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tlou-reid · 10 months ago

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Apple Spice Cake ❆ Aaron Hotchner

☃︎ SUMMARY: you and aaron attend the BAU christmas party and get some alone time after. part three of the baked goodies series.

☃︎WARNINGS: mainly smut MDNI, oral (fem receiving), fingering, piv, dirty talk, mentions of drinking, i think that's it lmk if i missed anything

☃︎NOTE: i was under the influence of prescription flu medicine the whole time i wrote this so if it is bad or there are mistakes i apologize. i also apologize for this being a week late, i was basically dead from the flu.

swiftmas materlist ❅ baked goodies ❅ cheese danishes

.｡❅⋆⍋∞｡∞⍋⋆❅｡.

“Under the mistletoe, watching the fire flow, and telling me, ‘I love you’. Just being in your arms takes me back to that little farm, where every wish comes true.”

“Are you sure?” You questioned, one last time, smoothing your hands over the red fabric that adorned your body. Aaron laughed from behind you, placing his hands on your hips. “Yes, my love, I am sure.”

You weren’t sure if it was the holiday air or if Aaron being off for a whole week was boosting his mood, but you were not complaining. He had been so kind, so loving, recently, and it was turning your heart into mush. He pressed a kiss to your cheek, checking you out in the mirror one last time, before disappearing to find Jack and make sure he was dressed and ready.

You made your way to the kitchen, going to put your finishing touches on the cake you had made to bring with you. You had also baked a few sugar cookies and a small tray of brownies to take to the party. Everything was laid out neatly, each decorated with a Christmas icing and sprinkles.

“Can I have one yet?” Jack groaned as he made his way into the kitchen. He looked absolutely adorable, dressed in an ugly Christmas sweater and with a red beanie on his head. “We both know the answer to that,” You laughed at him. You had spent the last 24 hours telling him he had to wait until you all arrived at Rossi’s house, but he could not take no for an answer.

Aaron joined you and Jack in the kitchen, each of you grabbed a dessert, and you made your way out the door. Jack was in charge of protecting the cookies and the brownies while Aaron drove, and you held onto the prized possession: the gorgeous apple spiced cake. The drive was filled with Christmas music playing on the radio and jokes being thrown around.

You couldn’t be happier with the way life turned out after your and Aaron’s conversation. It had been about a month, cases for Aaron had slowed down, and you and Jack were building a relationship. Aaron had told him you were his girlfriend and he was very accepting of it. You didn’t want to replace his mom, just be another woman he could turn to when he needed. Everything was going well.

The Christmas party will be your first time officially meeting Aaron’s team. He had talked about them a ton, telling you how they are his family, the way they were there for him when Haley passed, how they helped with Jack when he needed someone to, and the pivotal role they had when he returned from witness protection. You had a lot to live up to and you did not want to blow it.

So, safe to say, you were a bit nervous. You knew at the end of the day Aaron loved you and you knew nothing could change that, but you wanted a good first impression. Hence, the massive amount of desserts and the expensive red dress you adorned.

Aaron made his way to the passenger side of the car, grabbing the cake from you so you could step out of the car and not stumble in the boots you wore. You took the cake back from him, wanting to present it yourself. With desserts in hand, you three marched up to David Rossi’s door, allowing Aaron to knock. “You know you don’t have to knock,” An older man, whom you figured was Rossi, said as he opened the door. He had a glass of wine in his hand, with a towel thrown over his shoulder, and flour spots covering his black t-shirt. It was an oddly familiar sight.

Rossi held the door open as you all piled through. You stood confidently behind Aaron, looking around at his ginormous house. “Where can I sit this?” You asked, lifting the cake for emphasis. “Y/N!” Rossi cheered. “Hello, Mr. Rossi,” You blushed, withdrawing farther behind Aaron, not being comfortable with all of the attention. Leading you to the kitchen, Rossi uses his hand to brush you off, “Drop the Mr., too formal for me.” You giggled, “Yes, sir.”

“Y/N!” He scolded, clearing a spot on the counter for your cake, “Stop with the formalities,” You were laughing at him again. You carefully sat the cake down, not wanting to mess it up. Jack and Aaron followed you in, with a blonde lady trailing behind them. “Is she here?” You heard her question from behind Aaron, presuming she was talking about you. “She is,” Aaron laughed, “Don’t scare her away.”

Listening to Aaron laugh was something the team was still getting used to. It had become more frequent in the past month, but there were no complaints coming from them.

“She’s going to love me,” Penelope hushed Aaron, before turning to you. “Hi!” She practically squealed, immediately pulling you in for a hug. “I’m Penelope Garcia, residential tech nerd of the BAU.” She introduced when she pulled away, giving you a silly salute. “You’re scaring her,” Rossi piped in from where he was finishing the food prep. Everyone in the kitchen let out a laugh.

After a few more minutes of playful banter, Penelope was dragging you away, to Rossi’s large dining room. “Look who I found!” She was squealing again, pulling you by your hand to sit down next to her. You’re met with a few more faces, not knowing who was who. The only one you could place from Aaron’s rambling was Dr. Spencer Reid, the genius of the group. He was easily recognizable by his flowing hair, resembling a boyband member, just as Aaron had said.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” You sheepishly introduce yourself, giving the table a small wave. Your head follows around the table as everyone introduces themselves. JJ, Will, Henry, Michael, Spencer, Luke, Emily, Matt, Kristy, and Krystall. After introductions, you all were sent into a fit of laughter as Jack rushes in to greet Henry. They take off quickly, going to get into something (that you know is definitely your brownies).

It doesn’t take long for Aaron and Rossi to join you at the table, allowing dinner to start. After introductions, the conversation flowed naturally. You passed around different pastas and sauces, which all tasted delicious, and sipped on expensive wines.

Aaron was quite tipsy, having not had alcohol in quite a bit. His hand was comfortably on your thigh as everyone relaxed before dessert. His body weight was leaning into you, but you were not complaining at all. You all sat there for a while, just chatting. It wasn’t until Jack reappeared at your side, whispering, “Can we have dessert now?” With a chuckle you rose from your chair to go cut the cake.

You loaded desserts up, moving them from the trays you’d brought them in to platters Rossi had left out for you. Jack helped you carry them in, with Henry following closely behind with a stack of small dessert plates and a cup of small forks. “Ooooooh!” Luke cooed as you arrived in the dining room. Everyone dipped into their favorites, earning you tons of praise.

“You’re pretty when you blush,” Aaron slurred in your ear as everyone ate. “Thank you,” You replied, sheepishly, not used to him complimenting you in public. “I’m gonna make you blush more later,” He lowered his voice, once again returning his hand to your thigh. He moved it higher up as he continued, “When it’s just you and me.”

“Just us?” You asked, knowing Jack was supposed to be going home with you. As much as you wanted to enjoy his drunken attempts at dirty talk, you were nervous about the people around and focusing on the technicalities. Aaron’s face was practically in your neck as he answered, “Mhm, Jack’s going to JJ’s. Just gonna be us tonight.” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder before he returned to an upright position.

“Everyone full?” Rossi asked after clearing the table of empty plates. Everyone let out an exaggerated sound of agreement, with Matt’s “Yes, Sir,” sticking out amongst the crowd. Rossi moved to light his fireplace, and then reached for a deck of cards.

That’s how the night ended, with different card games and bets made, lit up by Rossi’s fireplace. It was a nice time, and gave Aaron time to sober up quite a bit.

“Night, Hotch,” Emily called as you two walked out the door. You had been dismissed with hugs and promises of a girls night, so Aaron’s goodbyes paled in comparison. Aaron opened the passenger side door for you before claiming his spot in the driver’s seat. “You had a good night?” He asked as he buckled up and returned his hand to your thigh, for probably the thousandth time tonight. “I did, but you better get my brownie pan back from Dave. That’s my nice one,” You teased. Aaron smiled, “I will, I will.”

The drive was peaceful, with Christmas music filling the car and Aaron rubbing soft circles on your thigh. You couldn’t help but wonder if Aaron recalled the promise he’d made to you when he was much drunker than he is now. You could feel your panties getting wetter as you thought about it, his touch doing nothing but fueling the dirty thoughts in your brain.

