#like that kind of dancing scene makes me CRAZY

[rottenfyre]

I got so into your batfam stories, I’ve actually gotten into reading the comics to better understand the universe! Honestly never thought I’d touch superhero stuff, but your writing is just so darn good I had to go learn more about these characters! Also I know you’ve got several series planned, but I was curious about that Dick x joker’s assistant one. Could you indulge us with a few of your ideas for that one? (If it’s not spoiling anything!) the concept is just so good

Awwww, thank you! 🥰 First of all, I’m so happy you’re enjoying the stories enough to dive into the comics! It really means the world to me that my writing has sparked that interest. As for the Dick x Joker’s assistant story, let me clarify because I actually have two different series involving Joker's sidekicks—one with Dick and the other with Jason. Since you’re asking about the Dick one, let me spill a little about Jester.

So, Jester is… complicated. She was this lonely kid growing up, the kind who was always a little “off,” and Joker saw that in her. He took her in, not because she was as crazy as he was (she’s not), but because she had this strange detachment from reality that he found fascinating. She’s unhinged in her own way, though—she doesn’t really understand the concept of good or bad. To her, the world is like one big storybook where rules don’t apply, and everyone’s just playing their part. That’s why Joker adores her; she operates in her own little bubble of logic, completely removed from societal norms.

She’s untainted by traditional human logic and morality. To her, Joker is just a misunderstood "mad king," and she’s his pretty princess.

She met Dick for the first time when she was about 10. At that point, she wasn’t Jester yet, just this weird little kid who accidentally crossed paths with him while he was fighting crime. Dick saved her during the chaos, and for her, it was like a fairytale moment. Here’s this ridiculously pretty boy with an even prettier voice, swooping in like a literal prince, and she’s immediately smitten. Even though it’s just a brief moment, and in her eyes, he becomes this impossibly beautiful and noble "prince."

Fast-forward to later that same year—she’s now Jester, Joker’s official sidekick, and runs into Robin again. It’s chaos everywhere—Joker and Batman are tearing each other apart in their usual deadly dance, but then you’ve got Robin and Jester off to the side, having this completely bizarre and awkward “high school girl confessing to her crush” scene. She’s carefree, bubbly, and genuinely just wants to be friends with him. Meanwhile, Dick’s all serious and professional, probably trying to figure out if she’s an actual threat or just delusional. (Spoiler: It’s both.)

Her obsession with Dick escalates quickly—because in her mind, this is how love stories work. She doesn’t just want to be his friend; she wants him to be hers forever. So naturally, her solution is to kidnap him and make him her “pretty bird.” She genuinely believes this is romantic. Like, why wouldn’t he love her back? Isn’t this how princesses and princes end up together? She dreams about marrying him, having kids, and living out their happily ever after.

The thing about Jester is that she doesn’t see herself as evil. She doesn’t even really understand what “evil” is. To her, everything she does—whether it’s breaking the law, hurting people, or abducting her “true love”—is just part of the story she’s living in. She doesn’t see it as wrong because she’s so disconnected from reality. She’s living in this fairytale bubble where everything she does makes perfect sense to her, no matter how horrifying it might actually be.

That’s what makes her so fascinating and, honestly, terrifying. She’s not malicious or cruel; she’s just completely untethered from reality. In her mind, she’s the heroine of this grand love story, and Dick is the prince who doesn’t realize he’s supposed to love her yet. It’s twisted and unhinged, but in her own warped way, it’s sincere.

Jester’s relationship with Joker is as twisted as you’d expect, but not in the way people might think. Joker didn’t raise her to be cruel or hateful—he didn’t even need to. She already had this skewed view of the world when he found her, and he simply encouraged it. To him, she was this bizarre, broken little doll who saw life through a kaleidoscope of whimsy and delusion. He adored how unpredictable she was, how she could smile sweetly at someone while holding a knife to their throat, not out of malice, but because she thought it was “funny.”

But Joker wasn’t a father figure to her. He was more like a mentor or a ringmaster in her eyes. She looked up to him, sure, but in the way a kid might look up to a magician who promises to show them how to make the impossible happen. He gave her attention and fed into her fantasies, but he didn’t care about her in a meaningful way. To Joker, she was just another toy—a fascinating one, but still a toy. And in her naivety, she didn’t see that. She thought their bond was special. That they were alike.

In reality, Joker kept her around because her complete detachment from reality amused him. She didn’t understand pain, fear, or consequence, and that made her a perfect wildcard. But when she started fixating on Robin, Joker didn’t stop her—he thought it was hilarious. He egged her on, treating her obsession with Dick like a soap opera to entertain himself. He probably even encouraged her fairytale delusions, mocking her behind her back but also supplying her with whatever she needed to chase her “happily ever after.”

And then there’s Dick. He was everything Joker wasn’t—kind, warm, heroic. The first time he saved her, she wasn’t just drawn to his looks or his bravery; she was drawn to the way he saw her. He didn’t look at her like she was a freak or a broken doll. He saw a scared kid and treated her like she was worth saving. For someone as lonely as Jester, that moment stuck with her. In her mind, it was love at first sight. He became her Prince Charming, her one bright light in an otherwise chaotic existence.

But Dick didn’t even remember her. To him, saving her was just another day as Robin. He had no idea he’d planted the seed of obsession in her mind. And when they crossed paths again, with her now as Jester, he didn’t recognize her at first. She was this eccentric, giggling enigma who acted like they were old friends—or more than friends. She flirted, teased, and acted as though they were already destined for each other. It confused him, but he also saw glimpses of that scared kid underneath the makeup and manic laughter.

What makes it heartbreaking is that Jester doesn’t understand the depth of her own loneliness. She doesn’t know how to express love in a healthy way, and she’s never had anyone teach her. Her fixation on Dick is less about him as a person and more about what he represents: stability, warmth, someone who sees her. She clings to her fantasies of marrying him, of building a life together, because it’s the only way she knows how to cope with the emptiness inside her. She doesn’t even realize how much she’s hurting him or herself in the process.

It’s both funny and kind of tragic because, deep down, she’s just a lonely kid who never learned how the real world works. Dick, being the compassionate guy he is, probably picks up on that, which only makes things more complicated. Her obsession is unrelenting, and she truly believes she’s the princess who will win her prince in the end, no matter what stands in her way.

Dick would probably feel pity for her. He’d try to reason with her, to help her see the world for what it is. But the more he tries to help, the more she doubles down on her delusions, convinced that he’s just playing hard to get or that the world is keeping them apart. It’s a tragic cycle: her chasing a love that’s not real, and Dick trying to save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.

[lumiereandcogsworth]

going crazy about this screencap. the way the background is all starry and beautiful but blurry. and they’re in focus and looking at each other, LOCKED on each other. there’s nothing in the their minds except each other. the world falls away and it’s only them only them only them.

[peachysunrize]

The other Woman ⥃ senator! Aemond Targaryen

Summary: you were supposed to be a secret, his temptation in the dark not his scandal after the taste of heaven you experienced together.

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut smut, like literally so much smut, p in v, angst (so much angst), age gap (Aemond is 36 reader is 25. It’s not specified but since he’s a candidate he should be over 35), cheating & infidelity, heavy alcohol consumption (one scene), breeding, humiliation (a little bit), oral (f & m receiving ), rough sex, illicit affair, modern westerosi senator Aemond (doing this because I have no idea about real life election and political debates and how they take place and I can change it however I like), near death experience, car accident and driving while drunk, hurt/comfort, happy ending!! English isn’t my first language.

Word count: 8.58k+ (no beta we die like Beesburybury)

A/n: so, this thought was originally a very dark concept, but I changed it because now it’s much more interesting than the first one lol. Long, smutty, angst! The whole political idea is a sideline for the plot but it gives you an idea of what kind of Aemond we’re dealing with! Please reblog and comment and tell me your opinion!

A very special thank you to @namelesslosers for putting up with my crazy ideas<3😭💕

Every time you walk through this hallway, you ask yourself how you got into this situation. Perhaps it was at the first debate when you met him backstage; tall, dark, brooding, and quiet with a lazy smirk on his thin lips, as he pressed a gentle kiss atop your knuckles, side-eyeing your seething father in the process.

Maybe it was when you ran into him at another party, courtesy of being a senator's daughter and getting invited with high-class families. Your father had sent you there, “showing face” he explained, but you knew he wanted information. Aemond had danced around you that night, knowing exactly why you were there, talking and leading you on with conversations in the dark hallway of the mansion you were in.

It could have been the second debate as well. This time, it was not just backstage, but when he saw you in that denty dress you were wearing, he had cornered you and kept his heated gaze on your lips for a hot minute before he reached and pressed his thumb over your pillowy bottom lip.

Does it matter how it started? Certainly not, not when it’s been a good few months since this thing has been going on.

You stop in front of the hotel room; the only suite on the floor. Always cautious, always careful. You’ve been sneaking into this floor for weeks, entering the hotel from the back door to not be seen, taking the workers’ elevator and now, alone in the middle of this red carpeted floor, you ask yours again how you got yourself into this position. And the second you knock, all the worries and fears vanish.

Aemond opens the door, his cigarette burning between his long fingers as he gazes at you. His white shirt is untucked and unbuttoned, his dress pants already tightened by his bubbling desire for you while he waited for hours to get out of his speech and meet with you.

He doesn’t say anything, pulling you in with his free hand, kicking the door shut before he pushes you against it, leaning over you with his forearm on the door and the other on your hip.

“Rough day?” You ask, running your palms over the pale skin of his abs, caressing his chest and stomach as you look up at him through your lashes.

“Your father was unnerving today,” he rests his forehead on yours, breathing in your perfume, “I broke the pen when he started talking about how he’d do everything I wanted to do but better. Who makes a political debate like that? He can’t even stand for what he has planned to do.”

��He has the talent of getting under everyone’s skin, it doesn’t help that he’s a jealous man as well,” you cup his cheek, running the pad of your thumb over his high cheekbones.

“He does, a trait I’m sure I have seen in someone as well,” he bends down, prepping kisses over your cheek, “he told me I was too perfect to become a president. I have no fucking idea what he is after. He talks about me all the time instead of his plans, I think he’s obsessed with me.”

“Pity, I would have loved to see his face when he said that, knowing that the person he called perfect fucks his daughter every day,” you giggle when he bites down on your neck, making you hiss and thread your fingers through his long blonde hair.

“What were you doing if you weren't watching me beat your father to the pulp?” He keeps his assault on your neck, leaving marks and little swollen bites. He breaks away from your skin to take a drag of his cigarette, wrapping his thin pink lips around the paper edges as he inhales the smoke in, a deep hum drumming through his chest when he leans and presses his lips to yours, blowing the smoke into your eager mouth.

You pull him closer, lapping at his tongue while you inhale the burning smoke, moaning in protest when he breaks the kiss sooner than you wished for. You blow out the remaining smoke to his face, biting your bottom lip as you find his good eye taking every inch of you in with his blown and foggy pupil.

“I was buying pretty dresses for you,” you whisper against his lips before grabbing his hand and pulling him gently toward the bedroom, watching with hazy eyes as he inhales another pile of smoke, keeping his eye locked on the exposed skin of your shoulders.

He loves it when you wear dresses that leave your neck and shoulders bare; it’s tantalizing and alluring in the best way possible. They make him lose the tiny self-control he has and let go of his burdens and responsibilities. He likes how free you make him feel, younger and livelier.

“Hmm?” You giggle when he doesn’t realize what question you are responding to, already too drunk on your scent that has his mind in a mush.

“You asked what I was doing,” you guide him towards the bed, “I was shopping for your upcoming party, Mr. Senator. I have a public image to maintain.” “Yes, but not with flaunting yourself like a slut,” he hisses when you push him down on the mattress, and he takes his cigar and puts it out by pressing it on the ashtray atop his nightstand with a bit of difficulty.

“Don’t be mean, sir,” faking a pout, you unzip your dress slowly, knowing how possessive he can get even though you are not his in the eyes of the public, “it’s all for you anyway, I like to see your face when I come with my friends to your mansion, all dolled up just for you but no one can know.” “Ah yes, I often forget how much you enjoy being my mistress,” he says, licking his lips when you kick off your shoes and crawl onto his lap, his large warm palms coming up to rest on your bare hips.

“Don’t put all the blame on me, you said you’d never slept with your wife!” You push him on his back, grinning as you let your nails deep in his soft exposed skin, “You were the one who begged me to sleep with you anyway!”

“Hmm, and I’m glad that I did,” he smirks at you, pinching your hips, making you gasp, “now, I’ve had a very rough day with your father, be a good girl and take my mind off everything else that isn’t your sweet pussy.”

You nod obediently before starting to grind your clothed sex over the tent in his pants, moving your hips slowly but firmly, eliciting a deep groan from Aemond as he lies beneath you with his silver hair spread around his head like a shiny halo. You lean down, leaving kisses over his chest and abdomen as you slowly lower yourself on the floor, running your hands all over his thighs and slim waist, nuzzling your face into his crotch, and looking at him oh so sweetly when he sits up.

Aemond pushes your hair out of your face, running the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip as he watches you prep kisses over the fabric of his pants, fingers fidgeting with his belt, and once you have successfully undid it, you pull it out of the loops and drop it on the floor.

He chuckles lowly when you grab his zipper with your teeth, pulling it down slowly while you stare into his eye — the blue of his iris is completely gone. You pull his pants down when he unbuttons them, lifting his hips in the process for you. Aemond sighs as soon as his cock is free from the confines of his pants, closing his eye as the cool air of the room hits his heated skin. 

“No underwear?” You tease him, reaching to hold his hot and twitching member in your hand, stroking it to full hardness while your free hand rubs soothing circles on his hip bone.

“The weather is too hot to wear anything under these horrendous dress pants,” he replies breathlessly when you lean down and start trailing kitten kisses from the base of his cock up to his tip, humming at the earthy and musky scent.

“And here I thought you were too desperate to give me easy access,” you mutter, taking his tip in your mouth, not letting him come up with a witty answer.

Aemond leans on his elbows, his hand finding its place on top of your head, not pushing down, but just to show you who’s in charge. His chest rises and falls rapidly when you swirl your tongue around him slowly, rubbing the tip of your tongue on the right places that you know make him weak and needy.

He groans, pushing your head down a little; a quick warning for you to remember that a dragon has no patience when the smell of fresh meat fills its senses.

You oblige, taking more of him in your mouth, relaxing your jaw, and guiding him further down your throat with both hands on the base of his cock, stroking what you can’t fit. He angles your face upwards, forcing you to look him in the eye as he fills your mouth and stretches your jaw with his girth.

“I will never get tired of this sight, fuck—” he throws his head back, his exhales getting sharper and deeper, “If only your father could see you like this; his daughter sucking off his enemy like it’s her last meal.”

You moan around him, brows twisted in a deep frown and eyes teary as he pushes you down, bobbing your head along his length at a pace he likes. In return, he rewards you with grunts and puffs of air that rumble through his chest and make you even more determined to bring him closer to his peak, but he pulls you off him as soon as he feels his dick twitching in your mouth, not wanting to come before he fucks you senseless.

You gasp for air when he pulls out, a string of saliva connecting your swollen lips to the head of his glistening cock. He pulls you up by your hair, smashing his lips into yours, pulling you in for a deep messy kiss as he helps you straddle him again. You sit with your knees on each side of his hips, cupping his face in the process while your lips move languidly, fiercely, and harshly. The kiss is full of clashes of teeth and molding of tongues and wetness, something you both enjoy deeply.

Aemond’s hands wander over your naked form, squeezing your buttocks and scratching the dip of your waist with his trimmed nails before he switches your position and lies you down on the bed without breaking off the kiss. Spreading your legs for him, he moves and makes home between them quickly, rubbing his leaking cock to your clothed pussy, growling inside your mouth in desperation.

You pull your lips away from his lips, mouth falling open immediately when he nuzzles his face into your neck and starts sucking and biting on your flesh like a rabid dog, not letting go of your skin until he’s sure there are big and small blue and violet marks littered all over you.

“Fuck, Aemond just—ah!” You whimper when his long fingers rub over the wet patch on your panties, pressing and moving them up and down until you buck your hips to his hand, searching for more stimulation that he is depriving you of.

“Tsk tsk, use your words, darling,” he says, sinking his teeth into your earlobe while he moves your panties to the side, hovering his thumb over the hood of your clit, “how can I give into your every whim when you can’t speak up for you so?” He sounds disappointed, and it only brings tears to your eyes — more tears, considering he had you near crying when he was fucking your face.

“Please, I-I need…” you are cut off by a sharp gasp leaving your lips as Aemond’s thumb rubs around your puffy clit, not giving into your sweet whines and whimpers, not even caring how tempting they sound. 

“Sweet girl, come on, tell me, do you want me to play with your pretty cunt? Hmm?” He asks in a serious tone, too serious for your liking, because when you look up at him with pouting and watery eyes, he tsks again, and you can feel the heat of his thumb near where you need him the most, but his finger is too far away.

“Yes, yes, please—“

“There is my good girl,” he kisses your tears away, finally caving in and giving you what you need, circling over your buzzing nerves gently but slowly, just the right way to have your mind shutting off to the point of the only thought that is left is him and his magical fingers.

You buck beneath him, wrapping one arm around his shoulder and the other one grabbing his waist as he keeps his thumb pressed firmly into your clit, pressing kisses all over your tear-stained cheeks.

“Mmm, tastes so sweet, darling,” he whispers as he licks your tears, pushing a finger inside you as if testing the waters before adding another, scissoring your open for his cock slowly, thrusting them in and out faster than before.

“Aemond, please, I’ve been good!” 

Your voice awakens something in him, something primal and hungry, ready to devour you whole. He groans in response, leaning down to kiss you feverishly, retrieving his fingers from you only to replace them with the tip of his cock, running it up and down against your drenched folds before pressing in slowly.

He pulls away from your lips, giving both of you time to catch your breath and relax as he carves his way within your gummy walls. You both moan in delight as he finally reaches your deepest parts, his hips flush against yours as the two of you try to catch your breath.

Aemond slowly draws his hips back before driving himself forward, knocking the breath out of your lungs as he gains speed. You fist the bedsheets, back arching in response to him hitting your sweet spot rapidly, drawing ragged breaths and little yelps of pleasure from your parted lips.

“So beautiful, fuck, darling,” he groans into your skin, straightening his back a little to hover his face over yours to look at you from a better angle, “I would set this town on fire for you.” “Aemond, I-I’m close—” You gasp when his finger travels down your stomach and reaches the bundle of nerves and starts rubbing it quickly, drawing you closer to your breaking point. 

He isn’t in a better situation either; he is panting with his cock twitching deep inside you as his desire for you overflows his senses. 

His rhythm falters as soon as you clamp around him tightly, gushing around him with a shout of his name, which sends him over the edge as well. He pulls out instantly, ignoring the your whine in protest before he sits on his knees next to your head, stroking his cock with his head thrown back.

“Open your mouth, darling—fuck, there she is, good girl…” he groans when you close your eyes and stick out your tongue, catching the ropes of his cum on your face and tongue. He whimpers out your name, his shoulders relaxing finally, tension leaving his body as he empties himself on you.

“Messy girl,” he taunts you, reaching to pull a napkin out of the nightstand’s drawer, lying down next to you to wipe his cum off your face gently, his other hand caressing your bare stomach and breasts to soothe you through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“You made a mess out of me, baby,” you say, smiling softly when he leans down to peck your lips after dropping the napkin back in its place, pushing his pants and shirt fully off to join you under the covers.

“Aemond?” you call him, laying your head on his chest when he pulls you closer, “I’m tired of this.”

“This? What do you mean?” he asks, his fingers tracing meaningless patterns on your back while he waits for you to answer him.

“This game of cat and mouse, always sneaking in, my father this my father that… I’m tired of being just a secret.” “You knew what you were getting yourself in when we first slept with each other,” Aemond huffs, “It’ll always be like this, darling. We would have to spend our days away from everyone.” “But Aemond, we can go on dates in so many ways! Please, we can go on a trip to Lys, no one knows you there, and we will leave all of this election and your political worries in King’s Landing!” You try to reason with him, turning around in his arms to look into his eye.

“Sweet girl, he reaches to push a strand of your hair behind your ear, “There is not much time left until the—”

“— election, I know. But you can spare three days to stay with me. Don’t you think it’s worth it?”

“Our lives and future will be ruined if we get caught. It will cause a huge scandal that I and my team are not ready to face. I might become the next president of Westeros, I need to win over your father.” He explains logically, and you feel stupid for mentioning the idea of going out and being seen in public with him.

“I’m sorry, I know… it was a dumb idea.” you avert your eyes away from him, biting your bottom lip as guilt and shame fills you. “Hey, look at me,” he gently switches positions so you lay beneath him again, “I wish we could go on dates and I had the chance to show you off. Maybe after all of this mess, I’ll be able to divorce my wife, but till then…  As long as I have you in my arms, nothing matters.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••

The days pass quickly. You watch your father and Aemond in the news, paparazzi following you and your family around the city bombarding you with questions about things you didn’t care about. Until one day, your father receives an invitation from Aemond Targaryen himself for a party at his house.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise when your father called you and asked — more like demanding — that you should be the one attending this party. After all, he couldn’t put himself past that hatred to go to this party in his rival’s house. Apparently, his daughter could though, as if it wasn’t dangerous to send you to the dragon’s cave with no support.

You agreed a bit too eagerly, trying to play it off cool and keep calm while you panicked from inside. You’d be saying Aemond again, publicly, without sneaking from a back door, or a secret passageway. 

Choosing a dress wasn’t difficult when you had the design of one of Aemond’s mom’s dresses; a knee-length dress in light blue and off-shoulder with a little cut that exposed your lower thigh, knowing how crazy Aemond would get if he saw you in things he has bought for you.

Your curls fall around your shoulders as you walk toward the main entrance of the mansion, catching the attention of all the photographers and guests. You walk up the stairs that lead to the house, eyes searching for the silhouette of the only person you care for in this messy crowd.

You find him easily; his long hair shines underneath the dim light of the hall, and his tall frame and the champagne in his hands stand proudly among the people who look so simple and boring compared to him.

He is wearing a long deep blue coat with thin silver embroideries on it with a black shirt and pants, and next to him… you just catch the eyes of his wife, Floris Baratheon-Targaryen, who is smiling proudly at the ladies and gentlemen surrounding them.

“Ah, love, look who’s here,” she threads her fingers through Aemond’s, excusing themselves as the pair come to greet you. Floris is beautiful with long black hair and a charming smile — no wonder she is Aemond’s wife, the perfect image of a dutiful wife, “It’s such a pleasure to have you here.”

You accept her hand, shaking it gently before you avert your eyes from her to her husband, locking your eyes with his as you try not to let him see any emotion on your face. You are ashamed of yourself, Floris looks like a kind soul, and you have been having an affair with her husband for months, but even now that you have met her, the guilt and shame are not enough for you to step away from what you have with Aemond.

“How is your father? Not too sour I hope,” he smirks, wrapping an arm around Floris’ waist as he has always done with you in the confines of his hotel room.

“Why would he be sour, Mr. Targaryen? Last time I checked the numbers were quite against your favor,” you reply, thanking the waiter who brings you a glass of champagne, “He made sure I show you his gratitude for the invitation. He was horribly upset for not being able to join us tonight.”

