assistance after the games, I didn't want to keep him waiting.”

Lucilla smiled, “I'm sure.” she said in a taunting tone before pinching the girls cheek, “Sleep asks of me, I will see you in the morning.” Bidding the girl a good-night she disappeared into a dark hallway making Sabina let out a relieved sigh, thankful for her not prying.

A short few days later Sabina sat to Lucilla’s right in the colosseum for yet another day of games. She nervously looked at the water containing bloody thirsty sharks.

“Today will be an entertaining game.” Geta smiled proud of his idea, bringing a goblet of wine to his lips

Caracalla’s laugh boomed out, “That it will brother.” his eyes moved behind him to the General's daughter. “Sabina, come sit next to me, keep your emperor company.”

Her eyes shot up to him before moving her eyes to her father who only gave her a silent nod not to disobey the mentally unwell man. “It'll be my honor.” She took the seat next to him and almost immediately he threw an arm around her shoulder bringing her in close.

The Roman people watched in excitement and nerves as Hanno was announced, coming out on a boat. Sabina sat straight up, curtly clapping in support.

Lucius moved around the back of the boat shouting orders at his men to take the other boat out, fighting his eyes who only seemed to be focused on the emperor's box where a certain woman resided.

Sabina nervously shook her leg as she watched the two boats crash into each other. Ignoring the howling emperor's next to her. Caracalla turned his attention to her and leaned his lips to her ear. “You do not look entertained. Do your emperors not put on a good show for you?” he questioned with fury burning in his gaze.

She fought to roll her eyes, “My features cannot express the astonishment I feel.” she answered in a clipped, sarcastic tone..

Before she could blink Caracalla landed a sharp slap to her cheek, “Do not answer in such a tone!” Behind them Lucila gasped while Marcus gripped his chair tighter.

Lucius heard the commotion and looked up to see the red mark now plastered on Sabina and the emperor yelling in her face. His blood began to boil and before he knew it he grabbed the bow in front of him and aimed his shot at the pale emperor, letting go of the arrow.

Sabina watched as a stray arrow shot into the booth, planting itself into the wood pillar, mere inches from Caracalla’s head, “PRAETORIANS!” Geta yelled for his guard who swarmed into the booth.

The girl looked towards the center of the ring and saw the gladiator throwing the bow back down before giving her a nod and returning to fighting.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

After sneaking out of the panicked crowd Sabina made her way to the holding cells. She entered and made it to stand in front of Ravi, “May you?” she gestured to the locked cell which contained her gladiator

The older man gave her a sly smile, “To what does he owe your company.” He got up and maneuvered his keys to the correct one and pushed it into the hole on the door.

Sabina only blushed and gave him a curt nod after he had opened the door for her. Lucius sat at his desk, back to her. She didn't say anything until she heard the door lock being her.

“Marvelous job today, almost assassinating the emperor was by far the best part.” she joked and put her hands on his shoulders before moving them to his chest making him lean his toned back into her legs.

Lucius grunted, “He should not have put his hands on you in the matter in which he did.” He turned his head to face her looking at the red mark that only had seemed to get worse.

“All is well, it'll fade.” Sabina moved around him to place herself in his lap, “Should I call you Hanno or Lucius?”

The gladiator let out an airy laugh rubbing his eyes. Hearing his birth given name come from her lips felt right. “Let's try Lucius out, hm?” Suddenly without warning he swung Sabina’s leg over his lap and had her straddling him.

The girl softly gasped, holding his shoulders for support. “Eager are we?” she joked, lightly grinding on his hardening cock.

“You looked like a goddess sitting up there. I could hardly contain myself.” he gritted his teeth and pulled her closer to him by her waist. “What do you want my beautiful girl?”

Sabina softly gasped, “Your mouth, fingers, anything please.”

Lucius chuckled, “How about both.” He lifted her up with ease onto the desk and spread her legs open before him revealing her bare cunt, dripping with arousal. “You came bare?” he darkly asked, swiping his fingers over the wet mess.

“Unneeded layers.” she answered with hooded eyes, arms propped up behind her to see what intend to do.

The gladiator hummed and lowered his lips to pamper kisses along her thigh, making her let out a soft groan. “Who do you belong to Sabina? Say it.”

“You Lucius, only you.” she groaned, letting her head roll back.

His lips continued their fiery trail up to her cunt, bringing his fingers to toy with her entrance. Her clit swollen and thumming with need. He pushed one finger slowly in and began to pump it while he took her bud into his mouth softly sucking it. Sabina’s fingers made their way to his head where she gripped his hair for dear life. Arousal gushed out of her, dripping from his finger to his wrist before falling onto the desk under her. “Ready for another?” he questioned in a teasing tone.

She covered her mouth and nodded, not trusting herself to stay quiet with the way he was playing with her. Lucius added another finger curling them into her and attaching his mouth to her puffy clit, savoring the flavor. She tried closing her legs at the overwhelming pressure building up but his strong rough arms held them agaisnt the wood.

Just as she was about to let go he pulled away with a smirk, “As i've said..” he trailed off and stood getting his hard cock from under his loincloth giving it a few pumps, “You shall only come on my cock.” Grabbing her thighs he pulled her to the edge of the desk and lined up with her entrance and pushed in with one single thrust, covering Sabinas mouth simultaneously. Her legs wrapped around his middle while his other hand went to her neck adding pressure to it.

She moaned agaisnt his hand, nails raking down his musical arms, trailing the veins that lined them lie threads, “You like being fucked like a whore? My personal whore who congratulates me after a fight…” He looked down where he thrusted in and out of her and watched her juiced coat his pubic area. “Want to cum?” she nodded feverishly, eyes locked onto him.

He let go of her neck and rubbed her clit with his thumb, "Cum on my cock beautiful, you can do it.” she squeezed him with vice grip making him spill deep into her. He took a moment to catch his breath before pulling out of her with a wince.

Sabina held the hand he had over her mouth, kissing it before he pulled it back. “You continue to surprise me with your skills.” she said breathlessly sitting up.

Lucius smiled and stepped between her legs, cradling her face. “When I find myself to be free of this place…I'd like you to run with me. Anywhere you'd like.”

Her jaw dropped a little before regaining her composure, “My whole life is planted in Rome. To leave would be betraying my family. I cannot leave my father and Lucilla to fend for themselves.” she watched this disappointment flood his face.

He nodded, “I understand.”

Suddenly Ravi came to the cell door and hit it lightly with the key, “Something has happened Sabina you need to go now!” he whispered harshly.

The pair shared a look before she stood and walked out of the cell, watching as Ravi locked Lucius back in. “The plan?”

Ravi gave her a grave look, “Your father and his men were blitz attacked. He was caught…Lucilla as well from what the whispers have said.”

Sabina gasped and the gladiator behind the cell door gripped the bars, “What does that mean, what are you both whispering of?”

She rushed to the door and wrapped her hands around his, “I'm afraid something horrible has occurred I have to go.” she kissed him before rushing out of the chamber, pulling her hood up.

Lucius watched as she ran before turning to Ravi with a questioning gaze.

The doctor kept his head down, “I suggest you sleep Lucius. You will need it for what the morning brings.”

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

part 3?

Reblog and Like ♡

also just saw the movie for a 3rd time…

#gladiator smut #lucius verus smut #emperor geta x reader #lucius verus fic #carcalla #gladiator #gladiator ii #gladiator movie #marcus acacius #gladiator 2 #gladiator 2 smut #Spotify

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aziawow · 4 months ago

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now that we're here... (benny weir x f!reader) nsfw, 6.6k words

summary: in the heat of the moment, you and benny sleep together. you don't even kiss. a devilish plot (and teenage awkwardness) keeps you from talking to him about that night. the solution, however, might just be part of the very thing you're avoiding.

warnings: nsfw, loss of virginity, unprotected sex (DO NOT EVER HAVE UNPROTECTED SEX!!! USE A CONDOM EVERY SINGLE TIME!!!), implied reader isn't a virgin, blood, language, devil mention, implied animal abuse, death (of ocs), panic attack. if there are any other warnings please let me know so i can add

notes: no use of y/n, she/her reader, can also double as a rory x platonic!reader bc they're such besties. this fic is so fun pls give it a read!

You’re not entirely sure how it happens. Seriously. Yes, you’re super ultra mega attracted to Benny, but you never expected this to happen, especially as suddenly as it did.

You’re a planner, extremely detail oriented, and you’re almost never taken by surprise. Impulsivity isn’t you, it’s Benny. So what made you throw caution into the wind and do this?

You’re not even together; you didn’t even kiss.

Suffice to say, you’re freaking the fuck out.

***

You and Benny are chilling together, watching a movie on his bed. It’s rare for you two to be alone, but Ethan had to help his parents with whatever, Rory was doing whatever Rory does, and Sarah and Erica were having fun in town. They invited you, but with the supernatural craziness of the last few days, you just wanted a quiet night in for once.

Years of familiarity resulted in you and Benny being pretty comfortable with each other, so you were cuddled together, you mostly on top of Benny while you both made fun of the movie and stuffed your faces with popcorn.

You think it happens because you got thirsty.

One second you’re reaching across Benny to grab your drink, then another has Benny hissing through his teeth and grabbing you. He held you still, and you glanced up.

His eyes were squeezed shut, and a peculiar red flush adorned his face. His breathing was quickened, and he was practically shaking.

Startled by his behavior, you sat up, still half on his lap and completely oblivious.

“Benny, what’s wrong?” You place the back of your hand on his cheek, thinking he might have a temperature. Hot, but not feverish. You scoot forward a little to reach his forehead, and Benny gasps.

“Please,” he strains, “stop moving.”

Your eyebrows knit together. He was making no sense. “What…”

Then, you feel it.

Your leg was brushing against his very prominent, very hard, erection.

“Oh,” you gulp.

Benny’s eyes spring open, his mouth starts to move, but he can’t seem to say anything. You know he’d try to shrug this off, tell you it’ll go away, and apologize to lessen the sheer awkwardness of the moment.

You don’t want him to.

His lips are parted, panting quietly, face blushing the prettiest red you’ve ever seen, skin sheening with sweat, and his eyes? One part horrified and the other completely and utterly aroused.

You really don’t want to waste this moment.

Without thinking, you place a hand on his upper thigh. Firm enough to not get lost in translation but gentle so he could brush you away if he didn’t want this after all.

Your eyes meet, confusion and hope and desperation swimming in his. Slowly, you slide your hand upward, waiting for him to swat you away.

He doesn’t.

When you reach his front, you apply pressure and palm him through his pants.

Benny groans delectably, and his eyes roll to the back of his head.

You can feel yourself get wet at his reaction, the burn between your legs throbbing as the seconds pass. The fact that one little touch from you elicits a response like this makes your veins rush with power.

Then, he moans your name.

You’re done playing. You unzip his jeans and push them down. Benny, who has all but collapsed on his pillows, eagerly helps you slip the rest of it off.

You climb on him again, fully this time, and take him into your hands. You pump him a few times, having to wet your hands with your spit. He’s shaking under you, making these small pathetic noises that have you grinding on his thigh.

He’s lasting for a lot longer than you expect a teenage boy to, especially a virgin.

Benny surprises you yet again by sitting up abruptly, and you let him go. He takes his shirt off, and when it’s discarded somewhere on his messy floor, he presses your foreheads together, mouths breathing into each other but not quite touching.

His hands play with the hem of your shirt.

“Benny,” you moan, when his fingers disappear under the fabric and press against your hot skin.

“Can I take this off?” He asks, throat raspy and deep. You nod at him, and your top joins his on the floor before you can blink.

Your hands roam each other’s bodies, just feeling and squeezing. Benny nuzzles your neck and collarbones, pressing kisses and leaving nips here and there. You grip his hair and pull, feeling the whine of pleasure Benny lets out against your skin.

After a few moments of this, you realize Benny is nearly naked, and you still have your pants on. You pull away from him and sit up higher on your knees. When Benny realizes your next course of action, he wastes no time in helping you rid yourself from your pants, and when they’re gone, he grabs a handful of your ass and blinks up at you, wide and ready.

You reach behind your back and unhook your bra, peeling it off slowly, almost painfully so, for Benny. You toss it aside, and all he can do is stare.

You reach for his hands and place them on your breasts. When he starts to feel you up and squeeze, you throw your head back and keen at the sensation.

“Fuck,” you gasp. You look down at Benny, and he’s peering up at you through his dark lashes with nothing but want behind his eyes. Instinctively, you pull his head to your chest, and your pleasure multiplies when Benny immediately starts licking and sucking and kissing you all over.

Your legs are delightfully weak at this point, so you push Benny back down on the sheets and fall on top of him. You’re still touching each other and it feels like he’s become a second skin. You hardly register his hand going further down until it rests on your lower abdomen, toying with your panty line.

“Can I touch you?” he all but pleads, and who were you to deny him?

You’re nearly sobbing when he slips his fingers into your folds, feeling the wetness he caused. You can tell he’s trying to finger your clit, so you decide to be a good partner and guide him to its location. You shudder when he finally finds it on his own and begins to rub, the friction nearly too much for you.

You’re kissing and biting his skin, one hand gripping his sheets and the other skimming along his chest, your nails scratching and digging into him. You grind back on his hand, so he picks up the pace and you know right then you’re about to cum.

“Benny,” you warn. “Benny, don’t stop.”

He doesn’t, and you cry into his neck when you orgasm on his fingers.

You both lay there panting, but you have no time to bask in the afterglow when you remember he hasn’t came yet.

You get on your hands and knees above Benny, and you lower your face to his, still not touching except your hair brushing his.

“Do you want me?” you ask. You want him. You want him so bad you don’t know what you’d do if he said no.

He nods, and your heart flutters.

“No,” you whisper. “I need to hear you say it.”

He nods again. “Yes. Yes I do. Please,” he begs. He starts to babble his affirmation and continues to do so when you get your underwear and his boxers off. You grip him and slick his head up with your juices, and when you finally sink down, Benny shuts up and you both sigh as you seat him fully inside you.

You start to rock, fucking yourself with his cock and feeling so, so good. Benny’s hands find your hips and together, you find a pace as you ride him. Your hands are on his chest as you slide up and down on him. He begins to feel you again, your torso, your breasts, shoulders, and hair. You don’t want him to stop exactly, because it makes the pleasure increase tenfold, but you’re in control, and it's so hot when Benny does what you want.

You grab his wrist and pin them on either side of his head, and the flash of lust in his eyes as you do so makes you smirk.

You keep holding him down as you pump in and out of him, as you rock against him, but after a while your legs begin to ache. Benny, feeling you slow down, takes the reins.

You let him go, and he wraps an arm around your body, pulling you down flush against him. The other hand weaves through your hair, angling your head once more into the crook of his neck. Holding you tight, he fucks up into you, and you feel something you never have before.

For a virgin, he’s a natural at this. Your bodies know what they want and how to get it, the carnal desire guiding you the whole way. You can feel him pulse inside you, and you know you’re both about to cum when his thrusts grow quicker.

“Benny,” you moan into his ear, and that’s all it takes. His motions get sloppier as he climaxes, but you don’t care because you’re in the middle of coming yourself.

You’re laying there, trying to catch your breath and clinging together tightly. He’s practically hugging you, and you're running your fingers through his hair.

You know you can’t stay like this forever, so you pull off of him, both of you wincing as you do so. You want to find your clothes and dash, but your legs wobble and you fall back down on him.

You expected Benny to crack a joke like he always does, but when you turn around, he has an arm thrown over his eyes. His chest rises and falls quickly, and you wonder if you should risk it and leave after all.

But then, Benny wraps an arm around you, much gentler this time. “Good night,” he says softly, and he’s out.

You’re actually grateful Benny doesn’t seem to be aware of aftercare, because you have no idea what to do, and would have even less of an idea if he stayed awake and wanted to talk about what just happened.

You’re contemplating whether to stay or go, and when you finally decide, your eyes slip shut, and you cuddle into Benny’s warmth.

The next morning, you have a proper freak out.

You need to talk to him, you need to not talk to him. You need caffeine and a pregnancy test and a change of clothes. You need an ice pack and a salt bath because holy fuck you’re sore, Jesus Christ Benny.

You need Sarah and Erica.

Luck is on your side today, because as you make your way into school, there’s no sign of Benny. You find who you need chatting at Sarah’s locker, and when Erica sees you, she immediately asks what’s wrong.

“Oh my god, I don’t even know where to start,” you choke. They blink at you and you start to ramble. “I did something so stupid last night, But it also wasn’t stupid except for the parts that were but ohmygod I need to tell you something. It cannot wait and I am freaking out.” You pause to take a breath. “I think my heart is about to give out.”

“Okay, okay relax,” Sarah calms you down. “We have 20 minutes before first period. What’s up?”

“Hold that thought, Sarah, I think she needs to sit down.” You nod, so the girls take you to a more private area, which turns out to be an empty classroom, and as soon as you get there you crumple onto the nearest chair.

“So… what's up?”

You sit up, your whole body jittering with nerves. You wanna tell them so bad but you don't know how. This is a kind of confession that needs a strong lead to get there, but you’re totally blanking.

“Well?”

It burst out of you, “Benny and I slept together!”

Neither girl moved. They stood there, gaping like fish. You knew they believed you, this isn't something you'd lie or joke about. Oh how you wish you were.

“How?” Erica finally spoke.

You grimace. “Well, it was kind of an accident at first. We were just watching a movie, then we got really horny at the same time, and it just went from there.”

Sarah’s face twisted at your words. “Were you at least safe?”

You pinched your lips together and avoided their gaze.

Sarah groaned and Erica exclaimed, “Are you serious? That was so stupid!”

“I told you I did something stupid! I wasn’t really thinking about protection in the heat of the moment and I seriously doubt Benny had a condom laying around.” You stop then. “Oh my god. I took Benny’s virginity.”

At your words, Sarah and Erica looked at each other. “Ewww!”

“You did what?” a voice shouted from the previously closed door.

Rory.

Son of a bitch.

Erica pulled him into the room and slammed the door shut. You’ve never been more thankful for her as she began to threaten Rory within an inch of his undead life. You expected him to wet himself, but Rory’s face was calm, and not the kind of blankness you’re accustomed to seeing on his expression.