“You need to run over and grab anything?” With your houses being so close, you didn’t have much stuff at Aaron’s house. You usually opted for his clothes anyways, so you gave him a nod, and marched into his home. Aaron followed closely, resting his hand on your hip as he reached from behind you to insert his key. You held the door for him as you walked in.

You had hardly gotten your shoes off before Aaron’s hands were back on your hips. He pulled you close, holding you up against his torso. “You looked so pretty,” He murmured, moving to press hard kisses into your neck, “In your dress.”

You turned yourself around so you could wrap your arms around his neck, and kiss him on his lips. “And you looked quite handsome,” You gushed, emphasizing the statement with a kiss to his cheek. It wasn’t very often that you were the one who got to love on Aaron, so you took your chances when he let you.

You stepped away, grabbing his hand and guiding him to the bedroom. You sat him down on the edge before moving to straddle him. You could feel his hardened cock against your wet core. His hands wrapped around your waist, once again pulling you close. Aaron kissed you with a fervor, showcasing all of the love he held for you. It was slow, your lips slotting together, his hands continually trying to pull you close. It was all he wanted. You. You. You.

“Come ‘ere,” He mumbled, switching you so that you were laying at the top of the bed. His hands moved to pull down your dress and he helped you lift your midsection so he could get it all the way off. That left you in the red bra and white panties you’d chosen. You weren’t planning on having a night like this, but you opted to keep the Christmas spirit as you’d gotten dressed.

Aaron’s eyes looked over you like you were a priceless piece at the museum. You could feel your cheeks heating up under his stare, knowing he had kept his promise from earlier. “Merry Christmas,” You whispered, wanting to break the ever growing tension in the room. “Merry Christmas, beautiful.” He whispered back as he moved to press kisses to your chest. He sucked and licked across your chest, stopping to toy with each of your nipples, before peppering kisses down your stomach. Aaron laid himself between your legs, then reached up to pull down your panties. He hesitated for just a second to make eye contact with you, waiting for a nod of permission.

After you granted it, his hands more quick to slide your underwear down your legs, discarding it somewhere in the room. Aaron’s large hands rubbed up each leg as his mouth made contact with your center. He laid his tongue flat, licking a broad stripe up you, collecting as much of your wetness as he could. “Always taste so good,” He pulled away for just a second to mumble. You weren’t sure if he was talking to you or himself.

His tongue moved skillfully, tracing through your folds and stopping to circle your clit. Your hands were latched in his hair, pulling him as close as possible. Aaron took this as further encouragement, moving his right hand from your thigh to your pussy, collecting your juices before pushing in just a single finger.

He pumped it in and out at a steady pace as he drew circles on your clit with his tongue. You could feel your body start to tighten, getting closer to your release. “Aaron!” You whined, tugging on his hair again, “Need more!” He complied, inserting another finger and increasing his speed of both his hand and his tongue. You yanked at his hair again, eliciting a groan from him. The vibration felt so good on your pussy, drawing you closer and closer to orgasm.

Aaron inserted one more finger, giving you a slight burn with the stretch of his wide digits. You came on his tongue and around his finger with a loud moan of his name. He didn’t stop, continuing to pump three fingers into you. His mouth pulled away, because he did not want to overstimulate you too much, and he wanted to see your pretty face as you came down from your high.

He was painfully hard, pushing his waist into the bed desperate for some kind of friction as he watched you. He didn’t pull away until you froze, letting out deep breaths from your orgasm. Aaron moved to lay next to you, pressing a kiss just above your ear. It was quiet for a few moments.

That was broken when Aaron slurred a, “Thank you,” against the top of your head. He sounded drunk again, only it wasn’t from alcohol, no, it was from tasting you on his tongue. “For what?” You replied, rolling over to lay on his chest. “Letting me taste you,” He answered. “You can do that whenever you want.”

Aaron rubbed along your naked body, stopping to finally remove the bra he had accidentally left you in. He was waiting for you to initiate the next round, knowing you wanted a moment to come down before he was bringing you to orgasm again. He knew you were ready when you began sucking harsh marks into his collar bones. It was an intentional placement, one that no one could see.

You slid your teeth across his bone, giving him a delicious burning feeling. He moaned at the pain. “Wanna ride you but you made my legs tired,” You pouted, jutting your bottom lip out to defend your point. He laughed, “You can always do that tomorrow.” Your pout was replaced with a smile as you nodded at him.

Aaron stood for just a moment to remove the clothes he had on. As he climbed back in the bed he guided you to lay on your back, before climbing on top. He didn’t make you do any work as he inserted himself into you.

“So wet,” He mumbled. “All for you,” You sweetly replied. His movements started off slow, allowing you to adjust to his thick dick. The burn from earlier was back as he stretched you again, but it hurt in all the right ways. “More,” You whined, again, needing to feel him deeper in you. Aaron sped up his thrusts, and buried his head in your shoulder. He focused on pressing kisses there so he wouldn’t finish so quickly.

He was so riled up. You had him half-hard before you’d even left the house, dressed up in your pretty dress and carrying sweet desserts you’d made for him and his team. All he could think about while he ate dinner was how he wanted to be devouring you instead.

“Fuck,” He moaned as he moved to hold himself up on his elbows. You weren’t sure what he was thinking about, but he was fucking you hard now. The bed shook as he drove himself into you, banging against the wall. “Looked so fucking pretty today,” He whined, drawing out the word ‘pretty’.

Aaron kept a steady rhythm, showering you in compliments and emphasizing each of them with a hard push of his cock. You were a mess of moans under him, puttering out whines of his name. His left hand slid down the expanse of your body to stop on your thigh, hiking it up to his hip. You could feel him so much deeper at this angle. “Gonna come on my cock now, honey?” He ushered, feeling your walls tighten around him.

All you could do was whine out a “mhm”, too preoccupied with the addicting feeling of him dragging his dick in and out of you to string together coherent sentences. He murmured encouragements in your ear, trying to get you there before he found his own release.

His wish was granted as you dug your nails into his back, holding on as you reached your orgasm. You whined his name and squeezed his dick in the perfect way, and he was finishing right after you. Aaron’s thrusts slowed down as he finished.

You held him tight to you, not letting him pull out. His body was basically limp, exhausted after the long day and his wonderful orgasm. You two laid there for a while, basking in each other’s presence and enjoying the afterglow. “You okay, baby?” You whispered in his ear. He just nodded against you, not having the energy to answer.

His dick had completely softened by the time he rolled off of you, allowing you to quickly hop in the shower. It was no surprise that he was asleep when you got out. You threw on one of his shirts before climbing in next to you.

You got comfortable, pulling the blanket up to your chin and wiggling next to Aaron. As if it was muscle memory, he wrapped his arm around you. “I love you.” You said, not expecting him to reply. To your surprise, he pressed a sloppy kiss to the back of your head, “I love you, too.”

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initialchains · 11 months ago

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a new york christmas | luke castellan.

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

summary: spending christmas walking around the city with luke. (hc’s)

a/n: MERRY CHRISTMAS !! here's another luke work as a small gift <33 i hope you all have/had a good one with your loved ones. 🎄☃️

Luke would fake an excuse to get permission from Mr. D to leave camp with you.

“Mr. D we need to get some uh.. more ornaments for the Aphrodite Cabin!”

“No, Lucas. You can’t leave camp with your girlfriend to buy—“

“We’ll bring wine.”

“A taxi should be here in ten minutes.”

He’d hold your hand the entire ride, looking excitedly through the window.

The two of you would walk through a crowded Times Square but it’s all worth it because you have each other.

“Baby, look! Pose next to Santa, I want a new picture to have next to my bunk.”

“I’ll only pose with him if you do too, Castellan.”

He’d roll his eyes but Luke can’t ever say no to you, so he’d end up posing next to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek and throwing a peace sign for the camera.

The two of you would walk hand in hand, whenever you dropped his to look at the stuff some street vendors were selling he would look for any dumb excuse to hold it again.

“Angel, your hands are getting cold. Here, I’ll help.”

You’d buy matching christmas ugly sweaters that say “Mr. Claus” and “Mrs. Claus” on the back.