“Well, yes,” he chuckles darkly and you can see how his fingers clench the fabric of Floris’ dress, “He is a busy man, he should be thinking of a backup plan after he loses to me.”

“Is that what you are doing, sir? I assume this party…is your way of gaining support now, isn’t it?”

“Aemond,” his wife utters, smiling hesitantly at him, “maybe you should show our new gallery to her, politics can be a hard topic to talk about in such a noisy place.” “Splendid idea, wife,” Aemond kisses Floris’ forehead while his eye is solely focused on you, “Shall we, Miss?” he offers you his arm, looking around the room to see if anyone is paying attention to you or not.

“I would love to,” you say through gritted teeth, an ugly jealousy bubbling inside you as you loop your arm with his, walking side by side to the new gallery. You shouldn’t be feeling like this, it is not your place to have complicated emotions when you are the other woman.

“After you,” he holds the door open for you, his eye scanning you from head to toe, catching the sight of his mother’s designer dress before he leads you inside the gallery, closing the door shut and locking it from inside.

“Didn’t know you were into art, Aemond. It’s a welcoming surprise,” you say, sipping on your drink while you walk past him, not sparing him a glass as you look at the paintings.”

“You need to work on your emotions, darling,” he says, putting his champagne glass on the nearest table he can find before he makes his way to you, “We wouldn’t want everyone to find out how close we actually are.” “No, Aemond, you don’t want that,” you chuckle in disbelief, drinking the rest of the remaining liquor in your glass before you put it on the same table as he did, standing in front of him with a burning rage inside your eyes, “I want them to know! I’m sick of this, I don’t deserve to be a whore for you in secret!”

“This was what we agreed on!” his voice echoes in the room as he grabs you by the nape of your hair, bringing your face closer to his, “whore or not, I can't bear to lose the elections I have been working my whole life for! And I can’t… I can’t lose you either—” You both turn around when a loud banging sound comes from the other side of the room. You look at Aemond in terror, stepping closer to him before you hear the door at the end of the hall is pushed open. He grabs your hand and pulls you toward a narrow and dark hallway that is attached to the gallery. You have a clear view of the paintings and the waiters who are carrying several drinks together, luckily, it can’t be said for them. They would need to round the corner and bend down a little to find this place. Aemond pushes you against the wall, his large palm covering your mouth as footsteps grow quieter when they leave the gallery.

“Aemo—mmh!” he doesn’t let you finish as he silences you with his mouth engulfing yours in a passionate kiss, his fingers clutching your hips like his life depends on touching you, breathing in your scent, and tasting your lipstick.

“Shh, be quiet,” he turns you around, pressing his chest to your back before he reaches down to pull your dress up to your hips, mouthing at your neck as his hand finds the hem of your underwear.

“We shouldn’t do it here, Aemond, we might get caught!” you hiss at him, gasping when he pushes your panties to the side, running the pad of his fingers along your slit, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your face.

“I thought you wanted everyone to know about us, hmm?” He teases you, letting go of your wet folds for a second as he unbuckles his belt, unzips, and pushes his pants down enough to pull his cock out.

“Not like this!” You sigh desperately, hands bracing your weight on the wall when he lines his leaking tip with your entrance, thrusting his full length inside you with ease.

He slaps his hand on your mouth again when he is completely sheathed inside your warm and dripping cunt, muffling your noises as best as he can before he starts thrusting into you with abandon.

In his mind, you look too beautiful, too gorgeous and breathtaking, and the longer he looks at you, the more passionate he is about driving his cock inside you, fucking you with all his love and adoration.

“You make me go fucking crazy,” he nearly growls, his hips pistoning against yours as he nuzzles his nose into your cheek, eye closed and cheeks painted pink. He pushes two of his fingers inside your mouth, his own lips parted as ragged breaths and throaty groans fall from them. 

You are a mess just as he is; eyes closed, hips moving with each of his abandoned and reckless thrusts, while your body floats in pleasure. It’s quick, sudden, and mind wrecking; you come with a muffled scream around his thick fingers, and he follows you as soon as your walls tighten around him, squeezing the cum out of his cock.

He presses you to the wall, groaning and panting as he fills you to the brim, his teeth catching your earlobe while he tries to ground himself with all the euphoria running through his veins.

“Aemond,” you pull his digits out of your mouth, resting your head on his shoulders as the two of you try to regain your breaths, heartbeat slowly dropping back to normal.

“Lys…” he says, and you crane your neck to look at him in confusion, “Pack your bag for a few days.”

“What?” You ask, eyes wide and hopeful as you stare at him, he grins in response, planting a sweet kiss on your lips, “We’re going to Lys.”

“Are you serious?” 

“Deadly,” He winks at you and pulls his softened cock out of you slowly before he makes himself presentable again, his hands finding their place on your hips once again, “now, don’t sulk anymore. You’re too lovely to be upset because of me.”

“I was not sulking, but… but what about the paparazzi? The election? Are you sure?” You shake a little, maybe both in fear and excitement before you cup his face, staring into his ocean-blue eye.

“Shh, don’t fret, I have thought about everything. No one knows who we are and we’ll stay in a yacht. I have talked to Cole to get it ready for us.”

“You… you are amazing, Aemond!” You crash your lips to him, pressing several kisses to his face, leaving careless red marks on his pale skin.

“Anything for my girl,” he whispers against your lips, chuckling as you keep your assault on his face, “but we should head back to the party. I’m sure they’re looking for me.”

“Yes, yes, of course!” I laugh a little before fixing your hair and sneaking out of your hiding place.

“I’ll meet you outside, alright, sweet girl?” He asks you, pecking your lips before pointing to one of the paintings to make it seem you are still busy looking at the new art hanging on the wall while he unlocks and moves out of the room.

Floris finds him instantly, moving towards him with a man who follows her as well, eager to meet him. Aemond clears his throat when they reach the door of the gallery, pulling him into a conversation he has no choice but to join.

Oblivious to him, his wife’s eyes catch the faint red lipstick stain under his jaw.

•••••••••••••••••••••••

If you were told that this country was this beautiful, you would’ve never believed them. Everything is brighter in color, people have no clue who you are which makes everything much more exciting.

You’ve been in Lys for two days already, fucking on every surface of the yacht, quickies in different places around the city, sightseeing, and spending time together.

It was all you’ve ever wanted from this relationship; some peaceful alone time as a couple, not as a secret.

There is a weird feeling of being watched by someone that has been with you since you stepped inside the city as if someone is following you around. At first, you thought it could be a photographer who somehow caught sight of you and decided to make money out of it. But again, no one knows who either you or Aemond is…

You don’t pay attention to it, but the feeling is still with you as soon as you step on the deck of the yacht, your sundress moving with the wind as you gaze over the sea.

“Not very thoughtful of you to leave me all alone in the bed,” Aemond says, walking towards you with his hands in his pockets, “I missed you already.”

“That’s good to know because I’ve missed you too,” you turn around, moving to the cushions that are secured to the deck before lying down on them, stretching yourself as he stands tall above you, “more so your mouth.”

“Insatiable beast,” he calls you, “what have I done to deserve you?” He drops on his knees and crawls towards you, a wicked grin on his face as he reaches your ankle, grabbing and pulling you towards him with ease.

“Your mouth is a miracle, I’ve been blessed to witness it with my own eyes,” you match his tone, spreading your legs for him.

As soon as his eye falls on your bare pussy, he lets out a long sigh in delight before latching his mouth to the flesh of your thighs, kissing and nibbling as he makes his way up to your center, flattening his lavish tongue against your folds, licking a fat stripe of your wetness before humming and kissing your clit.

You lay back, letting him take care of you slowly, building your pleasure until you break under his touch. He starts with slow licks and kisses, making lews sounds as he gains his speed, fingers digging into the fat of your thighs while he keeps you in place.

Throwing your head back, you moan his name, fingers tangling themselves in his soft silky hair as he speeds up and shoves his face further between your thighs, his large nose nudging your clit in the best way possible.

You open your eyes and look around; the view is mesmerizing. Next to where you are is a huge wood that separates the city from Aemond’s private dock, yet the greens of the trees don’t catch your attention but a sudden flash of light does. It happens again, this time a bit faster, a bit closer. It could be anything, maybe a reflection of light, and you desperately hope that is the case and the flash doesn’t belong to a camera.

Luckily, Aemond’s tongue distracts you from your thoughts, and you arch your back when his thumb joins the patterns he is drawing on your nerves. You look down at him, catching the raw emotions that dance in his eye; adoration, love if you dare say. Soon, when he makes you come, all the thoughts of those mysterious flashes are gone, and only pleasure is left for you to focus on — the knot he created, snaps, and ecstasy rushes in your blood.

“Baby,” you pull him up, chest heaving with delight as your legs stop shaking, “I think I saw someone.”

“No one is allowed here, don’t worry, sweet girl,” he says between kisses on your chest as he makes his way up your stomach to kiss you.

“But it looked like a camera flash,” You kiss him back slowly, lying on your side to face him, “Are you sure no one can go past your guards?” “Yes, please, don’t think about it. It’s just you and me, darling.”

Oh, how wrong he was.

•••••••••••••••••••••••

It’s been twenty days since the last time you heard his voice, twenty days of agony and pain. You were caught, you did not imagine things. The day you arrived at King’s Landing, you saw the news; your pictures from your trip with him were all over the internet, the moment on the night, the kissing in the sea, wandering in the city — your illicit affair was publicized. By whom you have no idea. Maybe Aemond’s wife, maybe your father, but at the end of the day, nothing hurt more than when after days of trying to contact your lover, he broke everything off with a single text from his assistant. 

After that, your parents cast you aside; your mom screamed at you while your father cheered in victory. After all, those pictures caused a huge scandal and rift in his rival’s team. He didn’t care what would happen to you as long as you didn’t do anything like this again that would result in his downfall. They closed your bank accounts that they had access to and left you alone on your own. Fortunately, you weren’t too dependent on your father’s money and had persued a career to pay for your necessities, but now, none of it mattered.

Your days pass numbly with hundreds of calls and texts to Aemond. There is nothing left inside you willing to get up and do something, to fix this mess even a little, to pull yourself out of this deep hole you have dug with your hands. 

You read the text again as you curl on the loveseat, sobbing and clutching your phone to your chest. Mr. Taragryen has no interest in being involved with you anymore, and the more you read it, the more your body ache for him. It feels like a knife being shoved inside your chest, twisting and ripping your lungs in the process while you melt under the sharpness of it, taking it because you have no choice left but to do so.

You did it to yourself; what were you thinking? How did you ever think that getting involved with an important man was a good idea? A married and much older one at that. Now you scroll through the leaked pictures with a heavy heart and silent tears running down your face. The headlines are cruel, far worse than you had ever thought about.

Whore of a daughter wins the election for the father!

Aemond Targaryen cheats on his wife with his rival’s daughter; several intimate pictures have been caught during their visit to Lys…

Aemond Targaryen, an honorable man seduced by a younger girl, WESTEROSI reports…

You throw your phone on the floor, nearly falling from the loveseat from how aggressively you move. You want to scream from the top of your lungs, to curse and shout, but it was your idea to go somewhere, for him to take you on a date. It is all your fault.

The doorbell rings and startles you. You get up immediately, thinking it must be your parents or one of your friends to come and check up on you, but when you open the door with bloodshot eyes and find Aemond standing there, your knees nearly give out.

“A-Aemond?” you stutter, eyes watering at the sight of his messy clothes and hair — he looks just as fucked up as you.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” with one step, his arms engulf you in a tight embrace, and you cry. Fat ugly tears run down your face as he holds you close, his own tears falling after days of being apart from you. He couldn't stay away, he had to come and see you. Every day without you felt like a lifetime, never-ending torture he had to endure while Criston and his mother did everything they could to save his public image, and Floris, well, she was quite content with everything.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you…” he presses several kisses to the crown of your head, holding you incredibly close to him as he leads you back into your house, shutting the door behind him. You have your arms wrapped around him, holding onto his shoulders as he sits you down on the couch, making sure to pull you into his lap so you won’t feel alone again.

“Aemond?” you ask, your voice so little, so fragile that it breaks his heart into million pieces.

“Yes, darling?” he lifts your head, his thumb wiping your tears gently while he shushes you, watching your lips tremble in disbelief, “Tell me, tell me what I can do to make you feel better.”

“Why did you let go of me so easily?” you ask, fiddling with the collar of his shirt, “I was so alone, I-I am alone, I have no one! How could you—” you hiccup, a sob wrecking your body as you talk.

“I had to, sweet girl, I had to. My public image, my campaign, everything was near destruction if it weren’t for the distance between us. I had to do it.”

“I lost everything, Aemond! My parents, my friends… I was called a whore, your mistress, a side chick. You nearly lost everything, I did lose everything!” you gasp for air as another wave of pain spreads in your chest.

“What can I do for you, darling? I’m here now, I’ll do whatever you wish for me to do, please,” he begs, the first and probably the last time you’ll hear Aemond Targaryen plead for something.

“I love you, Aemond, please make the pain go away.”

He leans down, capturing your mouth in a slow kiss, painting his devotion on the canvas of your lips as he moves them together. He feels you relax in his arms when you start kissing him back. He lies you on the couch gently, never breaking the kiss as he sucks the breath out of your lungs with each passing second that e tastes you.

You melt under his touch, the fingers you adore so much move along the length of your body. His lips let go of yours for a second before he hovers atop you completely and brings you in for another deep kiss. His fingers are cold against your heated skin as they move your shirt upward, to eventually pull the fabric off your head. 

He breaks the kiss to trail his lips to your neck, leaving butterfly kisses all over your jaw and collarbones as he moves lower until he reaches your bra. He circles his hand to unhook it, and he does, he pushes the strap on one of your shoulders down slowly before he stops.

Aemond stops.

Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach as he moves his face away from your shoulder to kiss you fiercely for a hot few seconds before he pulls away, shaking his head in shame.

“Ae-Aemond, why did you…” “No…” he says, a few tears fall from his remaining eye as he gazes at you past his wet lashes, “I can’t do this.”

“What do you mean?” your voice quivers, and Aemond stands up immediately when he hears how broken you sound, leaving you half-naked on your couch, “Aemond, please!”

“I can’t make the same mistake twice,” he mutters as he moves toward the entrance door, “I still have a chance. I can win the election, I can—” “A mistake? Do you truly feel we were a mistake?”

“I am sure we were. We have ruined our lives for what? For sex, for lust?”

“For love!” you scream, holding your hand to your chest to prevent your bra from falling, “I didn’t want anything from you; not your money, not any status, I wanted you, just you.” 

“I can’t do this—”

“Aemond, please, no!” You cry out running to block his way, “Don’t go, please, don’t leave me again. I can’t take it if you leave me all alone, I have lost everything for you! Please, please—”

He cups your cheek, pressing one last lingering kiss while his own tears fall on your cheek, “Goodbye.” He moves past you and leaves.

“NO!” you break down and fall on your knees, and for once in your life, you feel truly helpless.

•••••••••••••••••••••••

You don’t remember how long has it been since that day; it could be a few days, or months. You don’t even remember how you got into this dingy dirty bar close to your place. It’s dark and gloomy with a heavy rain thrumming outside the window while you drown your sixth shot of bourbon. 

You are not an alcoholic, in fact, the only time you drink is at parties and formal events. Tonight though, you need to let go and unwind for a bit and unfortunately, in a very apathetic mood, you decided that drinking was the best option. 

The lovely bartender glares at you when you ask for another shot but doesn’t say anything and does as you ask, keeping a close eye on you to make sure you’ll be alright.

You keep staring at the rim of your glass, eyes filled with tears and sorrow until someone slides into the stool next to you. Looking up, you see a familiar face, Aemond’s wife. What is she doing here? Does she want to taunt you even more? To make sure you are suffering far worse than she did? “I see you are adapting well to the new changes,” Floris says, pointing at the bartender to pour her whatever you are drinking.

“Are you following me now?” you scoff, drowning the amber liquid in your glass, “Wasn’t my public humiliation enough for you?”

“You were fucking my husband, of course, it will never be enough. You should suffer for how you ruined his reputation,” she looks at you, waiting for you to come up with a witty reply.

“He said you never slept with each other…” You whisper in response, “He loved me.” “How fucking naive you are. He never loved you, he lied to your face and you still defend him,” she sneers, running a hand through her wild black curls, “He used you, it was all a part of his plans. You were just a pawn in his game.”

“He didn’t… he-he…” you take a deep breath, not wanting to cry in front of Floris of all people. He didn’t do these things, Aemond would never do that to you. He has no reason to, or does he?

“Do you truly think these numbers just go up and down because of the citizens? Aemond changed them to his liking, he has never had the intention of winning this year. He wants to be remembered so he may come back stronger than before and take over Westeros—”

“You don’t make any fucking sense! Leave me alone,” You stand up to move away from her, but she grabs your arms before you have the chance to run away.

“He used you to gain information from your father’s campaign! I just helped him speed things up by hiring those photographers,” 

“It was you… you ruined my life,” you pull your hand out of her grip, “You destroyed everything he has worked so hard for! How could you do this to your husband?” “He was cheating on me!”

“So were you! You were cheating too!” you yell at her before grabbing your purse and running out of the bar, crying hysterically. Nothing makes sense, you don’t know how you held that conversation for so long. What she said or what you replied repeats in your head, but it’s all a blur, a mess of words and echoes of high-pitched screams.

You reach your car, stumbling on your feet as you get in with some difficulty. Driving while awfully drunk is not a good decision, but you must get away from Floris, the bar, and everyone. Firing the engine, you pull the car out of the park, driving past the speed limit into the alley without looking around you.

You can’t see, you can’t hear, and all you can do is speed up while heavy tears fall from your eyes once more as you think about everything you shared with Aemond. Was any of it real? Were you a silly fling for him to gain information?

Suddenly, the sound of a horn catches your attention, and you see the light of another car coming your way. You try to break, but every time you press the pedal, the car doesn’t stop. Each time you fail, and you realize too late that you’ll either crash into the other car or you try to do something. 

But time isn’t always on your side, and the last thing you see before blacking out is how your car hits the tree and the airbags open.

•••••••••••••••••••••••

Aemond bolts through hospital doors, repeating your name until someone pays attention and shows him the way to the ER. As soon as he reaches the end of the hallway, the doctor steps out and tries to calm him.

“How is she? What happened?”

“Calm down, sir, she’s alright—“

“I need to see her, please, let me go inside—“

The doctor declines, grabbing Aemond’s shoulders when he tries to step inside the room, “She’s under anesthesia, she probably won’t be up until noon. She has lost so much blood, two broken ribs, and a minor head trauma. She’s lucky she’s alive.”

The doctor leaves him alone, and Aemond slides down on the hospital floor, resting his head on the wall as he thinks about how terrible you must have felt when he left without any further explanation.

He cries softly, shoulders shaking with each sob that shocks his body. He’s not known to be a vulnerable person, but ever since you came into his life, he’s been changing; a bit softer around the edges of his heart, he smiles more, he relaxes more often than not, and he’s been much happier. But now, the thought of you going through such a horrible thing while he was away sleeping in his bed makes him hate himself even more for what he put you through.

He totally forgets about the elections that are taking place today, he can’t care less about what would happen, it means nothing when he can’t have you next to him. He declines every call from his mom and assistant, only sending a text to say he won’t return for the day.

His heart pops out of his chest when he sees the nurses pushing your bed towards one of the rooms.

“How is she?” He asks, looking down at your unconscious body. How beautiful you look even with bruises and wounds over your face.

“She’ll be fine, sir,” one of the nurses says, “all she needs is rest and good company.”

“When will she wake up?” He swallows, watching them closely while they hang your serums and connect different tubes.

“Hopefully in a few hours. Her body has experienced too much trauma and she should take as much rest as she can.”

He nods in agreement, waiting for them to leave before h breaks down, reaching to hold your sofy hand in his, kissing all over your knuckles and fingers, whispering praises of how he’ll cherish you and won’t leave you ever, he won’t put you through what he did again. He falls asleep with your hands in his, dried tears adoring his high cheekbones. He feels a soft hand reaching to wipe the remaining wetness, leaving soft caresses over his skin.

He opens his eye, finding you smiling softly at him as best as you can while fighting the pain. He sniffles and presses his lips desperately to the back of your hand, thanking the Seven for bringing you back to him.

“Hey,”

“Shh, please, don’t talk. You need to rest,” he reaches to push your hair out of your forehead, letting his fingers linger on your face for a little while before he holds your hand again, “what happened?”

“Well…” you cough, wincing in discomfort and pain before you continue, “I got drunk and…your wife came. We argued, she said some…nasty things about you…”

“What did she say, sweet girl?” He asks hesitantly, keeping his lips locked to your hand, “Don’t push yourself too much. If it bothers you—“

“She sent the photographers,” you sigh, closing your eyes for a moment, “she confessed it herself. She sent them because she wanted to help you. She said you didn’t want to win the elections, that you…you just used me to gain information on my father’s doings.”

“I would never do that, love, I would kill myself rather than ever thinking about hurting you.”

“But you did, Aemond. You hurt me when you left me at my house like garbage needed to be dumped. I was so alone, everyone left me, why does everyone leave me?” You ask, teardrops streaming down your cheeks.

“I will never leave you again, I’d never make the same mistake twice.” He reaches to wipe your tears gently, minding your injuries.

“You called our relationship a mistake too, Aemond…”

“I was angry at myself for not protecting us, for not filing the divorce papers sooner!” He says, desperation dripping from his words like honey, “I needed to step away, to convince Floris to be done with this marriage. I’ll be yours forever in a few days.”

“You… you’re getting a divorce? You just lost the election and-and you’re… how are you not freaking out, Aemond?”

“Because none of these matter as long as you’re with me. You brighten up my world, sweet girl. My life orbits around your smile and I can’t… I can’t let go of you again.”

“I won’t be your affair anymore, n-not your other woman…”

“No, sweet girl, you’ll be my only woman.”

[stllmnstr]

sure thing [PREVIEW]

pairing: yang jungwon x f reader

genre: coworkers au, underground boxer jungwon

word count: TBD but likely around 20~25k

release date: nothing official but likely within the next couple of days!

note: tfw you watch the no doubt music video and then write 18k words in the span of 24 hours about office coworker jungwon that is also secretly an underground boxer hahaha relatable, right? anyway expect this soooooon

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

[...]

“Oh,” you startle slightly, walking into the workroom and already finding it occupied. And of course you’d run into him here, of all places. Kneeling in front of the printer, his brow is furrowed in concentration as he tries to dislodge yet another paper jam. 

“Sorry.” You’re not sure what you’re apologizing for exactly, but it feels warranted regardless. “I’ll just leave, and—”

“___,” he cuts you off with the sound of your name. Looking down at him, you're met with the expanse of his back. A button down shirt tucked into dark pants. Standard work attire that has no business looking this ridiculously good on anyone. “You’re fine. You don’t need to leave. Just give me a second, and the printer’s all yours.” 

You nod, even though he can’t see you. If the lack of a verbal response bothers him, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he busies himself with the jammed printer, muscles of his back flexing slightly underneath the fabric of his shirt as he tugs at the stubborn papers. 