He huffed. “No wonder Benny was being so weird this morning. I thought losing your virginity was supposed to change a guy in a good way. His face looked exactly like the time I accidentally dropped him in a dumpster.”

That… did not do anything good for your ego.

“He hates me,” you pout.

“I don't know about that,” Rory shrugs. “He asked if I saw you and told me to tell him if I did. Oh, well now that I’ve seen you, I should probably go tell him.” Rory started to walk away, but the three of you shouted after him and dragged him back.

“Okay, jeez. I don’t get what the big deal is.”

Erica facepalmed and Sarah scoffed. “The big deal is that two close friends slept with each other. That’s not a thing friends do! It’s probably awkward for them!”

You sigh. “Guys, it’s more than awkward. We didn’t even talk about it. I left before he woke up.”

Erica gasps, “You did not.” Sarah and Rory both wince, and again, this did not make you feel better.

“What was I supposed to say! It happened so suddenly—we didn’t even kiss!”

The three of them pause and gawk at you. You threw your hands up in surrender.

“It just didn’t happen. We were kinda focused on other things.” You were pulled back to the memory, his lips and hands everywhere, his whiny little mewls and pants hot and breathy in your ear…

“Oh my god. She’s thinking about him right now, ewww!” Erica squealed.

“Wait, was Benny actually good?” Sarah asked in disbelief.

You sigh dreamily, “Let's just say, if he wasn't already a spellcaster, he'd still have magic in his fingers.”

“EWWW!” Three voices cried in unison. Rory gagged and Erica covered her ears. Sarah closed her eyes, her worn expression letting you know she very much regretted asking at all. All three looked rather like a steak to the heart would be a perfect end to this conversation.

The end, however, came in the form of the warning bell. Before leaving you swore all of them to secrecy, with an emphasis on Rory’s discretion. He gave you a thumbs up and said “You can count on me!” You were not confident in his ability to keep his mouth shut.

Classes went on, but you were on edge in fourth period, the first class of three you and Benny shared, not including lunch. You got there early, as usual, and Benny came in second before the bell, also as usual. You didn’t dare look up at him when he walked by you, knowing it was him by his clumsy footsteps and the scent of his cologne. He sat behind you, and you felt the weight of his stare on you the entire class period. When the bell finally rang you were first out the door.

Your whole group usually sits together at lunch, unless the dorks had a mathlete meeting or Erica decided to sit with her boytoy of the week, which happens more often than not. She promised to sit with you and Sarah today just in case a buffer (or a badass vampire) was needed.

Rory is the first of the boys to sit down and starts yammering about his day. Apparently the stray cat he feeds in the junkyard went missing and it’s been days since he saw it and he’s getting worried. He was in the middle of the “epic” tale of their friendship and why they don’t try to eat each other anymore when Benny sits down. Right in front of you. Where he always does. Very normal, but you can’t ignore the shaking feeling that no, everything is decidedly not normal.

Unfortunately for all of you, Rory trails off.

The table is silent for a long, long while.

You want to say something so bad, you hate this awkward tension between the two of you, but you can’t speak. It’s like your voice was stolen by teenage embarrassment.

You have enough strength of mind to meet Benny’s eyes, only you’re unable to read him. Is he disgusted? Regretful? If so, of what specifically? Is your friendship completely over? He just looks and looks.

Just as a headache began to form between your eyes, Ethan barrelled into his seat in an anxious flurry. You’ve never been happier to hear the words: “Guys, I think we have a problem.”

Your focus is 100% on Ethan now, you don’t even notice the pinch of Benny’s brows at his best friend's words, or the way his fingers twitch for his spellbook, or the way he licks his lips like he always does when he concentrates.

It’s Benny, of course you can’t help but notice.

Except, something Ethan just said actually pulled your focus. “Wait, you said you saw strange markings in your vision. Was there anything concrete? It sounds like whoever drew them and left the animal hearts and talismans were attempting a ritual.”

Ethan nods. “There were pentagrams all over my vision, and there was a flash of goat hooves and a clock.”

“A clock?” Benny asks.

“Yes,” he confirms. “The hands were set to midnight.”

“The witching hour,” you and Benny speak in unison. You snuck a peek at him, almost startling when you see he did the same. You dart your eyes away, and a sinking feeling hits you as you realize what Ethan’s vision most likely meant.

“Rory,“ you start slowly, “what color is your junkyard cat?”

Your friends tense as you say this, also connecting the dots. Rory, bless him, remains oblivious.

“He has black fur! That's why I named him Shadow Ninja! I hope the little guy is okay…” Rory digs into his sandwich, and you don’t know if he’s being willfully ignorant to spare his own feelings, or if he genuinely knows nothing about superstitions. The group glances at each other, all silently agreeing to keep Rory in the dark.

“We need to find out who’s behind these rituals. It’s one thing if they’re idiotic humans, but another if they’re witches,” Sarah comments.

“What do they even want?” Erica asks. “What are the rituals for?”

“Well, if Ethan’s visions and the ritual’s remnants are anything to go by,” you muse darkly, “I’d guess they’re trying to summon the Devil.”

Benny hums. “Making a deal with the Devil is not good, Grandma says that all time. We need to find out for sure where the rituals took place.”

He begins to flip through his spellbook when Ethan asks why the location matters.

Then, it hits you. “Ley lines.”

“Exactly,” Benny confirms, but he doesn’t look at you. “If they’re doing the rituals on the ley line, it’ll be easier to find out where they’ll go next.”

Sarah puts a hand on your arm. “Hold on, what are ley lines?”

“They’re invisible, mystical energy lines that run underneath the earth. They connect various historical sites, prominent landmarks, and sacred spaces to conduct the energy. They’re said to amplify the supernatural, so it makes sense if there’s one running through Whitechapel.”

“There is,” Benny says. He flips the book around and shows everyone the page he found. It details the line running through your province of Canada, but there isn’t anything you recognize. The map isn’t updated for the 21st Century, apparently.

You make plans after school to go ley line hunting, deciding to split into three pairs to cover more ground, one vampire and one human in each. Out of everyone, you have the most success at keeping Rory on task, so you’re partnered with him. His protective side comes out most often with you, being the only fully fledged human of the group, no vamp, seer, or spellcaster powers in sight.

You can fend for yourself of course, though you find fighting magic with magic more often than not solves the problem. It’s no bother to you when you have brains. You help Ethan make the plans and connect the dots, you don’t need to execute them.

Admittedly, the idea of summoning the Devil scares the shit out of you, it also helps take your mind off of the Benny issue you’re facing.

You and Rory have been searching for an hour and a half (with you only needing to pull Rory back on task three times) when you realize the section of the map took you to a familiar house in the rich part of town.

“Rory,” you get his attention. “Isn’t this Jesse’s mansion?” He, briefly serving time in Jesse’s cult, frequented this house more often than that one time you paid an unwanted visit, would know for sure.

“Oh hey. Yeah, it is.”

The mansion looks different than the last time you saw it. After Jesse’s imprisonment in the cubile animus, the place remained abandoned; and no one, not even the HOA, dared to mess with what he left behind.

The lawn was overgrown, leaves and vines creeping up and curling around the corners and windows. The siding was darkened with dirt and grime, and some of the shillings had fallen off, leaving a gaping spot where it once lay.

“Does the magic line go through the house?” Rory questions.

According to the map, it did, but you had a feeling it wasn’t this easy.

“We need to get in and check it out. Something doesn’t feel right.”

Rory walks up to the gate and pushes it open, the hinges squeaking and built up rust grinding as it opens. The two of you approach the former vampire den cautiously, the brick driveway filled with green in its cracks and all kinds of foliage strewn over the walkway left by wind and storms.

Once inside the house, you shudder. It might've been abandoned, but the air felt dark and tainted still.

“Hey,” Rory called from where he ventured further in, “I’m not sure this place is as abandoned as we think.”

He’s right. In the corner of the living room, messy sleeping bags and junk food wrappers littered the entire space. There were school bags tossed haphazardly on a table, and books on every available space possible.

You made your way to the kitchen area, where there was more discarded food, spilled liquid, and even more books. On the dining table, dried blood, a variety of talismans, melted candles, and ashes lay within a pentagram.

You made your way to the island, which was clear of everything except one book in the center.

Rory came up next to you and pointed. “I know this book. It has Jesse’s prophecy in it.”

You skimmed the book, and Rory stopped you on the page about the prophecy. You scanned the page, and when you saw a familiar line, you read it aloud: “The dead take root, the barren orchard bears the devil's fruit.’” You pause. “Rory, check the map. I think the ley line runs under Ethan’s house, specifically the tree in his backyard. They tried the ritual here, and it didn’t work. The other failed rituals happened at the church, the cemetery, and the stump of Whitechapel’s oldest tree. If they found this book, it won’t take them long to figure out their next spot, and I think it might actually work this time around. I mean, symbolically, it seems like the place to catch the Devil's attention.”

Rory’s eyes widened. “Woah. This is getting kinda scary.”

“I agree, we should get out of here before they get back.”

You start toward the door, but Rory stops you. His face twists regretfully as he responds, “Too late. I can hear them outside.”

His words make your blood run cold, and you hear the creak of the front door opening.

As quickly and quietly as you can, you and Rory squeeze inside the empty walk-in pantry. You’re easing the door shut as the kitchen door slams open.

“I’m telling you, that geek is onto us. He’s a seer, right? I bumped into him before lunch and I swear he saw something,” a husky, feminine voice said. Through the panes on the door, you can make out a silhouette of her, but nothing too clear.

A hand slaps the counter. “Why does it matter?” Deep, male, and insanely grating. You can see his hulking frame lean on the island. “He might be shacking up with vampires, but they’re not invincible. They can’t stop us no matter what they know.”

Behind you, Rory murmurs, “I know them from somewhere.”

The first one sighs, apparently not hearing a peep even from a few feet away. “I guess, but his friends are vampires. The small one, Sarah, babysits him on Friday’s right?”

“Yup. But, with some garlic and a sharp wooden steak, it shouldn’t be too hard to negotiate for that virgin’s blood. And he doesn’t even need to die!”

“That we know of. The instructions say the blood of a virgin, who’s to say that doesn’t mean the life of one? The 17th century assholes who wrote it down weren’t very specific with the recipe.”

“And the awful fucking poetry. I could’ve done without that,” the guy scoffs.

“Whatever,” the girl snaps. “We will do it tomorrow night after his parents leave. We get what we want and hey, maybe once the Devil himself turns us into vampires, we’ll kill the virgin anyway. I hear they taste the best.”

The two cackle, and their voices dim as they clomp away.

You and Rory tip toe out of the pantry, keeping an eye on the door as you walk. The thing is, you’re not completely aware of your surroundings. In a stroke of bad luck, you trip on a stack of books, and they clutter noisily to the ground.

You meet Rory’s eyes, horrified.

“Who’s there?” the guy shouts. You hear the stomp of their boots getting closer, and Rory tugs you away to the other door and up the stairs. You follow him like you’re on autopilot, everything you heard and what’s happened catching up to you at the wrong time.

You’re being pulled up another set of stairs and Rory kicks the bedroom door open.

“This one has a balcony. Gord pushed me off it when I was learning how to fly.”

“What a dick,” you mutter and suddenly you’re gasping in the cool outside air.

Rory grabs onto you right as the door flies open, the two satanists rushing forward. Not a second too soon, Rory takes off.

A few minutes and half a heart attack later, you land on the designated meeting point, which was, of course, Ethan’s front porch. Everyone was there already, and you felt comfortable enough to have a panic attack.

You’re still gasping and your legs give out on you. You’re caught by familiar arms, and Benny lowers you down to the porch chair.

“We—we found—the book. The lines—the tree, it just. They’re going to attack you! Take your, your blood. They wanna turn. They need him to turn.”

You’re not making a lick of sense to anyone, and Sarah starts to rub your back.

“Breathe,” she says softly. She doesn't have the compulsion ability mastered, but you want to listen to her, so you do.

“You found something? What happened?” Ethan asks.

“Dude,” Benny chastises. “Maybe wait til she stops freaking out? Rory, what’s going on?”

Rory explains your findings as best he can, and you use the lilt of his voice to calm down. “The guy and the girl look so familiar. I can’t place it, though.”

With a huff, Erica reminds him, “They go to our school, genius, obviously they’ll be familiar.”

Rory starts to protest, “Yeah but, that’s not where I recognize them from.”

“Vampires,” you finally say. Everyone stops and stares at you. “The deal they want to make with the Devil is to become vampires. Why would they go to all this trouble when this town is crawling with them? I think it’s because they literally can’t. Vampires won’t turn them.” You twist your body to face Sarah and Erica. “Does the Council have some kind of banned humans list? Like, “Do not turn these people under the penalty of death” list?”

Sarah hums and furrows her brows together in thought. “I’m sure they do, I’ll go check,” and she vamp speeds away.

“It’s the only reason I can think of. Anyone else have a theory?”

You look up from your place on the chair, and everyone (again) is staring.

“That,” Benny declares, “was incredible.”

You meet his gaze, and for the first time since last night, it doesn’t feel weird. It feels… normal. Right.

You smile at him shyly, and think yeah, you’ll be alright.

A nudge to your side has your attention on Erica. Apparently she caught that little exchange. She quirks a playful eyebrow at you and you shrug your shoulders innocently.

After that, it doesn't take too long for Sarah to return in a whoosh of air. “They do have a list! And it comes with pictures. Here,” she hands everyone a stack. Thankfully, it’s not too big. It only takes a few seconds before Rory spots them.

Ethan nods. “Yup. I ran into her this morning and that’s when I got the vision. She didn’t seem too pleased with me.”

Now that you have all the pieces, you plan.

A pizza is ordered and you all gather around Ethan’s dining table.

“These people know way too much about us, so what if we give them more?” Ethan suggests.

You hum in agreement. You reach for a slice, and your hand brushes Benny’s. You lock eyes over the table, and he’s flushing that sweet red again. He retracts his hand, and you grin to yourself as you take the slice.

“Like what?” Erica asks.

“They think the ball is in their corner, right?” you explain. “So what if we change it up? Make them comfortable, make it even more easy for their plan to unfold, but what they don’t know is that we’re doing the same thing, only better.”

“Okay,” Rory remarks, voice laced with confusion. “What do we do?”

You and Ethan share a near manic smirk.

“We’re gonna set a trap. Tomorrow, I will very loudly say in front of them that I’m Jane’s babysitter tonight instead of Sarah. That gets rid of one vampire, they think ambushing us will be a walk in the park if it’s me.”

“Tomorrow night, you three,” Ethan informs Sarah, Erica, and Rory, “will be waiting in the shadows, ready to attack when necessary.”

You take a deep breath. “Benny, you need to be with us.”

Ethan startles. “What, why?”

You ignore him.

“Benny, do you trust me?”

Instantly, he says yes.

“Good,” you breathe. “You need to be the sacrifice.”

Ethan protests immediately, and the others look at you like you’ve grown a second head.

“Um, they need a virgin for the ritual, right?” Erica speaks up, deliberately slow as if you somehow forgot you were the one to change Benny’s virginal status.

“Yes,” you confirm, and as subtly as you can, you explain. “They need a virgin to complete the ritual.”

You can see the moment it clicks for Sarah and Erica; unfortunately, Rory is more vocal with his understanding.

“Ohhh, is it because Benny—YEOUCH!” He yells as Erica elbows him particularly hard in the side.

Ethan’s eyes dart between all of you. “Uh, okay. Whatever. As long as it isn’t Jane, I don’t care who gives up their blood.”

The next day at school, you get the wannabe vampires hook, line, and sinker when you bring up your status as tonight's babysitter right in front of them. Unbeknownst to them, Jane is going to be safe next door with Benny’s grandma the second their parents leave for date night.

It takes a few hours for the “ambush” to happen, just minutes before midnight. You have fun pretending to act scared and whine when they tie you up, though you could’ve gone without the grass stains as the burly guy tossed you next to the tree.

They make quick work of setting up the ritual, and hey, there's Shadow Ninja! Anger flares in you at the sight of Rory's friend tied up and muzzled like that.

When it’s all set up, they mix together what looks like the world’s most disgusting cocktail in a gold chalice.

“Now,” the girl announces as the two stalk up to you, Benny, and Ethan. “Who will it be?”

“We were gonna do mega geek over there,” the guy said, nodding toward Ethan, but then he points to you. “But what about her?” he asks his friend.

The girl, the absolute bitch, throws her head back and laughs. “Her? Are you kidding? She’s a slut, no way am I drinking her blood. We need a virgin, not some high school whore, remember?”

Your mouth drops open, “Well fuck you too! At least I got hot while I was still in high school. You wanna be eternally 17? I feel sorry you need a do-over when some of us got it the first time around.” That might not have been the best response, you think as she backhands you across the face, but it felt damn good to say.

“Leave her alone,” Benny growls, eyes flaring, and wow, that’s hot. “Do not talk about her like that, I swear to god.”

The guy taunts Benny. “Oooh I think lover boy here just offered himself up! Gimme your arm, nerd.”

They aren’t gentle as they take Benny’s blood. You send them death glares every time he winces and hope this ridiculous ordeal is over soon.

You watch as they mix the blood into the chalice. They chant in terrible latin, and finally, they drink, draining the cup dry.

The air is still as you wait for a long moment.

Suddenly, they’re both doubled over in pain, clutching all over their bodies and heads, screaming so forcefully the veins in their forehead pop out.

“We’re sorry!” the girl shrieks. “We don’t know what happened!”

The guy falls to his knees. “We didn’t mean to insult you—we did everything right, we promise!”

“What do you mean,” the girl wails, and she spits up black. You realized then that someone must be talking to them in their heads. Him, possibly?

The guy is shaking on the ground; he has the same black liquid spilling out of his mouth, and you know then that it’s blood. His eyes lock on Benny, and he began to crawl toward him.

“You!” is all he can gurgle out before he disappears in an ashy poof. The girl gives an ear shattering shrill, and a second later, she’s gone too.

Sarah, Erica, and Rory emerge from their hiding place, instantly moving to free the rest of you from your bonds.

“What just happened?” Ethan sputters. He didn’t expect that. What the fuck.

“They messed up the ritual,” you smile.

Ethan frowns. “Really? I don't see how.”

Rory laughs and puts an arm around Ethan’s shoulder.