The two of you would buy some coffee and walk around the city, finally reaching Central Park.

There’s a man with a speaker playing Christmas songs and fairy lights adoring the trees.

Luke would guide you closer to the speaker, slow dancing with you to Frank Sinatra’s “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.”

His arms finding a home in your waist and yours around his neck, slowly swaying to the music.

He’d hum when you lay your head on his chest, closing your eyes and taking the moment in.

Luke slowly taps his fingers on your waist, making you look up before pulling you into a kiss.

“Merry Christmas, baby.”

You’d get back to camp in the middle of night, where you’re greeted with a very angry Mr. D and an even angrier Aphrodite Cabin.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #merry christmas #magnolia’s hc’s!

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inkedinshadows · 2 months ago

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Azriel headcanons

Since I'm working on too many fics and not finishing even one, here's a list of random headcanons I have about our favorite shadowsinger. Seriously, they're very random.

I have so many more, but I didn't want this to be too long lol. Let me know if I should write more of them.

If it weren't for his scars that make it impossible for him (it'd probably be really uncomfortable), Azriel would wear rings. And I mean a lot of them, on both hands. Very slutty of him if you ask me. This is how I imagine it to look like:

And necklaces as well. Like silver little chains and similar.

Azriel is 100% a cat person. I don't think I need to say more, we can all agree on this, right?

The shadowsinger can sing, we all know that. But my current obsession is him playing the piano. He probably learned while healing his hands when he was a child because it helped with coordination. He's really good at it, but he doesn't play in front of people. Only for you. (I wrote a fic about this: Play It For Me)

He has a very neat handwriting. Again, he had to practice a lot after his hands were burned to use them properly again. I picture something like this:

He's the kind of "monster" that eats pizza with a knife and fork instead of just cutting slices and using his hands (I'm Italian, I'm allowed to say this). He would also always stick to the same pizza, never changing the topping too much (relatable). He'd probably keep it simple, with mozzarella, black olives, and maybe anchovies if he feels extra.

Since we're talking food, if you are out on a date or just eating at a restaurant or whatever and you order something you end up not liking, he's swapping your dishes and giving you his. If you do like it but you also like his a lot, then he asks you if you want to share and eat half of each.

He's not a cocktail guy. Here as well, he likes to keep it simple: whiskey, brandy, wine if he's eating, and beer if he's hanging out with Cassian. If he does drink a cocktail, his go-to choices are Black Russian, gin and tonic, Old Fashioned, Manhattan, and Negroni (which might be an Italian cocktail, I'm not sure).

Oh, and he loves coffee. Black, no sugar, no cream. Mostly espresso, but also full mugs of it, especially in the morning.

Azriel loves turtleneck sweaters. Leather jackets are another favorite. When he's out, he mostly wears black or dark jeans, but at home? Sweatpants. Those infamous grey sweatpants we all love. Again, very slutty. He bought them without thinking too much about it, but once he saw your reaction to him wearing them, they became his favorite piece of clothing out of everything he had ever owned.

On the topic of clothing, we know he mostly wears black, but we also know he loves Winter Solstice. He could be easily convinced to wear one of those ugly Christmas sweaters, especially if you bat your eyelashes at him. He can never say no when you give him doe eyes. He'll complain about it, but he secretly loves it, even more so if you're wearing a matching one. The first three are nice and simple and cute, the other two if you want to embarrass him a little (but he still wouldn't say no):

Same goes for Halloween. Couple costumes? He's down. Would he admit he likes it? Probably not. Would he refuse to do it until you're begging him to, just so he can see your cute pout? Absolutely. And of course, he lets you do his make-up.

He smokes. Not much, just 2/3 cigarettes throughout the day, but it can be more if he's stressed or nervous. (Just imagine the hand in the first picture with a cigarette, it's just the perfect position already. I don't smoke and I can't even stand the smell, but I would honestly let Azriel blow the smoke in my face fr)

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @andreperez11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate

#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel fluff #azriel headcanons #acotar headcanons #acotar #sjm #headcanon

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ashwhowrites · 11 months ago

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Love your older Eddie!

Picturing him working somewhere with a sweet, sunshine-y younger woman. Maybe a restaurant or store? He’s got a crush on her, but she’s always getting hit on by the younger, flashier guys who work there so he never thinks he’d have a chance. To hide his feelings he’s been a standoffish grump, so he can’t believe it when she reveals she has a crush on him at the work holiday party.

Angst/fluff/smut whatever you like - I know anything you write will be amazing! Thank you ❤️

I love older Eddie! I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting <3

Work crush

Working at a small restaurant that focused more on the younger crowd, wasn't the exact job Eddie pictured for himself. But after his car shop got shut down, he just needed anyway to make cash. In a way, it was like he had to start over.

He didn't enjoy how much older he was than everyone else who worked and dined there. He worked with young twenty-year-olds who needed cash throughout college and served bratty teenagers. Other than the cook, he was the oldest one there.

His older looks and charm got him good tips. Younger girls enjoyed the flirtation and teasing games. Eddie delivered that as much as he did their food.

He hated the younger guys he worked with. They were loud, annoying, and sucked at their job. Eddie had to cover their slack as they snuck out back for smoke breaks. But there was one worker that Eddie secretly adored, Y/N.

She was also young, part of a group of annoying guys. But she was polite, hard-working, and sweet. She brightened the restaurant up whenever she walked in. She made Eddie feel butterflies and he loved watching her happiness rub off on everyone. Many people requested her, she was one of the best. And she was damn beautiful. Which sadly, everyone noticed.

Eddie lost count the many times he overheard her being asked out, by customers and the employees. Eddie couldn't help but compare himself to the guys that asked her out. They were all young and looked like they'd be on the cover of a magazine. Eddie was nothing like that, he didn't stand a chance.

When she turned down Beck, even Eddie was shocked. Beck was the heartthrob of the restaurant, almost every girl signed their number with their receipts. He was tall, and fit, with blue eyes and dirty blonde curly hair. He was sweet and polite, and Eddie hated to admit he was perfect. If perfect Beck couldn't get her to say yes, Eddie knew there was no hope for him.

With that realization, he didn't tease himself with the thought. He kept his space and didn't get to know her. He knew if he learned about her, he'd fall for her even more. It was safer to not know who she was. He just admired her from afar. He smiled to himself when he heard her sweet laugh. And he tried not to punch Beck across the face when he flirted with her his whole shift.

~~~

Tonight was the holiday party and Eddie didn't plan to go. He didn't want to party with a group of kids, he felt too old for that shit. The party was at a bar, and the owner had the dumb idea of everyone wearing Christmas sweaters. Eddie didn't own anything like that and he wasn't going to spend a dime to wear the ugly thing once.

Eddie cleaned up his last few tables, the restaurant closed early for their event. He pocketed the tip, ignoring the lipstick kiss and number written on the receipt.

"Poor girl, she was probably hoping you'd call." Eddie jumped as a voice came from behind him. He quickly turned to see Y/N standing there. A teasing smile on her face.

"I think she'll be fine," Eddie said, scooting into the booth to clean the table. He watched as Y/N took a seat across from him. She silently watched as he worked. Her eyes were on his arms and hands.

"Any numbers for you today?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, but not interested." She shrugged. She patted the table, a hint for Eddie to sit down. Eddie threw the towel on the table and took a seat. He didn't want to be that rude to her face.

"Never are." He teased, she smirked and moved on.

"Are you going tonight?" Eddie tried not to roll his eyes at the question.

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"Why would I?" He argued back

"It's a work party, you work here and you're invited." She said, pointing out the obvious.

"Nah, it would be like a dad hanging out with college kids. It's embarrassing. And I'm not wearing an ugly Christmas sweater."

"Yeah, but it would be like the hot dad you secretly want around. The kind where you go to your friend's house every weekend just to see her dad shirtless in the morning." Y/N said, a certain look in her eye. A look Eddie got from many of his customers. She was flirting....with him. "I have a bunch of my dad's old Christmas sweaters, I'll bring you one!" She stood up excitedly. Like she declared he's going.

"You think I'm hot?" Eddie asked, he couldn't help a tiny smirk that crossed his face. Everyone flirted with her, and she picked to flirt with him.

"I do and I know you'll look hot in the sweater. See you tonight." Eddie stared at her ass as she walked off.

"I'M NOT GOING!" he yelled after her. He heard her sweet laugh and the bell on the door.