Cheeks heating slightly, you force your gaze elsewhere. 

“There,” he says after another minute of adjustments. Standing to full height, he turns to face you. “All fixed.”

Looking up at him, you’re about to offer a quiet thanks when your eyes land on his right cheekbone. Specifically, the fresh cut that spans the length of it. 

The gasp the spills from your lips is entirely without permission. But you can’t quite help it. The wound is quite superficial, surface level at most, but it mars his otherwise perfect skin in a way you weren’t prepared for. 

Without your permission, your fingers start to reach towards the injury. They make it halfway before you remember yourself, before you regain your sense of reality. Your hand falls limply back to your side. 

“What happened?” You breathe. 

Jungwon’s brows draw together in confusion for a moment before a flicker of realization dances across his features. 

“Oh.” He exhales, fingers tapping against the broken skin of his cheekbone lightly. “Nothing. I just, er, fell the other day.”

“You fell,” you echo. Like all of his other excuses, it’s vague. Flimsy at best. 

“Yeah,” he confirms with a slight nod. Again, he says, “I fell.”

It’s evasive. And it feels like more than just an explanation for his injury. 

It feels like confirmation of the distance between the two of you. His final assertion that you’re nothing but a coworker to him. Someone that he tells edited versions of stories to, someone that he keeps firmly planted an arm’s length away. 

Fine. If he wants to give you shitty excuses for his Friday nights and his absences at work events and now his injury that very obviously did not come from a fall, that’s just fine with you. 

After all, he’s nothing but a coworker to you either. The upcoming date you have planned with Jay is enough to prove it. 

“Well,” you tell him, forcing a smile. The fake, disproportionately bright kind that you only ever use with your coworkers. “I hope it heals quickly.”

And then you’re brushing past him, making your way towards the printer as if he’s nothing but an obstacle in your path. 

Collecting your freshly printed document, you turn and walk out the door without so much as a backward glance. 

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

TO BE CONTINUED...

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

note: office workers AND boxers enha in one music video was crazy work so now I am forcing you all to suffer with me. I have a couple of scenes to finish off, and this piece needs a solid round of editing, but I expect to be done within the next couple of days and then she's allllll yours. if you're excited, let me know!

all the best ♡

[beatopia444]

UNDERCOVER | jake peralta

summary: jake peralta goes undercover to infiltrate a famous mob and he meets you, the niece of the boss who loves cops.

world count: 3.9k

notes: this is my first one shot and first writing since making this account. my obsession with jake peralta is crazy.

________________________________________

It was no secret that a recently fired police officer was just introduced to the Ianucci crime family. When your father announced it to you, you immediately got up from laying on the couch. It was hard to believe since your family had hated cops since the beginning of time. Although you were apart of the Ianucci family, you weren't involved in whatever business they were apart of due to your mother wanting an normal life. They were still family and as long as no one mentioned business, they could live in harmony.

You were indifferent in your opinion about cops. Many were snobs, but the few that cared for their community were the ones you could respect. Though, you did have to admit that you love a man in uniform and seeing your extended family being apart of the mob, only made the whole uniform more appealing. You weren't close to much of your extended family, only the girls who weren't much involved with the business either.

"Who let him in?" You curiously asked.

"Your uncle Leo. Apparently he got fired from the police force and bought everybody drinks. He made a big scene." He chuckled.

"Mmm. How old is he?" You excitedly inquired, leaning forward in anticipation for the answer. You were a single woman in her twenties, you needed answers.

"Yeah absolutely not." Your father said in his thick Brooklyn accent. "He's an ex-cop, and we all know how cops are. A bunch of playboys I tell you. They are no good."

"As if the Ianucci family is much better." You shook your head, and changed the television channel.

"We aren't. I'll admit that, but we do have loyalty. You never know what these cops will throw at you. If or when the Ianucci family falls, I guarantee it'll be because my brothers or cousins stupidity."

"You think they'll get arrested." You asked.

"Oh honey, they may be my family, but if they get caught, they know what they did. Plus, it'll serve them right for crashing my tenth birthday party and turning it into a mess." Your father shook his head, still holding a grudge over decades old fights.

_____________________________________

You and your father arrived to the family party and he immediately went off to go dance with his cousins while you went to go find a waiter with some food. You didn't really know what to do in some parties, you often drifted through the crowds and mingled with the people, but you always found your way back to the bar.

You sat at the bar, wine glass in one hand and your hand bag in the other. It was peaceful until you notice a guy sitting down right next to you, ordering a drink. You've never seen him before, but you hoped he wasn't an extended family member. He had a rather nice face, a kind, unsuspecting smile, and a fit body. You smiled as he grabbed the drink from the bartender. 'Just my type.'

It was like he sensed you looking as he turned to face you. He smiled once he saw you were staring at him, but you didn't turn away. No, you needed to know who he was. "Hey."

"Why hello there. What's your name?" He replied back, his voice just as charming as him.

"[Name] Ianucci." It was like he was hooked onto the words that slipped out of your mouth. His eyes were mesmerizing. "I haven't seen you around before."

"It's my first party. Leo invited me. I'm Jake Peralta." He held out his hand for her to shake, but she froze. He watched as her eyes widened, her lips parted, and her eyebrows raised.

"The ex-cop!" She gasped then quickly put a hand over her mouth since she said that too loud. No wonder she was so attracted to him, she could spot a man in uniform even if he wasn't in it.

He laughed, "Yes, the ex-cop. Not my proudest moment, but I'm glad I'm no longer one. God, was it the worst possible profession I could've chosen."

"Really? Why do you say that?" She inquired.

"It's filled with a bunch of idiotic snobs and they fired me without good reason so good riddens to them." Jake said as if he didn't love his job and the people he works with. However, he had to play the role perfectly if he didn't want to get found out. Before he went undercover, he was informed about most members of the Ianucci family. Mostly the major characters involved with the mob, as well as their children and extended family. He remembered hearing about [Name] Ianucci, your father left the way of life long ago, but the family still kept in touch. Jake didn't have much information about you. You were the boss's niece but you didn't like to associate yourself with their beliefs. Due to this, you became a small outsider.

"I think being a cop is cool. I used to watch so many movies and if I didn't hate running as much as I do now, I think I would've became one."

"An Ianucci being a cop? I thought you guys hate my kind- wait that sounds off."

"We'll they do cause of you know what, but something about holding a gun and posing like a Charlie's angel seems so cool." You imitated the famous pose as you faked a gun with your hands and Jake shook his head chuckling.

"Hey, if you were on my team then I would've begged for my job back." He admitted and you raised a brow before taking a sip of your drink. Then he immediately paused, realizing what he said. Changing the topic was his best course of action, "So what do you do for work? Do you do the same as them?"

"Oh no. I dont associate myself with what they do, my side of the family decided to pursue other sorts of careers. I'm a first grade teacher."

"Sweet, so like you teach kids and get to play with them. Is it hard?" He tried to sound suave, leaning back in his chair. He was secretly happy to know that the pretty girl didn't do mob activities because that would've clashed with his morals and mission.

"I mean, being a teacher is always difficult, but it's a new experience everyday and I get to build bonds with the children of our future. I wouldn't have it any other way." She fondly smiled as she recalled her job. Jake noticed the ways were eyes softened and lit up. Her body language changed and got more relaxed as she shared her life. "But enough about me, I want to learn more about-"

Before she could finish, she heard the familar voice of an uncle interupt her. "Yo Peralta, come here and sing with us."

The two looked at the group of middle aged to old men, obviously wasted and drunk and having a jolly good time. Jake didn't want to end the conversation with you, but at the same time, he couldn't miss this opportunity to get close with the Ianucci family. You made eye contact once again and you nodded, ushering him to go hang out with your other family.

"We'll continue this conversation next time!" You said and he nodded, smiling and confirming that this won't be the last time you two meet as he shimmied towards the men. You shook your head as you watched him so effortlessly earn the affections of your uncles. He looked so carefree as he partied.

"Oh my was he hot." You whispered, smiling to yourself like an idiot after the interaction, and calling the bartender to serve you one more drink. So what if he was an ex-cop, it couldn't possibly be that bad.

______________________________________

You and Jake Peralta saw each other a few more times after that. Your aunt gave him a small part time job at their restaurant/cafe. He made the coffee, which you ordered every morning, and the sandwiches. You watched as he charmed you aunt and the customers and you fell into his trap as well as he used every morning he could with you there to talk to you. A joke a day keeps the doctor away, as Jake would say as you laughed at almost every one of his jokes

"Hey hey hey, [name]." Jake greeted as you sat right across from him. He started hanging out quite frequently at your distant uncle's restaurant which was right by your house. Jake was one step ahead of you and already had your favorite coffee order ready. "Another long day of entertaining the little devils."

"Once again, they are seven and most are little angels but thank you for the drink." You took a sip before your eyes landed on his hair. His entire appearance has changed a lot since you met him. His hair grew longer and he started to slick it back using gel. He wasn't wearing the button up shirts anymore, and instead switched to tracksuits even when you said it wasn't his best look. "Your hair looks a lot better now that you've grown it out."

"What can I say? Just call me the next Brad Pitt." He flipped his imaginary long hair and smiled as he watched your smile.

"Absolutely not, but I appluad your effort." You smiled as his face fell into a pout. It was the mornings like this that made you excited to wake up and get ready. Ever since Jake started to hang around, you've been waking up a tad bit earlier to spend extra time getting ready and sleeping a tad bit later due to the uncontrollable smile on your face.

"Why do you even like being a teacher? All I can imagine are those little children gluing crayons onto their fingernails and eating it." He started playing with his fingers to try and model what he thinks the kids would look like.

"First of all, never do that again because it is not cute."

"Hey! Everything I do is cute." Jake got offended while you just stared at him as if he was an alien. It didn't last long because you can never get over his pouty face that makes him look like a sad dog.

"Second of all, I just love being around kids. When I was a child, my parents were almost never around until I got older. When my dad left the family business and pursued another career, it took up most of his time and my mom lives overseas. Teachers were the ones that filled in that parental role and I wanted to be just like them." When you finished your little backstory, Jake was staring at you which made you look down in embarrassment, "Sorry for the rant, I-"

"No, dont apologize, I get it." His voice seemed softer, softer than the voice he uses to tease you with, softer than the voice he uses to flirt with you, softer than the manly voice he uses around your uncles; it felt real. "My parents weren't really there either so I spent my childhood alone watching 'Die Hard'."

"I love that movie. I used to watch that too since my dad has it on the DVDs" You shared a comforting look.

"God, you just get more perfect don't you." He quickly spoke as he melted, your hands were quickly grasped in his. That was new. Maybe you should mention 'Die Hard' again if this was going to be his reaction.

"Looks like we're more alike than we think." You smiled, looking at your intertwined hands. He either didn't let go because there was no going back or he liked the feeling.

"You can add both being late because I am never on time and you are about to be tardy young lady."

Panic filled your eyes and you hastly got up from your seat, taking your bag and coffee, and pushed in your chair, "Bye bye!"

"Bye" Jake said in a sing songy voice as he waved and watched you entire your car before driving off.

________________________________________

You both shared a sandwich that was cut in half as the streets filled with people walking to work or to get their morning drink or breakfast.

"So, are you going to the wedding tomorrow?" His tone seemed a bit different. You couldn't quite place your finger on it, but lately hes been a bit more fidgety. Maybe the wedding makes him feel lonely and he was about to ask you?

"Oh, I wish I could, but I don't really like those two getting married so I'd rather not waste my time." You shamelessly admitted and he looked almost relieved.

"How about your dad?"

"He doesn't like them either and he left on a business trip last night and wont return until next week." You told him, "Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering since it seems like a big event." His eyes widened as he emphasized the word big. "But there's no need for you to come anyways if you don't like them-"

"Did you want me to come?" You tilted your head as he stumbled for the right answer. You were honestly hoping that he would finally ask you out and you wouldn't have to be carefully searching through the restaurant windows to see if he was there.

"Oh no. Noooo. Not at all. You really shouldn't come." He was way too dismissive and offensive and it came out way harsher than he expected.

"Oh." You simply said and you could definitely feel your heart being cracked right open from embarrassment of ever thinking he was going to ask you out. It's not like you were daydreaming during work or right before bed of him asking you, but a simple no would be sufficed.

"I didn't mean it like that!" Jake saw the way the corners of her lips turned slightly down and wanted to punch himself for not choosing his words carefully. It's been two months since he started this undercover mission. The first four were spent learning the Ianucci family and how they operated. Now that he has successfully infiltrated the family, it was time for the hardest part. Breaking the connections he had formed. At first, he thought it would be a piece of pie. The only thing he shouldn't do is actually care about these people. That shouldn't have been hard since they were all criminals... Most were criminals at least. He was never supposed to keep talking to you, that wasn't the plan. He should have never asked why you wanted to be a cop, he should've never asked why kids made you so happy, and he should've never talked to you to begin with, but he did, and now he has to face the consequences of his actions.

Although you weren't involved with the business, they were still your blood-related family. They invited you and your dad to the parties and gave you discounts in the stores that they owned. Sure, you didn't like or associate yourself with most of them, but Jake knew you still cared for them because they were family and he didn't know how he could ever face you again for what he'll be doing at the wedding.

"I mean I'd love to have you as my partner to the wedding, but I wouldn't want to make you be somewhere you don't want to be. Especially since we all know that the groom is a dirty cheat and the bride is the definition of a mean girl." He rambled and you agreed with the last part since you watched him up with most of the drama. "But, that's not to say that I wouldn't want to go with you because you know- it's you, and-"

"Okay Peralta. Slow down. Down forget to breath." You used slow down movements with your hands, bringing it up and down slowly to make him stop rambling.

Jake stopped his rant and took a deep, deep breath.

"I get it, you don't need to defend yourself so much."

"Let me restate. [Name] Ianucci, I would be honored to be your partner or whatever gathering you want, except the wedding. That is if you'd still want me to after the wedding-"

"Of course I would!" She interrupted him, a gummy smile slapped across her face and Jake soon matched it with his own after she joyfully agrtowards. couldn't even act nonchalant like you'd imagined you would if he ever asked. You were so overwhelmed with joy that you totally missed the part where he said 'if you'd still want me after the wedding.' It was a simple sentence that you overlooked any double meaning towards. "Ehem, I mean cool.

"Cool. Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool." Jake leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of his iced drink as a goofy smile etched across his face. However, despite how happy he should've been in that moment, it was soon crushed by the overwhelming feeling of guilt as you excused yourself to go to work.

________________________________________

Shock wasn't enough to describe what you felt as you watched the news. Short videos and photos played across the screen as the news reporter reported on New York's latest arrests and there you found partially blurred photos of extended family and the wedding venue that you didn't attend. It didn't feel real as you saw the police arrest people you've seen at family gatherings. Someone must have snitched and you have a feeling that you know exactly who.

Jake Peralta. It started to make sense. He practically told you to not attend the wedding, but you were too caught up to understand why. Had you attended the wedding without his heads up, you would've been another person in those handcuffs.

You felt betrayed, but also protected. He had asked for you and your father's whereabouts before the entire thing happened. Was this his way of keeping you safe? Did he actually have feelings or did he just want to use you to learn more about the family and you gave it to him?

Scenes flashed throughout your mind as your reminded of all the times he asked odd questions and all the times you spilled to him the secrets. You began to form a headache as your reality came crashing down.

Your father had predicted the fall to happen somewhat like this. It was your Uncle's stupidity to let in an ex-cop and now look at where that landed them. You wouldn't say that you were sad, you anticipated the day where karma would take its place for all the victims of their business; you just never would have guessed that you fell in love with the person who caused that downfall.

Love, what a silly feeling to feel towards someone who you were sure abandoned you. Would he even fulfill his promise to take you on a date after this entire wedding? Should you be mad at him for doing his job and lying to you about his identity? What was real and what was fake?

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Who was it? Who could be knocking at your door at 10 in the night. Could it be the cops coming to arrest you for not outing your family? You quietly snuck to the door, scared to see the person who lurks behind it. It was a polite knock, not a police-y at all. Maybe it was a friend or cousin. You slowly opened the door, and peeked your head to see who it was.

"Jake Peralta?" You said his full name in suprise.

"[Name], please can we talk." He looked like desperate as he towered over you, his arm on the frame of the door, and the other on the door knob.

"I don't know if that's a good idea, Jake." You were wary and didn't know how to feel. Evergtbing was happening all at once and you felt lost, but you needed answers.

"Please, give me a chance to explain everything." He pleaded with desperate eyes. "I know you're probably confused and upset, but let me explain and you can ask questions."

"Come in." You stepped aside and let him into your home for the very first time. It wasn't the scenario you imagined but it was a something. You walked over to the living room but neither one of you felt like this was a conversation to be had sitting down.

"It was you wasn't it? The one who sold them out?"

"Yes. It was." He admitted, "I'm still a cop."

"So you were just undercover the whole time?"

"Yes, I approached your uncle at the bar and it went from there. I can't say much- actually I already am, but, you weren't supposed to be apart of it."

"Stop right there, Peralta. Just give me a moment." You took a deep breath and when you thought you were ready to speak, your mouth held you back. A few more sighs later and you were ready with your next quest, "When we were talking? Did you approach me to just get more information?"

"Well, no. I thought you were cute so I sat down next to you at the bar. That wasn't the higher ups telling me to do it, that was my free will." Jake cracked an awkward smile, but saw on her face that that was not the tone. "I was already informed that you and you father have no part in the business so you weren't really on my radar. When we started talking, sure you did give me the latest gossip, but I wanted to talk to you. Like for realsies."

"So when you told me that you grew up alone-"

"That was all true. Everything I told you about myself was true, except for the whole undercover cool secret spy thing. You have every right to be mad-"

"I'm not mad." You told him and Jake's eyebrows shot up.

"You're not?"

"You were just doing your job and I can respect you for protecting your city, like batman." You sighed, regretting references batman in this serious conversation. "Most of my family there don't like me and do terrible stuff anyways. We were only relates by blood, besides, you did tell me not to go."

"I didn't want you to see the aftermath of everything. You had no part in anything and-

"But wouldn't I still get in trouble for not reporting it? I mean, I knew what kind of people they were but I didnt say anything." Jake stayed silent and she continued, "Why protect me? There are others in there that had no part too. Why me?"

"Because..." he trailed off, feeling his heart start to race as you looked at him to continue, "Because, your special to me. I really really like you, [Name]. I like the way you talk, the way speak about your students, the way you smile, the way your eyes softened when you talk about things you love. The way you put up with my childish antics and act like you don't like it but smile just seconds later. You never judge when I'm talking and I like you so much that I feel like I'm about to burst. I would rather you hate me than me not be in your life at all. I know I lied but I am serious about you and when this is all over, I want to fulfill the promise I made to you. I am in love with you."

I am in love with you. That's all you needed to make your decision. Your hands found it's way to the sides of his face and your lips found it's way to his. He immediately wrapped his hands around your waist, one resting one the small of your back and the other resting on your hip, stabling the both of you admist your passion. You moved your right hand into his hair that was already ruffled and messed up as he was running and finding his way to your apartment. He kissed you as if he was been yearning for the touch of a woman for centuries. It was so gentle but so passionate that you could feel your face getting hotter and heart beating faster. You both pulled each other as close as possible and he leaned forward to try and deeply feel you even closer. When you finally did break the kiss, he stared down at you with half lidded eyes, drunken on love and the sight you.

You grabbed his chin and softly brought it closer, "I love you too. The way that you joke around, the way that you smile, the way you talk, the stupid smile on your face when you talk about 'Die Hard' or the stories you had when you were a cop. I love all of it. I love you." You whispered and he rested his head on your shoulder, overwhelming happy that he didn't ruin one of the best things in his life.

"So, it's after the wedding technically. How about that date-" He started as you just melted into his chest.

"Just shush and enjoy this moment. We'll figure out everything later. Let's go to my room." You grabbed his hand and led him to your room, "While I have your attention though, you need to drop these tracksuits because I love a man in uniform."

"Already on it." He smirked as you closed and locked the door. You, [Name] Ianucci, dating and being with a cop whose absolutely hated by your family. What's the worse that could happen?

[greengoblinswifey]

hey, babes! can you make fratboy!nick but a theater/movie geek please i’m begging. i’m talking like him spewing facts, giving commentary, theories, minor details, and he even wants to recreate an iconic love scene with you. like the pottery scene from ghost it would eat down so hard. that’s if you’re up for it!

Fratboy!Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

warnings— nicholas being a cutie, fluff, L bombs, unprotected sex, praise kink, creampie.

a/n— i love this, def need more fratboy!nicholas requests🤭hope you enjoy <3

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

Nicholas led you upstairs to his room at his parents��� house for the first time, his hand wrapped around yours, his grin wide as he opened the door. “Okay, don’t judge me,” he said, stepping aside to let you in.

The room was big and full of character. Shelves lined the walls, filled with DVDs, Blu-rays, and vintage cassettes, alongside stacks of theater playbills. A massive movie poster for Titanic hung above his bed, while smaller posters for Scream and Beetle Juice were tacked up on the other walls.

Your eyes widened as you ran your fingers over the spines of the cassettes. “Nick, you have so many movies. This is crazy.”

“It’s a collection, not just movies,” he corrected with a playful smirk, leaning against the doorframe. “I’ve got everything. Horror, romance, thrillers, musicals, you name it. This right here is a lifetime of excellent taste.”

You laughed, pulling out a cassette with a faded cover. “Pretty Woman? Really?”

“Are you kidding me?” He stepped forward, taking it from your hand and holding it like it was precious. “This movie is a masterpiece. Julia Roberts practically redefined what a rom com could be. The jewelry box scene? Improvised. That’s the kind of magic you can’t plan.”

“You’re such a geek baby,” you teased, putting the cassette back.

“And proud of it,” he said, grinning as he reached for a DVD case. “This? The Notebook. I dare anyone to watch Noah and Allie kiss in the rain and not believe in love.”

“You’re serious about all of this, huh?”

“Dead serious,” he said, his voice softening. “Movies and theater are everything to me. They’re not just entertainment, they’re moments. Like, take Phantom of the Opera. The chandelier crashing, the Phantom singing Music of the Night, it’s pure, raw emotion. And horror? Don’t even get me started on Halloween. That single shot of Michael Myers standing behind Laurie Strode? Chills. Every time.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you traced your fingers over another row of his horror DVDs. “Do you ever stop thinking about this stuff?”

“Nope,” he said, unapologetic. “And I’ll die on this hill, Dirty Dancing is the greatest romance of all time. That final lift? Cinema history babe.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re so over the top, Nick.”

He grinned and took your hand, tugging you toward a small box beneath his bed. “If you think that’s over the top, wait till you see this.” Inside the box were old theater programs and ticket stubs. “This is everything I’ve been to, plays, musicals, even little community theater stuff. My first was The Lion King on Broadway. I was like ten, and when Mufasa appeared in the stars? I cried like a baby.”

You leaned against him, flipping through the programs. “It’s kind of adorable how passionate you are about this.”

“Adorable?” He raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take it. But, for the record, I’m also very serious about recreating iconic movie scenes. You, me, and a pottery wheel? Ghost style. It’s happening.”

“Oh my god,” you said, laughing. “You’re obsessed with that scene.”