“It’s because Benny took a trip to Bonetown,” he snickers, and you punch him in the shoulder as hard as you can.

Rory makes an offended face at you. “Ouch! What was that for? I was just answering Ethan’s question.”

“Rory,” You speak calmly, eyes closed. “Shut. Up.”

“What! We should all be thanking you! I mean, if it wasn’t for you, they totally would’ve summoned the Devil. Unless they chose Ethan instead but—”

“Rory, look! There's Shadow Ninja!”

The blond vampire squeals and tears off toward the tree, freeing his very much alive, but incredibly pissed off, feline friend.

Only, the damage is done.

You seek out Sarah and Erica, but they just shrug and chuckle awkwardly at you before vamping away. Rory, once he comes back with the squirming cat in his arms, senses the sudden tension he unwittingly created, and after a few seconds of deliberation decides the smartest move is to do the same. Jerks, all of them.

You really, really wish Ethan wasn’t as clever as he is. You know the instant the explanation dawns on him. His mouth drops wide open and he points to Benny, who gives him an awkward smile. Then Ethan points the accusatory finger at you, and all you can do is pinch your lips together and watch him freak out.

“You—but how—why didn't you say—but that means—you exploded them with sex?”

He shakes his head and spins around, walking away to fetch Jane and muttering to himself like mad. Poor guy.

You and Benny are the only ones left of your ragtag group still lingering, so you walk to his house, and when you reach the steps, you can’t take it anymore. You blurt:

“We didn’t even kiss.” Benny stares at his shoes and bites the inside of his cheek. “We didn’t, so I didn’t know if you actually liked me or not. It was good, it was so fucking good. I should've stayed. I wasn’t thinking when I left the other day. I hate the morning after talk but you deserved so much better than what I gave you. I’m sorry. I like you Benny, I really do and I want to make this work.” You keep rambling, just saying what comes to mind and you’re still rambling when Benny cups your face in both his hands and pulls you into a blessedly mind numbing kiss.

It’s everything you ever wanted. It's soft and sweet, yet firm and demanding, just like Benny. Your mouths move together skillfully, slotting together like they were made for it, and you’d like nothing more than to kiss him until you can’t breathe any longer.

He pulls back slightly, lingering in your space, breathing in your air.

“If I invite you in, will you stay this time?”

You don't have to think.

“Yes.”

#benny weir x reader #benny weir x y/n #benny weir x you #my babysitters a vampire #mbav #honestly i just started writing and this came out whoops #lmk what you think!#if you notice any spelling/grammar errors lmk

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angstywaifu · 2 days ago

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Black Dahlia - 34. About Damn Time

Summary: I think the banner and title speak for itself.

A/N: I’m yet again lost for words. ANOTHER BONUS POST?!? Though you guys couldn’t have timed this better, because some of you definitely need it after the last one.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Pet Names. Oral (M receiving). Fingering. Unprotected Sex (P in V).

Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia Aetos)

Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist | Support Me

I gasp as Garrick pushes me back against the door, shutting it with a loud bang that doesn’t deter either of us as he pins me against it. His lips find my neck as he kisses and nips at the sensitive skin, my fingers tightening on his shoulder and hair.

Gods it felt like my body was on fire. Felt like Garrick was everywhere. Which considering his build, he pretty much was. Especially with my legs wrapped around his waist, his large body pressing against mine. My body arching off the door into his as he nips at the sensitive skin below my ear, my hips grinding against his.

His body rumbles as he growls at the movement, his hands gripping my ass with a strength that I know will leave marks tomorrow. “Gods, you keep that up and I’ll be done before I get inside you.” He groans against my neck.

With his head buried in my neck he can’t see the smirk that I don’t hold back just before I grind my hips on his again. His hands tightening to a death grip on my thighs as I gasp out from the pain. My lips barely part before his are back on mine, the kiss is carnal and raw, as if Garrick has fully let his control slip.

I gasp into the kiss as Garrick reaches between us, pushing the skirt apart at the seem before pulling my underwear aside as he plunges two of his fingers inside me.

I tug on his hair harder than I intend to, his groan rumbling through his body. His fingers pump in and out, stretching me as he curls his fingers inside. My head rolls back against the door as I break the kiss, gasps and moans falling from my lips.

“Come on little flower, fall apart.” He whispers huskily as he starts to rub my clit with his thumb.

I make the mistake of looking down at him into his blown out eyes. I can barely see the hazel colouring around the edges. But I can see how far gone he is. How much he’s enjoying this. How much he wants this.

The feeling inside me builds rapidly as he increases the pace and pressure of his fingers. The fleeting thought of how many other girls before me is the reason he’s so good enters my mind. And as if he can sense it, he grasps the back of my head and pulls me down to him as his lips claim mine. With a final curl of his fingers I come undone around his fingers as I cling on him.

“That’s it.” He minutes against my lips as mine part in a silent cry as I tremble in his arms. “Good girl.”

He chuckles as I tighten around his fingers at his words. And I know it won’t be the last time I hear him use those words on me. I whimper as he removes his fingers from me, pulling me tightly against him as he walks us back towards his bed. Which I note is far larger than mine. Either due to being a second year, or how big he is. Either way, we wouldn’t have fit in my tiny bed. I’d have to pretty much climb him like a tree to sleep.

Garrick places my feet on the ground, spinning me around as he is fingers make quick work of the corseted top. The material falls away with in seconds, and I can’t deny I’m impressed by the speed. His hands are quick to grasps my breast, kneading them in his hands as he pulls my back flush against his chest. I now note the leather from his flight jacket is missing. When the hell did he remove that?

I spin around, grabbing the bottom of his shirt which Garrick rips from my hands as he pulls it over his head. My hands fall to his flight pants, undoing the buttons as quickly as I can, but it’s hard when I keep fumbling with them. God dammit. Finally I get them undone, looking up at Garrick who looks like it’s taking all his willpower to hold back. His hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. I smirk up at him as I start to push down his pants, pulling his underwear down as I kneel on the ground in front of him. Now the multiple fingers he used earlier made sense. So much sense. I feel Garrick reach for me, obviously hesitant to let me do what I’d planned due to his size. It was definitely…. intimidating.

I reach up and wrap my fingers around his thick length, Garrick moaning at my touch as I stroke my thumb over the tip of his length. I look up watching as Garrick squeeze his eyes shut, watching his control slip, watching him loose himself to pleasure. Garrick’s hips buck into my hand as I swirl my tongue around his tip, a groan that vibrates through him into me makes me desire flare. I want him. All of him. And here he was at my mercy. I wrap my mouth fully around him, his fingers tangling in my hair, clearly torn between pulling me off him or letting go. Every bob of my head has him gasping and trembling.

”Fuck me.” He moans out, tugging at my hair again.

I remove my mouth from him but continue using my hands. “Pretty sure I already am.” I tease.

I yelp as he grasps my arms, pulling me off him and back to my feet. “Were only getting started little flower.”

His mouth claims mine again as he kicks off his boots and pants, his hands making fast work of zipper holding the skirt in place, dragging it from my body with my underwear. Without breaking the kiss, he picks me up by my thighs, walking us over to his bed before throwing me down on my back and kneeling between my spread legs. Gods, I could almost swear I had died and gone to Malek with the sight before me. I’d always found Garrick attractive. But having him kneel between my legs… Gods, that was a sight I never wanted to forget. Looking at me like a starved man, like I am the only thing he’s ever going to want or need.

He grips my hips, dragging me down the bed to him, the tip of his cock rubbing against my entrance. I gasp at the feeling, my hips bucking up to meet his, earning me one of his smirks that I’ve grown to love. I cry out, grasping the sheets below me in my hands as he pushes inside, gasping at the fit and the stretch.

”Oh gods,” I cry out, Garrick chuckling above me as I adjust to him.

Once full sheathed and rolls his hips against mine, a sinful moan escaping my lips is all it takes for him to roll his hips against mine again and again. His hands grasping the back of my thighs as he pushes my legs against my chest. Gods, I was not going to last long, and I can tell with the groan the rumbles through Garrick he won’t either.

I'm a whimpering and moaning mess as Garrick continues to rock his hips back and forth. Each thrust hitting the perfect spot. The coil inside my tightening and threatening to unravel at any moment. His hands move to my hips, raising them up as he rests me against his thighs. I get a moment of rest as he stops, grasping my legs as he pulls them from his chest to rest them against his chest, his shoulders resting against the back of my knees. "Hold on tight little flower." He warns, before he slams his hips against mine. "Fuck!" I cry out, the new position and angle causing Garrick to reach a whole new spot. My hands fisting the sheets tightly as I struggle to keep a grasp on reality. His pace is brutal and relentless, struggling to keep my eyes open as they roll into the back of my head from the intense feeling. It's not long before the coil unravels. I cry out as I tumble over the edge, Garrick mumbling profanities as I clamp around him, my whole body trembling beneath him. His hips slam harder into mine as he leans into my, my knees touching my chest. After a few more thrust he cries out as his body shudders above me before falling forward and bracing himself with a hand next to my head. He slowly opens his eyes and looks at me, both of us breathing heavily, trying to catch our breath. He rolls to the side, grabbing my arm and leg, pulling me with him as he cradles me against his side. His fingers skimming up and down my side as I rest my head against his chest.

”That was….” I start, not sure what to say next.

”Well over due.” He teases, muttering a quiet ‘ow’ as I smack his chest lightly. “I’m not wrong.”

I roll my eyes even though he can’t see my face. I couldn’t deny he was wrong. There had always been this tension between us. A tension I was not willing to test till he was prepared to fully give himself to me. And with the way he stood up to my father had more than proven that.

”Thank you.” I say softly, as I run my fingers over the defined muscle of his stomach.

”For what?” He asks, shifting his head to look down at me.

I angle my head to look up at him. “For not giving up on my stubborn ass.”

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94 @the-fandom-ness @fan-of-many-bands @awkardnerd @heeseungthel0ml @acourtofsmutandstarlight @fairchild06 @freyagallileaevans @pit-and-the-pen @hannraumari @elliot-rain @thestarseternaal @stupid-and-contagious01 @hyperfixation-train-station @lxnvmvrzx @thebreadisthetruevillian @red0202 @fangirling-galore @craftytrashprincess @taliyahvermillion @xadenswhore @fenixyrie @lagrandeourse @hellodarling1357 @iambored24601

#fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #the fourth wing #garrick tavis #the empyrean #fourth wing imagine #garrick tavis imagine #garrick tavis x reader #fourth wing x reader #garrick tavis x oc #garrick tavis smut #garrick tavis x dahlia aetos #dahlia aetos #black dahlia #fourth wing smut #rebecca yarros #iron flame

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holyblonded · 4 months ago

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go ahead and cry little girl | golden girl

pairings: paige bueckers x oc (for a second) diana taurasi x daughter!oc, alexia putellas x teen!oc

summary: kenza never could quite understand why her dad could never show up; times throughout the years kenza has been let down

warnings: daddy issues and deadbeat dad 👻

notes: based off of real experiences 🫡 READ KENZA’S WIKI PAGE FOR BACKGROUND INFO

FOURTEEN YEAR OLD KENZA STARED LONGINGLY AT THE SEAT IN THE FRIENDS AND FAMILY SECTION.

It was her first El Clasico with the senior team and she knew her mom had told everybody. Kenza even invited him. She could hear her teammates celebrating their win as she should be, yet there she was staring at the cold, bare seat. Her eyes shifted to her Mom and Diana who both held sympathetic looks on their faces.

Kenza's inner turmoil was broken by Alexia who ran up and grabbed her face. "What's wrong, Amorcita? You scored the winning goal!"

Kenza couldn't bring herself to answer, instead she kept staring at the seat. Alexia followed her eyes, and after a silent conversation with Nor, she had figured it out. "Lo siento, mi Princesa," was all Alexia could offer as Kenza shoved her head to her chest.

"Why didn't he show up?" Kenza cried, loudly.

"Smile, Kenny!" Diana Taurasi told her freshly turned nine year daughter. Kenza smiled showing her gums off to the camera as the flash went off. "Look at you, pretty girl. Finally nine."

The family had decided to spend Kenza's ninth birthday in London as day after the Olympics ended. While Kenza, was excited to see her moms, she saw them quite often, she was quite revved to see her dad, someone she hadn't seen since early May.

"Mama, when is dad getting here?" Kenza decided to ask her mom. Kenza carefully observed her mom tense up before quickly recovering.

Nor, with a tight smile on her lips, responded, "Let me check, Chiquita."

Diana seemed to pick up on her fiancee's mood, "Aye Kenny, you ready to see Auntie Sue and Auntie Meg?"

Kenza's eyes brightened at the mention of her favorite aunties, "Wait, let me go put on my shoes," the birthday girl ran up the stairs of the rental as Nor unknowingly let go of the breath she was holding.

"Where is he?" Diana asked bitterly. She and the retired NBA player have publicly and privately bumped heads numerous times. Akoni calling her a "wife stealer." While Diana didn't like his alcoholism and reckless behavior around her family.

Nor sighed as tears welled in her eyes, "He's not coming at all. Got caught drinking and driving, he got charged with a DUI so now he's being checked into court ordered rehab," Her heart truly hurt for her daughter.

"Fuck," Diana muttered before pulling Nor into her, "Hey, Kenny is strong."

"That's the thing, she's nine. She's not supposed to be this strong. I keep letting him hurt her," Nor rancorously ranted, a tear slipping down her face before being quickly wiped away by Diana.

"It’s not your fault he is the easy he is,” Diana said through clenched teeth, “Don't worry, I'll tell her." She offered, gently directing her distraught fiancée to the couch before going upstairs to break the news to you. Five minutes later, Diana came downstairs with a sobbing child in her arms who just wanted comfort from her moms.

Kenza leg bounced up and down in the rather comfortable chair, lost in her thoughts. This was possibly one of the biggest nights of her life, the Ballon d'Or Awards; being nominated for the Kopa Féminin Awards has been the highlight of Kenza's season. If she won this award, she would be the first ever recipient to win the category. Most importantly, it was the first award show her whole family was coming to.

Paige looked at the girl beside her and rested her hand on her knee before whispering in her ear, "I told you once, and I'll tell you again. You are going to win, stop being so nervous."

"I can't help it," Kenza mumbled back, inhaling sharply. Her eyes watched the stage, seeing her Auntie Meg take the stage.

A bit zoned out, Kenza came back to it when Paige nudged her as Megan announced the winner. "The first Kopa Féminin Award goes to..." Megan smiled as her voice broke with emotion, "my Kenny, Kenza Creoxells."

Blood rushed to Kenza ear as she sat there with a dumbfounded expression on her face as she took in the information. She got up after Alexia came to the table and basically pushed her out of the chair.

Taking the stage after accepting the award and hugging her auntie. Kenza looked in the crowd scanning the room, she saw her mom and mami, Paige, her Barca teammates, even some of her friends from UConn and Yale. Her eyes paused on the empty seat, her eyes going to her moms who has the same sympathetic looks on their faces. A odd sense of deja vu washed over Kenza before she shook her head of her thoughts.

"Kenza Creoxells is the first ever recipient of the Kopa Femenin Award earning it for her work with Barcelona Femení." The announcer said making people cheer louder, as the picture of Kenza doing her signature celebration is blown up on the screen.

"Wow, I have nothing to say but thank you. Thank you to my Mama who let me move in with Auntie Alexia because she saw that this was truly my dream. Thank you to my Mami who literally never let me quit no matter how much I wanted to. Thank you to everyone at Barcelona for giving me a chance and my teammates for helping raise me. Thank you for my team and Yale, my friends as UConn and Paige for always being there. You all have truly become my family and I can't ask for any more than that, thank you," Kenza sniffled before she walked off the stage and more applause thundered throughout the building.

Kenza sat outside of her own party, playing with the Barcelona flag wrapped around her. She had escaped the party after winning the Kopa Award, feeling particularly overwhelmed. Her initial plan on sneaking out with Paige was squashed when she saw Mapi talking Paige's ear off.

"My Enzy! Look at ya! Kop' Winner!" A familiar deep voice thundered.

Kenza looked up from her place on the steps, "Dad?" She quickly got up and took a step toward him, "What are you doing here?"

"My daughter won the... the award! Why wouldn't I be here?" Taking the step forward was a big regret on Kenza's part as the smell of alcohol became prominent. Kenza took in his appearance: Red eyes, stumbling around, she knew he wasn’t sober.

Kenza smiled wryly, "You forgot. You forgot like everything else. Why? Why can't you be a good dad for day, just a day." Kenza sobbed as she sat back down on the steps.

Akoni seemed to sober up at the sound of his daughter's sobs. He sat next to her and sighed, "I have a lot of regrets in life, but having you isn't one of them. Not being there for you, is. I'm a deadbeat, drunk with too much money. I was never worthy enough to be your father, I knew that as soon as I held you. After your mom and I broke up, I spiraled. Don't be like me Enzy, be better."

Kenza sobs only grew louder as she rested her head against Akoni's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Enzy."

#paige bueckers x reader #alexia putellas x teen!reader #diana taurasi x teen!reader #woso x platonic!reader #woso x reader #barca femini x reader #barcelona femeni x teen!reader #golden girl series #✧.* holyblonded

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missadangel · 4 months ago

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The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC)

All Chapters List

X. The Conflict (+18, Smut, MDNI)

“non est vivere sed valere vita est.”

Life is more than just being alive.

The distance from the city to the port of Ostia was not great, but the ride was rather lengthy and tiring, even for a seasoned rider. Octavius was ever watchful, noting when you were faltering and offering you a respite. You declined, though your body was crying out for it. Your sole concern was to reach Marcus before it was too late. Fortunately, a little later, Octavius noticed a few tracks on the ground as you passed through the dark woods, slowed down and dismounted his horse. He crouched down and examined the tracks then looked at you.

"We should continue on foot from this point onwards, my lady."

"Are we close?" You looked around but there was nothing in sight.

"Indeed. We must proceed with caution and avoid attracting attention. We need to leave the horses here," he said, holding the reins of his horse as he approached you and extended his hand.

"Thank you sir but I can dismount myself." You said and got down from your horse, despite the soreness in your legs. It felt nice to be able to step on the ground again. Unio let out a soft neigh, as if she had read your thoughts. You stroked her face and, grasping her reins, walked in the direction Octavius had said. It was quite some distance from the road and not very visible. In this darkness of the night, it would have been difficult to see anything if not for the moonlight anyway.