~~~

Eddie groaned as he pulled up to the bar. He was two hours late. Mostly because he was debating if he was going to come or not.

He walked into the bar and scanned the room. He found a few of his coworkers scattered around. A few at the pool table, a few at the bar top, and a few in the back booth. He walked to the bar, at least he got to drink through it.

He held his drink and looked for her. He didn't want to make it obvious, but he knew he didn't care who was there, he came for her.

"EDDIE!"

Eddie turned to see a tipsy Y/N, her hands in the air as she raced into his chest. She crushed him in a hug. Eddie slowly hugged her back.

"I knew you'd come!" She said as she pulled back. She was decked out in Christmas wear. An antler headband, that he'd hate if anyone else wore it. But of course, it looked adorable. Red eyeliner and dark lashes. Her lips were red and Eddie stared at them for too long. Her Christmas sweater was full of printed-on lights. A few real lights that flickered. She had a black skirt, tights and black boots. She was glowing.

"Did you know?" Eddie teased, smiling down at her as she leaned on the bar for support.

"Of course. I knew once you found out I wanted you to come, that you would come. " She explained. She grabbed his hand, slightly tripping on her feet.

"Woah okay. Maybe you should sit." Eddie laughed, he wrapped his arm around her waist.

"No! We gotta go to my car for your sweater!" She argued, she didn't move away from his touch. She loved the feeling of his arm wrapped around her and the way she could smell his cologne. "Just help me." She said and began walking.

After a few stumbles and many laughs, they made it to her car. She unlocked it and grabbed the sweater from the seat. She slammed the door shut and leaned against it. Eddie removed his touch from her as he grabbed the sweater.

"Put it on!" She said she looked so excited and Eddie didn't have the heart to say no. He gagged on the inside but sucked it up.

"I gotta change my shirt so let's go inside." He said but she didn't move.

"don't be silly. Just change here. I'll cover my eyes." She threw her hands over her eyes, a giggly smile on her face. She was somehow even more adorable drunk.

Eddie didn't fight on it. He took off his jacket and placed it on the top of her car. He took a deep breath, preparing for his skin to hit the cold. He grabbed the bottom of his shirt with one hand and yanked it off. He let it drop to the floor as he put his arms in the sweater, as he pulled it on over his head, he heard a small squeak.

He could see Y/N's fingers split open, allowing her to see through. Eddie felt his cheeks warm at the thought of her peeking.

"Did you just squeak?" He asked, trying to hold back a smile.

"No" she mumbled, embarrassed.

"I can see that you're still peeking." Eddie laughed, she groaned and dropped her hands.

"I couldn't help it! You can't be this hot older guy that I want to ruin my life and expect me to just not stare at you." Sober her wished she'd stop talking.

"Ruin your life? That sounds like a bad thing." Eddie said confused.

"It means I have this huge crush on you. I see you flirt with those young girls and I hate that you never did it with me. I hate that everyone flirts with me, and you haven't." She pouted, she crossed her arms as she sighed sadly.

Eddie let out a small smile, moving closer. He lifted her chin with his finger and leaned down.

"I didn't flirt with you because everyone else got shot down. I didn't think I'd be different. But now that you are loose with your lips, I can admit I've been attracted to you since your first day."

Y/N felt her heart skip multiple beats. She couldn't believe the words he said, but the reality of his lips pressed against hers made her believe. She uncrossed her arms and wrapped her arms around him. Her palms were against his back as he deepened the kiss.

She wasn't sure if the alcohol or the kiss made her dizzy.

~~~

"Where the hell is Y/N? She got sat like ten minutes ago!"

"Where is Munson? His table has been waiting for the check for an hour!"

"I think we need to get back to work," Y/N whined, her hands against the door.

Eddie stood behind her, his hands gripping her hips as his cock pounded inside of her. The harder he went the more she cried. She felt her legs go weak as she tried to keep herself up.

"Not until I cum." Eddie grunted.

~~~

"Anything else I can get for you?" Y/N asked the pen smacking against the notepad. She tried not to seem annoyed with the rowdy group of male teenagers.

"You on the menu?" She tried not to roll her eyes. An unpleased look on her face.

"No, but my boyfriend serves up a delicious knuckle sandwich if you want to try it." She said with a glare.

The boy whistled, almost like her attitude made it more fun.

The second she felt the boy's hand touch her thigh, she snapped.

"EDDIE!"

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut x female reader #ashwhowrites

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exhaslo · 10 months ago

Text

Puzzle Pieces Ch17 (End)

(Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader)

Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8, Ch9, Ch10, Ch11, Ch12, Ch13, Ch14, Ch15, Ch16

Warning: Smut so Minors DNI, mentions of abuse, language, fluff, bullying, mentions of sex

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

It was another beautiful day in the city of Nueva York. The snow was sticking to the ground and the Christmas spirit was in the air. Everyone in the city was doing their last minute Christmas shopping while making sure they had their ingredients for dinner.

You were not shy to being one of those last minute shoppers. It was the day before Christmas and you were panicking about making sure you had everything to make for dinner. You wanted to treat Miguel well since this was going to be your first Christmas together.

It had been two weeks since the incident with Eddie. Miguel had reassured you of his death and even mentioned something about your parents calling off the engagement. As much as you wanted to ask how, you knew that Miguel was always going to take care of you. It was so reassuring to have him by your side.

Humming quietly to yourself as you walked down the aisle of your old job, you smiled spotting the deli. Your former supervisor gave you a wave and motioned you over. As you drew closer, one of the workers placed a ham inside your cart.

"On the house," Your supervisor said. You just smiled,

"T-Thank you!"

Returning to your shopping, you couldn't stop smiling since this was the first time you were enjoying yourself. It did feel slightly weird since you did have a bodyguard. Miguel wanted to make sure that you were always with someone and safe.

Miguel was sure to make you as comfortable as possible. You were the girlfriend to the leader of the strongest mafia in the city. It was a scary thought.

"Do you have a dress for tomorrow night?" Peter asked, wanting to make small talk since you were getting overwhelmed with the amount of people in the store.

"O-Oh, y-yes...L-Lyla and I...went s-shopping for one...Um...D-Do I need t-to bring...anything?" You asked, getting in line. Peter glanced around,

"Just a smile on Miguel's face. I think that will cheer everyone up," Peter said with a chuckle.

You couldn't help but smile as well. You've gotten to know some of Miguel's men and women. They were all really nice people. Nothing from what the movies portrayed. One might think you were insane for getting comfortable with the mafia.

"O-Oh, P-Peter...could we stop by....one more place....please?" You asked. Peter glanced down at you,

"Of course!"

---------

It was an unusual sight. You were standing in front of a mirror wearing a gorgeous dress. The only issue you were having were your scars. As beautiful as dress was, your scars showed your ugly side. Not even makeup could cover them.

Tears started to well up as you went to grab your sweater. How could you present yourself as Miguel's girlfriend if you looked like this? What were people going to think?

"¿Conejita? (Bunny?), what's wrong?" Miguel asked as he entered the room and saw you crying, "Don't cry, look how beautiful you are!"

"B-But...m-my scars, Miggy," You whimpered. Miguel fixed your hair and pecked your lips,

"Are nothing to be ashamed of, but if you wish to cover them, then I understand." He said and fixed your sweater, "I still love you all the same."

"I...love you too," You sniffed, wiping your tears away, "I...I just don't...want your people...to think...y-you k-know..."

"Whatever they think, they keep to themselves. My people know better than to insult me or you," Miguel whispered, resisting the urge to call you anything but his wife.

"Miggy~" You cooed happily, enjoying these moments.

You glanced at Miguel and squeaked, seeing the lust in his eyes. Before you could protest, Miguel picked you up and placed you on the bed, wanting to hog your beauty all to himself. You whined, afraid of ruining your dress, but Miguel made sure to be careful.