“Because it’s perfect!” he said, his hands flying. “It’s intimate, romantic, and ridiculously sexy. Tell me you wouldn’t want to try it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You don’t even own a pottery wheel, baby.”

“Not the point,” he said, taking your hand. “Come with me.”

The two of you ended up in his parents’ basement, where a table was covered with an old sheet, and a small hunk of clay sat in the center. Nicholas grinned as he set up a Bluetooth speaker, scrolling through his phone. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”

A moment later, Unchained Melody began to play.

“Nick,” you said, laughing as he dragged a stool over. “You planned this?”

“Of course,” he said, motioning for you to sit in front of the clay. “This is the ultimate love scene. Come on.”

You sat down, shaking your head as he moved behind you, his arms slipping around your waist to guide your hands to the clay. His touch was warm, his breath brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Relax. Just follow my lead.”

Your boyfriend’s arms stayed wrapped around you as he guided your hands over the clay, his voice low and playful. “You know this is how it starts in Ghost.”

You laughed softly, turning your head slightly to look at him. “Are you going to start quoting it?”

“Oh, absolutely.” He grinned, leaning in to nuzzle your neck before his voice dropped into a soft, dramatic tone. “‘It’s amazing, Molly. The love inside, you take it with you.’”

You rolled your eyes, giggling. “You’re so corny.”

“And yet,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear, “you’re still here. You love me.”

He wasn’t wrong. His warmth pressed against your back, his hands still covering yours as the clay spun beneath your fingers. The intimacy of the moment, coupled with the deep sound of his voice and the soft strains of Unchained Melody playing in the background, sent a shiver through you.

Nicholas noticed. “Cold?” he asked teasingly, his lips moving to the curve of your shoulder.

You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper. “No.”

“Good,” he murmured, his hands leaving the clay to slide down to your waist. He turned you slightly on the stool, his gaze locking with yours. His brown eyes were soft, holding the weight of the moment.

“You’re not even paying attention to the clay anymore,” you teased, your voice shaky as his hands rested firmly on your hips.

“That’s because I’m paying attention to you,” he said, leaning in closer. His lips found yours, gentle at first, before deepening the kiss. His fingers went to your sides, pulling you closer as he whispered, “You’re so beautiful.”

You couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at your lips as he kissed you again, his passion matching the way his hands explored your waist and ass.

“Nick,” you moaned when his lips trailed back to your neck, planting soft kisses along your skin.

“Mm?” he hummed against you, his voice warm and teasing.

“This isn’t exactly like Ghost anymore,” you said, laughing softly as your hands tangled in his hair.

“Better,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. His lips quirked into a mischievous grin. “Way better.”

His lips found yours again, soft, as he cupped your face. The clay on your hands was forgotten, smudges left on both of you, but neither of you cared. The air around you felt hot, the faint strains of Unchained Melody still playing in the background.

“Are you okay with this?” Nicholas whispered, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm against your lips.

You nodded, your hands sliding up to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. “I’m okay baby,” you said softly.

“Tell me if you’re not,” he murmured, brushing a strand of your braids behind your ear. His hands lingered on your waist, his thumbs stroking gentle circles.

“I will, baby,” you assured him, your voice steady, though your pulse raced.

“I love you,” he said, the sincerity in his voice making you feel like the only person in the world.

Your cheeks warmed as his hands moved from your waist to grab your ass guiding you closer. His kisses deepened, slow and steady, leaving no doubt about how much he wanted you.

His lips found their way to your neck again, pressing gentle kisses along your skin. “You’re perfect,” he whispered against you, his voice thick with emotion.

Your hands slid to his shoulders, feeling the strength there as he leaned into you. “Nick,” you whispered, his name slipping out like a prayer.

“Yes, baby?” he murmured, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

“I want you so bad. Please fuck me,” you admitted, feeling a shiver run down your spine as his gaze softened further.

“God, you’re so beautiful when you’re needy like this,” he said, his lips curling into a small smile before kissing you again, his hands caressing your ass.

He stood, lifting you effortlessly in his arms. “Come with me,” he said softly, carrying you toward the couch in the basement. He sat down, pulling you gently onto his lap, your legs straddling him.

“You’re so beautiful my love,” he whispered, his hands sliding up to cup your face again. “I want to make you feel good. Tell me if I’m doing too much, okay?”

You nodded, your fingers tangling in his hair as you leaned in to kiss him. “I trust you baby, you know that,” you said softly, feeling his hands settle on your hips.

He groaned softly, his head falling back as you pressed kisses along his jawline. “You’re driving me crazy, you know that?” he murmured, his hands squeezing your waist.

Your laughter was soft as you leaned back to look at him. “Good,” you teased, feeling more confident under his gaze.

“You’re the most perfect girlfriend ever,” he said again, his voice full of awe as his hands roamed your back, pulling you closer. “You feel so good in my arms.”

Nicholas moaned as you straddled him, your short dress riding up your thighs as you settled onto his lap. His hands slid up, gripping your hips, his breath already coming in shallow gasps. “You’re going to kill me,” he whispered, his lips brushing against yours.

“You’ll survive,” you teased, your fingers slipping into his sweats to pull out his hard and leaking cock.

When your hands touched his cock, he hissed softly, his hands gripping your hips. His fingers moved to the hem of your dress, hiking it higher as his dark eyes met yours. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

You smiled, leaning in close enough for your lips to brush his ear. “Why don’t you show me?”

His breath hitched as he slid your thong to the side, his movements hurried yet careful. He reached down to position his cock, his jaw tightening as you took him and guided him to your entrance. The stretch was slow and deliberate as you sank down onto him, both of you moaning softly at the sensation.

“We don’t have much time before my parents get back,” he murmured, his voice thick with urgency, his hands gripping your waist.

“Then we’d better make it count,” you said with a sly smile, rolling your hips and eliciting a low, guttural moan from him.

You began to move, bouncing on his cock, your hands braced on his shoulders before one slid to wrap around his neck. His head fell back, his hands sliding to grip your ass as you picked up the pace. “Y-you feel better than Heaven,” he gasped, his words breaking apart as his hips bucked instinctively.

“Just sit there and take it,” you whispered, your tone dripping with authority as you ground your hips against him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he moaned, his hands squeezing you tighter. “Anything you say.”

His praises spilled from his lips between moans, his eyes locked on you as though he couldn’t get enough. “You’re so perfect, so beautiful. I can’t get over how good you feel.”

You smirked, leaning forward to press a kiss to his jawline. “You’re doing so well for me, baby,” you murmured, your voice sending shivers through him.

His breathing grew more ragged, his grip on you desperate. “I— I’m close," he stuttered, his head falling forward to rest against your shoulder. “Please, baby. I’ve been your good boy. Please let me cum.”

His tone made your heart race as your own orgasm began to build. “Cum with me,” you urged, your voice soft but commanding as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer.

When your climax hit, it felt like a wave crashing over you, leaving you breathless and moaning. Nicholas followed moments later, his body tensing beneath you as he moaned your name and his cum exploded inside you, his face buried in your neck.

“I love you,” you whispered against his skin.

“I love you more,” he replied, his voice low but sure as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

Before either of you could fully recover, you heard the unmistakable sound of a car pulling into the driveway. “Oh shit,” you breathed, glancing toward the window.

Nicholas’ eyes widened, and he helped you scramble off his lap, both of you moving quickly to adjust your clothes. He pulled you into a quick kiss, his smile soft and adoring despite the rush. “You’re amazing,” he whispered before stepping back to make himself presentable.

By the time his parents walked through the door, the two of you were seated on the couch upstairs, your hands intertwined and matching smiles on your faces as though nothing had happened.

[archiveluna]

being in a weird situationship with farleigh... <3 inspired by the song boyfriend by ariana grande ft. social house

WARNINGS ✧ none i think? ooc farleigh maybe, situationship? my bad writing… it’s been 7 years. written on my iphone at 1am while sleep deprived </3 sorry in advance! i also suck at writing endings ���̈

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ︶︶︶⠀⠀୨୧⠀⠀︶︶︶

‘you ain’t my boyfriend and i ain’t your girlfriend but you don’t want me to see nobody else and i don’t want you to see nobody’

you could feel him glaring at you from all the way across the room but made no move to look his way. if he could go around hooking up with random people, then you had the right to do as you please also.

wether he’d like to admit it or not, farleigh was a jealous man, especially when it came to you and there was only so much he could take before storming your way, his long legs reaching you in record time and dragging you away from the confused boy who you’d been previously talking to.

‘even though you ain’t mine, i promise the way we fight make me feel like we just in love’

“what do you think you’re doing?”

you couldn’t hold back the laugh that escaped your mouth. was he being serious? the only thing holding you back from causing a scene being the people around you guys and the not so subtle eyes of his cousin and friends watching everything unfold. god.. you knew coming to this party was a bad idea. “not sure what you mean.” you shrugged.

he nodded his head in a mocking way, pursing his lips. “hm, right. so this isn’t you getting back at me for the other day, is it? because i told you-“

“getting back at you?” you cut him off shaking your head in disbelief. “get over yourself farleigh. am i not allowed to talk to other people? not everything’s about you, you know.” except this totally was about him. you almost groaned when you saw the smirk forming on his lips. that bastard. he knew, of course he did.

‘i know we be so complicated lovin you sometimes drive me crazy cause i can’t have what i want and neither can you’

you refused to meet his eyes when he called out your name, arms crossed looking at the people dancing around you. farleigh chuckled, taking a step closer. you took one back in return. “if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you were jealous.” his tone was teasing, and you didn’t have to look at him to know he still had that infuriatingly attractive smirk on his face. i am. “of what? you’re not my boyfriend, you can do whatever you want.” you looked up at him, doing your best to appear nonchalant. farleigh laughed, throwing his head back like you had said the funniest joke he’s ever heard, which only served to agitate you more.

his eyes were practically sparkling when he looked down at you, his hands reaching to cup your face despite your failed attempts to push him away. “i didn’t fuck her. if that’s what you’re pissed about, all we did was make out...” he trailed off unsure if he should say what he was thinking. the way he was looking at you made your cheeks warm up, but you refused to speak. you wanted him to say it. you knew what he wanted to say, and as stupid as it sounded, you refused to be the first one to break. “i haven’t slept with anyone for months now actually.” his hands now resting on your hips squeezed them lightly.

farleigh admitting that shouldn’t of felt as good as it did, but it was as if you could feel a weight lifting off your shoulders. you hoped for a different kind of confession, but this was also nice to know. although you weren’t all that happy that he was still going around shoving his tongue down other peoples throats you couldn’t exactly complain either. he wasn’t your boyfriend. you had to remind yourself of that.

‘but you ain’t my boyfriend and i ain’t your girlfriend but you don’t want me to touch nobody else baby, we ain’t gotta tell nobody’

“like i said, farleigh, you’re free to do whatever you want. nothing is stopping you.” farleigh let out a mixture of what sounded like a groan and laugh, pulling you closer to him without you attempting to push him away this time around. “you” he paused to pinch your cheek softly. “are so fucking stubborn, did you know that?”

you couldn’t hold back the giggle that escaped your lips as you looked up at him, finally giving in to his touch. you had only been ignoring him for a few days, but it felt like a lifetime to you and even if he wouldn’t say it, you knew he felt the same way if the way he was gripping your hips was anything to go by.

“were you really going to fuck that loser to get back at me?” farleigh suddenly asked, looking over to where the guy whose name you’d already forgotten now sat talking with a different girl, his face in that permanent scowl he seemed to have when he wasn’t around you or his friends. “i tuned him out the moment he opened his mouth to be honest.” you could feel your cheeks heating up once again as he laughed at your honesty. “yeah, i figured once you wouldn’t stop eye fucking me from across the room.”

“shut up!” you groaned, swatting his chest. “you’re the one who has a staring problem, you creep. seriously, you’re worse than that fucking ollie kid.” farleigh huffed, somewhat offended that you would compare him to oliver but said nothing else as he pulled you towards the table where felix and the rest of his posse sat, all of them immediately pretending like they hadn’t been watching when you both approached except for felix, who gave farleigh a not so subtle smirk when he pulled you to sit on his lap.

‘if you were my boyfriend and you were my girlfriend i probably wouldn’t see nobody else’

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ︶︶︶⠀⠀୨୧⠀⠀︶︶︶

i suck at endings can u tell ꃋᴖꃋ i know i said i wasn’t gonna write and i probably won’t for a while but i had to get this idea out of my head! i ♥︎ farleigh start. also sorry for any errors! i’m nervous just posting this, bye

[10byten]

Soft Spot for u

- When you started college, one of the student associations assigned you a senior mentor. Back then, you never thought you'd still be friends with him as you enter your final year, while he’s already long graduated. Even less that he’d be the guy of your dreams—the one who makes your heart race. -

Words : 2.6K

You’ve never been much of a party girl. Well, not in the “nightlife scene” kind of way. But a night owl ? That’s totally you. Staying up late doing all the things the daytime doesn’t allow ? That’s your jam. Especially when you’re spending those nights with him.

Since your freshman year, Yuta has been your go-to for late-night hangs: studying, laughing, bickering, drinking, and dancing. You quickly adapted to his vibe - even though, unlike you, he thrives in the nightlife. He loves hopping from on-campus parties to the city’s best clubs. For Yuta, you’d adjust to anything. Normally, you’re not big on people or physical contact, but with him, it’s different.

The first time he asked you to join him at a party, you tagged along, thinking, Why not? At least I’ll have a story to tell. You didn’t like dancing in public—the stares, the unwanted touches—but his touch? That was different. Before long, you were showing up to every party he invited you to, becoming a campus party regular.

Little did they know, you hated parties. You only went for him. For those moments on the dancefloor when his hands rested protectively on your hips, silently warning other guys to back off. It drove you crazy that it felt more big brotherly than anything else. But when you danced together, something shifted. He wasn’t being protective—just… present.

You’ve always wanted to make a move, but the fear of losing him held you back. If he hadn’t made the first move, it probably meant your feelings weren’t mutual. Right? But honestly, just being by his side was better than being with anyone else.

Yuta changed you—not just in how you see relationships, but in how you see life. He was more than a mentor for academics; he pulled you out of your comfort zone and into a brighter, more open world.

Waiting for him to pick you up tonight, you’re lost in thought, touching up your makeup as Keshi’s Soft Spot plays in the background. Your phone buzzes.

Yuta: Be there in 2 mins, love.

You grin, his name lighting up your screen. Gosh, this man owns my heart.

When you hop on his bike, he whistles, eyes raking over your silver sequin dress.

“You planning to set the campus on fire tonight? I don’t remember telling you to outshine me, little miss.”

“No one’s hotter than you, Yuta.” You flirt back, the way you always do when he compliments you. It gives you butterflies every time.

He smirks, giving you a playful smack on the thigh. “Flattery’ll get you far, baby. Keep it up.”

At the party, Yuta, as usual, commands attention. Walking in with him feels like entering as a rockstar’s date—his magnetic aura turning every head. You join his friends—Johnny, Taeyong, Doyoung—who’ve already lined up shots.

Johnny hands you a suspiciously colorful concoction. You sniff it. “Johnny, is this safe? Because I really don’t want to start the semester in the ER.”

Everyone laughs, and Taeyong teases, “Sometimes I forget you’re still in school. Those were the days…”

Shots clink, faces grimace, and the party kicks off. But soon, the buzz, the chaos, and the alcohol start working their magic on your senses. All you want is to dance—with him.

The noise, the games, the music, the chaos of people chatting and singing along, all the stuff happening around you, mixed with the alcohol buzzing in your veins, has your senses on high alert. And now, you only want one thing—to dance with him. You’ve shared him with the crowd long enough, and now it’s your turn. Just you and him, in your world, even if it’s just for a bit.

You leave Jungwoo and Kai behind, still going at that ridiculous card game where every rule somehow ends in "take a sip." It’s funny as hell, you can admit that, but nah—right now, you need him. It’s all you can think about.

You find him at the bar, mid-conversation. You head toward him, sitting by the counter, your mind racing with one single thought: you wanna throw your arms around his neck and kiss him like it’s the only thing keeping you alive. His legs are spread like he’s waiting just for you, a couple of messy strands of hair falling into his eyes, and his half-unbuttoned shirt teasing you with a glimpse of that stunning belly piercing and a peek at his tattoo.

You stop in front of him, hesitating for a second. He’s still chatting with Taeyong but doesn’t miss a beat, sliding an arm around your waist like, yeah, I know you’re here. That little gesture? making you go crazy, and without a second thought, grab his wrist and pull him to the dancefloor. Pressed against him, your bodies move in sync, his hands on your hips, his breath on your neck. Butterflies? More like fireworks. 

He’s totally getting with your vibe, moving with you like he’s reading your mind. When you turn around, you catch that huge smile lighting up his face—and wow, it’s the kind of smile that hits you right in the gut. He’s loving this moment, and it’s setting off a full-on butterfly storm in your stomach.

You kinda wish his smile wasn’t this attractive, this unfairly cute, this stupidly sexy. Because all you can think about is kissing him senseless. Like, right now.

You keep getting closer, grinding up against him more, and for some reason tonight, you’re feeling extra bold. You slide your fingers into his, guiding his hand to trace your curves in a way that’s definitely more suggestive than usual. Yuta doesn’t just go along with it—he’s into it. His response is all green lights, like his body is totally in tune with yours, wanting this as much as you do.

You feel his breath on your neck as you press your back against his chest, and yeah, it’s short. Is he... out of breath because of you? The thought sends a shiver down your spine, and without even thinking, you push your hips back against him, swaying like it’s second nature.

And then you feel it—him. Hard. For you.

That’s the last green light you need. You turn, locking eyes, fingers tangling in his hair as you kiss him, pouring years of longing into it. He kisses back—hungry, desperate.

Next thing you know, you’re in a dimly lit laundry room, pinned against the door as his lips crash back onto yours. His hands are everywhere, his voice dripping with desire.

He kisses you again, and this time it’s pure, raw desire. Like, where the hell has he been hiding all this? Not that it matters—you’re practically melting in his hands. Your skin’s on fire, and it feels like your blood is boiling. He’s gonna make you explode, like you’re some freaking nuclear reactor on the verge of meltdown.

The only way you can even begin to handle this insane craving is by biting his bottom lip, cutting the kiss short. He pulls back just enough to look at you, and there’s this spark in his eyes that makes your breath hitch.

“I didn’t know you had this bad girl side,” he says, smirking. “You’ve always been my sweet, innocent Y/n.”

“Not that innocent I guess, if only you knew about my dirty secret.” 

“Hmm tell me more baby” you smile hearing the petname he gave you, you love it soo much. 

“I touch myself so many times, soaking my panties, just thinking ‘bout you” 

He groan “You didn’t.” 

“I can’t even count how many times since I know you, you’re my favorite fantasm.” You say a lil bit shyly. 

He looks into your eyes, a proud smile on his face. “Then allow me to make the fantasy come true.”  He takes hold of your dress, so small that it doesn't take much effort for him to expose your already soaked thong. He slides two fingers over your pussy to caress you through the fabric.

“You’ve been holding out on me, huh?” he growls, fingers brushing against the lace of your underwear.

“Only for you, daddy,” you whisper, testing the nickname that’s been on your mind for way too long.

He freezes, then smirks. “Gosh, you’re gonna drive me insane.”

You've never been so willing in your life. You only dream of one thing: his tongue on you and IN you. He lifts your leg and places it on his shoulder to get better access. You feel his breath on your inner thigh and you moan at the sensation alone. 

“Oh god.” He look at you, from the bottom and smirk “You can call me Yuta.” And with those words he wraps your whole soaking pussy in his mouth. First he eats you through the fabric of your thong. Then, using his fingers, he shifts it to the side. He flicks his tongue up and down your folds and then concentrates on your clitoris, sucking gently. The stimulation sends you into heaven, you feel as if you've left this earth. And then he starts playing at your entrance with one of his fingers, looking at you “Want me to get inside baby girl?”

“Yes, please, yes !”

 “Your wish is my command.”

He takes hold of your clit again, nibbling lightly, then gently and deliciously slides a finger into your pussy, soon adding a second, which you welcome as a blessing. You try to be as quiet as possible, but your little cries and sobs excite Yuta even more. He picks up the pace and eats you up like he's starving, tasting you like you’re his last meal, you’re trembling. Soon you feel your orgasm coming on and you press down on Yuta's shoulder as if to let him know you're about to burst. He smiles, "Let it go baby, I'm here for you.” You feel the most powerful orgasm you've ever had in your life rushing through you. And this time you can't help yourself, you moan his name out loud and pray that no one else walks by at the same time. He stands up and sucks on each of his two fingers in front of you. Then he slides his tongue back into your mouth. 

“I think you can still feel yourself on my tongue, so much that I've sucked you in.” You wrap your arms around his neck, wanting more, but Yuta slows the pace. “Maybe we should slip away before we're noticed.

You slip out quietly, not even bothering to say goodbye to anyone. On the way back, you’re still all sensitive from the way he completely wrecked you earlier. When Yuta pulls up in front of your dorm, he looks a little more hesitant than before. Still, you invite him to come up with you for a bit.

As you close the door to your apartment, you see him sitting on the couch, his hands covering his face like he’s deep in thought. But you don’t stop to overthink it—he’s already given you too much tonight for you to back down now. You climb onto his lap and kiss him, slow and intense. He kisses you back but suddenly pulls away.

“Wait,” he says, looking at you seriously. “I need to understand what’s happening here. Like, what are we doing right now?”

You stare at him, confused. “Do you want a diagram or something?”

“No, I mean, seriously. Isn’t this, like, a bad idea? I’m older than you, and you’re totally wasted. I am too, actually.”

“So what?”

“So yeah, I don’t think this is a good idea. You’ll probably regret it tomorrow. I don’t want to mess things up between us. You mean a lot to me and—”

You cut him off with a dramatic wave, making it clear he needs to stop talking immediately. “This is unreal. Stop seeing me as the clueless first-year kid who doesn’t know anything and needs a protector. Yuta, I don’t want a protector—I want you.”

He just stares at you, speechless.

“I got a soft spot for you, from the very beginning,” you continue, your voice shaking with the weight of the truth. “And honestly, I’ve been hoping every single day since we met that one day you’d wake up and feel the same. But you’ve always had this big brother vibe, and God, it’s been killing me, because I love your attention, I love how affectionate you are, and how you’re always there for me. But Yuta, I want so much more than that. I never said anything because I didn’t want to scare you off or ruin what we have. But seriously, I’ve been into you since day one. So please, stop being my bro—be my lover. Tonight, I felt like it was now or never. There was this moment, this chance, and hell, it’s my last year. I want to leave this university finally dating the guy I’ve been crushing on since freshman year. So if you’re not into it, just say it, but please stop looking at me like I’m some little kid and start seeing the woman I could be by your side.”

Yuta’s lips crash onto yours, giving you the single greatest kiss of your life.

“So you’ve been this into me for all this time, and you never said a word?” he teases, a grin spreading across his face.

“Yuta, please. I’m not exactly the most social person, but I’ve spent practically all my time with you. I hate parties, yet I’ve been at them every week since I met you. I HATE octopus, but I learned how to make Takoyaki like a pro. I think Naruto is the most boring anime ever, but I binged every damn season. Why do you think I did all that? For who?” you shoot back, exasperated.