Once you had tied your horses, you set off through the forest, guided by Octavius. You eventually reached a hill. It appeared to be a rather tranquil. The only sound that could be heard was the hooting of an owl.

“My lady, if I might ask you to consider promising me something,” Octavius said.

You raised your eyebrows. “What is it?”

"If we don't make it in time, you'll come back to the villa with me."

“No need to worry about that now, if we make it in time, Sir Octavius.”

He sighed. “I'm pretty sure Acacius will kill me this time,” he muttered.

You looked at him with a hint of guilt. “I'm sorry, but you're doing this for him, for your General, your friend.”

"I hope he's already taken care of him and I hope we've came here for nothing. I'd be really happy to be reprimanded and even punched by him."

You laughed nervously. "Would it offend you if I said I hope so too, sir?"

He grinned. "Never, my lady."

"You are a good friend, Octavius.

"Always at your service.”

You were startled by the sound of a horse neighing and immediately sought cover behind nearby bushes. You observed that three horses were tethered in the forest.

"That's Dromos," you realized.

"We must be close," Octavius said quietly.

You soon heard the sound of swords clashing in the distance and moved at a slow pace towards it. When you saw Marcus from behind, you were on the verge of running to him without thinking, but Octavius grabbed you by the shoulder and pulled you back.

“We can't let them see us,” he said, warning you.

He led you to move out of sight to the left, where you hid in the bushes. You observed the situation at a distance and noticed that Marcus cut a soldier with his sword made him collapsed to the ground. However he was alone, probably having lost his men. Macrinus, on the other hand, was standing just behind the five soldiers.

“General, you must cease this nonsense. You'll get yourself killed.”

“Not before I take your life first!”

Your heart was racing with worry. Even for Marcus, who was one against five men, survival was a near impossibility. Octavius stepped in front of you as you stood up.

“My lady, please wait here, I will back him up," he whispered, his hand moving to his sword.

Just then, you heard horse hooves and three horsemen appeared, coming towards them from ahead. Macrinus let out a laugh. Octavius swallowed and looked at his General, unsure of what to do.

At the time you thought you had to stop it somehow, knowing the fact that Marcus won't stand much of a chance. It seemed that he had no intention of retreating though. Furthermore, he assumed a defensive stance, grasping his sword more firmly.

You reached out to grasp Octavius' arm as he began to step towards them.

"I must stop them."

Octavius opened his eyes wide. "But how, my lady? No, return to your horse now, and-"

"No, please hear me out. I don't believe Macrinus will harm me. And Marcus won't let him go no matter what. Besides even with your help, you can't beat all of them. This is the only way.”

Octavius seemed unsure. "What makes you so sure that he won't harm you?’

“Think about it. He has known me for quite some time.” You observed them from behind the bushes. It seemed as though Marcus was contemplating an attack. “If he wanted to kill me he would have done it when we were alone, but instead he made me appear before the council, why do you think?”

"To help you regain your title and gain formal recognition."

'Well, it wasn't out of the goodness of his heart, of course. I believe that when he ascends to the throne, he thinks it would be beneficial for him to have a strong consort that he values in his council." Your voice cracked.

Octavius clenched his jaw. “There is no stronger consort than a princess,” he muttered. Then opened his eyes wide. “If he kills the General-“ he swallowed, words caught in his throat.

“I won't let that happen. So step aside and let me stop them.”

Octavius nodded in despair. "If things don't go well, I'll be here to ensure your safety and that of the General. I'll do my utmost until my last breath.”

You nodded and took a deep breath, moving slowly through the bushes. Just then all five men and the others drew their swords making a schwing sound echoing through the woods.

"General, this is my final warning. It is not possible for you to survive this." Macrinus called out to him.

Marcus was aware that, regardless of his considerable strength as a warrior, it would be extremely challenging to fight against such a large number of soldiers. But retreat was not an option for him. He had to take Macrinus down and make sure his head was severed from his body, no matter what. If he could do that, he didn't mind facing his own death in the end. He was only afraid of being separated from you; he had no other fears at all. He was truly grateful for all those beautiful moments he shared with you. Getting ready for a confrontation, he pointed his sword at the soldier charging towards him. Just as he was about to attack, you suddenly jumped in between them, yelling.

“Stop!"

With determination, you swiftly drew your knife from its sheath on your ankle, holding it firmly in one hand as you prepared to execute your seemingly absurd plan. Marcus opened his eyes wide, looked at you in surprise, and then glanced around.

"Aurelia! What the hell are you doing here?" He yelled.

"My lady!" Macrinus was shocked too. Keeping his distance, moving towards you behind the soldiers, equally bewildered.

"End this, please." You said without looking at either of them.

"Go back, now!" Marcus shouted, knowing full well who had brought you here.

"I'm not going anywhere without you," you protested.

"I have to finish what I started. Now, go!” He hissed.

He brandished his sword at Macrinus's men once more, determined not to back down. You, however, had no intention of letting him get himself killed. With no other option, you put your knife against your neck. Marcus looked back at you, astounded. As your eyes met, Macrinus, as you had suspected, grew concerned and approached you.

“That knife looks pretty dangerous, my lady. I think you should give that to me.”

“Stay back!” You shouted at him, “Don't come any closer!”

“Are you mad? What do you think you're doing?” Marcus roared. He was boiling with anger.

"I'm a medicus, aren't I? I know exactly how and where I should cut to kill myself without suffering."

Marcus clenched his jaw.

"Do you wish to kill yourself, my lady?" Macrinus asked.

You looked at him, feeling the sharp surface of the knife, it made you tense but forced yourself to stay calm. Also, it seemed like a good opportunity to see if your theory was correct.

“You don't want me to die, do you, Sir Macrinus?’

He raised his hand as if he wants to stop you. “No, of course not, my lady. Please put that knife down.” He looked at Marcus. “Acacius, I think we're done here.”

Marcus looked at him with a piercing gaze. “This isn't over, Macrinus.”

He laughed, then his gaze hardened as he looked at him. “You'd better be on the right side when the inevitable happens, General, if you care enough for your wife.”

“If not today, rest assured that I will end you.” Marcus growled.

“It would only be to your detriment,” he said, his eyes shifting to you before he nodded and turned. He tapped one of his soldiers on the shoulder. “Sheath your swords! We're heading for the harbour!” He jumped on his horse and the soldiers followed him behind.

Marcus turned his head towards you and came up to you angrily, snatching your knife and pulling so hard that you stumbled towards him.

"Why did you come here? How dare you hold a knife to your throat?" he barked. His voice was loud enough to make you startle. "I didn't give you this to cut yourself! Don't you value your own life at all?"

"You're the one who doesn't value your own life!" You shouted back. Marcus frowned. "What's the matter with you? Do you think it's worth risking your life trying to kill him? You know how it feels when you lose someone you care about. How can you be so selfish? Have you ever thought about what I'd do if you died? You're so mean.”

As your tears rolled down your cheeks, Marcus' expression softened. He approached you, took your face in his hands and gently wiped your tears away with his thumbs. His dark brown eyes spoke volumes, but he was so angry that he remained silent. After staring at you for a while, he pulled his hands back and looked towards the bushes.

"Octavius! I know you're in there, get over here now!"

The bushes rustled and crunched loudly. As soon as Octavius set foot on the dirt road, you noticed the tension on his face despite the darkness. He came up to you and bowed his head to the General. Marcus gripped him by his leather armour in his fist and pulled roughly.

“Since when have you begun to disobey my orders?”

“Forgive me, sir. I was wrong.”

“I forced him, Marcus,” you interjected.

He ignored you. “I told you to protect her, you shouldn't have cared about what she said to you. You should have stopped her, Even if it meant locking her up or tying her up, it would have been better to do so.”

You laughed hysterically. “You can't be serious.”

He turned towards you. “I'm quite serious, my lady. Instead of risking your life in such a ridiculous way, you would be safe."

You rolled your eyes. "I wasn't really intending to kill myself. I just wanted to be sure of Macrinus' intentions, but you were so determined to sacrifice yourself without listening to me, so I didn't know what else I could do.”

“We'll talk about it when we return home,” he said, pointing his index finger at you. Then he turned and approached his soldiers lying lifeless on the ground, sorrow evident in his eyes. “Octavius, make sure the funeral rituals for our brothers shall be arranged.”

“Yes, sir.” He approached him, kneeling next to a soldier and closing his eyelids.

From a distance, you watched them and found yourself blaming yourself. Perhaps if you had arrived sooner, you could have played a role in saving their lives. Or, if you had come later, Marcus might have faced a similar fate. You shook your head and tried to put these thoughts out of your mind.

While Octavius tended to the deceased soldiers, you and Marcus returned to the villa on horseback. It was just after midnight. The vast majority of the villa's residents were awake and gathered in the courtyard, awaiting your return. Marcus remained silent all the way back, likely still enraged at you. You were no different. It was torture to think that you had nearly lost him because of Macrinus.

Cato respectfully took hold of the reins of Marcus' horse as he jumped down. You dismounted too, noting that your legs felt a little sore from the long ride. As soon as you landed on the ground, you felt a momentary loss of balance, but Marcus' arm caught you. You smiled at him. Even though he was angry; he was still there to protect you. However, he did not smile back. Instead, he took hold of your wrist and pulled you towards the courtyard. Furthermore, he was not as gentle as he usually was. He did not care when you moaned from the pain in your wrist. He took a quick glance at everyone in the courtyard who greeted you and pulled you towards the stairs. When you turned your head, you saw their faces. They seemed grateful for the safe return of their Dominus, but perhaps a little worried about you. At least, that was your interpretation, because you knew you were in trouble.

He shut the door behind you. You were glad when he released your wrist, as it started to throb. You knew it would be bruised by the next day. Marcus put his holster away while you rubbed your wrist with your other hand. You went over to help him remove his armour. He was aware of your intentions and leaned against the edge of his desk with his arms folded. There was blood splattered on the Medusa's face and on the leather strips of the armour. You gave Marcus a direct look as you undid the armour's threads. He was still frowning and staring ahead. He still seemed to refuse to look at you as you undid the other side.

“You know you're not the only one who's angry, right?”

He then turned his head to you as your fingers unraveled the threads a little harder.

“You can't be any angrier than I am.” He took off his armour.

You crossed your arms, “Why not, I can be just as angry as you.” You lifted your head and looked away stubbornly.

Marcus was trying not to laugh at your behaviour. He pressed his lips together and cleared his throat.

“No way, princess. I'm more than angry; I'm fuming!”

You looked at him as he walked towards you. His gaze certainly showed his anger, but when you noticed the hint of mischief at the corner of his lips, you decided to continue playing this game. He was removing his armbands.

“Fuming? Hah! I'm furious!” you shouted sarcastically.

He threw the armbands on the floor and came right in front of you. This time his gaze was intense.

“I'm filled with wrath!” he growled.

You involuntarily took a step backwards. “So?”

He appeared to be relishing the opportunity to engage in this somewhat heated, sexual tension-filled game, as he took a few steps towards you.

Suddenly, your back slammed on the wall. He lifted your wrists above your head and leaned in.

"I think you deserve some punishment," he murmured, his breath caressing your ears and causing your body to shudder. He pressed his pelvis against yours and his lips found the vein on your neck. He sucked and nibbled at it, sending a tingling sensation throughout your body. His lips trailed from your neck to your chin, and you found yourself longing to touch them.

You took a sharp intake of breath. He teased your lips with a slight touch before retreating. You leaned forward, aiming for his lips, but you failed. He smirked. His right hand roughly removes your cloak and undresses you, while his left hand keeps a strong hold on your wrists. Your dress fell to the floor, pooling around your feet as the hem caught on the scabbard tied around your ankle. Marcus bent down, untied it and pulled it off. Suddenly, he grabbed you by the legs and threw you over his shoulder. Before you could blink, you were on the bed, gasping for breath. Your stomach tightened with excitement when he emerged from above you.

But he still hadn't taken off his tunic, you thought angrily.

It seemed a bit unfair that you were the only one who was naked. He pushed you back gently when you reached towards him. "Not yet, princess." His hot breath hit your breasts, making you squirm. You were infuriated when he roughly spread your legs with the palm of his hand. Was he going to enter you before your lips met and traveled over each other's body, before his hands caressed your breasts? That's what he called punishment?

You bit your lower lip as you felt his strong fingers on your most sensitive spot. But his fingers lingered, moving in circles. You wanted to sit up and look at him, but he pushed you backwards with his other hand. After teasing your clit with his fingers, which made you clench the sheet, he grabbed your hips and buried his head between your legs. He deliberately blows into your folds, making pleasure run through your body. His erection sears your skin, making you aware that he's getting pleasure from driving you mad with his mouth. He flips his tongue and sucks your most sensitive area hungrily, relentlessly. You moan loudly and your response encourages him to increase the pressure. He is an expert in the art of pleasure giving and he uses you as skilfully as he uses his sword.

“Marcus,” you groaned, you're almost sure that your voice echoing in every corner of the villa. Feeling almost at the edge. You feel him smiling as he moves his lips and touches your body with his warm tongue and fingers. But he retreats suddenly. You moan in protest. You open your eyes to look at him. Panting. You feel a surge of disappointment and a distinct sense of being used. But he laughs cruelly. He wipes your sweet liquid from his lips with his thumb, then licks and sucks the tip, smiling crookedly all the while.

You frown. “So that was your punishment?”

“I was actually going to do more, but…" He quickly takes off his tunic, throwing it on the floor. “I missed you so much and I want you so badly right now.”

“Take me then.” You smiled naughtily.

He smiles back and grabs your arm, using his soldier strength, he turns you and bends you over until you're crouching on your knees. One of his hands is still holding yours behind your back, and the other keeps your torso down so your breasts press against the silk sheet. You wriggle, and his grip tightens. Gods! You haven’t ever felt so helpless. Used like a toy. He keeps teasing your lower wet lips with the tip of his erection. His voice is husky, sensual. “How will I take you, my sweet princess?”

He digs his fingers deep into the cheeks of your butt. This position feels raw, animalistic but pleasantly erotic at the same time. “Shall I take you this way?” he asks without stopping his hungry attack. His warm breath, and beard tickles your ear, and waves of hot pleasure wash through your skin. As though your body is a toy, he forcibly turns you again, and now your under him once more. One hand holds you immobile by your throat. The other grabs your hip. "Or this way?" he says as his now-soaked tip presses against your entrance, bringing shudders and ecstasy into your squirming body. You moan loudly, pressing his lips to yours roughly, silencing you.

He’s taken full control of your body and won’t share it with you. He’ll take you in any way he wants. And, yet, because your body is yearning for him, you can’t bring yourself to ask him to stop, this was a huge turn-on for you. "Marcus," you whimpered. "Please, I want to be yours. Take me now. Pretty, pretty, please." You begged.

He smiled and let you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him to you. He was as impatient as you were, but he was determined to keep this fun and heated game going. He was having fun rubbing his lips against yours and making you whimper a little more. For him, there was no comparison to watching you squirm to be his. But he couldn't wait to be inside you, and when he finally pushed his length inside your walls, entered you roughly, your body trembled with pleasure. You felt euphoric when his mouth finally met yours. You enjoy him kissing you with incredible hunger until you forget to breathe. With each rough thrust, you instinctively dug your fingers into his back which made him lose it, deepening the kiss, turning it into a carnal mating of mouths. He bit your lower lip, and you moaned with both pain and pleasure. He released his bruising grip, the hard press of his lips, and rolled onto his back, taking you with him. He seems a little worried, but when you giggle at him, he grins and buries his head between your breasts, licking your sternum all the way to your neck. He grabs you by the waist and spins you around, your back hitting his chest. He kisses your shoulder, nuzzles his nose into your hair and finds your ear.

“I want to take you this way.” His hot breath hits your ear as he caresses his way up your neck, making you shiver.

He practically has to arrange your limbs himself as he folds you forward onto your hands and knees and settles behind you. He wrapped his arms around your torso, entering you from behind, and you moved together, as one, never once breaking your intimate connection. When he increased his rhythm, one hand gathered your hair on one side of your neck. His lips traveled from your neck to your exposed shoulder, while his other hand wrapped around your waist. This position made you feel his length much deeper inside you. Your mewl-like moans were added to his and harmonized with the slick sound of each thrust. it sounded like your own special music. Marcus' hands slid under your arms to your breasts and cupped them. You threw your head back in pleasure, bumping into his shoulder as he kissed your neck repeatedly. With his forehead and brows covered in sweat, he sensed that the end was near and his hands gripped your hips tightly, deepening his thrusts and reaching his climax at the same time as you. You instinctively leaned forward as he filled you with his warm liquid, but he caught you and wrapped his arms around you tightly. He groaned loudly and his hot breath washed over your ear. You felt his nose on your cheekbone. His hand cupped your chin, turned your face to his and kissed you passionately. As you wrapped your arms around his neck and turned towards him, he pulled out of you and pressed his forehead to yours, both of you panting. Your eyes were closed, savouring the moment as the sweat mingled on your forehead and ran down your cheeks. You opened your eyes as Marcus placed a kiss on the tip of your nose.

He brushed back a few strands of hair that stuck to your forehead, also caught in your eyelashes. You looked into his eyes and looked at him.You spoke with your eyes for a while, then he frowned. He took your face in his hands, his expression serious. You were unaware that you were crying until his thumbs wiped away your tears from your cheeks. He bent his head and kissed your eyelids and long eyelashes. You nuzzled your head into his neck and he wrapped his arms around you. You couldn't stop your sobs and tears. All the emotions you felt seemed to take over your body at once.

His fingers ran through your hair. “My love. From now on, I won't risk my life easily,” he said in a velvety tone. “So please don't cry.”

You nodded and sniffled. Marcus kissed the top of your head and pulled you down with him onto the bed. You snuggled into his chest, realising how much you missed him even though it had only been a few days. It was late at night and the only sound in the room was the two of you breathing.

“I guess this has become a habit for me,” Marcus broke the silence.

You raised your head and looked at him. You ran your eyes over the sparse beard on his chin, greying in places.