"M-Miguel~ N-No...m-more~ ah~ I-I gotta...s-stand mhm~ f-for the p-party!" You cried out as he bullied his cock into you.

"Just once more, baby. I want everyone to know that you're mine." Miguel hissed as he sucked on your neck.

You arched your back, moaning loudly as Miguel grew rougher with his thrusts. His grip was tight against your hips as his dick rubbed against your sweet spot, causing you to cum. Shaking in pleasure, you whimpered as Miguel kept his pace, painting your insides white.

"M-Miggy," You panted softly. Miguel licked his lips, glancing down at you,

"Just one more, please?"

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

Your face was flustered as you held onto Miguel. Your legs were shaky and quite numb, so Miguel had to carry you into the party. It was none the less embarrassing. Plus, your neck was covering with Miguel's love bites.

"T-This is embarrassing," You whispered. Miguel chuckled softly as he entered the Alchemax building,

"It's only for a short while. I usually stay at this party for an hour, the other two hours." He explained and placed you on your feet, "But, if you want to leave early to continue celebrating Christmas-"

"Mhpm!" You huffed your cheeks out, giving a slight glare towards your sex driven boyfriend, "W-We're b-binge watching m-movies remember?" You whined. Miguel couldn't hold back his laugh,

"I know, baby. I can't help but tease." You felt captivated by his smile, "Just stay by my side, okay?"

"O-Okay,"

Everything felt like it was moving so fast. You refused to let go of Miguel, not used to the fancy party life. Alchemax was different and you weren't sure if you liked it yet. The food was fancy and the people seemed snobby. It was no wonder why Miguel wasn't too fond of this job.

The only good thing about this party was that people only paid half a mind to you. Everyone tried to avoid Miguel unless it was a simple introduction. Miguel was the CEO, he had to make his rounds and a small speech.

Sitting a small private table, you smiled as Miguel handed you a small plate of food. He kissed your head and went up to the stage to make his yearly speech. After he was done, the two of you were going to go to his more 'lively' party as Miguel called it.

"Is she dating the boss?"

"Can't be, look at her."

"But those marks-"

"Just a fling. We have a better chance."

Ah, there is was. You hadn't left Miguel's side until now, so you had avoided hearing the whispers about you. Of course, everyone was curious about you. The CEO of their company had brought a girl they had never seen before.

You wanted to tell them that you were Miguel's girlfriend. You wanted to tell them that they were wrong. That they would never stand a chance with Miguel, but you were still afraid. Just because you had gotten comfortable with Miguel, didn't mean that you were ready to confront others yet.

"Please, do enjoy the rest of the night. My wife and I have other matters to attend. I shall see you all in the New Year," Miguel spoke before leaving the stage.

You hadn't even heard his last part, still playing with your sweater sleeves about what those girls said. You didn't even notice Miguel approach you from behind, his arms wrapping around yours.

"You didn't eat. Was the food not to your liking?" He asked. You flinched and shook your head,

"S-Sorry...I um...spaced out." You whispered and scooted closer to him, "A-Are we leaving...?"

"Yes, perhaps you'll like the food there better."

Miguel lifted you up, ignoring your small protests and his staring underlings. He held you close until the two of you arrived at his other party. It was already lively since some of the Peters had gotten a little drunk.

"C-Can I ask-" You giggled lowly, seeing Miguel's slightly annoyed expression, "H-How did you come to hire so many p-people with the s-same name?"

"I don't know. I really don't know," Miguel huffed and watched as his mafia went wild, "Let me get you a pla-"

"THE BOSS'S WIFE WANTS FOOD!" One of the Peter's yelled. You were too focused on Miguel leading to a table to hear the yelling,

"BRING THE QUEEN HER FOOD!"

"FOOD! FOOD! FOOD!"

"What the hell are they going on about now?!" Miguel barked. Lyla came over with Jessica and a few other girls,

"Everyone's excited to finally meet (Y/N). They're bringing her a plate of food now," She said with a grin.

"E-Excited to s-see...me?" You questioned in shock.

"Yea, you're the one who thawed this grumps heart." Jessica hummed while Gwen and Margo snickered to themselves.

Miguel kept his quiet glare since you were enjoying their company. He turned his attention to his drunk underlings who brought you a large enough plate to even feed Miguel. Wondering if he should make his speech now, Miguel waited on you.

He enjoyed the smile on had on your face as you talked to the girls. Your eyes sparkling ever so slightly at the mountain of food. You seemed to be happy here, that's what mattered.

"I'll be right back," Miguel whispered in your ear.

You shivered in delight and pecked his lips, wishing him luck. Miguel groaned lowly, hurrying to the main stage to calm his eager crowd. Oh, how tempting you were still. Miguel was going to make sure to keep on giving all night long.

"Excited to give Miguel your gift tomorrow?" Lyla asked, ignoring Miguel's speech. You felt your cheeks warm up,

"I-I really...r-really hope he likes it."

"He will. Miguel will cherish anything you give him."

"I trust you all to keep this city safe again this year. My wife and I shall lead this family to success-"

"I-I'm just worried...t-that he'll think it's...cheap..."

"Miguel doesn't care about that. Listen to this, his brother gave him a baseball from one of his games and Miguel still has it in a glass case!" Lyla grinned.

"As you've all seen, my wife is quite shy and nervous when it comes to new people, so I expect you all to behave and-"

"O-Oh, yes! M-Miguel told me that story. It's s-super sweet," You cooed, hiding your smile, "S-So...he will like my g-gift~"

"HEIR! HEIR! HEIR!"

"The hell are they yelling now?" Jessica huffed, crossing her arms towards the crowd. You titled your head, drinking some wine,

"Hair?"

"Ignore them," Lyla snickered.

You were still confused, but kept enjoying your meal and drink. Eventually Miguel returned and cozied up to you, claiming that he needs a break already. You laughed at his childishly behavior, but indulged anyway.

After a while, you were tipsy and ready to go home. As ready as you were to sleep, Miguel made sure to keep you up for a few more hours.

Tis was the season of giving after all.

---------

You let out a soft whine as Miguel scooped you up from the bed. He had you wrapped in the blanket, carrying you over to his large living room. You rubbed your eyes, glancing at his beautiful Christmas tree and tons of gifts placed below it.

You gasped at the sight, shocked to see so many presents. Miguel chuckled towards your reaction and placed you down on the couch. He pecked you lips and went to bring some eggnog. You were still in shock, wondering if your gift was going to be good enough again.

"Where would you like to start, Mi pequeño conejita (my little bunny)?" Miguel asked, handing you a mug. You glanced towards him, placing the cup against your lips,

"C-Can I...give y-you your gift...first?" You asked.

Miguel happily agreed if that was your wish. Miguel watched you struggle to grab his present from a hidden spot. You were cute as you struggled to walk. Returning to the couch, you let out an 'oomph' as you fell on Miguel, handing him his present.

"M-Merry Christmas!" You chirped.

Miguel brought you into his embrace, opening the gift with ease. His eyes widen, seeing that you got him a glass Spider figure. Miguel glanced towards you, watching as you touched the spider, opening a small compartment.

"Tadaaa," You chirped. Miguel glanced inside the compartment and chuckled,

"Chocolate hearts? How cute, you can't even tell they were in there."

"I-I've noticed that y-you liked Spiders....y-you know, before I-I knew you were part of the S-Spider mafia. T-The hearts...I um...I wanted to um....r-represent...m-my love...for you." You stuttered, feeling slightly embarrassed now.

"I love it, mi amor (my love)" Miguel brought you in for a deep kiss, "Allow me to give you one special gift first."

You could feel small hearts floating above your head as Miguel kept giving you kisses here and there. He went behind the tree and brought you a medium size gift. Curious, you opened it and saw that Miguel got you a custom made puzzle.

"Let's build it together," He whispered in your ear.

You muffled a whimper as Miguel sat you between his legs. You could feel your heart race as his hands engulfed yours. The two of you were working on a special puzzle together. You were both nervous and excited to see what it will form into.

"Will?" You questioned.

"Keep going,"

A shiver ran down your spine as Miguel kept whispering and kissing your ear. He grabbed your hands, working on the other side of the puzzle now.

"Me?"