“Uh… sorry?” he mutters sheepishly.

“Don’t apologize. Honestly, I love most of those things now because they remind me of you, or they’re just so you. I don’t force myself. If it means spending time with you, it’s always worth it in the end.”

He smiles at you, soft and affectionate.

“I’ll admit, I’ve thought about this a lot over the years too,” he says quietly. “But the age gap always felt like too much. And I had this mentor role, you know? I didn’t want to look like some creepy older guy. More than that, I didn’t want to lose you or ruin what we have.”

Your heart pounds at his words. So he doesn’t see you as some desperate little kid, and, more importantly, the guy of your dreams feels the same way about you.

“Can you say it out loud, though? Just once?” you tease him.

“I got a soft spot for you, Y/n.”

“No, no, no, you can do better than that.”

He chuckles, running his tongue along his cheek, clearly amused but knowing you’re not letting this go.

“I got a big crush on you.”

Your smile stretches ear to ear, and you crash your lips against his again. He responds instantly, sliding his tongue against yours, his hands moving to your hips as he pulls you closer. Then, without breaking the kiss, he lifts you effortlessly and carries you to your room, laying you gently on the bed.He trails kisses along your jawline, down to your neck, and a soft moan escapes your lips. He nibbles at your earlobe before whispering, “If you play your cards right tonight, sweetheart, you just might get me to admit I maybe am in love with you by the end of it.”

[pupyuj]

→ “how you get the girl.” || naoi rei x reader fic.

— a stupid and insensitive prank leads to your adorable girlfriend turning into a lovesick pervert when she gets drugged during one of your friends’ party…

word count: 7.6k.

dynamic: dom!bottom!naoi rei x sub!top!reader.

warnings: drugging, dubcon, drunk sex, non-consensual use of drugs, emotional manipulation, blood (mild), praises, fingering, anal, use of strap-on (often referred to as a cock), overstimulation.

requested?: nope.

a/n: UMMMM HIIII???? quick note, since i have like two more yuj requests to put out, i figured you guys might use a little breath of fresh air with this surprise rei fic hehehuehe 😈😈 keep the warnings in mind everyone! reibear's a bit... crazy here 😭 in fact, a lot of the fics coming up from me actually venture a lot into dark content, or at least near it, so let us all tread with caution :] ANYWAY this is my 1,000th post! i wanted to make it special so that's why i've been missing for like a month (omg...) bcs i wanted to make sure i came out with something good LMAO sorry for going non-verbal everyoneee 😭😭

you were hoping that this was the last time that you’ll ever go to one of ahn yujin’s parties.

parties weren’t exactly up your alley to begin with, but something about the ones that the unnecessarily popular basketball captain hosts makes it all so much more troublesome than a normal college party. the bass of the speakers jammed through your skull, enough to annoy you with a painful migraine. the drinks were bland, only amateur party-goers and people who are too far gone to have decent taste would like it. all those who were invited are a mixed bag of strange, unpleasant, snobby, shady, and try-hard individuals who had nothing better to do on a saturday evening.

despite it all though, you were having the best time of your life.

perhaps you were the one that was too far gone to bother to try and over analyze every aspect of ahn yujin’s party. maybe it was the lights, the hot air, the music, and the way your girlfriend, rei, pulled you around the crowd as you danced. oh, naoi rei—she looks so beautiful under the purple, blue, and green neon lights. eyes only slightly unfocused due to being mildly intoxicated, but she was still looking at you. she wears a wide smile, the same one that makes you fall in love with her over and over again, as she pulls you into her.

“i love you, (y/n).” she whispers before kissing your cheek. rei was giggling, somehow surprised at her sudden bravery. she was holding a half-empty cup with one hand and had her other arm around your neck, your arms wrapped loosely around her waist, pulling her closer until her lips were a mere kissing distance. you don’t waste any time, nor did you bother to care about the fact that the two of you were surrounded by people—you kissed rei, relishing in the taste of both alcohol and peaches on her lips. rei melts into you, smiling into the kiss, feeling her chest get warm when she feels you tighten your hold on her.

you feel her fingers thread your locks as you kiss her, that feeling of comfort and security making you release the tension on your shoulders and get even more lost in the moment. you knew that a handful of people were watching the two of you. maybe they were even taking pictures and videos of this rare scene of the kind, sickeningly sweet fashion major and the stoic but soft volleyball vice-captain shamelessly showing off their affection for one another. but really, you didn’t care. hell, some people have done worse in ahn yujin’s previous parties—yujin herself included. so you tilted your head to deepen the kiss, ignoring the pool forming in between your legs when you hear the slightest bits of your girlfriend’s addicting moans.

rei nearly drops the cup she was holding when you slid your tongue past her lips. it seems neither she minded putting on a spectacle for everyone to see: allowing you to explore her mouth with your tongue, slide your hand underneath her cotton sweatshirt and feel her stomach, and even whimpering so cutely when you grabbed her ass with your other hand. shit, if you were completely out of your senses you probably would’ve fucked her right there! she was just so perfect in your eyes… and for once in your years of dating, you wanted to show everyone just how flawless naoi rei really was and not just keep her for yourself.

your hand travels further down, stopping right on the belt hoops on her jeans. rei wanted you to lose your composure, wanted you to touch her in front of your friends and schoolmates, wanted to show everyone how good you can make her feel, and you knew all of this by the way she moved closer to you, practically begging for you to keep going despite the alarming rate of people finding themselves staring at the two of you. you decided to tease her, putting your hand on her thighs instead and slowly moving it upwards so painfully slowly. rei whines and softly nibbles on your lips in retaliation. cute.

unbeknownst to the two of you, someone slips a strange-looking pill in rei’s drink. rei had been too busy returning your kisses to spot the person, who snickered as he walked off with his friends. somehow, you heard them, breaking the kiss to look behind you. they turned to a corner out of your sight, but you had a feeling they did something.

“what’s wrong?” rei asked in heaving breaths. you don’t answer her, squinting and trying to spot the strange group of guys that just walked by but failing to do so. rei gently takes your chin and turns your head, her eyes locked onto your lips. both affection and desire were evident in her eyes; she adored you dearly, but fuck, she needed you so bad. “i was having fun…” she mumbled, once again leaning closer in hopes of getting you to kiss her again. but all you did was laugh, give her lips a peck before pulling her out of the big crowd in the living room, much to her dismay.

rei pouts, but doesn’t complain as she allows you to tug her towards the kitchen. rei chugs down the rest of her drink, eyes lighting up at the sight of a few more bottles sitting quietly at yujin’s kitchen island as if they were waiting just for her! you briefly looked over your shoulder, spotting your adorable girlfriend eyeing the bottles of alcohol.

“i think you’ve had enough, baby. let’s get you some water.”

in the kitchen were some of your friends: the hostess yujin, that one senior from the dance department son hyeju, rei’s close friend from the music theory department jang yeeun, and rei’s fellow fashion major seol yoona. this might possibly be the most random assortment of your big and forever growing friend group but it was much better than the heap of strangers (emphasis on strange) in the living room. yujin was drunk out of her mind—a rare occasion considering that she’s always busy stopping everyone from ruining her house during her parties to even get a sip. she must be upset about something, and judging by how she begrudgingly stared at the ‘school muse’ jang wonyoung from across the room… yeah, she was definitely going through it.

it was nothing a good hate-fucking would fix, though. you know those two well enough to predict how their night’s going to go.

poor awkward hyeju was desperately trying to stop yujin from downing an entire bottle while simultaneously talking to someone on the phone. her girlfriend, possibly. now that you think about it, it was really strange not to see park chaewon right by hyeju’s side. they were usually inseparable and chaewon was never the type to miss a messy ass party like this one; it was practically brimming with gossip! and she would’ve loved that show you and rei put on earlier! not far from yujin and hyeju were yeeun and yoona who talked casually, although you didn’t miss that glint of interest for each other in their eyes. seems like they had been drinking too. great!

you weren’t here to talk to any of them, however. you were here to sober your girlfriend up and take her home before she goes completely off the rails. you grabbed a clean cup from a pile and filled it up with water, all while rei clung to your side, whining and whispering horny nonsense in your ear that you tuned out to save everybody from seeing you fuck your girlfriend over your best friend’s kitchen counter. you ignored the way her breath fanned across your neck and gave you chills down your spine, ignored her arm wrapped around your waist and her hand impatiently squeezing your hip, ignored how her other hand was softly tugging on the waistband of your skirt—all of them being near-impossible tasks. the only reason you got to hold back your urges was because of your suspicions: has rei always been this… needy when drunk?

being her girlfriend of a few years now, you knew that the answer was a hard no. yes, rei could never hold her alcohol well and thus always ended up getting wasted by the end of every party or friend gathering but she was never so horny! most of the time when she’s drunk, she just gets very giggly and is a hundred times more ticklish than when she’s sober. and even when she’s in her right mind and she wants to have sex, she wouldn’t be like this. you turned your head to get a good look at your girlfriend’s face. rei gives you a lazy smile, tilting her head slightly as she leaned close to hopefully kiss your lips but you managed to dodge her, making her whine cutely. her cheeks were flushed, beads of sweat ran down her neck, and her pupils were dilated but you knew that was because she was wasted as fuck.

perhaps it was just a bad case of rei being both drunk and horny at the same time. nevermind the reason for her strange behavior—you have to get her home so she can calm down and get some sleep!

“take a sip of this, rei-yah. you’ve been drinking nothing but alcohol and soda all night.” you handed your girlfriend a cup of water before beckoning hyeju over. yujin had her back leaning against a countertop while she grumbles grumpily, still glaring at wonyoung (who was having the time of her life having all of yujin’s stupid attention for herself). hyeju tells yujin to ‘stay still’ and skips over to where you and rei were standing, making a weird face when she saw how rei had started leaving a trail of kisses down your neck.

“hyeju, can you give us a ride home? i think you’re the only sober person in this house…” you asked. she looked like she was going to refuse as she had her hands full taking care of yujin, but you were somewhat correct with hyeju being the only soul in this joint that had any sense in her mind. plus, yoona and yeeun were not totally wasted yet. they can probably watch over yujin for fifteen minutes! and so hyeju agrees, nodding her head towards the door and grabbing her keys from a secret corner in one of the cupboards reserved only for yujin and her closest friends (aka, you lot).

“we’re going home? you’re no fun, baby…” rei whines loudly as you squeezed both of yourselves out of the crowd. she was still very touchy, she couldn’t keep her hands off of you and at one point, even grabbed your ass from under your skirt and laughed when you yelped slightly.

“taking care of a drunk you isn’t usually like babysitting a toddler,” you mumbled after having to gently push her out of the door so she wouldn’t be saying goodbye to every living being she sees in that house. immediately after you slammed the door shut, rei practically lunged at you and tried to kiss you but you were quick to move away. “what’s up with you, love?” you asked, giggling because rei now had this cute pout on her face.

“i wanna kiss you… please, let me kiss you?” ah, you can’t really refuse her when she asks so nicely… and since the two of you were now out of view from everyone, well, you had no problem pulling her in by her sleeve and putting your lips on hers once again. this kiss was a lot softer than what you shared in yujin’s living room; your lips moved in sync instead of whatever near-slobbering mess that was going on earlier. your hands rested on her hips while she had her arms wrapped around your neck, pulling you closer ever so often to deepen the kiss further until your chests were touching and she could put her hands down on your shoulders. 

it was a kiss so magical that people could probably picture cartoon birds and butterflies flying around your figures right about now. as annoyed as you always get in yujin’s parties, you had to admit that you badly needed this one. you and rei, actually. both of you have been swamped with your respective coursework that neither of you could find the time to enjoy doing anything else together, but thankfully, yujin had both of your backs and decided to drag you out of your houses to live life a little. so yeah, perhaps now it makes sense why you just so happened to get buzzed enough to be enjoying your crazy friend’s party!

and now a cute, drunken try-to-sleep session would be a fitting end to this amazing day… but you’ll soon find out that the night was going to be much, much longer than you anticipated.

“do you gay bitches want to go home or should i let you fuck on our friend’s porch?” hyeju’s voice cuts through the pleasant silence and takes both you and rei out of your shared wonderland. you laugh and start tugging rei towards her car while rei pouts, only mildly annoyed that your moment was cut short. and to nobody’s surprise, rei was all over you in the backseat of hyeju’s car too! not even bothering to put her seatbelt on as she was just… hugging your waist and keeping you extra close to her. at this point, you decided to not ask any more questions and just allowed rei to do whatever she wants. once hyeju took a glance at her rearview mirror and got a glimpse of rei and her big eyes shooting arrows and hearts at you, she scoffed and turned the music up before pulling out of her parking spot.

soon enough, yujin’s house was a dot in the distance. rei was mumbling lovesick nonsense while you stared out the window, blankly watching as the car passed one house after another. rei had insisted hyeju to drive both of you to her house where the two of you would be alone. apparently her roommate was sleeping over at her boyfriend’s house and was gone for the night, it was perfect! about a few minutes into the ride, rei not-so-discreetly puts your hand on her thigh, giggling when you gave her a look since you knew exactly what she was doing. but she persists on acting innocent, even while she slowly drags your hand upward so it was closer to that treasure in between her thighs.

when you try to pull your hand away, rei suddenly holds it in place with an iron grip. you don’t hear what she says over hyeju’s music, and your lack of response to whatever she just said only made her even braver. eventually, your hand was buried deep in between her thighs and rei was slowly grinding against it, letting out the softest moans while you struggled to remove yourself from her hold. it was a miracle that hyeju wasn’t seeing any of this, and for rei that was a fucking blessing because all she wanted was to feel you touching her. to make matters worse, rei grabs a fistful of your top and closes the distance between the two of you, forcibly making you kiss and touch her at the same time.

you did not like this at all. before you left yujin’s house, you thought that perhaps rei was too drunk on her feelings and that was why she felt especially touchy… but this was different. you were too buzzed and exhausted to fight back, and being reminded that you might’ve set something off in her brain by kissing her in front of a crowd earlier made you think that perhaps you were responsible for rei’s behavior. maybe she thinks she’s just making it even; you kissed and touched her while there were eyes on the two of you, it’s only fair if she does it too! still, you pull away from rei’s lips and place your hand on her shoulder to stop her from diving back in.

“stop. what is wrong with you?”

you definitely said that in a harsher tone than intended. rei looked both offended and hurt. she moves away from you, pushing your hand away and completely refusing to look at you. baffled, you stared at her in confusion. seriously, what the fuck did she drink that made her like this? you ought to question yujin about the alcohol she stores in her cabinets because any trace of your sweet angel naoi rei was nowhere to be found at the moment. and now the rest of the ride was awkward, with rei angrily looking out the window and you occasionally checking if she was finally going to say something to you so neither of you would go to sleep angry.

hyeju was blissfully unaware of all of this. she was nodding her head to her music and even answered a short call from chaewon, who asked her to pick up food she ordered from a mexican restaurant so she would have something to snack on for the night. you were worried that rei might ask hyeju to send you away to your own house. of course you would have refused since rei was in no condition to be walking around her home alone, but the idea that your girlfriend was mad at you to the point where she can’t even stand to be with you for a night breaks your heart. what could you even do to cheer her up? give her what she wants? you didn’t exactly have the energy for that… and after all the antics she pulled, you can’t imagine getting into the mood now.

ugh. this was making your head hurt, as if the alcohol wasn’t doing a good enough job of that.

“home sweet ho—”

rei doesn’t let hyeju finish and leaves the car without another word, stomping towards her front porch while fishing for her keys in her purse. hyeju turns her head at you, confused, and you sighed. “d-don’t worry about it, hyeju. thanks for driving us. take care of the other girls, okay?” you left the car and followed after your girlfriend who was struggling to open the door.

“do you need help?” you asked softly. rei scoffed, and it really hurt. she rarely gets angry at you. in fact, this might be the first time so frankly, you have no fucking idea how to handle it. 

rei, without even sparing you a glance, finally hears the lock click open and grabs the doorknob, “no.” and then she’s gone. 

maybe the alcohol was making you a bit emotional for no reason, but you felt like crying right there. while you took off your shoes, you wondered just how you can resolve this with as little yelling as possible. a loud slamming of a door makes you flinch—rei has now officially holed herself up in her room. shit, were you going to have to sleep on the couch? that would be a nightmare. you wouldn’t want rei’s roommate to come home to a pitiful sight such as you.

rei sure did like making a spectacle when she’s angry. you could hear her stomping around in her bedroom, you were both worried and scared. you wanted to help her just in case she was having a rough time walking around, being wasted and all, but what if she yells at you? what if you only make her even more angry? oh, please! surely she can be an adult about it! no matter how drunk she was!

right?

that was what you were counting on when you stood in front of her bedroom door with two mugs filled with fresh, cold water for the two of you. once it was quiet, you spoke. “rei? can i come in?” you didn’t hear words, but at least she responded with a hum. you balanced the two mugs with one hand as best as you could while opening the door—and there, on the edge of her bed, you saw your girlfriend sitting with the best glare she could muster. as cute as she looked, you held back on teasing her and instead, sat the two mugs down on the bedside table and sat beside her.

she wasn’t looking at you—a bad sign, but still something you can work around. although you really didn’t know what to do. because once again, rei has never gotten angry with you and people in general rarely get angry with you. as stingy as you sometimes can be, you truly hated confrontation, you hated yelling, and hurtful words thrown towards you cut deeper than any knife could. and rei should know that as your soft-spoken, gentle, and empathetic lover. but maybe she was too drunk to remember any of that since she was not at all budging.

but after a few minutes, rei does speak. in a tone you’ve never heard before. 

“i don’t like the way you acted tonight, (y/n).”

normally, on a day where you weren’t buzzed and already felt frustrated, you would try to understand where she was coming from but you were already short of patience. “m-me? what did i even do?” you tried to meet her eyes but she was adamant on avoiding yours.

“wow.” rei scoffs, feigning being entertained by your cluelessness.

“i’m serious. i don’t know what i did to warrant your pettiness like this—”

“really? okay, let’s jog your memory a bit,” rei stands up and finally looks at you. you felt small underneath her displeased gaze. “you kissed me, you touched me, in front of however many fucking people there was in yujin’s acidic ass living room but i can’t kiss you and touch you when we’re alone with our one friend who wasn’t even looking at us? don’t you think that’s a little unfair?” she puts a finger up every time she makes a point and if you didn’t feel so hounded, you would have defended yourself!

but oh, god. rei rarely swears, and more rarely towards you! you felt the burning in the back of your eyes come before you could choke out the only words you can say at the moment. “i’m sorry…” you felt so pathetic. and if you didn’t break eye contact to blink away your tears and pretended to not feel so pressured, you would have seen how your girlfriend’s eyes shined with amusement.

“and what’s your reason? you were drunk and got carried away? would you let my actions slide if i gave you that same excuse?” any answer you intended to blurt out gets stuck in your throat. not to mention that it was too hard to think properly when your heart hammered right against your ribcage with how awful you felt about getting yelled at by your normally sweet girlfriend. was that really how much you fucked up in that car?

“i didn’t m-mean… to make you feel like this, rei-yah. i just didn’t want to do that in front of hyeju, of all people.” was your defense even making any sense? you had no fucking idea.

“but you would have loved to make a public porno with multiple pairs of eyes watching us. watching me. is that it?” 

your heart drops at her statement, “no! no, of course not! that wasn’t going to go anywhere near that! i… i’m really sorry…” okay, now you were looking too pitiful to be helped at all. your eyes were filled to the brim with tears you didn’t even bother to pretend you didn’t have this time, your lips quivered horribly, and your voice shook so much you might as well be uncontrollably sobbing on the floor. and then you finally couldn’t hold your tears back and let them fall, along with your head due to the sheer embarrassment and shame that you felt.

but what would have been the alternative action to do in that car? discreetly fuck your girlfriend while being merely minutes away from your destination with your very-much-not-deaf-or-blind friend driving you there? but why is it that you felt like the outcome of that would have been so much better than this one? maybe rei wouldn’t have been yelling at you then. hyeju would probably never look at either of you in the eye ever again but at least you and rei would probably be drunkenly giggling about it in the very same bed you were crying on rather than fighting.

your tears fell on the carpet underneath rei’s bed until you felt your eyes leaving the floor and meeting rei’s own once again. although this time, she seemed to be back to being the loving girlfriend you always knew. rei held your face in her hands and smiled softly at you, “i can forgive you… you can make it up to me, don’t worry.” her feather-light touch patches up the metaphorical cuts her words have made on your skin and each time she runs her thumb across your cheek to wipe your tears away, the more the wounds heal.

rei places a kiss on the crown of your head, on your forehead, your nose, and she smiles at how your eyes flutter to a close as you wait for her lips. she pushes your hair back, and you willfully ignore how she traps your thigh in between her legs before putting your hands on her hips. you lean closer as you’ve grown impatient—you really did believe that a kiss can seal everything up so the two of you can go to sleep with good feelings.

you didn’t have to wait for too long to get what you badly wanted at least; rei wraps her lips around yours, finally giving you the usual warmth you felt around her and getting rid of the coldness her anger struck within you. but even amidst the familiarity of it all, rei did new things that made butterflies flutter inside your stomach but also fill your head with uncertainty. she had a hand tightly wrapped around the back of your neck, holding you in place as her kisses grew deeper and hungrier. her other hand traced the hem of your cropped blouse, until she slid her fingers underneath and copped a feel of your breast.

despite feeling uneasy, you allowed rei to touch you. rei’s lips were nothing short of hypnotizing, and soon enough you were too lost in the kiss to even notice how she had unbuttoned her jeans, straddle your lap and started slowly guiding your hand downwards her crotch. she lips her tongue in between your lips as a means of distracting you even further, drinking in your moans and whines at the way she squeezes your breasts. your free hand cupped her ass, pulling her closer and even smiling at how cute her whimper sounded. rei leans into you and you slowly fall back on the bed; that was where you finally felt her wetness on your fingertips.

rei gasps as she grinds against your hand. she didn’t seem to care that you were completely still, or that you had your eyes wide open. as wrong as it felt, you kept on watching her, figuring out if this was all truly just the alcohol’s influence or perhaps rei had chosen to act out on her own. you kept rewinding the day in your head in hopes of remembering if there was something that rei might have consumed that made her so… strange, but to no avail. you were with rei from the moment you and yujin picked her up from this very same house and drove back to yujin’s own, and every second that you were with rei she was no different than she usually was with you.

and so you were left with more questions than answers.

(who knows what you would’ve done if you actually knew what happened from the jump? the night would’ve ended very, very differently. anybody who toyed with your girlfriend was always on the receiving end of a nose-breaking, teeth-rattling, and brain-shattering punch in the face. but unfortunately, you will never know just what exactly occurred in that house.)

rei separates from your lips with a smack and slips out of her sweatshirt, still grinding on your hand while you try to ignore that needy buzz on your core because you really weren’t in the mood for any of this. especially after what just occurred? no! you needed cuddles, a bad netflix movie, and some soft, light kisses! it frustrated you how rei couldn’t see that, but then again how could she? even when you made little to no effort to move your hand that was trapped in between her legs, you still made her feel so good. 

if anything, rei blames you for clouding her head with so many naughty thoughts. did you have to look so pretty today? did you have to wear that skirt, that blouse, and do your hair that way? she couldn’t believe she didn’t take the time to appreciate you way earlier before yujin turned off all the lights in her house—but at least she has you all for herself now. and she wasn’t going to let you go anywhere else.