"I've always lived my life like this, always fighting, battling, killing. It's the easiest thing I can do." His fingers traced the curve of your spine. “I was never afraid, not of death, not of losing. I just fought. It was easy because I had nothing to lose. That night, when I was poisoned, I knew it was time for my eternal rest. I felt relieved, not afraid, but ready.”

You swallowed, thinking about that night for the first time in a long while.

"But then I saw those eyes and they gave me the purpose to carry on living." He tenderly touched your cheek with the back of his hand. You raised your head to meet his gaze. He was already looking at you.

“Now I have a responsibility,” he smiled. “My weakness.” He bent his head and stroked yours with his nose. “A beautiful reason for me to die for.” His lips ran through your forehead. "Dying for Rome is easy, simple. But for you, my lady, it's hard, painful. The thought of never seeing you again.” He exhaled deeply. “It puts me in agony.” He frowned. “Just when I saw you put that knife to your neck so recklessly. It was painful too. I'm still angry with you for that.”

You propped yourself up on your elbow to look at him. "I feel the same way, Marcus. I can't even begin to tell you how much it hurts me to think of losing you. I couldn't sit idly by while you risk your life. I'd never be able to bear to lose you." Even the thought of it made you shudder.

He sighed and turned his head towards you. “You won't lose me. There is nothing more important to me in this life than you. How whole and at peace I feel when I hold you in my arms when I'm deep inside you. The reason is you, princess. The reason I wake up every morning with a smile. The reason I am eager to return home from my duties. To you. So I don't want you to do one more thing to put yourself in danger.”

You kissed his chest. You wanted to say more but his words were so beautiful, you couldn't object. You felt tired from the horse journey so you snuggled closer to him. Before he wrapped his arm around you, he covered you both with the sheet. You were finally about to get the peaceful sleep you had been longing for for days. In his arms.

When you woke up in the morning, the sun was high in the sky, but it wasn't its light that woke you up. Instead, it was the gentle caresses you felt on your legs that roused you. Your hand moved to the side of the bed to feel the sheets, but Marcus wasn't there. You opened your eyes when the caresses on your legs were replaced by nibbles. Was he under the sheet? Your eyes opened wide when you saw Marcus's face, smirking at you from between your legs.

“Morning, princess.” His boyish and mischievous grin spread all over his face. “May I?”

“What are you- Ow!” You gasped when you felt his tongue on your most sensitive area.

Expertly, he was licking, biting, sucking, giving you incredible pleasure this early in the morning. You had now discovered all the men inside his enormous body. The honourable man, the dominant leader, the fearless warrior, the poet, the loving husband, the romantic gentleman, the expert lover full of lust, the child inside the fourth year old man.

You smiled when the lustful expert lover has taken you to the sky full of pleasure. It's empowering to know that it was you who drove a powerful, dominating, strong beast like him mad. As you descend from the sky, he settles on top of you, placing kisses from your legs to your belly and then to your breasts and chin. He kisses your eyelids and asks you to look at him without telling you. Now that you know him so well, you immediately obey. Since you are already so ready for him, he enters you easily. He wraps his arms around you, you throw your hands back and clench the sheets. Your body curves backwards and he speeds up his thrusts. You try to suppress the urge to close your eyes tightly. He realises and finds a new solution for you and presses his forehead to yours. You smile when your eyelashes touch. But then, when he gets closer to the edge, also gets deeper into you and increases the pace tremendously, he buries his head in your collarbone. You wrap your arms tightly around his neck. And once again, you ascend to the sky. This time, you feel immense pleasure. You feel a few bites on your neck. You look at him, your eyes alight with wonder, and marvel at the beauty of the man that is coming undone inside you. He tightens his arms around your waist and moans as he reaches his climax. His body collapses on top of yours, his arms loosening. It's so beautiful to watch him as you feel his heated breath on your neck. To feel his heart thudding violently against his chest, the way your bodies connected. You both savour the glorious, euphoric feeling of being in love. Your breathing returns to ease, you feel him soften inside you and he lies down beside you, pulling you into his arms.

"Do you have any duties today?" you ask as you run your fingers over his chest.

"Yes, first I have to meet with my legates, then I have to go to the barracks. I believe there may be someone spying for Macrinus. It would be beneficial to find him before he returns to Rome."

"Didn't you say you'd already found him?"

"No, he was Julia's." His voice was sharp. You were sure he killed him. It must have been very hard for him though, a soldier from his own troops spying for someone else. After a moment or two of silence, you asked him to change the subject.

"Am I forgiven?"

“I’m thinking about it.”

You sat up in bed, intending to study his face, but suddenly a feeling of nausea hit you and you fell back. Your neck hit his shoulder.

“Oh…" You put your hand to your head. Your vision was blurred, closed your eyelids.

“My love. Are you alright?" There was concern in his voice. He sat up in bed and wrapped his arms around you.

You opened your eyes and smiled at his worried face. “My head is spinning a bit.”

“It's almost noon. You've been sleeping for a while.”

“Noon?" You hadn't realised it had been that long. You were usually up early, woken by the rooster. Perhaps it was because you hadn't slept well for a few days without him. Maybe it was because you hadn't slept properly in his absence for days. "But did you wake up first and await me?"

"That is correct, but then I became somewhat impatient if you remember." he winked.

You smiled shyly. He graciously kissed the top of your head. “My lady, I believe that you may be hungry, are you not?"

You yawned and nodded. “Indeed I am. I must admit that I am rather famished after my longest horse journey.”

He laughed. "I'll tell them to prepare a lunch for us. I must then take my leave.”

Once Marcus had departed from the villa, you wanted to check on the girls. Norell and Decima were sitting together in the courtyard, weaving rugs. You stood nearby, observing them. Decima was from Egypt, so she was used to weaving and her hands were moving with practiced ease. She mentioned about it before.

"My lady, would you care to try?" Decima asked.

"It looks very intricate," you hesitated.

Tullia came into the courtyard with a laundry basket. She made a slight gesture of respect with her head as she caught sight of you. You observed that she was walking with a slight limp. She seemed to be in pain.

“Tullia, your leg seems to be bothering you."

She put the basket down and let out a sigh. “My knees, my lady. I guess it's because I'm too old now.”

"Let me take a look," you said gently, walking over to her. Despite her objection, you helped her sit down in the chair and examined her knees. Given her late fifties age, you diagnosed her with rheumatism, given her late fifties age.

"I think I know what will be good for you," you said, walking to your private clinic-like room. Tullia's eyes widened when you returned with the hemlock jar.

“Isn't this herb poisonous?”

You smiled. “Yes, and potentially deadly.” You teased her.

“Gods, my lady, please forgive me if I've made a mistake.” She placed her hand on her chest.

“Please calm yourself, Tullia. It is indeed a very poisonous plant. However, it is also very useful to the body. I'll make you a tea of this, you drink it every other day, understood?’"

She was still looking at you weirdly.

You laughed. “You do trust me, do you not?”

She nodded. "I am grateful to you, my lady, for ensuring General's safe return to his home. So, I have great trust in you.”

You smiled. ”I imagine you must have known him for quite some time.”

"That's correct. I've been fortunate to reside in this villa for as long as I can remember."

"I see. Then you knew Marcus's father, the Dominus'?"

"Yes, my lady.”

She had been with him for many years, residing in this villa. She had likely witnessed his childhood, his youth, his unhappy marriage, everything. You felt a bit envious of her, as though she knew more about him than you know about Marcus. But you were also grateful for her loyalty over the years.

“It's the first time I've seen him alive,” she said, surprising you.

“How do you mean?” You demanded.

"Dominus. He would prefer us not to call him that, not after his father. I must say that after you came into his life, I felt like I didn't know him. He was rather solemn, and it was rare to see him smile. But now I see that he's really alive. It's so pleasant to see him like that. I'm really grateful for that, my lady."

You put a hand on her shoulder. "And I'm grateful that you have cared for him over the years, that you have served him, that you have looked after him."

She put her hand on yours. "It is my duty," she said, smiling softly.

“Domina!"

You both turned your heads to the slave who came running towards you.

“My Lady, the Imperial guard has arrived.”

You inhaled. "Am I being summoned?"

The slave looked at you with hesitation and bowed his head, which meant affirmative. Decima came to stand beside you. "Shall I come with you?"

You grasped her hand. “Yes, please.”

It was your brother Geta who summoned you this time. You weren't particularly curious, but you felt it would be a good idea to pay him a visit. You couldn't help but feel a little concerned about him, though. Besides, it seemed like a good idea to stop by the poorhouse on the way back. You were keen to find out how the children are doing, since you missed them. By the time the imperial carriage arrived at Palatine Hill, it was already late afternoon. You came to realise that you didn't miss wearing stola much since it was difficult to get used to the feeling of being tangled in their feet. And the knife Marcus gave you wasn't helping at all. It seemed a little odd to wear it on your ankle when you couldn't actually use it properly, but you had promised him after all. Geta was waiting for you in the great courtyard. When he realised you, he came running to you with a wide smile, his arms outstretched.

"Aurelia, you've been missed, sister!" He embraced you. You flinch every time he does this, but he deliberately ignores it.

"I'm really curious to know why you called me here."

"Come, let's talk while we drink. Shall we?" He led you to an armchair in the courtyard. You sat down next to him, and adjusted your dress to cover the knife on your leg.

"Wine," Geta ordered the slaves.

One of the slaves poured you a glass of wine. Decima was standing right next to you.

"So, you ordered the guards to send food to the Poorhouse," Geta said, taking a sip of his wine.

You brought your glass to your lips, but the smell was unappealing, so you put it on the table, and pushed it forward with your fingers.

"I did. Or, are you angry with me for this?"

Geta laughed. "I can't possibly be angry with you. However, I believe this is an unnecessary expense."

You glared at him. "Surely it's not as unnecessary as a tiger?"

"At least the tiger entertains us, sister. What is so interesting about those people? Nothing. I have not yet informed Caracalla of this, so you'd better end it before he becomes aware of it."

You leaned towards him. "You are not fully aware of the gravity of the situation, so you speak with undue levity. Would you be willing to abandon those children to their fate?”

He exhaled loudly. He pretended not to care, but he was thinking.

"If you'd like, I can show you. Caracalla doesn't need to know. Trust me, it's a lot cheaper than what you spend on other unnecessary things.”

"No way I'm going there!"

You sighed and stood up. "You do as you wish," you said, with a hint of sarcasm. "I was just considering paying a visit there." You glanced at him, took a step forward. He stood up too, grabbing your arm from behind.

"You've only just arrived, stay a little longer." He sounded like he was begging. He was looking at you in a strange way, you averted your gaze.

"I'm a married woman, I have responsibilities. And those children are one of them." You looked at him again. "As Emperor, you have responsibilities as well. They are your people too. You could come with me and see for yourself. If you are not convinced, I will not bring it up again. I promise."

He thought for a moment, then nodded. “Alright, you win. I'm coming with you.”

He stepped towards to the entrance, but you stopped him by tugging on his arm. "Perhaps you might like to consider changing your attire?" You asked, running your eyes over his fancy toga.

"What's in my attire?" He looked down at himself.

"Well. Your bronze crown, your gold embroidered toga, your gold bracelets, necklaces, and rings, need I say more?’

"Or do you want me to dress like a commoner? Never!" He frowned.

You rolled your eyes at him. It was futile to try to persuade this stubborn boy. So, you gave up. "Very well, as you wish, Your Majesty.”

His frown vanished and he smirked.

As you made your way across the courtyard towards the gate, you became aware of a few murmurs and turned your head in that direction. A group of people were heading into the great hall. Their attire differed from that of the members of the Senate.

"I had completely forgotten they were coming today," he said.

'Is there an official meeting with Caracalla?'

“Our relatives,” he murmured.

You regarded him with a look of surprise. “You were correct in your assumption,” he said, observing them from a distance. “The execution of Gaius has caused some distress within the dynasty in Leptis Magna. They have come here to speak with the emperor.”

"And what about you? You are the emperor as well."

He shrugged slightly. "It doesn't matter. I'm sure he will make a decision similar to the one I would have made."

"Which is...?"

Geta's face suddenly became serious. Without answering, he pulled you towards the gates roughly. But you clearly heard the sounds of screaming and shouting coming from the hall. You felt a shiver run down your spine.

“Did he murder them?” Your voice cracked.

He grabbed your shoulders and pushed you into the carriage. "They killed themselves at the very moment they set foot in Rome, Aurelia.”

It seemed that Decima was attempting to sit next to you, but he indicated the seat opposite. He then sat right next to you. You couldn't focus on them staring at each other, the screams still echoing in your ears, and continued to torture you all the way. All this brutality felt so wrong.

When you arrived at the Poorhouse, the children noticed you and ran towards you with huge, beaming smiles on their faces, gathering around you with cheerful laughter.

“Princess Aurelia!”

You smiled at them. They then looked curiously at your emperor brother, who was standing behind you. The guards approached Geta, looking a little wary. Geta covered his nose with his hand. With a somewhat displeased expression on his face he extended his arm towards them as if warning them.

“Don't you dare come near me!” He yelled.

“They're just children,” you muttered.

“But, they're filthy,” he grimaced.

You rolled your eyes and went over to the boy you had met earlier. It seemed that the mother and baby were doing better. You asked Decima to bring your bag and, as Medicus, you examined the woman and her breast milk, which was now coming in. Geta observed you as you treated a few wounded and sick people. He maintained his distance, of course. Since these people had only seen his face from a great distance before, their jaws were dropped open when he appeared before them in all his majesty.

The provisions have been brought as you requested. But it didn't seem to be enough to feed these people, yet they were happy and grateful.

"I should also provide some new clothes for them," you said, approaching Geta.

He folded his arms and looked them up and down. His expression had become somewhat more gentle, as though he was lost in thought. He seemed to be deeply affected by the unfortunate situation he had witnessed.

"You were right after all," he murmured. "They really do look rather poorly."

You looked at him. "Your Majesty, you have decided to extend a helping hand to these people?"

He locked eyes with you for a moment, his expression hard to decipher, but he seemed happy. Then he cleared his throat. "I would never allow them to pollute the streets of Rome." He turned to one of the guards. "Do as Princess Aurelia says. Make sure you provide what is needed here. And if you dare to speak to my brother about this, I will have your tongue cut out myself.”

The guard bowed his head. “Yes, Your Highness.”

You smiled at him. “Thank you, brother. I believe there may be some good in you after all."

He frowned. "I'm not sure if that's meant as an insult or a compliment."

“Perhaps both.” You stuck your tongue out at him and laughed. You were just trying to make him laugh and your intentions were innocent. But he wasn't laughing. In fact, he was looking at you seriously in a way you'd never seen him before.

"Don't laugh at me like that." His voice was sharper than his gaze. “As if you don't belong to someone else.”

You swallowed, his eyes looking at you with a dangerous intensity. You averted your eyes.

“My lady,” Decima came to your side. She was holding a bowl, without even turning your head, you could smell what was in it. The smell of meat was intense. You felt like your stomach was cramping.

“Hot, freshly prepared food has arrived, the children are eating. Would you like to have some too?”

Instinctively you covered your nose with your hand. "No, Decima, could you keep that bowl away from me?"

"Ah, it seems we have some things in common after all. I think it looks disgusting too." Geta said with a displeased expression. "Well, I think I've seen enough, I want to leave now." He turned towards the carriage.

He raised his hand and beckoning you to join him. As it was nearing dusk, you were keen to return home, so you nodded in agreement. However, as you began to walk towards him, your vision blurred, and your feet betrayed you, causing you to collapse on the ground. When your cheek touched the cold cobblestone, you felt a severe headache. Then everything went black. The last thing you remember was Decima and Geta's concerned voices mixed together with the voices of children.

You felt slight shaking of your body, which prompted you to wake up. Your headache was still present, opened your eyes slowly. The first thing you saw were the golden curtains glimmering by moonlight, which entered through the long window. Next to the window was an armchair with golden details. It seemed as though everything in the room had a golden hue. You realized that you had been in this room before. You were beginning to regain consciousness. You then sat up.

"Sister, I hope you are feeling a little better?"

You opened your eyes wide and looked at Geta, who was lying next to you. On the bed. His bed. You let out a scream in shock. He flinched.

"WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING HERE?” You quickly checked yourself over. Your clothes had been took off, and you were wearing a white, almost see-through tunic that didn't just belong to you. “What happened to my clothes?” You yelled.

Geta covered his ears with his hands. “Ugh! Could you please stop screaming? You're hurting my ears!”

“What have you done to me?”

He laughed loudly and hysterically. "Apart from making you clean up and bring it to my room? What was I supposed to do? You collapsed on that awful, stinking street. Should I have let you stay in your filthy clothes? It was gross, so I had them thrown away."

The slaves must have dressed you, at least that was a relief. But you were still very angry that you had been put in this embarrassing situation. You realised that his eyes were roaming over you. You grabbed the sheet and pulled it up to your neck, covering your body.

“Get me some decent clothes now!” Your voice was slightly trembling with anxiety.

Geta raised his eyebrows, he pointed his index finger at himself. “Did you actually say that to me? You have no manners at all. You don't know how to talk to an emperor.” He teased.

You moaned in response, placed your head in your hands and rested on your knees.

“Please, call Decima over here.”

"I want to know why you fainted. Tell me, are you sick?"

He touched your shoulder, you pulled yourself back and got out of bed. It is almost nighttime now. The mere thought of Marcus coming to Domus Severiana and seeing you like this made you shiver.

"Girl!" Geta yelled towards the door.

Decima and Geta's slave entered the room together, both looking at you with concern.

"Make sure you dress the princess properly. Otherwise she'll be torturing my ears with her squeaky voice all night." He said, squinting at you.

You ignored him. When the girl left the room to bring you a stola, Decima came over and held your hands.

"Are you alright? You frightened me.”

"I'm fine, but we should return to the villa now."

‘"Indeed, you've been unconscious for a while, it's almost midnight."

"Midnight?" You bit your lip.

Now that was something to worry about. You were sure Marcus would be here soon. Luckily the slave girl came with a stola and began to dress you. You heard footsteps and then a knock on the door.

Geta was still sitting on the bed, wine in his hand. With his permission, a slave boy who came in looked scared. “Your Highness, my lady. General Acacius-“

“Aurelia!”