"Ten piedad, te voy a devorar si sigues siendo tan linda. (Have mercy, I'm going to devour you if you keep being this cute.)" Miguel groaned.

You bit your lower lip as you kept working on the puzzle. You could feel Miguel's erection already, making you really wonder what the puzzle was. Your eyes started to widen as you saw another word being formed. Miguel then covered your eyes as his hands motioned yours to finish the puzzle.

"Ready?" Miguel moved his hands away from yours eyes.

"Will you m-marry me?" You gasped in awe, then turned to face Miguel, "Y-Yes! Yes!" You cried, tackling him in a hug. Miguel wrapped his arms around you waist, laying against the floor,

"(Y/N), I love you so, so much. I promise to take care of you now and forever," Miguel said with a low hum. This time, you were the one to cover him in kisses,

"M-Miguel, t-thank you so much f-for treating me well. I-I love you so much it hurts! I-I can't wait to be called your wife!"

"Oh? I've been calling you that all night." Miguel chuckled lowly, sliding your panties down, "I thought it was so cute how you didn't hear a single one."

"Y-You were?!"

"Everyone knows that you're my wife," Miguel laughed, sitting back up and kissing you deeply, "And now, you will be."

"Thank you, M-Miguel," You pecked his lips happily. Miguel picked you up, hovering over you on the couch,

"No, thank you, (Y/N)."

Every one is a puzzle just waiting to find their missing pieces. It may take some time and there maybe moments where you think you found the right piece, but patience will reward you in the end. For you will finally find all of your puzzle pieces eventually.

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THANK YOU ALL FOR READING AND SUPPORTING THIS STORY!!! I couldn't have done it without all of your love and support! As sad as I am to see this story end, what ends with one, gives life to another!

I have already started on my next story. I present:

Corruption (Villain!Miguel x Hero!Reader)

Thank you all again for reading and enjoying my story! I hope to see you all again in my future projects~

@migueloharacumslut @18lkpeters @deputy-videogamer @leahnicole1219 @synamonthy @thedevax @jolynesposts @thraetor @freehentai @2099hitmylineyline @vvampir3s @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @secretadmirerisnowonline @jadeloverxd @bunnibitez @oharasfilipinawife @randomgoosegame @lilbanas @daisy-artfield @axi-moore @mimiemie @darkfairy102190 @jazzyj1011 @mcmiracles @innercreationflower @spoderssimp @thel0velykey190 @moonvoidpng @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @scaleniusrm @love4saturn @nyxgoddessofchaos13 @slutty-chronicles @ghstypaint @migueloharastruelove @brainmatterdump @a060403 @trendyharold @yannauauau @kimivixen @angel-xx-1 @nxrdamp @miguelzslvtz @lynxslokley @wafflefries786 @pochapo @what-the-jams @flaps200 @ii-angelsrolltheireyes-ii @nakimushiohime @tojishugetiddies @aya-world @supercowgirl04 @mysteris-things @daisy-artfield @mcmiracles @alexa4040 @llama--drama @kpopscoups17130000 @havkjhdecs @ruexvn @tojishugetiddi @openup-yourmind @black-swan-blog27 @xstarsdiary @kiddisquacking @gachagator @yujyujj @emmyrxx @blackteamint @sockears @black-swan-blog27 @soraya-daydreams @byjessicalotufo @nanoinn @bunnibitez @aockskcw @l3laze @dimitri-needs-therapy

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel x reader #spiderman miguel

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madebycloud · 11 months ago

Text

Love to Keep Me Warm

tara carpenter x reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: you spend christmas with your girlfriend warnings/themes: baking (burned) cookies, dancing around the kitchen (cliche but… I WANTTT), watching holiday movies, kissing under the mistletoe, matching pjs & sweaters, cuddles, and… a little bit suggestive convo at the end i guess??? words: 1.2k

me posting another fic then dipping for month/s 🏃💨 —divider not mine

Hallelujah, it's almost Christmas! the TV announces as the snow falls outside your window.

In the living room, a towering christmas tree stands, adorned with twinkling lights and sparkly ornaments. The smell of baked cookies wafts through the air, but the aroma is not as appetizing as you'd hoped.

Tara, standing beside you, looks at the black-burned cookies with wide eyes. “I followed the instructions, but these cookies are ruined! I waited 12 minutes for this?! It says 12 minutes!”

You sigh, knowing your girlfriend's cooking skills all too well.

“We tried, didn't we?” she mumbles, still staring at the burnt cookies.

With a smile, you say, “Let's give it another shot,” taking the pan and dumping the burnt cookies into the trash, ready to give it another shot. “Who knows, maybe a second time's the charm?” You pulled a new mixing bowl out of the cabinet and grabbed ingredients to start over.

“I don't understand why this keeps happening,” she says with a laugh. “I swear, I've never made a good batch of cookies in my life.”

“Well, you know what they say—the best cookies are the ones that come out of the oven, burnt to a crisp,” you joke, trying to cheer her up.

“Ha ha, very funny,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “But what do you think went wrong this time?”

“I'm thinking we might need to switch up the oven temperature,” you say, turning down the thermostat. “A lower temperature could be the key to perfect cookies.”

She nods in agreement, and the two of you continue working together on the cookie madness, having a laugh and chatting it up while mixing, rolling, baking, and waiting for the cookies to finish.

“Hold up a minute,” you say, grabbing your phone. You browse your spotify christmas playlist for the perfect tune. “Christmas simply wouldn't be complete without these Christmas bangers.” You placed your phone on the counter.

You dance around the kitchen in matching pajamas and your matching ugly christmas sweaters, giggling and singing along to the christmas playlist. You dip her and spin her around, making her laugh hysterically. You both twirl and prance, bumping into each other like two drunken elves at a company party.

You're having so much fun that you completely forgot about the cookies until the timer went off. The two of you rushed to the oven, excited to see how the cookies turned out. When you opened the oven, you were delighted to see perfectly golden-brown cookies. They smell heavenly, and you can't wait to taste them.

“Ahhhh, this is the best Christmas ever!" Tara exclaims, picking up the first cookie and taking a bite out of it. “I think Santa is going to love these cookies,” she giggles.

“They're perfect.” You take another bite, licking the chocolate chips off your finger with a satisfied smirk. She gives you a small kiss on the cheek and then takes another bite of her cookie.

“Oh, we have to decorate these.” She grabs a green frosting tube and squirts it recklessly onto the first cookie.

You laugh and join in, squirting red, yellow, blue, and other colors onto the cookies until they are covered head to toe in messy frosting.

“We need to add sprinkles!” Together, you run to the cupboard and rifle through the bags of sprinkles, trying to find the perfect ones.

After a few minutes of frantic searching, you come up with a variety of glittery, sparkly, and edible colors that you toss all over the cookies.

“Voila!” Tara says, holding up a cookie for you to see.

“These are the most horrible, beautiful christmas cookies ever.” you say as you examine the colorful, messy, and probably delicious masterpiece.

“You know what would make this even better? Some hot chocolate,” she says, grabbing a pot.

You both grab a mug and fill it up with hot chocolate. The steam rises from the cups, and the fragrance of chocolate fills the air.

“To another year of cookie disasters,” Tara says, raising her mug.

“To cookie disasters,” you reply, clinking mugs.

—

At last, you two finished cleaning the kitchen. The counters are empty, the dishes are washed and dried, and the oven is turned off.

“Looks like everything was a success,” Tara says, admiring the clean kitchen.

You pick up the cookies and hot chocolate, inviting her to join you on the plush couch.

You sit on the couch with blankets wrapped around you, hot chocolate in hand, and cookies on the coffee table.

“Let's see what we have on Christmas eve.” She reached for the remote and flipped through the channels, eventually finding a holiday movie to watch.

Snuggled under the blanket, you sip your hot chocolate and eat your cookies. The movie is heartwarming, and you both feel your stress melt away.

“You know, I've always wanted to spend Christmas like this,” she says, leaning her head against your shoulder.

You smile and wrap your arm around her, pulling her close to you. “Yeah, me too,” you say, kissing her on the forehead.

You glance at her, trying to hide the shy smile on your face.