“r-rei… i don’t think we should do this toni—mmn…” your complaints were drowned by her deep kisses and a thrust of rei’s hips towards your hand and feeling her slick folds through the fabric of her panties unlocks something primal in you, and you started rubbing your fingers against rei’s wet, needy cunt, eliciting a muffled moan out of her. you put your free hand on her thigh, keeping her hips steady as you started pleasuring rei’s sensitive clit.

as soon as rei unclasped her bra and threw it elsewhere, she flipped your position so that you would finally be on top of her just like she always wanted. the two of slowly moved upwards towards the bed while still engaged in a tight liplock and your hands were starting to do everything that rei fucking wished for. you pulled her jeans off and then her panties quickly after. while you slowly trace her folds with your fingertips, rei slightly parts from your lips and sighs dreamily when you pressed your thumb against her throbbing clit. 

“mhnn… you must be really sorry, huh, baby…?” she asked. she took pride in the guilty look on your face—she might be wasted beyond saving but that was an expression of yours she’ll definitely remember for nights to come. “oh… ohh.. ah—good girl… that’s i-it…” rei lays her head back on the pillows when she feels you inserting two fingers inside her cunt. pure bliss was what she felt when you started slowly pumping your fingers in and out of her pussy. her endless praises, gasps, and moans blessed your ears, driving your already-hazed mind into a new kind of frenzy, making you increase your pace.

rei’s hold around your neck tightens at the same time, “good…! f-fuck… oh, fuck…! you’re s-so good, babygirl…” her moans only get louder when you tilt your head and start kissing down her perfect neck, leaving countless marks to bloom overnight. she claws at your shoulder when you wrap your warm mouth around her hard nipples while simultaneously adding another finger inside of her. “yes..! yes, yes… more, (y/n)-ah…!” you whined at the sound of your name on her lips—rei always made it sound so fucking beautiful, especially during an intimate time such as this.

“kiss me, baby… i need y—hmn…” she didn’t have to ask you twice. rei cups your jaw, using her thumb to part your lips and slide her tongue inside your mouth. with her tongue expertly exploring every nook and cranny of your mouth, you failed to notice how she removes her hand from your jaw and snuck it underneath the pillow below her head, and she pulls something from under it. a pretty collar decorated with black bows just for you.

it wasn’t until you heard a click when you finally opened your eyes and noticed that rei now has you on a leash. quite fucking literally.

you leaned back, abruptly stopping all of your movements as you stared at your sneering girlfriend with troubled, panicked eyes. “w-wha… what are you up to?” you don’t get an answer to your question of course. all you got was a harsh tug on the leash and a painful kiss from rei. one that was full of harsh bites that made your lips bleed, but apparently rei quite liked that seeing as how she was so eager to lick it all up.

you, on the other hand, continued your work despite your stomach turning every time rei inflicted pain with either her lips or her other hand which was seemingly stuck on your arm, digging through your blouse and almost just barely grazing your skin underneath. rei’s walls clenched around your fingers, she starts rocking her hips upwards to meet your thrusts, eager to chase her high along with you.

rei’s voice fills your ears once again, “mmhn..! please, please, darling… make m-me cum.. oh, please…!” god, it was like a fucking dream seeing her like this. you were uneasy—hell, you can even say that this all scared you a bit but fuck, getting to watch your girlfriend come undone because of you was always a welcome sight. her hips stutter as she creams all over your fingers, and you watch while she does so. her warm cum stains your once-spotless hand but you were more than happy to clean it up yourself!

you pulled out your fingers as soon as rei was done, licking and sucking on them one by one. you weren’t aware of it since your mind was a fucking mess but rei intently stared at you, confused as to how you looked fucked out when she was the one who just hit an orgasm so good she started babbling nonsense in her native language. and gosh… seeing your hair and makeup all messed up now, and your blouse all wrinkled and your skirt in disarray… rei just can’t help but want more… so much more.

rei grabs yet another thing from under her pillows. this time, it was a strap. your favorite one to use on her actually—a shiny, hot pink one with the plastic cock being at least six and a half inches long. rei sits up and pulls on your leash, forcing you down towards her in a heated kiss. gosh, you can’t believe her sex drive sometimes. and it’s probably not even because you don’t satisfy her, rei just has that much stamina!

(or maybe you were just so damn good at fucking her that she can’t get enough!)

still though, you return the kiss, going as far as to take off your blouse just to feel rei’s skin against yours. without detection, rei somehow managed to attach the strap to your hips before you could even think of rejecting her requests to put it on. you were too occupied with her lips. it didn’t matter how many times you kissed her, you were never going to get sick of her kisses and the way she touches you during them… mostly when she’s in her right mind, of course.

“we’re not done,” she whispers against your lips. then you felt yourself being forced to sit down, and her long nails pierce the skin of your thighs. you winced but you were quickly silenced by her lips again. you can’t do anything with rei being in control like this—you were exhausted, still buzzed, and a bit disoriented from how warm the room has gotten. still, you feel rei unclasping your bra and discarding it elsewhere… and then her lips touch your skin. delicately and slowly, completely contradicting how she had a tight claw on your back. “you… have a lot to make up for, baby.” rei gives you a bite on your shoulder, and you moan pathetically.

“hm. that was nice… do that again.” rei smiles against your skin. she was taunting you. you didn’t even know rei would have a knack for humiliating you until tonight! you grab a fistful of her hair as soon as she caught your nipple with her mouth—that was always one of your biggest weaknesses. and it was so embarrassing how much you were enjoying this now. both being pleasured and hearing rei talk down on you with her quiet, soft voice.

“you’re so perfect, (y/n)…” rei mumbles against your skin after a few minutes. she has made an art piece out of your chest. she always places her marks where no one dares to look. sure, she wouldn’t exactly see them either but the sheer thought of a hickey being there because she put it there… well, you wouldn’t think your girlfriend was as innocent and sweet if she had made you aware of how much it all turns her on in the daily.

eventually, her kisses reached all the way down to your stomach, and it was when she briefly looked up at you with hooded eyes that you figured out what she was going to do next. though it didn’t stop you from getting so flustered that you whimpered for no reason. rei smiles, “that excited, are you?” she traces your inner thigh with a single finger, making goosebumps appear all over your body. she reveled in how you slightly shook. even more so when she takes the tip of the strap in her mouth and you have to bite back a moan.

wow, you didn’t even have a real dick and you were acting like this? you were so cute—rei didn’t think it was possible for you to become even more adorable so far into your relationship… but alas!

you were unsure of what to do, truthfully, but at least you could watch rei give your plastic cock a hell of a blowjob for free. this was the one time you wish you could feel it. rei has always been good with her mouth, after all. from her kisses to the way she sucks and nibbles on your nipples… and of course, when she sits you down in front of you to give you a damn good head. but one thing she did like better than your voice and how quick she can fluster you is… well, like so: you bury both of your hands in her hair and tighten your grip only slightly, then you slowly take control of her pace.

because one way or the other, the dick has to be lubed up and what better way to do it than with her spit?

with your guidance, rei diligently works her mouth all the way to the base of the strap. it looked as if she wanted it to be real too, what with how many times she whispered in your ear about impregnating her in the many times you have used the toy on her before. maybe she was being serious, maybe she was just trying to rile you up; either way, she got what she wanted every time! as you slowly pull her head up and down your length, you meet her halfway with your thrusts, and of course it does something to rei’s brain every time you hit the back of her throat.

but you can only do this for so long before you lose control. you wanted to see rei fall apart underneath you, and you needed to hear her properly throughout it all. it seems like rei has had enough too anyway as she allows you to gently pull her mouth off your cock, smiling sweetly at you as if she didn’t just put on such a show for you merely seconds ago. she even taunts you again, “what? did you miss my kisses…?” she asked in a playful tone while she pulled you closer to her by the leash. your lips automatically connect with hers as you both fall on the bed with you on top. 

you could tell with the way her kisses have gotten more desperate and how she has locked her legs around your waist that she was getting increasingly impatient. but being intoxicated has made rei feel just a tad bit more… adventurous tonight. perhaps doing something neither of you have tried before would be a nice and exciting end for the evening! why, rei has put you through such an emotional turmoil this entire night! she might as well boss you around more for the perfect ending. seeing as you eventually succumbed to her manipulation, maybe you were actually into it too. but she would have to ask that when she’s in her right mind… if she remembers.

rei puts her hands on your chest and pushes you back enough to part your lips only slightly. no words were exchanged, only deep, heaving breaths and a smirk from rei before she takes a tight hold of your leash and turns herself around.

“r-rei…?” you asked, completely baffled by the display. and the display being your girlfriend with her ass up and her face slightly turned towards you as she gave you a look. a look that’s supposed to make you do something but you couldn’t think straight because you couldn’t actually believe she was suggesting doing this! with a hard tug, rei was able to get you to force yourself out of your reverie and to actually move. either you could sit there looking like a dumb virgin who’s having sex for the first time and disappoint rei, or you could give her what she wants and what you’ve always secretly fantasized about for a long time.

of course, you’d choose to be a good girl. you’d be crazy not to. especially when rei was waiting so cutely!

another impatient tug from your girlfriend, and you were inside her. she was loud. louder than you have ever heard her before. she was grabbing the sheets underneath, burying her face on the pillows just to shut herself up but the new sensation proved to be too much and too good. so, instead of fighting it, rei allows her voice to fill the room freely. you put your hands on her hips, guiding her towards your cock. perhaps making her work for the pleasure annoyed her, seeing as she pulled harshly on your leash to get you going.

“c-come… ahh..! fuck me, please…” the desperation in her voice makes you work harder, thrust faster. rei kept pulling you down until your chest was touching her back and you were grunting right against her ear. it was getting harder and harder to be aware of what was going on, what with your mind creating a bigger haze in your head the longer this all goes on. rei’s voice was the one thing that kept you wide awake and grounded, along with the feeling of your skin slapping against hers. the dampness eliciting yet another sound that rang in your ears and fueled your desire even more.

you snuck one hand across rei’s stomach, gliding downwards slowly until you were met with her slick folds once again. your fingertips brush against her clit slightly and she arches, now actively chasing after her orgasm. “more…! more, baby…” rei pushes back against you until the entire strap was finally all the way inside her ass. she lets out a sweet moan when you shift your focus to massaging her clit. with how much she was whining now, she must be close. you were dizzy, disoriented even, but you still did your best to please your girlfriend so you thrusted faster.

“r-rei-yah… cum for me…” you managed to whisper against all odds. rei pulled you down again and you increased your pace once again, but it wasn’t even hitting her weak spot that pushed her over the edge. not the tight grip you had on her hip, not the way you pleasured her clit… but a deep, comforting kiss on her shoulder. as soon as your lips connected with her skin, rei let go and it was beautiful. she lost her hold on your leash, grabbing the sheets instead like her life depended on it. you pulled out of her hole before she got any further ideas to take it to the next level and quickly took off the strap, collapsing on the space next to her.

it takes a while for rei to recover but you knew she did as soon as you felt her arms around your waist. you turned to face her and laughed upon seeing a lazy smile on her face, “let’s go to sleep now, okay…?” you said, brushing her bangs away to place a kiss on her forehead. rei barely responded with a hum before snugging close to your chest and looping her leg around yours, too tired to even say “good night”.

despite your best efforts, you weren’t able to fall asleep as fast as your girlfriend did. you stared at her cute face for most of the night, still wondering if rei was really that drunk to turn into a completely different person. you knew that thinking about it would only give you a headache, especially after such an… eventful night. and so you held your girlfriend closer, leaving the problem to be dealt with at a later and much sober time.

[illubean]

Hi can I get a nsfw scenario where Chrollo gently seduces the reader during her first time and discovers she has a praise kink? I feel like this man would be literal god tier to have

Gentle Praise

Characters: Chrollo Lucilfer Type: NSFW, Oneshot, Fem!Reader, College!au because I'm a sucker for scholar Chrollo

mueheheh >:) reader is a lil shy and awko taco in this but not like cringe stereotypcial "omg im so shyy >.<" type also this ended up being super long thus turning a scenario into a full fic oopsies

Warnings: maybe ooc Chrollo idk, mentions of alcohol, he calls y/n princess a few times, praise (fem receiving), oral (fem receiving) unprotected p in v sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), reader discretion is advised

Chrollo isn't quite sure how you ended up in a setting like this. You were a pretty little thing with a look so elegant you look almost out of place at one of Uvo's rowdy house parties.

The bright LEDs, loud music and cheap beers didn't seem like your kind of scene. But there was no way for Chrollo to know that for sure.

You stood off to the side near the snack table, slowly nursing your cup of jungle juice that you didn't care much for. You had only taken it from your friend since you felt rude to turn it down. Said friend of yours was currently having the time of their life. They were plastered, dancing through the crowd of bodies and mingling with other drunk partygoers.

You're not too sure why you even came to this party. You much preferred small gatherings, and you don't even like alcohol all that much. You sighed, awkwardly scanning the room until your eyes met a pair of onyx orbs. They belonged to a face you knew all too well.

Chrollo Lucilfer.

He was a year or so older than you, a psychology major. You've seen him around campus and even though he was well known for mostly good reasons, your friends still teased you for finding him attractive. Perhaps you had stared at him for a bit too long though, seeing as a smirk made its way onto his face as he got up to approach you.

You panicked a little, looking around awkwardly seeking a quick escape. You placed your cup down but before you could flee, a voice came from in front of you.

"Hey Y/n."

Oh my god he knows my name.

You managed to spit out a response, feeling your hands get clammy as you looked into his eyes. You were completely and utterly helpless. This man managed to reduce you to nothing but a nervous, sweaty mess simply by just existing. It was kind of pathetic.

But the man responsible didn't think so. Chrollo thought it was cute how awkward you got, not being able to hold eye contact and wiping your hands on your clothes. He was no fool, and he knew exactly what effect he had on you. As a matter of fact he had this effect on quite a few people, though none of them stood out to him like you did.

He would be lying if he said he'd never thought of you in a romantic setting before. You were a cute (your choice) major who he often seen walking around with Machi. From what he's seen, you're not so much of a partier and prefer to focus on your actual studies than crazy frat gatherings. Maybe your more mellow and reserved nature is what drew him towards you.

"I didn't peg you as the party type," he says, breaking you from your previous daze.

"Oh, I'm not. My friend over there dragged me here."

You pointed into the crowd towards said friend, who was currently standing on top of a coffee table, a bottle of some sort of strong liquor in hand as the people around them cheered them on.

Note to self: make sure they get home safe

Chrollo chuckled at the deadpan look on your face after you saw how drunk your friend really was.

"Seems like they're having fun. Why don't we sneak off somewhere more quiet?"

You felt the tip of your ears burn at his offer before quickly nodding as he led the way.

Leaving the loud, hot and crowded living room AND spending time alone with Chrollo? Score!

He took one of your hands into his own, placing the other on the small off your back, leading you past all of the other partygoers and up a flight of stairs. He led you into a rather plain room, shutting the door before letting go of your hand and flopping down to lay on the bed.

"Is it ok that we're in here?" you ask, not wanting to disrespect someone else's house.

"This is my friend Shalnark's room but he's rarely ever home. I crash here sometimes so I don't think he minds."

At his words you hesitantly and awkwardly sit on the corner of the bed, facing away from Chrollo. You had no clue what to do now. The both of you were silent for a while, the light thump of the distant music being the only thing disturbing the atmosphere.

After a few moments pass, Chrollo sits up and moves closer to you, leaning in order to make eye contact.

"You don't have to be so awkward around me, y'know? I don't bite. Unless you want me to."

You look away in an attempt to hide your embarrassment from the man before you, who only chuckles and grabs both of your hands.

"You get flustered so easily, how adorable."

One of his hands reaches up to the side of your face to turn you towards him. His beautiful onyx orbs were glazed over in what you could only describe as a mix of admiration and lust.

Oh.

Chrollo began leaning closer, you doing the same. Naturally, your eyes started to close as the two of you got closer.

Closer.

Closer.

Then he stopped.

You sat there in anticipation for a moment but nothing came. You opened your eyes and furrowed your brows in confusion, only to find Chrollo already staring back at you with a small smile on his face.

"Is this okay?"

You gave him a frantic nod, a quiet yet rushed 'yes' leaving your mouth. At the confirmation the man pressed a searing kiss into your lips, gently caressing the apple of your cheek as you reached your arms out to embrace him.

His touch was gentle, yet burning with the passion of a thousand suns as he led you to lay across the bed. His large hands slipped underneath your shirt, softly caressing your lower back and waist as he continued his assault on your mouth.

You whimper softly into the heated kiss, feeling your skin practically burn where his body came in contact with yours. He pulled away from your lips, leaving you breathless as he carefully removes both your shirt and bra.

Chrollo takes a moment to take in the sight of you, panting and topless beneath him. He swore he would brand this image into the back of his mind for the rest of his days, never wanting to forget how beautiful you were in this very moment.

"God, you're gorgeous."

His hands begin roaming your body once again as he planted searing, open mouth kisses along your neck and collarbone. You couldn't help but writhe under his touch, soft but needy noises leaving your lips. His words had an affect so strong on you that was unexpected.

Chrollo's hand trailed down the front of your body, slipping underneath the waistband of your panties. Two off his fingers gently prodded at your entrance, before trailing back up to swirl around your clit. You clenched your thighs with a gasp, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck to pull him closer.

"Who knew my pretty girl would be so sensitive," he coos. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of you."

A violent shiver shot down your spine and into your core. God, if he kept talking like this you might just be able to cum from his words alone. You whimpered, arms tightening around him to pull him impossibly close. He chuckled sofly, planting a few kisses across your face before pulling away completely.

Before you could whine in protest, Chrollo pulled off the clothing left on your bottom half. He settled himself between your legs, wrapping his arms around your thighs as he faced your glistening heat. He looked up at your through his eyelashes before speaking again.

"You doing alright, princess?"

You nodded, face flushed at the nickname. But this didn't seem to be enough of a response for Chrollo.

"You're going to have to use your words, beautiful."

"Yes! God, yes just please...continue."

He chuckles at your desperation before licking a long, slow stripe up your pussy. This draws a trembled moan out of you, which only egged him on further. He buried his face impossibly deep into your cunt, going down on you like a man starved while you reached down to grip his hair. He eased two of his fingers into you as your body writhed with pleasure.

He pulls away from you momentarily, eyes flicking between the sight of his lithe fingers plunging into you and the flushed expression across your face. He felt your walls flutter around him which caused him to smirk up at you.

"You're getting close, aren't you? Go ahead, make a mess for me."

He dove back into your core, determined to make you cum. His lewd words sent you over the edge, having brought you to your first climax of the night. He sits up, making eye contact with you as he licks your juices off of his two digits.

He crawled back up the mattress so now you were both face to face, arms bracing himself on either side of your head to keep himself above you. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck and pull him down to meet you in a heated kiss. You could care less that the taste of yourself lingered on his lips. All you could think about is how Chrollo is all yours right now.

After kissing you for a few moments longer, he pulls away from you to hastily remove his clothes. Your eyes followed his movements, starting at his toned chest and moving down his abs. There was a light happy trail that peeked out above the waist band of his boxers. Finally, he hooks his fingers beneath it and drags them down his hips and oh.

He was huge.

Your eyes widened as you took in all of Chrollo's naked glory, his pretty cock standing thick and girthy. His balls sat below it, heavy and full.

How the hell would that ever fit?

The man you had been gawking at chuckles before gently prodding your entrance with his fat tip.

"Don't worry, you can take it. I know you can."

Your heart pulsed at this, heat rising to your cheeks as you look away from him, embarassed.

"Nervous, sweetheart?"

He leaned down closer to you to plant a reassuring kiss on your cheek, trailing them down your neck and along your collarbone.

"...this is my first time," you admit bashfully, moaning at the feeling of his lips on your skin.

"I'll just have to take extra care of you then."

He pushes himself into you, the plush walls of your heat stretching to wrap around him. He continues to kiss you through it as you pull your bodies impossibly close to each other. After sheathing himself completely into your pussy he begins to trust into you, slow and sensual.

He only picks up the pace after feeling your body relax, his thick shaft stretching you deliciously well and hitting all the right spots deep within you.

"God, you're perfect. It's like this pussy was made for me," he grunts, fucking himself into you deeper and deeper with each thrust.

It didn't take long for Chrollo to reduce you to nothing but a moaning, babbling mess. Not only could he lay pipe like no one's business, but his praising words sent you to heights you didn't know you could ever possibly reach. You felt your eyes well up with tears as you felt your climax approach for the second time that night.

"Chrollo, 'm gonna-"

Your words were cut off with the sound of your own moan, feeling Chrollo's dick brush against your g-spot. Your pussy quivers and clenches around him, sucking him back in every time he pulls away.

"Wait for me, sweetheart. Just a little longer, okay?"

You whine, digging your nails into his shoulder blades as he speeds up and fucks you with newfound vigor. You couldn't hold back any longer, a white hot flash hitting you like an ocean wave as you cried out Chrollo's name. The man cursed, feeling you clamp around him impossibly tight, bringing him to his climax as well.

You wrapped your legs around his hips, prompting him to burry himself deep in your womb. His cum floods your pussy, making you feel impossibly fullwhile you pant, coming down from your previous high. You let go of him, body going limp against the mattress, absolutely fucked out.

Chrollo pulls out slowly, watching his seed drip from your weeping cunt, breathing heavily at the sight of you. You press your hand against your bloated tummy, causing more of his cum to spill out of you. His cock twitches as this, and he wastes no time in mounting you again.

"I'm not done with you yet, gorgeous."

may or may not have gotten carried away with this OOPSIESSSS ;p

[niallsgoldhoop]

CHANNING

a harry styles one shot seven thousand words cw - sexual content, alcohol, harsh language, spitting, spanking, choking,

“I can’t believe you almost missed this.” Looking over at me, the dark eyes of my closest friend shine under the overhead lights. “I mean, come on— It’s Harryween.”

Using my pinky to perfect the edge of the color as I look in the mirror, I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Okay well I couldn’t let this costume go to waste.”

“Honestly.” Adjusting the straps of her angel wings, she laughs. “It’s perfect.”

Tucking a lock of wavy copper hair behind my ear, the green foliage sewed to the leather top last minute contrasts against my porcelain skin in the best way.

As soon as the decision was made— the costume just happens to fall into place.

It took me less than a day to buy the ivy from a local craft store along with the needle and thread. Deep in the back of my closet there was a black leather corset, the kind that fastened in a line of delicate hooks up the front, one that pushed my breasts up even higher than normal. Pairing that with the black leather skirt that hit the middle of my thighs seemed like the only option that made sense.

Less than two hours sitting on my couch and watching Succession later and all of the ivy had been sewn into place. After a little maneuvering I even managed to turn the broad, verdant colored leaves to a makeshift garter for each of my thighs.

Standing here in this bathroom and looking at my reflection, the extra ivy twisting from the top of the high topped canvas sneakers on my feet, I can’t help but smile at how good it looks snaking over my toned calves and thick thighs.

Poison Ivy.