Marcus's booming voice made you feel like you were on the verge of fainting again.

Geta grinned. "This is going to be fun."

You warned him as he was leaving the room. "Please don't say anything ridiculous to him.”

He shrugged. With your heart beating like it was going to burst out of your chest, you urged the girls to hurry up. Geta left the room. You tensed up even more when you heard him calling his name. Finally, the girls finished dressing you as quickly as they could, and you left the room, heading for the stairs with Decima who was trying to catch up with you. As you descended the stairs, you saw him and locked eyes with Marcus. He observed you with a keen gaze. You bit your bottom lip. He then looked at the stairs that belonged to Geta's chamber, then at Geta himself. Suddenly he grabbed Geta's collar with his fists, causing everyone to become tense.

"Have you gone mad Acacius? What do you think you're doing?” Geta barked.

“Marcus!” You ran towards them.

The guards drew their swords.

“What have you done to my wife?” He roared.

“Get your hands off me now!” Geta warned.

“Marcus, please, it's not what you think.” You grabbed his big hands and tried to pull them away from your brother's collar, but it was like moving a marble statue.

“You don't seem to be taking good care of your wife like you promised.”

Marcus tightened his grip and shook him angrily. “What are you saying?”

The guards approached the two of them, their swords pointed at Marcus.

“General Acacius, I warn you.” One of the guards said.

Marcus ignored him, his dark eyes locked on Geta’s.

“Your wife fainted in the middle of the street. I wonder if you were aware that she's been sick.’’

Marcus then withdrew his hands, released him. You exhaled in relief. Geta ordered the guards to put their swords away.

Marcus stepped towards you. "Is that true?" He sounded concerned, touching your face with his hands.

You grasped his hand. "I felt unwell for a moment, but I'm fine now."

Marcus observed your face a little more. Then put his arm around you and glared at Geta. "We shall take our leave now."

Geta shouted behind you two. "You're not even going to ask for my forgiveness, Acacius?"

Marcus answered without looking at him. "With all my heart, no."

You turned your head and looked over your shoulder at Geta. He looked angry and annoyed. You gave him a faint smile.

"Your Highness, shall we stop him?" One of the guards gripped his sword once more.

"Just give us the order, Your Highness."

"Shut the hell up! Leave me alone, all of you! Get out of my sight!" He shouted at them and walked towards his chamber. Caracalla watched the whole thing from a distance, he was looking at his brother coming up.

"You're so pathetic." Caracalla chastised.

"Don't you start!" Geta barked at him, walked towards his room, and slammed the door.

It was well after midnight by the time you arrived back at the villa. Marcus still seemed a little tense, which made you wonder what he was thinking. He was looking at your ankle as you walked to your room. He stopped in front of the door.

“I do not see your knife.”

You looked at him, you had no clue.

“Here, sir,” Decima said. She came up the stairs and stood beside you. She was holding your scabbard in her hand. She handed it to you. “After you fainted-“ She avoided Marcus's stern gaze, turning her eyes to you. “I'm the one who dressed you so I kept this.”

“Thank you, Decima.”

She smiled. “If you'll excuse me, sir, my lady,” she bowed and turned to head for the stairs.

Marcus closed the door behind you. He placed his hands on your shoulders and guided you to sit on the bed, then sat down next to you.

"My love. Are you sure you're feeling well?" His hands touching all over your face.

How can I possibly feel bad when you touch me like this? You thought.

"I suppose I do not need to bring a Medicus for you?” He smirked. “So, what is your diagnosis, lady medicus?”

You smiled. “Hmm, I think I became a little nervous when I-“ You swallowed.

“Continue, please.”

"Caracalla. He had our relatives from Leptis Magna killed. I didn't see them, but I heard them…”

Marcus frowned, clenched his hand into a fist and pressed it to his forehead. He then closed his eyes. “That scum. He must be out of his mind for sure.”

You put your hand on his shoulder. "How do you mean?”

He then stood up. You went over him, untying the strings of his armour.

"Macrinus. He has a majority in the Senate. He managed to eliminate Gaius and his supporters. Caracalla is his instrument. It is likely that he will announce him Commander of the Praetorian (Imperial) Guards imminently. I should have killed him last night." He banged his fist on his desk, almost startling you.

You took a deep breath. “Then why did he go to Libya?” You helped him take off his armour.

"I believe there is a possibility that he is raising his own army. I haven't heard from the legions in that area for some time now."

"His own army?" You shocked. You hadn't realised how serious things were.

"If my suspicions are correct, yes. He also would want to incorporate the southern legions into his own as well."

"Your legions?"

“I'm afraid so.” He turned his head towards you. "I may have to go there soon."

You cringed and your chest hurt. You weren't expecting this at all.

Marcus realised the look on your face and put his arms around you. "I'll have to kill him sooner or later. And them too." His voice was sharp.

Surely you were aware of whom he was referring to.

“I will not waste another generation of young men on their arrogance and vanity. I will not allow Macrinus to use your brothers' trust and start a civil war that will harm Rome.”

“Caracalla, yes, but maybe Geta-“ the words seemed to stick in your throat.

"Are you defending him to me?"

"Absolutely not." You shook your head. "I was just thinking he might make a good emperor.”

"Please Aurelia. I assume you're not meant seriously.”

"He's not like Caracalla. I believe you are aware of that. I don't think you are truly inclined to kill him."

"I was considering it. When I saw you coming out of his chamber..." He pursed his lips, trying to be calm.

You tensed as you remembered that moment. "I'm truly sorry about that." You bowed your head. Marcus placed his hand under your chin and gently lifted your face to look at your eyes.

"He didn't touch you, did he?" His brown eyes were almost black.

"No, Marcus. Of course not."

He grabbed your face in his big hands, pulled you towards him, you stumbled with the sudden rush of his. "I am the only one who can touch you. You are my Aurelia. Mine."

"I am indeed, Marcus.”

"Say it," he demanded. "Say that you're mine. I want to hear it from your lips."

"I am yours." You said softly.

He smirked and bent his head, kissing you roughly almost forcefully. His skillful hands were not gentle while undressing you in a hurry. When you were completely naked, he scooped you up and put you on the bed. In the blink of an eye he was on top of you and then inside you. While he’s having you roughly, his lips, his tongue, his teeth travelled over every possible part of your flesh. Marking you. As if physically claiming you. Making you his.

The sun had just risen when you opened your eyes. But it wasn't its light that woke you. It was the sudden pain in your stomach and the feeling like you'd been punched. You gasped and covered your mouth with your hand, attempting to suppress the urge to vomit. You hurried out of Marcus' arms and ran to the latrina. He was roused from his slumber by the sound of the door closing with a resounding bang.

“Aurelia?”

You were too distracted by feeling unwell to focus on his concerned voice. You splashed water on your face to feel better after violently throwing up. Suddenly you felt Marcus's hands on your shoulders. “My love?”

Your stomach was still causing you pain and you found it difficult to speak. Also, your head was spinning, so you took a moment to lean against the wall. Marcus quickly took you into his arms and carried you to the bed, sitting next to you.

“My lady, I'm really starting to worry now.”

“No, please don't. If I get some rest, I'll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” He took your hand in his hands.

You nodded and smiled at him. But his face showed concern.

“Perhaps I could stay here with you today.”

Just then, there was a knock on the door and Cato came in with Marcus's permission. He gave you both a nod. “Sir, I am here to inform you that the soldiers you have been expecting from the south have entered the city at dawn. The Legates have requested an immediate assembly.”

"Is that so? At last, some good news." He said, then looked at you with uncertain eyes.

You smiled at him and touched his hand with yours. "Please do not concern yourself with my well-being. Just leave. It must be important."

He leaned towards you and kissed you on the forehead. "Have a good rest, my love. And please be well." He kissed your hand before leaving the room with Cato.

After a while there was a knock on the door again. Decima brought breakfast for you.

"My lady, are you feeling better?"

"I believe so."

She approached your bedside. "Would you like me to feed you?”

You laughed. “Dear, please. Hopefully I'm not in a situation that requires me to be fed." You got out of bed and walked towards to the chair. You weren't exactly starving, but you knew you needed to eat to feel strong. You asked Decima to join you.

"My lady, well I am. I've been thinking it over.”

“Hmm?”

"This nausea you're feeling, the headaches. I wonder if...’ When she looked at you suggestively, you swallowed and looked at her, taken aback.

You'd never thought of that. As a medicus, you were confident that you didn't have any other underlying health issues. On top of that, it had been a few weeks since the wedding and you hadn't had any monthly bleeding since then.

"Gods," you murmured. "Could it really be?”

Decima took your hands, seemed excited. "I think so. Have you ever examined a woman carrying a child?"

"No, I've only assisted women in labour. I know how to run a consultation though. But it's still too early to be certain."

Decima smiled widely. "I hope you're with child."

You couldn't help smiling back. "I hope that too. But we should keep this between us for now."

"Indeed, of course.”

“Domina!” came a voice from behind the door.

“Come in.”

The slave boy from yesterday came in, his face was worried again.

“Am I being summoned again? Please tell them I'm sick and having rest.”

"You're not being summoned, my lady.”

“What's the matter, then?”

He bowed his head, as if he didn't know what to say.

“Tell me.” You demanded.

“If you can come down, you'd better see for yourself.”

You exchanged glances with Decima, then got up and left the room. As you were making your way down the stairs, you almost lost your footing when you saw the person standing in the courtyard.

“Lady Domna?”

Julia was waiting by the fountain in a black cloak. She looked a bit worried and uneasy.

"May I ask what you're doing here?"

"We need to talk." She said in a commanding tone.

You suddenly felt tense as you remembered your last conversation with her. What the hell was she doing here?

'Do you usually keep your guests waiting without offering them a seat?'

You rolled your eyes and gestured to the armchair nearby. “Have a seat.”

She sat down in a rather arrogant manner. “Leave us,” she told your slaves. But they were looking at you. Julia was annoyed.

You sat opposite her. “Leave us alone please," you said the slaves with a smile. They then bowed their heads and left the courtyard. Decima too, she nodded.

"Your slaves don't know how to behave." She muttered.

"Could you please tell me why are you here? I thought you were in Syria?"

"I've recently returned. Never mind that. I need you to help me with something."

"My help? Why should I help you?"

"Because I believe you would want to.”

You crossed your arms. "What are you talking about? Speak clearly, please."

Julia sighed. Then leaned closer to you with a sharp gaze, whispering. "I need you to help me kill Caracalla.”

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bratbarzal · 3 months ago

Text

On Your Side (NH13) / Chapter Nine

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy Jensen

WC: 23k (have fun!!)

18+ MDNI!

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

Series Masterlist

Previous Part (Chapter Eight)

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

Poppy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nods, mindlessly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She shakes her head.

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

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

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She’s tired of it, now.

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

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

Only that doesn’t work, either.

Obviously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Too late. I already know too much.”

“Like what?”

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

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

“I need you to hand the book over.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can buy bleach-,”

“You know exactly what I meant.”

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

“Maybe stay away from seeds, then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dad, what are you doing here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cant a father visit his daughter at work?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I was embarrassed of myself.”

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

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

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

“Says you, you called him an idiot.”

“Yeah, well he got under my skin.”

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

“Stealing your job?”

What on Earth does he mean by that?

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

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

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

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

“He yelled at you?”

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

“What did he say?”

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

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

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

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

“You want a do-over?”

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

The game on Wednesday.

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

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

She nods, anyway.

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

“We?”

“Me and your mother.”

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

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

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

“I want to understand your world, Poppy.”

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

All thanks to Nico.

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

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

“You guys are over this way?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Less stressed, though.”

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

All she wants to do is crawl into his lap.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

“Nope.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Or we could do lunch together later?”

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

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

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

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

“I’ll see you later then, Poppy.”

“And Cheeto.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my God, they have baked cookies.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought things were going well?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s keep it that way.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re being an idiot.”

Great.

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

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

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

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

And, evidently, she no longer has him blocked

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

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

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

“Wrong sport.” Poppy smirks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I appreciate it.”

“I know you do.”

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

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

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

She’s a repeat offender, after all.

“You feeling okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Surprised it took you this long to notice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s nice. And that’s Sweden?”

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

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

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

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

“What do your parents do, son?”

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

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

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

“I bet your family game nights get heated.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s great-,”

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

“I can look after myself, Mom.”

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

Why does she have to be like this?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We?”

“Yeah, I went with Josh.”

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

“And you went away from The Rock?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Did he pay?”

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

“And you walked back to work together after?”

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

“Has he text you since?”

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

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

“Can’t argue with that logic.”

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

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

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

Shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I will. See you later, Nico.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I got a delivery for Poppy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Poppy: You’re my favourite baby daddy 😊

Nico: I’m your only baby daddy 🙄

Poppy: Potentially my favourite person

Nico: Potentially?

Poppy: Cheeto’s first

Nico: So I’m second?

Poppy: Potentially 💖

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

Maybe she’s obsessed, too.

Nico

“What do you know about Josh from PR?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Our Poppy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure you’re not.” Luke scoffs.

“I’m just looking out for her.”

“Of course you are.”

“Stop being annoying.”

“Stop being a liar.”

“I’m not lying.”

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

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

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

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

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

Something like that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He didn’t deny it!”

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

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

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

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

They aren’t together.

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

Why wouldn’t she date Josh?

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

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

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

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

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

But God, he wants to see her.

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

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

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

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

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

Jesus, he thinks, she’s beautiful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He has nothing to worry about, he realises.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t think that-,”

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

“Okay,”

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

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

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

He wants her to finish that thought so badly.

When we’re what, Poppy?

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

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

What?

Where the hell did that come from?

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

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

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

“But what about-,”

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

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

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

“It tastes different-,”

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

“No.”

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

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

“Doesn’t it?”

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

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

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

“That’s what you’re focusing on?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Poppy is a certainty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s never known calm like it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No."

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

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

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

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

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

He wants it gone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“On me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Poppy looks like she wants to eat him whole.

It makes him feel like he’s on fire.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re still having bad dreams?”

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

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

“What are they about?”

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

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Talking about it might help,” he insists.

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

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

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

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

“You keep leaving me.”

“Oh.”

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

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

“Poppy-,”

“It’s stupid, I know.”

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

“You would?”

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

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

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

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

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

It might be one of his favourites.

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

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

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

This is where it starts for them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

Oh God.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you need to handle that?”

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

“Do I?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You think it’s funny?”

“No-,”

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A schmuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Need you inside me.”

“Do you have a condom?”

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

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

“Is that a no?”

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

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

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

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

She’s close, too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wants all his mornings to start like this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think your mom was right.”

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

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

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

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

“I want to make you happy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cupcakes.”

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

“I’ve been sneaky.”

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

“Oh yeah?”

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

Nico feels his heart stutter.

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

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

“So you know?”

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

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

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

“Baby Hischier?”

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

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

“No hyphen?” He elaborates, and he can feel his brow twitch of its own accord, catching her eye and making her lips twist, fondly, in the way that makes him already anticipate some smart-ass comeback.

“It’s a cupcake, not a billboard,” she quips, “We could do that, it that’s what you want?”

“I thought that would be what you wanted.” If it is, he’ll do it that way, but God does he all of a sudden hate hyphens.

“I haven’t really thought about it, to be honest. Hischier just felt right when I wrote it down for Bonnie. I like your name.”

You can have it, he thinks.

“The less claim my family have to our baby, the better. Plus, it’s kind of the tradition, to give the baby it’s father’s surname.”

“Because we’re so traditional,” he chuckles, liking the way he makes her laugh, too.

“That’s true. Maybe we should make up a name, then? Say, fuck the system,”

“Hischier’s fine.” He says, resolutely, a sudden wave of possessiveness washing over him, and he only feels slightly ashamed of it.

“Hischier is great.” She reassures him, enough to make his chest puff with pride, and the smile that tugs at the corners of her mouth is enough to tell him she’s proud of her own teasing - and all too aware of his mini-neanderthal moment. “Can we get on with it, I’ve been glaring at this box all afternoon.”

“I don’t know, I’m all of a sudden nervous about eating a cupcake.”

“Welcome to my first trimester.”

He can feel the beat of his heart in every inch of his body.

He hasn’t really given it much thought, before now, if there’s any specific gender he wants it to be. He’s always thought it corny, when people say I just want a healthy baby, but that truly is all he wants.

He sees the best of both worlds - a mini him, or a mini Poppy. Half of each of them in one bundle of joy.

He’ll be in love with it, either way.

“We’ve just got to do it,” Poppy says, placing the box down on the coffee table and holding her cupcake across from his. “Close your eyes and take a bite after three.”

He nods, before cheers-ing his cupcake against hers, and then closes his eyes, taking a deep breath and waiting for Poppy to start the countdown.

“One…” He peaks an eye open, watching and unable to stop the grin that spreads into his cheeks, already. “Two…”

She opens an eye, too.

“Close your eyes, Mohn.” He warns her.

“I was checking yours were closed.”

He makes a show of scrunching them shut, assuming she’s doing the same, and she starts the countdown back up again.

On three, he takes a bite and opens his eyes, disregarding whatever colour sits on his own cupcake and immediately watching for Poppy’s reaction.

Her bite had been clumsy, the frosting smearing on her lips, and where he had wanted to see her eyes light up, his gaze is stuck in a magnetised grip to the soft pink colour of the sugary goodness that now surrounds her mouth.

A girl.

A mini Poppy - pretty eyes, a killer smile that he folds to in an instant, a sharp tongue that fills his life with equal parts sarcasm and light.

He’s so done for.

Before he can help himself, he discards his cupcake onto the coffee table and pounces forward, hoping that she flings hers in the same direction as he takes her face between both hands and pulls her lips into his, licking the frosting straight from them before he kisses her with all the passion he can muster.

It’s messy, he can feel the icing transfer to his own upper lip, tasting the sugar as she giggles into his mouth, and his whole body lights up with the joy of it all, their teeth clashing in a messy abundance of shared glee.

He can’t get enough of this feeling, of the sound of her blissful laughter, and so even when they part, he keeps going back for more, pressing his lips to any part of her face he can reach - her lips, her chin, her nose, her cheeks - and when they’re touching the corner of her mouth, he feels the movement of it as she asks, “Are you happy?”