She quirks her eyebrow at you, her full lips curving into a playful smile. “What?” Her hand sliding onto your arm and pulling you closer. “Are you admiring the scenery?”

You quickly stand up, pretending to check something in the kitchen. You can feel Tara's eyes on you, waiting to see what you're up to.

When you return, you're holding something behind your back that Tara can't quite identify. You sit next to her and reach behind her head, placing something on top of both of your heads. A mistletoe.

“You really know how to surprise me.”

She leans in, placing her finger on your jaw and pulling you closer until your lips meet hers. The warm, sweet taste of a mix of chocolate and marshmallows fills your mouth.

With your free hand, you reach behind her head, pulling her closer to you. She wraps her arms around your neck, bringing you even closer.

Your noses touch as your lips stay locked together, and the warmth of each other's breath sends shivers down your spine.

Tara pulls away, breathless and flushed. You both sit there, stunned, savoring the moment and the feeling of being so close to each other.

Finally, she breaks the silence. “You know what would make this evening even better?” She asks you with a sly grin.

“What? Are you hungry for more already?” you respond with a laugh.

She stands up and walks to the entrance of the bedroom. Reaching the doorway, she looks back at you, arching an eyebrow as if she's daring you to follow her.

Before you know it, you're following her into the bedroom. The door closes with a soft click, shutting out the rest of the world.

But you're greeted by the unexpected sight of Tara peacefully sleeping in bed. You can't help but let out a disappointed sigh.

She sees you standing over her then gives you a mischievous grin. “What? Were you expecting something?”

You shake your head. “No, no, I just thought…”

“Thought what?”

“I thought we were going to…” you begin to say before trailing off.

“Oh, you thought wrong,” Tara says, throwing back the covers and inviting you to join her.

She opens her arms wide and smiles at you, inviting you to cuddle up with her.

“But you know what?” you say, burying yourself in the crook of her neck. “I think I prefer this.”

tara:

dsajhdahda anyways... (advance) merry christmas! <3

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega imagines #jenna x reader #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #scream vi #scream #merry christmas #tara carpenter imagines

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lovebugism · 11 months ago

Note

Okay, for your Blurbcember what about "Don't you think gingerbread houses with gingerbread men are kinda morbid? I mean, it's a house made out of flesh?" with Steve? And reader just pauses, bag of icing in hand while the gingerbread roof slowly slips off and stares at Steve like boy, I love you but what tf is in your eggnog?

you might be genius for this one, anon. hope u like it!! — you, the grump of the group, try hopelessly to decorate a gingerbread house with your perfectly ditzy bf (grump!reader, established relationship, fluff, 0.8k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

“We can’t decorate this if you keep eating all the candy. You know that, right?” Your voice comes in a concentrated, half-annoyed monotone. You’d be grumpier about it if you weren’t so focused. Now, you’re more worried about piping even shingles on the gingerbread roof than your boyfriend eating all of your supplies.

Steve stops chewing with a cheekful of something sugary. “Sorry,” he apologizes, mostly muffled.

You lay the piping bag on the tabletop and flash a deadpanned glance to the boy beside you. With his hair grown out and pushed over his head, chiseled jaw scruffy and unshaven, and ugly Christmas sweater pushed up to his elbows — you think he’s the coziest he’s ever looked. Far too pretty to be mad at.

“Can you hand me the gumdrops?”

He nods enthusiastically, happy to finally help in some way. He reaches to his left for the plastic bag of vividly colored candies. The bag is lighter than he expected, and much much emptier. It shouldn’t surprise him. He’s the one that ate them all.

“Sorry…” he repeats as he passes the bag to you. He gives you a crooked smile in return, an enthusiastic glimmer in the honey of his eye. “It looks really pretty so far, though!”

“Yeah, no thanks to you,” you murmur.

Dustin told you that this was usually a team effort, a friendly competition between the whole group, but your fingers are the only ones cramping now. You delicately stick each gumdrop into place and try to ignore how tense your wrist has gotten. You figure the Henderson boy must be much of the same in the living room — he’s too much of a perfectionist for anything else.

“You’re the one that told me to stop helping!”

“‘Cause you almost broke the ceiling off, remember?”

“You underestimate my strength, sweetheart,” Steve argues, only half-joking. He leans his elbow on the table and props his scruffy chin on a balled-up fist. “My strong hands can crack that gingerbread, no problem.”

“Yeah. Okay,” you scoff.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect, okay? We just have to make it better than Dustin’s, because I do not want to spend another year with that little shit bragging about making the best house.”

Dustin Henderson is a little super genius, and Nancy, Robin, and Will are the judges this year. The odds of beating everyone’s favorite smartmouth aren’t exactly in your favor. You’re not the most creative person either, but you are pretty competitive. To a fault, some might say.

Honestly, the only reason you took this gig was because you wanted to spend more time with Steve.

He doesn’t need to know that, though.

“Well, you didn’t have me a year ago, did you?” you quip, eyes still trained on the creation before you.

Steve grins so wide that it’s audible in his sickly sweet tone. “No. I didn’t. I got real lucky this go around, didn’t I?”

His smile grows when your face screws up in annoyance. “You’re disgusting…”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Hand me the candy canes,” you tell them. And then, because you’re trying to be nicer — “Please.”

With his lips quirked in a lopsided smile, he hands you the plastic bag. You stick a couple of the mini sticks into the makeshift yard, then break the ends off to use as windowsills. You put two of them together in a heart shape and stick them to the front of your house, just below the roof.

Steve’s chest swells with warmth. “Aw, that’s cute. You big softie.”

“Shut up…” you grumble.

“It’s a compliment,” the boy laughs, a sunshine sound that turns the kitchen golden. He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. The bottom of his sweater lifts slightly, flashing a sliver of his stomach. “It’s real nice, you know, for a gingerbread house and everything.”

You squint at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I mean— don’t you think gingerbread houses are kinda morbid? Like… It’s a house. Made out of their flesh.” He explains it all like it’s obvious, like it’s a thought he’s had a million times before. He scoffs out a laugh, amused by your visible confusion. “It’s kinda weird when you think about it.”

At a loss for words, you blink at the boy beside you. You don’t think you’ve ever been more dumbfounded — more in love with anybody else in the whole entire world.

Steve is so much different than you are. You’re sometimes too serious, easily annoyed, and a little bit gauche. And Steve is… like walking into the sun. He’s like walking into the sun for the very first time after a terribly long winter.

“What?” he says, chuckling at the silence. The plastic on the table crinkles audibly when he reaches for another gumdrop. He chucks three into his mouth at once, then remembers he isn’t supposed to be eating them at all. “Oh, shit— sorry, babe.”

“Did you spike the eggnog?” you blurt.

“No,” he scoffs, trying to get the candy out of the back of his teeth with his tongue.

You shake your head with a distant smile and try hopelessly to hide it from him. “You’re crazy,” you murmur under your breath.

Steve grins, lopsided and rosy, and with grains of sugar stuck to the corners of his mouth. “Yeah. For you.”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #st drabbles #stevie drabble #event: blurbcember

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charlesslut16 · 11 months ago

Text

-Ugly christmas sweaters-

summary : lando and you go to a christmas party, which had the theme 'ugly christmas sweaters' but lando does not like his sweater....

PAIRING : lando norris x fem!reader

WARNINGS : none

note : i hope you like this imagines! Request some more, as we have not every day in the dezember masterlist!

december masterlist ; masterlist

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One week before your friend's Christmas party, you bought Christmas sweaters, ugly ones, as the theme had been 'ugly Christmas sweaters'. You knew that Lando didn't like the theme, but for you and your friends' sake, he would do it.

So two days before the party, you confronted and showed Lando the Christmas sweaters. Obviously you knew that Lando wouldn't be as happy, but if you were being honest, you could not care less.

“You’re telling me that we—no, I am going to be wearing that?” Lando softly lifted one of the sweaters, holding it as if it was a bag of 2 weeks old garbage. As if he was going to be infected with something dangerous.

“For our friend’s Christmas party?”

The splash of colors and patterns really confused him; it seems like the designer operated on a whim. Every thing looked out of order and nothing fit together. Like someone had destroyed it and then.