“We better get down to the pit before it gets too crazy.” With a wide smile on her face, I laugh along with her as her fingers tangle with mine, pulling me along. “If we’re lucky we can get close to the barricade.”

Staying close behind her, the two of us manage to squeeze through the sea of people, finding a spot in the pit good enough that we would be able to get a decent view.

I’d been to plenty of shows before but it felt like nothing compared to the pit at a Harry Styles show.

Even as the show eventually starts, it’s clear that everyone got the memo to dress up and seeing the man of the hour— I’m so glad this is where I ended up.

The way he looks tonight should be illegal.

The way he’s looking at me?

Criminal.

Up on the stage, I make eye contact with him again as he passes by, my body heating under his gaze for what feels like the millionth time.

“God, he keeps looking at you!” The girl with two boas and a pink cowboy hat next to me says, her eyes wide. “What the fuck?!”

I feel my lips as they turn into a smirk, raising my eyes back to the stage to see him in front of me again.

Being so close to the barricade was an accident. Somehow, someway we managed to make out way closer and closer as the night went on. Dancing with everyone around us all night has been the best part of the show.

Well… That and seeing Harry dressed in the most delicate and detailed costume.

A clown with the prettiest cream fabrics and lace along with the most perfect moon and stars offsetting the lighter colors with their darkness. Even his cheeks have the rosiest hue— complete with little pearl drops along his cheeks and above his brows.

Nothing too scary, but something just sexy enough.

As he plays the song everyone longs to hear, this time when lyrics roll off of his heart shaped lips in front of me, there’s no mistaking it.

‘And when I sleep, I'm gonna dream of how you —‘

Eyes set on mine, he brings the tip of each finger to his flattened tongue, a tease of how he would certainly be able to please between the sheets.

Rolling my eyes as my best friend grabs my arm, her fingers pressing into the bare skin of my bicep, I find his gaze lingering before he moves on — deciding to entertain the other side of his stage before making his exit.

It feels like the scene of a documentary as the end of the show finally unfolds and people make their way from the stadium, a mass of people all looking for something to get them as high as the feeling Harry Styles gives them.

Laughing on the way out, I give the longest hugs that I can manage before slipping out into the night to find the small bar that has always welcomed me on a night like tonight.

A night when I’m not ready to dream quite yet.

Between the way the city never sleeps and the people out for their own version of tricks and treats, it feels like hours before I find what I’m looking for even if it’s not terribly far away from where I started.

Still dressed in the costume I threw together at the last minute, I don’t even find myself caring much about that. People from all across the city are dressed in various Halloween get ups— making it that much easier to blend in.

Even if the majority of my skin feels like it’s on display.

Smiling as I grip the door handle, it’s the large hand that covers mine that makes my heart race.

The anchor tattoo.

The mermaid.

The cross.

Turning on my heel, the same eyes that looked into mine in front of thirty thousand people trace over my face — over my freckles, over my cheekbones… Over my lips.

“It’s you.” Low and raspy, the accent drips off his lips as they turn into a sinister grin.

Rolling my tongue along the inside of my cheek, I watch his eyes follow the movement as I press through the door and let him follow.

“It’s me.”

The bar is small and dimly lit, the best place to come if you don’t want to be found.

I’ve come here for years, a product of begging to be lost.

Turning my back on him, I make my way to the bar and sit on one of the stools, smiling as the bartender makes his way down to me. I can feel Harry’s presence as he slides onto the stool next to me, his thigh brushing against the skin of my thigh that my skirt doesn’t cover.

“Hey, babe.” Leaning over the bar and kissing my cheek, the familiar face behind the bar places a shot glass on the counter before filling it with tequila and placing a lime along the rim, sliding it to me. “How was your night?”

My face turns towards the man next to me, his features sharper in the low light as he studies me carefully before I look away from him with a shrug. “It was okay.”

A laugh falls from his lips as he leans into me, his lips brushing against my ear. “Okay? Is that all you have to say about me?”

“Maybe it is.” My shoulders lift in a shrug as I turn to face him, reaching for the shot and taking it, watching Harry as his eyes focus on my lips where I taste the lime. “Why? Are your feelings hurt?”

Catching the attention of the person behind the bar, those mossy eyes hold mine as he orders. “Can I please have four shots of tequila?”

“You alright with this guy, Chan?” Looking between the two of us, his eyes narrow in Harry’s direction.

I laugh. “We’re good. You can pull your best friend shit somewhere else.”

Rolling his eyes, he pours the shots out for the two of us. Leaving a small bowl of salt and limes before making his back to the other end of the bar.

“Chan?” Harry’s voice is rich and smooth, just like you always hear about. “Is that short for Chandler?”

I shake my head as I bring my hand up and flatten my tongue before running it across the back of my hand, eyes locked on his. “No, it’s not.”

“Are you going to tell me?” Watching my every move, his green eyes watch as I pinch salt between my fingers and let it fall to my skin.

“Should I?” Once again, I flatten my tongue across the same spot and taste the salt before picking up the small glass of liquor, tipping it back and letting it burn down my throat. “What’s in it for me if I do?”

Tension unlike I’ve ever known settled between us.

Somewhere my brain tells me to be careful, but the reckless part of me says that sometimes things are just meant to happen.

The odds of running into a man like him are practically zero. Yet here I am with flushed skin from the warmth of his proximity.

I reach for the lime but Harry beats me to it, holding it between his thumb and forefinger and pressing the acidic fruit to my bottom lip, eyes begging for me to open for him.

“Suck.”

Wrapping my fingers around his wrist, I flick my tongue across the broad side of the lime before wrapping my lips around it and following the simple instructions.

“So you do know how to listen.” Harry pulls his hand away from me before dropping the fruit back into the empty shot glass.

Tilting my head back, I laugh.

Pressing my hand on his thigh and leaning forward, this time my lips brush against his ear. “I only listen when I feel like it.”

“Hmm.” He hums as he leans back, eyes looking over my body. “Do you feel like listening tonight?”

I shake my head as he reaches for my hand and pulls me in close, his eyes burning through me as his tongue darts out and presses to my skin along my forearm. Holding me in place and using his other hand, he easily sprinkles the salt along my heated skin before flattening his tongue and tasting it.

My breath hitches in my throat as his fingers tip the glass back, taking the lime and holding it out for me. Taking the hint, I bite onto it and lean towards him letting him take it from me with a smug grin on his face. His lips brush against mine for only a moment before he leans away from me, sucking the juice out of the fruit to chase the bitter taste of the liquor. “Come on, tell me your name.”

“I’ll tell you on one condition.” Squeezing his thigh, I brush my lips against the base of his throat, smiling when I feel him swallow thickly.

“And what’s that?” Gripping my chin, Harry tilts my head backwards and grins at me, his notorious bunny teeth biting into his bottom lip.

I roll my tongue along my bottom lip, watching as his eyes drop to my mouth. “You keep staring at my lips like you want them to do something.”

“Yeah?” His grip on my chin tightens. “What if I want to put them to work?”

I lick my bottom lip as my breathing shallows, giving Harry the opportunity to press his thumb into the small bowl of salt and brush it along my bottom lip. “I’d say you talk a lot for someone who hasn’t made a move yet.”

Harry’s eyes darken as he leans in, flicking his tongue along my bottom lip and tasting the salt. Reaching for one of the last two shots that he ordered, I watch as he pours the liquid into his mouth before using his thumb to pull on my bottom lip in a silent request.

Running my tongue along my lower lip and opening my mouth for him, I can’t even be bothered to be surrounded by other people or the sound that comes from the back of my mouth when he spits the liquor onto my waiting tongue.

Grabbing the lime and holding it against the skin of my throat, I’m almost embarrassed by the whimper that falls from my lips when he squeezes the wedge and his warm tongue catches the juice as it rolls down the column of my throat as I swallow.

“That’s right… Swallow for me, pretty girl.”

I can barely register his words before his lips are on mine and I can taste the flavor on his tongue as it finds mine, one of his hands sliding back into the waves at the nape of my neck and the other slipping just under the hem of my skirt and past the dark leaves of my costume.

He kisses me hard and with no abandon, as if he wants nothing more than to devour me. Leaning closer to him and hooking my finger into the waistband of his pants, I moan lightly when his teeth drag across my bottom lip.

“I need to get you alone.” He mumbles, his hand sliding along the inside of my thigh as his fingertips dance across my skin. “Need you on your knees while I watch those lips wrap around me.

I gasp when he drops his lips to my neck, nipping and sucking my skin. “There’s a private bathroom in the office— fuck, down the hall.”

Leaving the last shot, Harry takes my hand and pulls me towards the hallway that leads us in the right direction. With his arms wrapping around my body from behind, once we stop just long enough for me to punch in the code for the keypad I can feel him hard and ready behind me.

“If you don’t hurry, I’m going to take you right fucking here.” Nipping my earlobe, Harry plays with the hem of my skirt as his hand grips my throat and turns my head to the side, giving him more access. “How many ways are you going to let me fuck you, pretty girl?”

“Fuck.” Punching the last number into the keypad, when it beeps twice and I turn the handle, it opens easily.

We barely make it into the room and slam the door before Harry turns on me, pressing my body into the door and pressing his thigh between my legs, pinning me in place.

His mouth is on mine in a messy and hungry kiss all while his hands take their time exploring my body. From my breasts to my ass, not one place goes unnoticed by his skilled hands.

“This fucking costume.” Bringing the skin at the base of my throat between his teeth only to soothe it with his tongue, I shiver when he drags his finger along the top of the ivy, digging behind it enough to trace my skin. “People think that it’s so bright on stage and that I can’t see, but I do — I fucking see everything.”

Kissing under my jaw, his hands work the hooks that line the front of the top, one by one. “Tell me what you saw, Harry.

“You want to know?” Dragging his tongue across the swell of my breasts, I reach up and run my nails across his scalp, making him moan. “I saw you, dressed in this—“ Releasing the last button and letting the top of the corset fall to the floor, Harry cups both of my breasts and squeezes them, pinching each nipple at the same time. “I watched you dance, seeing your perfect ass sway from side to side like you didn’t give a single fuck that I was on that stage.”

Dropping down, Harry runs his tongue across the sensitive peak a moment before taking it between his teeth, pulling back enough to make me gasp. “I didn’t— I was more of a Niall girl—”

“Beautiful and bratty, huh?” His fingers find my throat as I smile, pressing into my skin just enough that my lips part on an exhale from the rush. “The only name that's going to come off your lips tonight is mine.”

“You seem so—.” My thoughts all but disappear when I feel Harry reach down and slip his hand under the tight material of my skirt after tracing the edge of the garter along my thighs.

Taking my nipple back into his mouth and teasing, he pulls back to look at me as his knuckle presses into my clit over the fabric of my underwear. “I seem so what, Chan? You won’t even tell me your name yet here you are — dripping down the inside of your thighs for me.”

“So full of yourself.” I finally get out. “Maybe you really are an arrogant son of a bitch, aren’t you?”

Pushing the fabric aside, Harry doesn’t even pace himself, sliding two fingers deep inside of me and making me cry out as his thumb circles my clit with so much pressure it borders pain. “You have no fucking idea.”

“Harry—“ I moan.

Curling his fingers, I feel like my body is on overdrive as he works an orgasm out of my body quicker than even I’ve been able to do it. . “Come on my fingers for me, baby. Let me feel it.”

Reaching out and gripping his shoulders, I can see the dark evergreen of his eyes just on the rim of his blown out pupils under the lights as his breath comes out shallow, the muscles under his skin flexing as he works me even harder through my orgasm.

Once my body loses all of the tension I tip forward into Harry’s arms with a laugh. “Jesus.”

“Yeah? That good?” He smirks as he wraps my hair around his fist. Once, twice. “Chan, I need to ask you something.”

I nod, my eyes the only things he’s focused on. “Now you want to ask questions?”

“I’m serious.” His nose brushes mine before he places a soft kiss to my lips, a complete contrast to the way he just coaxed a release from my body. “I need to know that if you don’t like something or you want me to stop that you’ll tell me, okay?”

I nod, pressing another soft kiss to his lips, taking my time to enjoy the way his tongue feels moving with mine. “I promise.”

“Are you sure?” His eyes burn into my features looking for any sign of hesitance.

“I’m sure.” Getting impatient, I nip his bottom lip. “Now, are you going to fuck me or stand here and be a gentleman all night? Which one is it?”

“Such a fucking mouth on you.” Flexing his hand in my hair and pulling tighter, there’s no option but for me to sink to my knees as Harry guides me. “I hope you know how to use it for more than just your attitude.”

Sitting back on my heels, I lick my lips. “Only one way to find out.”

“Go on then.” Nodding towards his straining cock beneath the fabric of his pants, he waits for me to undo the button. “Let me watch you choke on my cock so that you can’t talk back to me.”

When my hands finally free him, I whimper at the same time Harry’s groan fills the small office. Leaking with precome, I flick the tip of my tongue to collect the pearly drops.

“Pinch my thigh if it gets to be too much, yeah?” Using his hand that doesn’t still have my hair wrapped around his fist, he cups my jaw and runs his thumb across my cheek as I nod. “Be a good girl and open your mouth for me.”

Taking Harry into my mouth, I wish I could take a picture of how he looks from this angle. His head tilts back as a moan curves around his lips, I swear to god I’ve never seen anything sexier in my entire life. Pushing his hips forward slowly, I hollow my cheeks as I use my tongue to feel every single ridge and vein he has to offer me. My hands rest on his thighs as he drops his head down and meets my gaze.

“I’m going to go harder, is that okay?” With his cock still in my mouth, I nod. “Good fucking girl, good girl.”

Harry pushes his thighs even deeper, groaning at the feeling of his cock sliding down the back of my throat and making the muscles constrict around him from the intrusion. It feels like so much pressure and not enough at the same time as he repeats the action. Tears form in my waterline as I choke over and over, the tears spilling out onto my cheeks.

“See how good you're taking my cock down your pretty little throat?” Sliding his hand from my cheek, I moan around him as his hand rests across my throat. “Fuck, are you going to swallow for me?”

I choke once more, nodding.

“Good.”

It’s one word that precedes his release, one that I make good on my promise and swallow every drop of.

Once Harry pulls back, I take a deep breath and look up to him for only a moment before he pulls me to my feet and spins us around. Lifting me up and sitting me onto the desk, stepping between my legs and tracing his fingers over the edges of the ivy still wrapped around me.

Instantly his lips are on mine, groaning at his own tastes as he reaches between my legs and pushes the material of the leather skirt up, his fingers finding the sensitive nerve at the apex of my thighs as my hips roll forward to meet the friction.

“Are you this wet for me?” Lips ghosting over mine, his fingers find my nipple, pinching. “Do you want a taste?”

“Yes, please.” I say, looking into his eyes as he brings his fingers up, smearing the arousal across my bottom lip before kissing me again.

It’s impossible not to feel crazed as his hands fall to my thighs and push up my skirt, watching as it bunches up around my hips. “Lay back for me.”

Placing his hand in the center of my chest, I fall back onto the desk and whimper when I feel his warm lips leaving lingering kisses along the inside of my thighs.

“Look at you, so willing to let me do whatever I want with you tonight. I don’t even want to unwrap this pretty package you’ve put on for me.” His breath ghost across my center, the anticipation making me feel like I could explode at any minute. “I guess I got lucky— finding you on a night where you want to listen. A night where you want to be told what to do. Am I right?”

Harry doesn’t give the time to formulate an answer, his tongue immediately pressing into my clit before sucking it into his mouth. The action takes me by surprise as my back arches off the desk and my hands search for anything to hold onto.

Dragging patterns across the nerve, I cry out his name as he devours me like he’s never done before. As he releases my clit, his tongue finds my entrance and makes a languid path through my arousal before reaching the place I want him the most.

Up and down.

Side to side.

The stimulation makes my thighs shake as he tugs my hips toward him until my ass hangs off the desk and he pulls my dripping cunt even further into his face.

“Harry, fuck.” My hands flip, nails digging into the wood of the desk no doubt leaving marks. “Right there, fuck. I’ve never— never been so close so fast—“

Pushing myself up to my elbows, I let my head roll back as Harry rolls my clit between his teeth before pulling back, delivering a harsh slap to my outer thigh.

“Do you want to come for me?” Pressing a kiss to the inside of my knee, he raises a brow in my direction and smirks when I nod. “If you want to come for me— if you’re going to scream my name— you’re going to watch me as you do it. You’re going to watch me devour you like my last meal, do you understand?”

I bite my bottom lip and nod, resisting the urge to roll my head back when he immediately finds my clit and brings two fingers to my entrance, pushing them in and finding my g-spot.

“Harry.” His name falls off my lips like a prayer as he keeps his eyes on mine. “Please, please let me come. I need it, I—

I feel it as my body gives into the pleasure Harry so willingly gives.

My back arches, my breast pushing up into the air and not even a sound is able to pour from my mouth. Reaching out to grasp something and knocking a cup of pens onto the floor behind me, I cry out.

“Let everyone know who makes you feel this good.” Standing up, Harry looks down at me as he fists his cock in his hand. “I need to be inside of you right fucking now.”

“Condom?” I ask, still trying to catch my breath.

Harry reaches behind him and grabs his wallet, pulling one out and ripping it open with his teeth before rolling it on his length. “Tell me what you want? Hard? Soft?”

“Give me what nobody else can, don’t fucking hold back.” I grit out, feeling him run his cock along my clit. “Prove to me that you can fuck as good as everyone thinks you can.”

Harry smiles down at me only a moment before thrusting his hips forward, burying himself as deep as possible, making me scream out for him. “How’s that for a start? You’re so fucking wet for me.”

“Harry!” I cry. “I need it just like that, so deep.”

Pulling his hips back, Harry leans over to kiss me as he thrusts again, the power behind it pushing the desk forward an inch. “Yeah? You like feeling like this? Feeling so fucking full that you can’t stand it. Fuck, you take my cock so fucking well, so fucking well.”

“You’re so big, shit.” I moan, my head lolling to the side as his hands spread across my waist and grip me before slamming into me. “God. It feels so— so fucking good.”

“You can take it.” Harry moans above me, his eyes going back and forth between my face to where he disappears inside of me, watching as I take every inch of him. “It feels like this was made for me. So tight, so warm.”

“Please, I need more—“

At my words alone, Harry pulls out and pulls me off the desk and turns me around. Pressing his hand between my shoulder blades, he bends me over the desk before pushing my skirt back up around my waist and grips the waistband to hold me in place.

“Is this what you wanted?” Peering at him over my shoulder, I open my mouth on a breathless moan when his hand cracks across the left side of my ass — quickly followed by the right. “Did you need me to fuck you from behind so I could spank you like this? Huh?”

I feel Harry as he slowly pushes his hips forward, filling me. Listening to his moans as they bounce off the walls, my own whimpers mix with the sound. Gripping my hips, he takes his time as he works so slow — each inch more agonizing than the last before his hips press against my ass.

“Are you going soft on me back there?” Looking at him over my shoulder, I smirk when fire flashes behind his eyes. “Is the guy from the bar all of a sudden gone?”

Harry rolls his tongue along the inside of his cheek, shaking his head before raising his hand and delivering a harsh slap, one that’s sure to leave his handprint behind.

“I know you fucking like that, don’t you? You’re squeezing my cock like it’s the best thing you’ve ever felt.” Fingers digging into my hips, I moan when he pulls me back onto his cock and buries himself even deeper. “Tell me — tell me I'm the best you’ve ever had.”

Gripping the edge of the desk, I try to ground myself as Harry brushes against my g-spot with every single thrust, the pull in the base of my spine getting so strong that I don’t know how much longer I'll be able to hold out.

“I’ve neve been fucked like this.” I cry. “Nobody has ever, ever made me feel so fucking good.”

My eyes roll back as Harry presses his fingers against my clit and works them in time with his trusts, making me push up onto the tips of my toes in search of the release that isn’t far off.

“Like that, oh my god.” Panting, I meet him thrust for thrust as he fucks me harder and harder. “I'm so close.”

“Come on pretty poison girl, soak my cock for me.” Gripping the back of my neck, Harry presses me into the desk and gives me everything he has until my body gives up, releasing around him. “Fuck. you feel so good when you come around me like that. So damn good.”

Slowing his rhythm, Harry sweeps my hair off of my back and leans over me, pressing kisses up the curve of my spine. “Harry.”

“Yes?” His voice is soft as he presses a kiss to my shoulder. “You are incredible.”

“One more.” The words fall from my lips even though I know that I'm so fucked, that I know I won’t last much longer. “I want one more.”

Stopping his movements, I feel Harry chuckle. “You think you can handle me again?”

“I want to see you.” I say, my eyes darting toward the door of the bathroom. “Let me watch you come undone over me.”

Harry grins as he pulls out, the loss of him more than I expected. “I never would have guessed the woman in the crowd would be able to fuck me so well.”

“You shouldn’t underestimate people, Harry.” I walk in front of him, listening to the way he moans when he sees my own release dripping down the inside of my thighs. “Do you like what you see?”

“Fuck.” Running his hand through his curls. He looks freshly fucked and I can’t wait to finish him. “Let me see you.”

Stepping into the bathroom and turning on the light, the sleek and modern design is perfect. Turning, Harry steps close and finds my lips with his, taking his time to kiss me as his hands once again wander my body.

When he takes my nipple into his mouth, I let my head tilt back. ���Come on. Give me what I want.”

“So fucking needy.” Harry responds, turning me around and pinning me against the counter. “Bend over, you pretty slut.” Pressing my ass out and shaking it from side to side, I cry out when Harry strikes his palm across each cheek. “How many?”

The tone in his voice makes me moan. “Fuck.”

“I said—“ Cracking down his palm again, he steps up behind me, pushing just his tip inside of my throbbing center. “How many.”

“Until you think I’ve had enough.”

I arch my back when he thrusts forward, his hand connecting with my ass even harder. “What if I never get enough. huh?”

“Harry—“

“What if I'm starting to think one night isn’t enough for me?” He thrusts so deep and I’m so sensitive that it feels so good, I clench around him. “Fuck, when you grip my cock like that I never want to leave — I could fuck you all damn night.”

I moan as I meet his gaze in the mirror, looking at the tattoos on his arms as he slides his hands up my back, gripping my shoulders and pulling me back onto his cock. “Don’t say that.”

“What? Don’t say that I want you?” Bringing his palm against my skin, his gaze locks on mine. “This— fuck, this isn’t normal.”

“What?” I ask, biting my bottom lip and letting my head fall forward. “What isn’t—”

“Feeling like this after one night.” Thrusting into me so hard that I scream, I feel tears in my eyes over the way my body feels ready to give into him again. “I’ve never had sex like this, never fucked anyone this good.”

I let my head fall to the side as my cheek presses against the cool counter, the sound of our bodies meeting echoing through the small room. “That’s because you've never been with someone like me before.”

“Fuck—“ Harry is relentless as he searches for his release. “I need you to come for me again, please.”

Begging me, his eyes are hazy as he looks at me, gaze looking with mine until with one thrust, my body shatters around his. “Harry!”

“Oh, shit—“

I watch as his head rolls back and his body stills for just a moment before his hips slowly guide in and out of me, riding us through the orgasms we’ve given each other.

“There you go, pretty girl.” Running his hands up and down my back. I take a deep breath. “You’re so fucking good. So good, Chan.”