“So happy.” It’s an understatement, but he’s hard pressed to think of more elaborate wording, so he kisses her again before saying, “Come home with me. To Switzerland. I don’t want to spend another summer missing you, Poppy. I don’t want to be apart from you and our baby girl.”

He doesn’t know why he hasn’t asked before. He knows it’s what he’s wanted this whole time, to be in the place he loves the most with the girls he might love more.

“Really?”

“I wanna share the other half of my life with you. We can sort out a doctor so we don’t have to fly back and forth or miss any appointments, and it gives my family a chance to spend time with you, I can show you all my favourite places, we can-,”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“You don’t have to sell it to me, Nico, I’m already there.”

“Yeah?” The thumping of his heart is so vigorous he thinks she can probably see it, breaking out of his chest and flying out toward her like a cartoon.

“I’m hardly gonna say no to a European summer.” She teases with a shrug, licking at the remaining frosting on her lips before she leans in to press them softly against his, again.

“The fact I’m there is just a bonus?”

“If that’s what you want to believe.”

Next Chapter

Taglist: @alwaysclassyeagle @bunbunbl0gs @idgaf-if-youre-here @youflowerr-youfeast @thearchersstuff @bellsdi0r @wonderheartz @jjgsunflower @butterflies35 @kenziepickle @josierosie @laheyxlover @mrsmattytkachuk @dasiysthings (sorry if your tag hasn't worked btw)

#nico hischier #nico hischier x oc #nico hischier smut #nico hischier fanfiction #nhl fanfiction #nico hischier imagine #*oys #*writing #raise ur hand if I got you with the warning lmao #again sorry for the wait on this!!!!! let's all pray life doesn't find another way to smack me down this week #I still can't talk I sound crazy #but the next chapter might be a similar if not longer wait BECAUSE I want to focus on writing something else #just a one off thing #but idak because when inspiration strikes who am I to deny it

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dat-town · 6 months ago

Text

one look (and it's over)

Characters: student representative!Leehan & content creator!female reader

Setting & genre: high school au, fluff, coming of age, fake dating for like 30 seconds

Summary: You took one look at Kim Leehan and thought you had him all figured out. But oh he was so much more than that and somehow he became a stable point in your uncertain future.

Warnings: stage names are used, OC refers to Leehan as pretty boy and is annoyed by him in the beginning, OC has one neglectant comment about harassment against boys but regrets it immediately, Leehan has this popularity thing going on with all its consequences, people tend to touch him without his consent and it does bother him but tends to play it off, he also reveals an insecurity about his looks at one point

Words: 7.8k

Author’s note: this is also the product of the amount of Ann Liang books i binge read recently, the instagram algorithm and @restlessmaknae’s marketing for Zico’s kids. partly inspired by who! trailer film and Leehan’s iconic “how can she not like me when i look like this?” title is from Leo’s One Look

despite all the spoilers i hope you like it @restlessmaknae <3

read Taesan’s companion piece here

The first time you met Leehan, he said you were his girlfriend.

Not to you but to another stranger, a girl very obviously flirting with him and you felt like an awkward third wheel standing there with your camera in hand.

“Oh,” the girl with thigh socks and manicured fingers pouted after giving you a once-over as if cataloging what she lost against but then she mumbled out a sorry and made a beeline towards her friends in the back of the room.

The boy next to you let out a relieved sigh and that was what managed to snap you out of your stupor.

“Did you just use me to get out of having to say no?” You hissed and glared at him despite the height difference. Lucky for him you weren’t a fan of public humiliation, so you didn’t call him out on the lie loudly while the girl from before was still so close but it didn’t mean you supported his rude behavior. However, the boy didn’t look like he was feeling guilty.

“I did say no. Twice. She was being pushy,” he explained, letting out a frustrated huff as he looked down at you. “I know her type, this was the easiest and kindest way to let her down.”

“You talk as if you had so much experience,” you snorted, the urge to roll your eyes too strong but nothing could have prepared you for the boy’s reaction.

“Well… yeah,” he simply confirmed with a small nod after barely hesitating and just pointed at his face. His stupid handsome face because if you wanted to be honest, he looked exactly like the type of guy girls your age would be daydreaming about. His hazel brown, longer locks framed his freckled face nicely and his orbs reflected the blue lights of the aquariums around you behind his stylish glasses. You weren’t even sure he needed those or if they were just a fashion item like his baggy jeans and plaid shirt were. He looked like the kind of boy who thought they were too good for everybody.

“Alright,” you muttered, sarcasm dripping off your tone before turning your back on him and heading towards the tunnel under the shark aquarium because you wanted nothing to do with the likes of him. Briefly you wondered whether the girl from before saw this and thought you were the jealous kind of girlfriend but you had better things to do than worrying about that.

Unfortunately, the pretty boy didn’t get the memo and managed to catch up to you quickly. His stupid long legs easily kept up with your steps.

“Hey, wait up. It would be weird if we went separate ways and she found me again.”

“Not my problem,” you reminded him and the guy had the audacity to look like a kicked puppy with his doe eyes. It was unfair. You sighed. “Whatever. Just stay quiet.”

The guy did not in fact stay quiet. He babbled about random fun facts about the sea animals you were seeing, pointing out cool hiding ones you would have missed otherwise and he seemed to know more fish species than you ever heard of in your life.

“How do you know all this?” Your curiosity got the worse out of you at one point when he was talking about the coral reef and star fishes in such detail your past Biology teachers would have been ashamed of their own knowledge.

“Oh. I come here a lot,” pretty boy answered with a shrug and a big smile, his pearl white teeth glittering under the fluorescent lights. “Would you like me to take a picture of you? It’s one of the last rooms.”

Out of instinct you were about to tell him no because you were used to taking your own pictures but thinking about it for a moment, it was only right. He lied about you being his girlfriend and stuck to your side, so you couldn’t film like you planned. The least he could do was to take some pictures.

“Sure,” you handed him your camera and stood in front of the colorful aquarium, posing naturally, then you turned towards the fish and poked the glass between you. The boy didn’t even complain and later you had to admit that he did take it seriously. The photos came out nice enough to set one of them as your new profile picture.

“I’m Leehan by the way,” he said as he handed back your camera and as if on cue, your phone started ringing. You glanced at the caller’s handle before answering, sandwiching the phone between your shoulder and ear to take the camera back.

“Hi, mom. I will be out in a minute,” you said, waving the guy goodbye just to not be rude while you listened to your mother explaining the location of the parking spot she found. You might not meet ever again but you could be well mannered about it even if his previous attitude still bothered you.

When you were younger, you wanted to become many things: idol, actress, tv show host, news anchor… You had always had the passion of performing and ever since you had won the beauty pageant in your region when you had been 4 years old, you had kept hearing that you had the face for these things, too. As if having been a pretty baby helped much with teenager pimples and acne scars.

It was a bit more than three years ago when you decided to take your fate into your hands and do something with this interest of yours. During the summer after your middle school graduation, your family moved to Jeju, so your parents could oversee the opening of the new branch of their business. Not knowing anybody around there but loving the beautiful spots, you started making weekly videos about your days, studying, discovering bakeries and stationary stores. A term passed and life brought you to Gwangju, then Daegu, then last time Daejeon. Over the years your content changed a bit focusing more on realistic high school life portrayal, aesthetics vlogs going around new towns and skincare tips you learned while your subscriber numbers increased gradually. By now, you were an established content creator with a loyal following and some long term sponsors. You only had one more year to graduate and then you could do this full time.

Unsurprisingly senior year had found you in a new city too, this time Seoul, and your viewers had been eager for new exploring types of content, so you had done your research and headed out to look around a bit before the upcoming term made you busy. That was how you had ended up at the aquarium too, not that you could salvage any footage from that day after meeting the arrogant pretty boy.

But oh, how wrong you were about not seeing him again. He was literally on the poster advertising your new school when you went to pick up your school uniform with your mom. Suddenly Seoul seemed to be a much smaller city than you expected it to be.

Small mercies though, at least you weren’t classmates. Not that it saved you from hearing the girls gush about him or his other popular friends. It was a typical high school thing, everywhere you went, school cliques and dynamics were all the same. As the new transfer student you fit in alright, but you had experience in that, in being the new kid in town. You got yourself some popularity too after one of the girls asked for your IG and saw your followers’ number and another classmate was watching your Youtube channel apparently. You didn’t become an outcast nor were you caught up in classroom drama, so it was all good just how you liked it to be.

It happened a few weeks into the term, on a nothing special Tuesday. You were sitting in the canteen with some of your classmates you befriended, spooning fried rice into your mouth and listening to Eunjoo squealing about the new Olive Young discounts, when you looked up and your eyes met a familiar set of brown eyes. The first thing you noticed was a sly smile on the boy’s lips then the second that he wasn’t wearing glasses, so either you were right about them being fake or he wore contact lenses.

You forced yourself to look away despite feeling his gaze on you and focused on the girls’ chatter about Innisfree’s new skincare collection, agreeing to go with them later to check it out. Suddenly, you heard a creak of chair legs dragged across the floor and the canteen quieting down for a long moment before the murmurs picked up. Then an empty tray with only remains of the daily lunch menu was slid onto the table across you and Wonhee on your left gasped.

“Hello, girls. Hello… Y/N,” came the now familiar smooth voice and you caught Leehan pointedly looking at the name tag over your uniform before locking eyes with you. “I didn’t know you go here.”

“I just transferred this year,” you said, unfazed but you couldn’t help but observe how different vibe did the boy give off now compared to the aquarium. Maybe it was the circumstances or maybe it was the uniform’s doing, the suit well-fitted, his necktie nicely made and the fabric’s tight stretch empathizing his broad shoulders. Nothing about him now indicated how laid back he had been back at the aquarium, how relaxed, if not for his lazy smile. Here he was composed, seemingly aware that each of his movements were followed by curious eyes. Huh, maybe he did have as much experience rejecting girls as he had claimed despite his age.

“Do you know each other?” Eunjoo chirped in, cutting your train of thoughts short.

“We ran into each other before,” you explained briefly and while it didn’t seem to satisfy the girls' curiosity, luckily Leehan didn’t seem keen on elaborating either.

“Well, it was good to see you again,” he nodded towards you then flashed a charming smile at your entire table before taking off, leaving a trail of whispers and gossip in the wake of his steps. You looked after him and wondered what Yongsan High’s prince wanted from you.

That could have been it. Acknowledging each other’s presence, greeting each other on the school hallways, nothing less, nothing more. That was until Principal Im called you into his office, offered you tea and mentioned that ‘it was brought to his knowledge that you were some sort of Internet persona’, his words, not yours. It felt weird talking about it with a teacher because none of your previous schools had a problem with it. But as it turned out it was quite the opposite. The principal wished to use your ‘expertise with standing in front of a camera’ to the school’s benefit. So that was how you ended up doing a photoshoot for the school’s Open Day with none other than Kim Leehan.

Although you had no actual modeling experience, the principal reassured you that you didn’t need to be professional for this kind of shoot. He was even delighted by the idea of you vlogging the experience for more exposure. So on the day of the shooting, you headed to the classroom assigned for the shoot right after classes and talked with the photographer about recording the entire session and set up your camera. You were doing last minute adjustments with the brightness and white light with the new angle after filming getting your hair and ‘no makeup’ makeup done by the stylist the school hired (like woah, they took it seriously) when Leehan showed up.

It was obvious that he had experience, he moved around the lighting and photography equipment with ease, charming everybody with his easy smile and kind greetings. He sat through getting his makeup to not glow or look tired on camera without a word of complaint and instead chatted with the woman about her dog. You caught yourself staring at his genuine smile a little too late.

“Y/N!” Leehan’s smile widened slowly, a little cheekily, showing his dimple and he shot up from his chair to walk up to you and your camera. “So it’s you.”

“It’s me,” you confirmed but you weren’t sure why he looked so giddy about it. Was he worried it would be some clingy fangirl of his?

“I heard you’re Internet famous,” he noted and then looked pointedly at the camera. “Are you going to film the shooting too?”

“That’s the plan. If that’s alright with you,” you looked at him, questioning. Even if he said no, you could record your solo parts and use just that and the preparation during editing. You wouldn’t have wanted to make anybody uncomfortable with your filming. Leehan however didn’t seem to mind at all.

“Sure, you can even put my face on the thumbnail,” he winked at you, teasing, right before the photographer called for you.

Even with all his playfulness, Leehan took the job seriously. Whether it was experience or natural talent, he had a knack for easing into natural behavior despite the constant click-clack of the camera and knew how to smile into it when it was needed to make the photographer satisfied. You took a bunch of photos depicting school life at Yongsan High: flipping through text books, fake writing essays, solving equations on the board and working in pairs on a task. You honestly weren’t sure why they needed so much for a simple Open Day brochure but it was a one of a kind experience and not at all bad.

“Thank you for your hard work,” the principal’s secretary distributed drinks for everyone when the shooting was wrapped up and you bid goodbye to every adult with polite bows before dismounting your own camera.

You didn’t expect Leehan to wait for you but for some reason, you weren’t all too surprised either.

“Want some?” He held something out for you and looking down you saw that it was a pack of shark shaped gummies. So random.

“No, thanks,” you shook your head and put your tripod and camera into your bag, ready to go. But you couldn’t without making a comment. “You’re pretty good at this. Modeling, I mean.”

“Hm. It’s good for extra pocket money,” Leehan shrugged between chewing two pieces of gummies. You were sure it wasn’t the first time he heard it from somebody. “And no, before you ask, I wasn’t paid for this either. I mean in general.”

With his face and overall good looks you weren’t surprised to hear that. Not to mention it was a positive thing that he had already found something to earn money with.

“Do you wanna do this after graduating?” You asked, suddenly curious because you realized that you didn’t know anything about him other than his fascination with sea animals, that everywhere he went girls just fell in love with him at first sight and that he acted like you were friends for a while when you had been nothing but strangers.

“Nah. Maybe as a side gig but hopefully I will get into a uni with marine studies,” he said and you knew that it was very judgemental of you to be surprised at his career choice, especially after seeing how enthusiastic he was at the aquarium but it only proved your stance that you barely knew each other. And apparently Kim Leehan kept surprising you.

“That’s cool,” you mumbled, not wanting to voice out your surprise in case he would think you thought of him as an air-headed pretty boy even if there would have been a tiny bit of truth in that.

“What about you? Will you turn content creation into a job?” He nodded towards the tripod in your hands. He didn’t ask about it in a way some of your more distant relatives did, condescending, like you were a child they needed to warn about how unstable of a career it was. He seemed genuinely curious, so you gave him an honest answer too.

“Well, I will try to. But I plan to get certificates for digital marketing too and maybe help others boost their online presence too,” you said because while your plans might not have been unheard of in this time and age, you knew that it was far from what your conservative country encouraged. If nothing worked out, your parents would have been glad to welcome you at their company too but you didn’t voice that out because you would have preferred paving your own way.

“That’s pretty cool, too. What’s your account’s name by the way?” Leehan asked, fishing out his phone ready to look it up and his eyes sparkling with curiosity which was unfair really because it made it hard to say no to him. “Oh come on, I’m sure I could ask any of your friends.”

You knew he was right, he could even just search your name on Naver and find it. You weren’t sure why you felt so self-conscious thinking about him checking out your channel or other socials. Plenty of other people did.

“Fine,” you sighed, telling the boy your IG handle and in a weak attempt of not seeing his reaction, you swung your bag onto your shoulder now that you were all packed up and headed towards the classroom exit.

“Cute,” you heard Leehan’s comment, quiet and unexpected, from behind you just before he caught up to you with his long legs. “You set the photo I took as your profile picture.”

You hummed because what else could you have said? It was pretty obvious. Leehan seemed surprised at first though but then his mouth tilted in a teasing way.

“Where’s my credit?” He singsonged, easily keeping up with your walking speed.

“In your dreams. I don’t want dating rumors,” you told him. You weren’t famous in a way you would have to worry about people dissecting your life but so far you had managed to keep your family and relationships out of the public eye and you wanted to keep it that way. If you captioned the photo with ‘taken by the pretty boy I met at the aquarium’ some of your followers surely would have gotten way too invested in your non-existent love life. Plus, you had thought you wouldn’t see each other again.

“What if it’s not a rumor?” Leehan asked just to tease. It was easy to tell from his tone or the way his eyes glinted when you looked at him.

“Says the guy who lied about having a girlfriend when asked for his number,” you deadpanned with an eyebrow raised, challenging him to disagree with you but the boy only cackled.

“Touché.”

He followed you on Instagram and after one cute animal post in your DMs, you followed him back. You didn’t text much at first, just sharing some memes over Principal Im’s mild reactions to your photo shoot and random sealife content. Then the principal asked the two of you to greet the parents at the school gate on the Open Day which made you bond over mutual annoyance over responsibilities like this. You would never understand what difference it made to have two students offer brochures by the door instead of stacking them on a table free to take to the overall experience of parents, but there you were, on brochure hand out duty on a fine Friday.

“Do I have a sign over my forehead saying ‘touch me’ or something?” Leehan grumbled after the nth parent thought it was appropriate to place a hand over his shoulder or touch his cheek just to coo about how handsome boys attended this school. You got some comments on your looks too but the aunties were impressed by Leehan’s visuals way more and neither of you could say anything because that would have come off as disrespectful and wouldn’t have done any good for the school’s reputation.

“Do you want to take a break? I can cover for you,” you offered because seeing him at unease twisted something in your stomach. Honestly, both of you were there mostly just to look pretty, so if he left to be alone a bit, you would have been fine still.

Leehan seemed taken aback by your offer though if his widened eyes and slow blinking was anything to go by.

“No, it’s fine. Thanks though,” he shook his head eventually and put on his fake smile when the next batch of parents filed through the entrance.

But something shifted then between you, some sort of unsaid understanding over vulnerability. Something that made you think that maybe you could be more than just two people in the same boat. You could have been friends talking about stuff friends did.

Maybe that was why, when you were done and ushered to your respective classrooms, you brought up the first neutral topic that you could think of to fill the void while walking on the empty hallways.

“Hey, are you friends with the school radio club leader?”

Leehan seemed lost in thoughts, so your question made him falter a bit, his eyebrows creasing, confused about the sudden topic.

“Taesan? Yeah, why?” He asked tentatively, turning to look at you briefly and see your expression.