"Come on, it’s not even that bad! The theme was ugly Christmas sweaters, and I picked out the best ones the market had on the hanger, I think they're cute," you stated, defending the sweaters you had bought a week ago.

"This is far from cute! It is horrendous. Your taste in fashion must be very questionable," he scoffed, nonchalantly returning the sweaters to their initial resting place on the chair, so that he did not have to look at them anymore.

"I've practically styled your entire wardrobe, and you've received so many compliments because of me!" you argued back. Now he had gone too far, to question your fashion taste, although you had styled most of his clothes combinations.

"Alright, but your sweater choices are still terrible!" Lando countered.

Ignoring his protests, you insistently hold the sweater in front of him, trying to picture the look despite his puzzled expression. You knew that even if they did not look so good, Lando could pull them off nonetheless.

“Not in a million years will you catch me wearing that. In will never live this outfit down.” Lando declared, hands up in protest.

But, you didn’t care whatsoever, as your determination knew no bounds.

“Stop moving, you're making this harder.”

“What—” he started, but you were already on a mission, determined to make him at least consider the sweater. Even if Lando was a grown man, you needed to put it on him, so that he could see how it looked on him.

“It does suit you.”

“Thanks for the compliment, but you can't just say that by imagining how I'd look in it!”

“Why don't you try it on?” You extended your hand, catching him off guard. His reaction was too slow, and you ended up tossing it at him.

“I'll wait for you.”

Lando sighed loudly, unfolding the sweater and eyeing it with skepticism. He wasn't convinced, but just trying it on wouldn't bee that bad.

“Fine, but don't get your hopes up. It still looks absolutely horrendous.”

As he struggled to put it on, you couldn't help but laugh at the sight. The vibrant colors clashed with his usual style, making it even more amusing. The orange colour he normally would was bright and colourful but this. Absolutely vibrant.

“Ta-da! Happy now?” Lando struck a pose, a mockingly exaggerated smile on his face. You knew that he hated every second of it. Like when he drove and became second and not first, or when his brother hated the last donut that he wanted.

You chuckled, "Look! It doesn't even look that bad! You can totally pull it off. I mean, you can totally pull off everything that somebody gives."

Rolling his eyes, Lando played along with your answers and exclamations.

"Sure, sure. It looks fantastic on me. Just a bunch of silly trees and tiny elves on this sweater with squiggly lines—seriously, what were you thinking when you added this to the cart? It ruined everything good on me."

You shrugged lightly, unfazed by his words. Lando often exaggerated things, and you were accustomed to it. It was nothing unusual for Lando to overreact and overdramatic, things as they were or had been.

“I expect you to stick with this—we've got just two days until the party.”

“But can we not switch—”

In the middle of his sentence, you stood up and walked away into the kitchen to make you a hot cocoa and to go back to your shared bedroom, so you stopped hearing his complaints and overdramatic nature.

Two days later, the day of the Christmas party, you had the exact same conversation, but you knew that Lando could do nothing about it, as he knew that he would do almost everything for you in a heartbeat.

His complaining tone faded as you rushed down the stairs with the matching sweater in your hand. Quickly draping it over your white shirt and white skirt, you settled on the couch in the living room. As you scrolled on your phone to pass the time, you later heard shuffling in the background.

“Ready to go, my handsome man?” you looked up, seeing your boyfriend in the sweater you bought—he hadn’t changed it. You gave him a big smile, rising from your seat, as you wanted to hug him and tell him how good he looked.

“Looking good there, Norris.”

“Keep it up, and I’ll run up the stairs to change,” he teased, soon linking arms with you as you headed towards the door. But you knew that he was just teasing, he would not change as the time was at a limit.

“Honestly, though, I don’t think I look too shabby in this,” he asserted, eliciting a giggle from you.

“What can I say? I have an eye for what works.”

“Maybe you're onto something.”

"Maybe I need to trust you more, with clothes."

"You should."

He opened the door, so he could let you both out and locked the door after you both, but before you could walk to the car, he pulled you into his chest and gave you a romantic long kiss and then pulled away to look into your eyes.

"I love you, angel"

"I love you, handsome."

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bratbarzal · 4 months ago

Text

On Your Side (NH13) / Prologue

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy Jensen

WC: 13k

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

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

Series Masterlist

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

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

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

Poppy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course he did, she thinks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She does.

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

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

“Then why are you all grumpy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She wishes he would stop saying her name.

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

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

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

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

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

She really wishes he wouldn’t call her that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Very.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Half?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So Poppy knows that Nia knows something happened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Awesome! What’s left to do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There is no me and Nico,”

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing happened!”

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

“He has a girlfriend, Nia.”

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

“Since when?” Nia frowns.

“Since the summer just gone.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

They didn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nico

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Talia was great.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he knew something still wasn’t right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why was Poppy packing up her desk?

Why was she avoiding hanging out with the team?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So that’s what they had been talking about.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe you should ask her?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aren’t friends anymore.

Avoiding the whole team all year.

Jack is driving her home.

He’s her favourite.

Aren’t friends anymore.

Shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Turns out, 4 months might be too late.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jack: need ur help

Jack: urgently

Jack: wake up dude

Nico: I’m not driving anywhere for you

Jack: not asking u to

Jack: u will like this I promise 😌

Nico: what do you want?

Jack: need u to keep Poppy company

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

Jack: been on her own for a few hours

Jack: so she’s grumpy 👎🏻👎🏻👎🏻 👹👹

Nico: doubt I can change the grumpy part

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

Jack: don’t need to

Jack: ur a grump too

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

Jack: u going down or no?

Nico: fine

Jack: I’ll be back in 1 hr :)

Jack: love u cap 😚

Nico: 🙄

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

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

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

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

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

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

The same thing could apply to his friendship with Poppy. Maybe they couldn’t go back to what they were - maybe they could be better.

And, when Poppy had made one too many attempts to push him away - when he had taken a hold of her after she had tried to move past him, dismissing him and his desire to help her, once again - a fire reignited within him. A spark of hope flickered at the familiarity that had flashed across her face as he referred to her in an endearment he hadn’t let himself use in so long.

In that moment - hand wrapped around her arm, just above her elbow, the skin soft and warm, close enough to smell the all too familiar cloud of vanilla-coconut scent that followed her, and her eyes locked on his - he had seen a crack in her armour.

He had seen an element of want - wanting to reconcile, wanting to fix things, wanting him in her life in the way he had been those months ago - and in a mirror of his own emotions, he had seen trepidation.

They wanted the same things, had the same fears, had the same end goal.

And when the unforeseen interruption of her best friend arriving startled her back into her withdrawn persona, he had realised something else.

Nia’s contrasting attitude toward Nico - open, friendly, familiar - had opened his eyes to the fact that Poppy hadn’t told her best friend about the demise of her friendship with Nico.

And that, as much as it needed unpacking entirely, was Nico’s backdoor entry into the high security vault of Poppy’s good graces.

Thankfully for him, Nia’s obliviousness to their tension had worked entirely in his favour. He tried not to look too much into Poppy’s attempted avoidance of spending the evening in his presence, despite her other plans falling apart. Tried to shoulder the blows of her sly digs at them not being friends anymore. Tried to ignore the pang in his heart at Poppy’s best friend being the one to throw flirty jibes his way, and not her.

A determination had begun to brew within him - swirling, bubbling, steaming - and it was going to push him to finally bridge the gap he had forced between them.

His first success was her agreeing to come to the party, and he could easily build on that momentum.

Nico and Poppy were going to be friends again by midnight, he would figure out a way.

> Chapter One

#nico hischier #Nico Hischier x reader #Nico Hischier fanfiction #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagines #Nico Hischier imagine #anyways #if you do by happenstance read all these tags #we need to have a conversation about people as colours #I would have ranted about this in my an but honestly I think I went on enough #nico is green I won't budge on this because I am also green and he is mine #like if your fav colour is green you know what I mean it becomes your entire existence #but also every time I write him in an outfit its like khaki olive vibes #he's just an earthy toned fella #no one can change my mind #I call this phenomenon hot guy synesthesia I'm writing a thesis on it you've just read it #anyways I'm gonna publish this and run for the hills #*writing #*oys

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