“Is he dating my class’ president?” You asked because even though you weren’t one to bump your nose into others’ business, based on what you saw, you could barely believe it wasn’t common knowledge. Leehan must have been on the same page because his eyes immediately shone with excitement.

“Oh, you noticed too!” He pointed out, giddy, and it was nice to see him smile so wide after how uncomfortable he had looked before.

“It was kind of hard not to. I was at the senior interview last week and they kept glancing at each other,” you said because honestly, they must have thought that they had been subtle about it, always looking when the other hadn’t but it made you feel like a third wheel.

“That’s just great! I can’t wait to tease Taesan with it,” Leehan grinned, bouncing a little on his feet, his soft-looking hair falling into his eyes behind the glasses he decided to put on that day too. “They aren’t official or anything. Taesan was actually convinced for a while that pres hated his guts but as far as I know there has been progress.”

You weren’t an expert at love by any means but based on what you saw, your class president was far from hating the other guy, so you just hummed in acknowledgement. Leehan misunderstood your silence though.

“Are you jealous?” He asked, more astonished than teasing as he jogged in front of you, so he could look at your face while walking backwards. An unnecessarily hazardous thing to do, so you halted your steps when you reached the corner of your classrooms' hallway.

“What? No,” you furrowed your eyebrows because where the heck did he take that from?

“So you don’t like Taesan?” Leehan asked as if it was something he needed to confirm, best friend duties or whatever. Even if you liked his friend, you wouldn’t have talked about him with Leehan. That kind of behavior just didn’t make sense to you.

“No, gosh, I was just trying to start a conversation,” you sighed exasperatedly which exuded a chuckle from the boy.

“Cute,” he noted and absentmindedly reached out towards your head. You froze in your spot the same moment his hand stopped mid-air too having caught himself. You felt heat rush into your cheeks thinking that he wanted to… what? Ruffle your hair or pat your head? Either way, Leehan smoothly recovered as he pulled his hand back and ran his fingers through his own silky locks, waving goodbye to you before heading off to his class.

It was silly how something so small and insignificant like that suddenly made you nervous around the boy. Well, nervous might not have been the right word. You would have liked to think that previously you were indifferent or slightly intrigued at most when it came to Leehan. He was just another boy after all, just one more face that you wouldn’t see anymore when your family moved again. You had become great at not getting too close with anybody after the constant goodbyes had become too much to handle. Yet, you caught yourself waiting for the boy’s random animal fun facts and felt yourself getting flustered when you caught him as much as looking in your direction at the school canteen. It was getting ridiculous.

When you mentioned to Hyewon that one guy made you feel this confused, she told you that it could be just because you weren’t used to being friends with boys and that you needed to get out more. That's how you ended up at Wonyoung’s house party that weekend. The cheerleader welcomed you with a wide smile despite not talking more than ten words with you before but you guessed that it was normal. The more the merrier and all that jazz.

You had never been a party person, it was too loud, too chaotic. You weren’t sure how this was supposed to help with your problem but Hyewon seemed to have fun, especially when she made Gyuvin dance on the dance during a round of truth or dare. You talked with some people from class and strangers both and it wasn’t bad, you did have a good time but after a while it was a bit too much. Very unlike your usual Saturday night when you usually edited your videos to the tunes of your feel good Spotify playlist.

You needed some fresh air after being in the stuffy house for hours among dozens of other sweaty bodies and luckily Wonyoung’s parents’ house had a back garden, perks of living in the suburbs. From outside, the party’s music was muffled through the walls, toned down but still audible. You closed your eyes and let the night breeze cool your face. You only snapped out of it when you heard the sound of movements from the other side of the terrace. Initially you thought that it must have been a cat, so you were quite surprised when behind the huge kimchi jar there was none other than Kim Leehan.

“Jeez, what are you doing here?” You put a hand over your rapidly beating heart after such a jumpscare and eyed the guy sitting against the wall.

“What does it look like?” He asked, sheepishly for once with a scratch on his nape. It was so unlike his confident persona that charmed half the girls in your year. There was something lovely about it though, that he allowed you to see him like this.

“Don’t tell me you’re hiding? From girls?” You asked in a hushed voice and at first it was supposed to be a teasing joke but considering Leehan’s silence there must have been some truth in it. “Seriously, you are like 180cm, what can a bunch of girls do to you?”

You blurted it out without thinking but the moment it left your mouth, you realized how ridiculous that sounded. It didn’t matter that he was a guy or he was this tall, nobody deserved to be made to feel uncomfortable.

“Sorry, that was insensitive of me,” you apologized immediately, not wanting the boy to get defensive or hurt due to your unnecessarily harsh words. “But if they bother you so much, I’m sure there are better ways to deal with it.”

Obviously you had never been in his shoes but you wanted to help, you wanted him to feel comfortable enough around you to share the burden, to not play it off when things got like this.

“Most girls are fine, they are respectful and I don’t mind being looked at,” Leehan sighed wistfully, leaning his head back against the wall, looking up at the sky, starless from all the light pollution in the big city. “But… some are too much.”

You felt your fingers twitch, sudden anger rising in your chest thinking about scenarios of what could have happened that made him come out to hide there. Did they grab him or touch him in a way he didn’t want to? Did some drunk girl force themselves upon him when he just wanted to have fun with his friends?

“Are you okay?” You asked, worried, keeping an eye closely on the boy’s facial expressions.

He hummed. It was not a very elaborate response but it was better than nothing. In the following silence though you weren’t sure what to do with yourself. You looked back at the door, wondering when tipsy high schoolers would stumble out to smoke and to break this idyll. It must have looked like you were about to leave, not wanting to bother him because he spoke up, rushed as if he could miss you any minute.

“Can you stay?”

The depth of his voice was more apparent when he talked quietly. Or was it because of the dim light and the open space? You could practically feel it vibrate through your cells. There was no way you would have said no to that.

It was you who just hummed this time, not trusting your voice, and you squeezed yourself next to Leehan, into the space between him and the kimchi jar, the house wall cold against your back. It made you shiver lightly because in the recent lovely spring weather you forgone wearing an extra layer. The boy noticed though, he shrugged off the plaid shirt he wore over a white tee and covered your back and shoulders with it.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, suddenly surrounded by his warmth and the smell of sea salt even after he pulled back his hands.

“Tell me something,” Leehan whispered and despite initially not knowing what to say, you ended up telling him about your inexperience with parties and how moving around a lot affected your relationship with people and your sense of home. You told him that you were thinking of getting your own place instead of moving with your parents to a new city next time but you were afraid because you had never lived alone and you weren’t sure what your parents would have said either. You were so young yet the last few years had been so uncertain, a constant countdown until the next destination and you wanted to settle down for a bit, to call a place home for more than a few months. You wanted to get to know people without the constant fear of eventually losing touch with them.

Leehan was a good listener. He asked the right questions and shared his own perspective of things. There was nothing arrogant in the way he said that distance didn’t matter with the right people. At one point, once the heaviness of the topic subdued into a lighter conversation about your favorite places to be, he leaned his head on your shoulder, his locks tickling your ear and his closeness turning your cheeks rosy.

It was cozy, staying there with him, just talking. You didn’t even notice the party sounds dying down until Haewon called you to ask if you had already gone home without her. It could have been embarrassing how you didn't even notice time passing in Leehan’s company but you felt nothing of that sort. Shyly, you handed him back his shirt and wished him good night before catching up with Haewon.

You should have known that the girl famous for her intuitions wouldn’t leave it just like that. You were ambushed the moment the two of you were alone on the night bus.

“Sooo… where did you disappear off? Were you with Leehan?” She singsonged casually while you almost choked on your spit because you had never told her that the boy making you feel conflicted was Leehan. The pretty, popular boy of your grade, the prince of Yongsan High. The one almost everybody wanted. So cliché, so unnerving. And yet…

“Wh– what? How?” You spluttered, flustered but it only made Haewon giggle and coo at you.

“Please, I have seen how you look at him.”

“Oh, gosh, is it that obvious?” You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. You didn’t think you were that gone. Scratch that, before the party you wholeheartedly believed that it was just curiosity and being friendly on your part. Maybe Haewon was right and you had no idea how simple friendship worked with boys.

“It’s cute. And don’t worry, I don’t think Leehan noticed. He’s used to more… aggressive type of love declarations.”

“I’m not declaring my love for him!” You objected because that was too much, too soon. You just realized that you liked him and you haven’t decided yet what to do with this new, fuzzy feeling spreading in your chest.

“Why not?”

Why not indeed? Was it not wanting him to lose this fragile safe space he found with you just because you couldn't stop yourself and fell in love when all he needed was a friend who understood? Or was it your usual mindset of keeping everybody at an arm’s length to not get too emotionally attached? You had no idea and it was too late into the night to figure it all out then.

Summer was approaching fast. It meant humid and sunny days, and way too many term end tests. It also meant two months without seeing Leehan which planted a kind of dread in your chest whenever you thought about it. At least you weren’t moving this time, not with your CSAT exams coming up in the second half of the year, so you had a bit more time to decide whether you wanted to stay here even if your parents moved away after your graduation.

Things only subtly changed after that party at Wonyoung’s. You didn’t necessarily look for each other’s presence at school, probably because both of you knew the rumors would be a pain to avoid if you did otherwise. You did text more though and not just about the previous neutral topics. Having been in Seoul for longer, Leehan started recommending places for you to visit for your YouTube channel and he knew that you wouldn’t belittle his complaints when he was annoyed by the way he was treated. He was also the perfect person to turn to when you had a bad day because he would listen and then he would make you feel better with his odd little jokes. He was such a dork under that popular pretty boy surface and you loved being able to see this side of him too. He also made sure to keep you updated about the school radio leader’s and your class president’s progress.

On a particularly hot June day, it was Leehan who nudged you in the side when he walked past you in the hallways.

“Let’s get ice cream after school,” he suggested casually as if it didn’t make your heartbeat go crazy, so you walked two blocks down from the school while arguing about the best Baskin Robbins flavors and went over the popsicles section of the corner convenience store only for Leehan to dig out the most artificial green colored one for its alien packaging. You laughed about the color of your tongues and the icy dessert melting all over your fingers and you had so much fun that for those few minutes you forgot about all the uncertainties in your life. Nothing mattered, just that moment with Leehan.

Haewon’s question (why not?) echoed in your ears at times like this.

It became a new habit sweeping well into summer: hanging out outside of school, looking for places with refreshing desserts to beat the heat. It was Italian-style gelato one week then bingsu or hwachae the next. You didn’t film but you kept posting pictures on your Instagram and you really underestimated the curiosity of your followers because one blurry reflection on the window was enough for people to conclude that you were on a date.

You knew for a fact that Leehan had the habit of stalking your comment section ever since he got so worked up about somebody making a mere comment on you gaining weight, but he didn’t say anything about this incident, which was probably for the best because honestly, you weren’t sure you could have played it off as coolly as when you had talked about not wanting dating rumors back in the day. Because what if it wasn’t rumors?

Next time you met up, Leehan pointed a finger at you in accusation even before he sat down at the table you already occupied.

“You went to an ocean-themed cafe without me?”

You blinked up at him in surprise, trying to make sense of what he was talking about when you remembered what you posted earlier to your Instagram.

“I was cafe hopping and found it by accident,” you explained that it wasn’t planned. If you knew, you surely would have told him about it. Even when you found the pretty coffee shop, you were so excited to tell him about it but then you had to remind yourself to tone it down, to not make your feelings too obvious.

“Still… Next time, you should take me with you,” Leehan said, pursing his lips a little child-like and you wanted to pinch his cheeks just above his adorable dimples. You curled your fingers into your hand to stop yourself.

“I’m not used to filming in company,” you told him because it was kind of a principle you had to fully pay attention to the people you were with instead of focusing on snapping pictures or recording. Maybe it was because your parents didn’t like it that you had your camera on you when you went out with them on those rare occasions they were free to give in to your request. With Leehan though, he might not have minded it but you were sure he would be distracting in the most heart-fluttering meaning of the word. You couldn’t take your eyes off him and it would be a mess. Your viewers would notice the same way Haewon had noticed too.

“Please~” The boy pouted (unfair!), fluttering his eyelashes under the loose strands of his long grown fringe and you felt your resolve weaken immediately.

“Just because you are pretty, it doesn’t mean you can just do that and I will give in,” you blurted out a protest in a weak attempt of keeping your composure. You didn’t even notice your subscious slipping through until Leehan’s pout turned into a content smile.

“Oh, so you do think I’m pretty.”

“I… that’s not the point!” You protested but Leehan seemed oddly satisfied with the new knowledge. He was whistling to the tone of a 2nd gen kpop song under his nose when the ahjumma came to take your orders and both of you were embarrassed because you didn’t bother looking at the menu since you arrived. The ahjumma smiled fondly and mumbled something about young love which turned you crimson but you hoped Leehan didn’t hear and didn’t notice. Luckily (or not), he was still hung up on your previous slip up.

“I thought you were immune to me,” he mumbled and he sounded so serious that you couldn’t even find it in yourself to joke about what kind of virus he would like to be then.

“What?” You blinked at him, not sure what brought this up but while you were confused, Leehan looked like this was something that had been on the tip of his tongue for so long and now that it was finally out he had a lot to explain.

“I mean, it’s not a terrible thing I guess. I like it that you treat me like a normal guy from day one, that you don’t swoon just because I walk past you on the school hallways and you aren’t afraid to call me out on my bullshit when I’m too much but then I kind of want you to be swooned by me. I know it doesn’t make sense but sometimes it bothers me so much that you don’t like me the way I like you.”

“I…” You gaped at him like a fish, speechless, but couldn’t even finish your clumsy excuse of sentence because Leehan was still rambling.

“Like look at me. How can you not?” He finally looked you in the eye and pointed at his face.

His all too lovely face with the warmest shade of brown in his playful eyes, the prettiest hair you would like to ruffle and the smart line of his rosy lips. At that moment he looked so young, so boyish, the teenager blemish barely visible on his face because in your eyes even the flaws made him more handsome.

“Leehan,” you said his name slowly, forming each syllable like it was an answer itself. Suddenly it wasn’t so scary to be honest because you now knew that he was just as unsure around you as you were with him. “I do like you but no offense, it has nothing to do with your looks.”

If you wanted to be honest, his looks were one thing you disliked about him in the beginning. You had known popular boys before who knew they looked good and they had always had the kind of ego that made their handsomeness turn sour in your mouth. But it became clear over time that he wasn’t one to use his good looks to get away with things and take advantage of girls’ feelings.

“Y/N,” Leehan called your name in a similar manner to the way you had done, a confused little frown sitting on his forehead and you wanted nothing more than to smooth it out. “There’s so much to unpack in that sentence.”

“Like?”

“Like when you say you like me, do you mean it in a friendly way?” He asked and he sounded so nervous asking it that you couldn’t help but giggle. He had said it first in his ramble, he wasn’t weirded out by your confession either nor did he brush it off and gosh, he sounded outright hopeful, so the relief made you feel giddy.

“Sure,” you smiled before casting your eyes down. “If wanting to hold hands with you and going on cheesy dates is a friendly thing to do.”

There was a moment of silence that made you so nervous you had to look up again and what you saw was better than seeing any breathtaking sunrise.

“Really?” Leehan whispered, his eyes shining with little stars in them.

“Really,” you nodded shyly before remembering his previous claim about so much to unpack and you cleared your throat. “What else?”

The soft smile melted off the boy’s face and something insecure flashed through his eyes as his fingers fumbled with the napkins on the table.

“And… does it mean that you like me but not the way I look? Like… am I not manly enough or–?”

“Hey, no, that’s not what I meant,” you interrupted quickly but not quickly enough because you never wanted him to feel that way to begin with. You scrambled to find the right words to explain this time. “I like you because you are caring and kind, you listen to my vents and try to help, you make boring stuff fun, you make me feel at home with you in a way I haven’t felt in a long time. It doesn’t matter how you look but to tell you the truth and not just to boost your ego, you are the most beautiful boy I have ever seen.”

“Oh, okay,” Leehan muttered but then giggled and the tips of his ears peeking out from between his wavy locks reddened adorably. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. Kim Leehan getting flustered in front of you, because of you?

“Hold up… are you blushing?” You teased, softly, playfully and wholeheartedly smitten.

“Shut up,” Leehan mumbled but there was no edge in his tone, just a smile playing on his lips. So cute. “I like you too. A lot. In a friendly way if walking you home and kissing you goodbye is something friends do.”

This time it was your turn to flush, a cherry color appearing on your cheeks. You were pretty sure that that’s why the ahjumma turned on her heels when she walked up to your table again without asking about your orders. The menu cards were still untouched next to you.

You got to hold Leehan’s hand that day when he did good on his promise and walked you home. He also kissed you on the cheek by the gate because you both got shy but it was fine, you had the entire summer and all the time in the world. There was no need to rush anything.

Your first official date was at the aquarium for old time’s sake and it was the second time Leehan called you his girlfriend. You got distracted reading about the ‘Nemo fish’ and you didn’t realize that the boy wandered further away staring at a big tank full of fluorescent jellyfish as if it hadn’t been there before. By the time you caught up with him, there was a girl there, handing him her phone, smiling coyly. Last time you didn’t feel anything if not mild annoyance for being dragged into it but now you could feel your chest swelling with a new emotion. You had thought before that you would be jealous but what you actually felt was pride. That there was this beautiful, amazing boy and he liked you and he seemed proud of it too as he shot an apologetic smile towards the girl then saw you over her shoulder and his forced smile softened, its edges lifting up until his dimple showed.

“Sorry, I have a girlfriend,” he said and this time it was real.

He bowed politely towards the stranger then reached for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours and you hid your smile in his arm as he pulled you farther away.

“Are you good?” You asked quietly, just to make sure that the girl didn’t make him feel uncomfortable because otherwise you might have had to go back and lecture her on basic manners.

“Never better,” Leehan replied, smiling against your temple with a brief kiss before pointing at a tank you passed by. “Did you know that angelfish mate for life?”

“No, I had no idea,” you chuckled and listened to your boyfriend tell you all about this species of fish you had never heard about before. It was perfect. You could have listened to him all day.

#stories #boynextdoor x reader #leehan x reader #boynextdoor fluff #leehan fluff

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