I take a deep breath as I try to center myself. “Harry, that was—“

Resting his forehead between my shoulder blades, his warm breath skates across my skin. “I didn’t know it would be like that when I saw you tonight, the woman dressed with ivy across her body— that the vines would wrap around me and pull me in.”

“I don’t know why you’re the surprised one.” I say, wetting my lips. “You’re the one that showed up here. How?”

Harry pulls out, a whimper falling from my lips at the loss of him. “I don’t know… I wanted to get a drink somewhere where I wouldn’t feel like Harry Styles — I wanted to go somewhere small and local.”

“And you ended up here?” I ask, looking up at him from under my lashes.

Grabbing a hand towel, Harry presses a kiss to my temple before running it under warm water and hoisting me onto the counter, laughing as I wince.

“I ended up here.” He smiles as he reaches his hand between my legs, kissing me when I gasp as he runs the warm cloth over my sensitive clit.

We both look at each other and it’s almost like Harry can’t help it when he leans down to kiss me, taking his time as his hands come up to cup my cheeks.

“Let’s get you dressed, okay?” He speaks the words against my lips but makes no move to let me off the counter to grab my top. “Maybe in a few minutes.”

I laugh. “Come on, we have to get out of here before someone comes in.”

“I hope they do.” kissing down the side of my neck, Harry rests his forehead against my collarbone. “I need everyone to know I was with you — that you’ve been fucked you harder than you ever have in your life.”

Resting my hand in the middle of his chest, I push him backwards and hop off the counter on shaky legs, Harry laughing as he rests his hands on my hips to guide me back into the office.

“Here, let me help you.” It’s a sweet gesture to see a man like him help me back into my top, watching as he uses all of his concentration to make sure every hook gets fastened properly while he doesn’t disturb the leaves.

“Thank you… For tonight.” I say, looking over his features. “I really had a good time.”

Harry smiles and brushes a lock of hair from off my face. “I did too.”

I give him one last smile, reaching for the door handle.

Before I turn it, Harry reaches for my hand, turning me and pressing me into the door one last time, finding my lips with his own.

Unlike most of the kisses tonight, this one is so slow, so gentle.

“I know I'm asking a lot, but I need to be able to see you again — I don't know what my brain is doing to me, but I just know that I need it.” The look in his eyes is so full of hope, so soft. “I’ll understand if you say no.”

“Here.” I hold my hand out, hoping he gets the hint.

When he does, he takes his phone out of his pocket and hands it over. I easily put my name and number in before giving it back to him, watching his lips curl up with a grin.

“Channing?” Looking from his phone to me, I smile as my hand grips the doorknob and finally push it open.

I wink at him as I step out into the hall. “It’s me.”

He steps forward and grips my hip one last time. bringing his lips down to mine.

“It’s you.”

💖

[talaok]

Heyy, first, I'd like to say that I really love your writing, keep it up!

And I'd like to make a request, I know we all went crazy over Pedro on SNL (he looked so handsome!!!), and I would love to read a Pedro x Reader behind the scenes of the show, her watching, supporting, and being proud of Pedro, and then the two of them going out together to the SNL after party, dancing, kissing, enjoying each other's company, very fluffy, and a bit of smut at the end?

Pairing: Pedro pascal x f!reader

warnings: very very faint allusion to smut

a/n: he did look handsome and thank you so much love <3 (and yes this ask skipped the line bc as always it wouldn't have made sense for me to post it in two weeks)

It was incredible how nervous he was. He'd done this already, and yet he was acting like a kid like at his first recital.

"you're gonna do amazing baby" you promised, standing on your toes to kiss his cheek "Now go out there and have fun"

His eyes anxiously danced around your face

"my heart's beating so fast" he huffed a laugh

"I know" you smiled, stoking his cheek "but remember, you have nothing to be scared of, you've done this already, and you were amazing at it, so just relax"

"ok" he took a breathy sigh "yeah, you're right. I can do this"

"that's it" you grinned, but before you could say anything more he was kissing you like it was the last time he ever could.

"Pedro?" his assistant's voice brought you back to reality "It's time"

You smiled as he leaned away.

"I love you" he promised, the honesty of that statement shining through his eyes

"I love you too baby" you murmured "Now go!" you said, giving him a playful push "Break a leg!"

__ __ __

As you already knew, everything went perfectly smoothly, he and Bad Bunny were an amazing duo, and you could just see how well they got on even with the cameras off.

The monologue was perfect, and you didn't miss any opportunity to cheer and laugh every time you could, but as much as you'd loved it... nothing could top the Ms. Flores sketch.

You loved it last time, and you loved it this time too.

Even just seeing him in the costume made you laugh (you had filled your camera roll with photos of him) but then combined with the actual sketch... it was just perfection.

You almost didn't want him to change, you kind of liked the constant teasing of calling him mama and telling him just how sexy he was, but unfortunately, he did change.

Imagine what a look that must have been for the afterparty instead of that old shirt he wore everywhere.

But then again, considering how much he was sweating from the dancing maybe it was a good call.

"thank you for tonight" he spoke over the music, as the song changed to a slower one "I couldn't have done it without you sweetheart"

"oh stop" you rolled your eyes, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as you swayed to the music "You would have been amazing regardless." you smiled "I'm surprised they haven't offered you a role as a permanent part of the cast yet"

"No I'm serious" he laughed softly "I don't know if I would have gotten on that stage without you"

"baby..." you cooed, touched by his words "I love you. I'm always gonna be there for you"

"and me for you" he murmured, before kissing you.

You could only vaguely feel everyone around you and hear the music, it was just you and him.

He always made you feel like that.

"I've just realized I was so anxious for tonight that I haven't told you how beautiful you look yet," he said, making you blush faintly.

"You look beautiful too" you murmured, a mischievous smirk pulling at your lips "Not as much as you did when you were dressed as Ms. Flores, but you're not so bad"

He couldn't help but laugh at that

"You'll never let that go, will you?"

"nope" you chuckled, earning another kiss, this time deeper and much... hungrier.

You whimpered into his mouth as his hand on your back started traveling dangerously low.

"baby-"

"you're gorgeous sugar"

you bit down a grin at that

"I know that look"

"what look" he silenced you with another kiss "I'm not doing anything" he breathed, his lips now on your neck

And as much as you weren't completely conscious of everyone around you, a part of your brain still was.

"I think it's time we go home baby" you whispered

"yeah" he nodded, meeting his lips with yours again "Yeah I think it is"

[shuenkio]

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐲 | S.Jy 💨

Paring: Idol!Jake x idol!male reader | Genre: Soft smau.

Synopsis: You were so careless to the point you're stuck in a bathroom with Jake.

Cw: Cursing, whimpers, masturbate, mentioned of cum.

Non proof read 100% | wc: 1.7K

Eng is not my 1st language.

CRD to the owner of the pic and dividers. [Sadika]

A/N: I wrote this while my head is spinning. So there'd be a lot of grammar wrong, awkward part and explanation please bare with meh :<

Having finished your day earlier than the other members was the best blessing you've ever wished for. You will be able to do anything you want at the dorm. After you are done with your shooting scene for the MV, you immediately head home without any worries.

You entered the dorm room, and silence enveloped you. The usual campus noise faded away, leaving a space untouched by sound. Each step you took was absorbed by the quiet, amplifying the room's stillness. Dragging your feet to your own personal room after those roommate bunk bed days was quite a relief since you've now been able to have your own space and some privacy.

Settled down with all your stuff, you had the urge to wash up before anyone came back later. Once you were freshened up from the shower with the towel wrapped around your hair, you decided to wait for the members, which included Jake, Jungwon, and Sunoo, to have dinner together.

You take out your phone as usual to look up the fancams for the music show yesterday since it's one of your hobbies. Then you stumbled upon Jake's fancams that the fandom had gone crazy for these past few days, and they've actually gone viral on TikTok so suddenly.

As a result, you click on one of his fancams that has the most insane views. You keep watching and watching, zooming in and out, unable to catch anything special, but one thing you've noticed is that it's probably his manly, craziest, veiny hand that makes social media almost die.

"Oh, so everyone has gone crazy for these? Damn, mine can't even half of him... But he kind of looks sexy, i guess." You murmur to yourself, looking at your slimy, skinny wrist, before you zoom in accidentally on the middle part of his, where the dance move was, he's thrusting.

Nevertheless, oblivious to you, someone else had been watching you the entire time from behind your back at the back of the couch you were sitting on. The moment was such a coincidence that he caught your red hand watching his sexy and hot fancam, and he might get the wrong idea of you.

"Did you say I'm sexy~ m/n?" Jake laid down lower as his hot breath whispered, brushing against your earlobe with such a tone. Who knew Jake had been there, watching you in silence, amusing you with your secret hobby? In return, you jumped before falling from the couch by the sudden appearance of him.

"What—the—... ouch, Jake Hyung?" Rubbing the sensation on your hip slowy from the sudden fall, as you look up to see it was Jake who did it.

"Yep, mate, it's me. Who else? Care to explain it to me?" Jake chuckled at your shocked reaction, and your jaw dropped open. The fact that he knows you've just realized what he meant by that makes the tension even worse.

"I can explain. Hear me out first, Hyung!"

"Okay, okay, but I won't believe it if you say you didn't like mine."  It was so embarrassed and such a shame that Jake caught you in such a bad moment like this, and if there's anyone else beside him, the scene would be twisted into another story, but gladly nobody else, it's just Jake and you in the dorm while the other two, Jungwon and Sunoo, were stopped by the ice cream store for the late-night snacks.

You explain with your heart racing, stumbling almost every word to make it a sentence, which makes Jake even more amused by your kind of behavior like this, and he likes it.

However, once you finish, you thought you'd already escaped by told Jake that he couldn't tell anyone else that it's just between you and him, even if it was just a coincidence and bad timing, but you fear his mouth would slip, and boom, the members would tease you to death, especially the one and only Maknae.

But in order to keep his mouth shut like a zipper, Jake has to make a condition, and in return, he wants something back from you. Hearing those deals, you didn't care about the favor he wished for; all you needed right now was to make it as clear as the night sky in the summer. So finally, you accept without any hesitation, even if Jake says you haven't even heard of him yet, but you urge him to make it happen, no matter what.

"You still want to do it, boy? I don't even open my mouth yet,  mate."

"I'm doing anything; I don't care. Just say the magic words, Hyung. Just say it, and I'll do it right away." Hearing the enthusiasm in your voice and the urge to willingly do anything got the best of him as his gaze slowly turned into something you couldn't imagine, from a shy expression to the dark side of him.

"Since you are eager to do it, take a bath with me then."

"I beg your pardon." Are you hearing that right? Bathe with what and who? What in the world gave him the idea of showering together? And imagine the butt naked body of his, and you wouldn't think that would be so damn awkward as hell.

"Come on, don't make me wait long; just shower again; you're sweating, boy!!" He said as he moved to the bathroom without faze. His voice was alluring through the hallway before you even noticed that you were indeed sweating. You wanted to decline, but you set it up by yourself, willing to do anything. Now you have stumbled into your own trap. Left with no choice, you make your way into the bathroom room too, with an unexplained expression mixed with anxiety and excitement.

Closing the door behind you before you take the sight In front of you, Jake was already naked while he was taking off his undies. A heavy, deep sigh left your chest and covered your messy, flushing face with your tiny fingers. Now you're stuck in a situation you can't turn back. Seeing you cover your face, Jake couldn't help but ask.

"Why did you cover your face? Don't be shy; we're men, right?" Jake then walks to the spot where you were standing before taking your hand to the bathtub as he takes off your clothes for you. But you stop him when he's about to remove your undies—

"Hyung,  let me ask something first? "I know you don't like showering with anyone, not even Jay Hyung, but why me?" You state that, making him freeze for a while. It's actually caught him off guard when you did know him quite well.

"Well, tbh, seeing you take a shower with another member piss me off a little," Jake responded with his arms folding around his chest, slightly showing his jealous side.

"Wait—that's mean you know I've shower with Sunoo Hyung? No way, I thought you were already  asleep."

"Well, not anymore and forget it; just shower with me; it's my turn to have you." I couldn't wait any longer. In a swift motion, your clothes were thrown away by him across the floor as he took you to bathe with him in one bath tub, and yes, it's not too wide to move.

"Um, alright, possessive, lol." You reply back in a dry tone, yet deep down, you just want to scream and yell out of your thoughts at the sight in front of your eyes right now. It's super distracted, but it's such a view to not look at. His dickey was not great with the length, but it's definitely fat in the girth. Everyone is uncut, and so was he.

It was not too big or too small, but the urge you had to grab it and feel it was crazy. Seeing your eyes glancing on his lower middle leg up and down like that, Jake's smirking before licking his plump dry lip as he mutters out.

"Enjoy the view? Or you want to feel it?" Another red-handed moment. You were speechless when he caught you in the scenes again, but this time, you can't explain.

"I never knew you were this freaky Jake, Hyung."

"I still have a man body at the end of the day, and actually, we humans feel the emotion so called 'horny', isn't that right?" Jake placed his back as he lay against the wall before closing his eye. He enjoyed the warm bath, and his dickens were slightly hard and visible on the surface. Oh my, it's twitching.

"Lord, have mercy" look away, embarrassed by the unashamedly carefree side of Jake. How can he, oh, well, you just realized he's from Australia? Later on, you feel the water is splashing nonstop before you take a peek at Jake and see him... masterbation. This is the death of you.

"Jake hyung, I'm still in the bathtub. Aishh," you said, swallowing hard while looking over to see. He wrapped his palm around his shalf and stroking them, and eh, the foreskin moving up and down gave you the same aroused heat in your dick too.

"Sorry, ma'boy, but NGh, it's too late to stop it. It's feel good. I feel horny." He said in the middle of his breath, gasping for air from the heart racing jerk off. As he continues faster, you can't help but take a full view of his masterbation; the grip on his dick was so full, so tight, and so hot. The idol Jake that everyone knows, at the end of the day, he's human in any way.

Jerking off is normally something that happens, isn't it? The water started to get hot from the intense moment between you and him, especially the one who enjoys himself. The hot view soon later got the best of you before your dick also got hard, begging for a touch too, but you didn't.

You love to edge yourself and continue to watch your hyung jerk off happily.

"Motherfucking shit too hot, I'm coming—m~n" Spare no more times, Jake's balls were clenching in unison as a wave of white stuff exploded out of his dick, along with the grunting noise out of his mouth, from the pleasure.

"That was guuuood m~n...fuck... I can't move my hand m~n can you please help me clean? Woah" After all of those sessions of masterbation, he collapsed on the spot from exhaustion. The cum stained that was splashed on your fingers is still hot, and the leaking of his dick continued to drip from the big load earlier.

"Very... Freaky Jake Hyung very" And little did you know, you were pre-cum by the scenes too. 

🗣️ Please mind my English! ><

🗣️ Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

Open request for Jay ff !!

[foreverisntenough]

‘Movie Night’

Summary: If only life was like the movies. For years, you’d flirted with the idea of something more with Trent, your brother’s best friend.  You'd always danced around the edges of something more with him, sharing flirty moments that felt like scenes straight from the cinema. You had been silently desperate for the main character of your life’s film to finally get the boy but you knew moments like that were saved for Hollywood. The lines were clear; you were always going to be his mate’s little sister. So what happens when you go off script? In a whirlwind of passion, secrets, and stolen moments, you're left wondering: will you and your brother's best friend get the happy ending you've been waiting for, or was it never meant to be more than a fantasy? 

Index:

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI [ smut, slight mention of dv, loss of a parent, drinking - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series!

Disclaimer: No one is crazy about him atm, me included, so this is strictly for my readers and my readers only. I don’t condone his behavior at all -Just let me finish out this fic please. Don’t come for me. I’m only a girl with a google doc whose spent hours upon hours and days on end on this fic

Chapter 11 - 'She's Something' | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 11.3k

The early morning light filtered through the blinds in soft streaks, casting a warm glow over the room. The house was silent, the kind of stillness that only exists just before the world begins to wake. You stirred awake, blinking against the gentle light, and for a moment, you simply watched Trent sleep. His features were relaxed, his breathing steady, his arm lazily draped across the bed where you had been moments before. The sight made your chest ache, but in the sweetest way. He was perfect. Slipping out of bed as quietly as you could, you padded to the kitchen, the cool tiles beneath your feet making you shiver slightly. The space was dimly lit, the morning sun not quite reaching it yet. You moved with purpose but also with care, opening drawers and cabinets softly, grabbing what you needed to make breakfast. The sound of eggs cracking broke the silence, followed by the gentle hiss of butter melting in the pan. You whisked the eggs, your movements rhythmic and calming, the act of cooking grounding you in the moment. The scent of fresh coffee brewing mingled with the faint, lingering traces of Trent’s cologne still on your skin, making you smile. You set the table quietly, plates arranged just so, and folded a napkin absentmindedly. As you reached for the coffee pot, pouring it into two mugs, you felt a presence behind you. Before you could turn, warm arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against a solid chest.

“Wow,” Trent murmured, his voice deep and gravelly from sleep. “I thought I’d get a cuddle this morning, but this…” He rested his chin lightly on your shoulder. “This might be better.” You tilted your head back to look at him, his eyes still half-lidded but shining with warmth. 

“I was hungry,” you teased, laughing softly as his hands tightened slightly around your waist. “Last night was genuinely a work out.” You giggled. 

“Yeah?” he said, his voice soft but laced with amusement. He leaned in, pressing his lips lightly to your temple, his warmth chasing away the slight chill from the morning air. “You look so good in the morning, you know that?”

“I look the same,” you replied, a small laugh escaping as you turned back to the pan, flipping the eggs.

“Nah,” he countered, his voice dropping lower as his fingers brushed lightly against the curve of your hip. “You don’t. You’re just… soft. Sexy but softer,” he added, his tone earnest and just a little teasing. You rolled your eyes, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face. 

“You’re just saying that because I made breakfast and you’re  trying to make sure some’s for you,” you said, though your voice lacked any real conviction. He hummed in response, his lips brushing against the nape of your neck. 

“No,” he whispered, his breath sending a shiver down your spine. “I mean it.” For a moment, you just stood there, wrapped in his arms, the warmth of the stove in front of you blending with the heat radiating from him. “But some is for me though, right?” He asked cheekily and you hummed in response just the same as he did before you both fell into a comfortable silence. The quiet intimacy of the moment felt like a gift, something that needed no words or grand gestures to make it feel special. As you moved to plate the eggs, Trent turned you gently, guiding you to face him. 

“Leave it,” he said softly, taking the spatula from your hand and placing it on the counter. “Breakfast can wait a minute. C’mere, baby.” He leaned down, brushing his lips against yours in a slow, deliberate kiss that made the room seem even quieter, the world beyond it fading entirely. When he pulled back, his thumb brushed lightly over your cheek as if he couldn’t help but touch you.

“You really think I look good in the morning?” you asked shyly, your voice barely above a whisper. He smiled, his gaze locked on yours, full of something deeper than just affection. 

“I think you look perfect,” he said simply, his sincerity wrapping around you like a second set of arms. And as the morning light poured in, soft and golden, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, this was what happiness felt like—quiet, warm, and impossibly sweet. 

The morning sunlight continued to spill softly through the windows as Trent sat at the kitchen table, quietly devouring the breakfast you’d made. You stood nearby, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve of his shirt you had on, feeling a little shy as you tried to muster up the courage to ask him something. It felt strange—awkward, even—to invite him into something so meaningless yet so personal to you. But after the night you’d shared and the ease that had returned between you, it felt like the right thing to do.

“Hey baby…” You paused. “Would you maybe… Like…“ You took another deep breath in an attempt to try to sound more sure of yourself. “Do you want to go for a drive with me?” You finally asked, your voice hesitant. Trent paused mid-bite, looking up at you with a slight tilt of his head, encouraging you to keep going. “You’re off, and I usually like to go to Formby.” You stumbled over the words, feeling ridiculous as they tumbled out of your mouth. Trent set his fork down, his warm gaze settling on you. 

“Yeah? What do you do there?” he asked, curious and gentle, his mouth quirking up in a half-smile. You felt your cheeks warm as you struggled to explain. 

“I don’t know… I just go. It’s grounding. It helps me reset, I guess,” you admitted, unsure if he’d understand. But he didn’t push for more.

“I’ll go regardless, pretty girl,” he said with a playful smirk, “just was curious.” You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face, his easy going nature putting you at ease. Slowly, you stepped closer, wrapping your arms around him from behind, your chin resting on his shoulder. He was warm, solid, and smelled faintly of the cologne he’d sprayed on after his shower. Trent leaned back into your embrace, his hand resting on your arm as he finished chewing. “You’re good,” he murmured reassuring you, his voice soft. “Okay, if I finish breaky first?” You hummed in agreement, the sound of his voice and the comfort of his presence washing over you. Then, to your surprise, Trent turned slightly in his chair, gently tugging at you. Before you knew it, you were perched on his lap, his arms wrapped securely around your waist. “Perfect. Now I can eat and hold you,” he teased, grinning as he grabbed his fork again. You laughed, tucking your head into the crook of his neck

 “Multitasking at its finest,” you joked back, though your heart was swelling with how easy and affectionate he was with you. For a moment, you stayed like that—wrapped up in each other, the world outside the house feeling like it didn’t exist. You’d never imagined that someone like Trent, someone so chaotic yet grounding, could fit so seamlessly into your quiet moments like this.

“Alright,” he said after a final bite, placing his fork down with a soft clink. He kissed the side of your head, his lips lingering just long enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Let’s get to Formby, yeah?” You smiled against his shoulder, nodding. 

As you stood in Trent’s room, rifling through the bits of clothing he’d left scattered on the bed, you came to a realization—you didn’t have anything to put on. A Yves Saint Laurent mini dress was hardly something that you wanted to sit on a cold north western shoreline in. You sighed, holding up one of Trent’s jumpers, oversized and impossibly soft, the faint scent of him clinging to the fabric.you shook your head trying to get away from your nagging thoughts. 

“If I wear this, will I look as cool as you?” you teased, turning to face him with a playful smile. Trent glanced up from his phone, his brow raising as he looked you over. 

“Nah… probably not,” he replied with a sly grin, leaning back against the doorframe with his arms crossed. Feigning a look of hurt, you clutched the jumper to your chest.

“Wow,” you said, your voice dripping with mock offense. He chuckled and pushed off the frame, walking over to you. 

“I’m kidding. You’re much cooler, baby,” he admitted, his grin softening as he watched you pull the jumper over your head. You tugged it into place, the hem hitting your thighs as the sleeves engulfed your hands.

“I like this though,” you murmured, adjusting the neckline and pulling it close to your skin. It was comfortable, yes, but it was more than that. It felt like him, and you didn’t want to take it off. “Can I wear it…just to the beach?” You asked. Trent hummed as his gaze lingered on you for a moment, his expression shifting into something softer. 

“Course. It suits you,” he said quietly. You smiled at his words but couldn’t ignore the thought that gnawed at the back of your mind. You wanted to keep it, to have this piece of him to carry with you. But it wasn’t like with anyone else—this wasn’t some casual boy whose clothes you could wear home without question. If you showed up at your house in Trent’s jumper, Jack would undoubtedly have something to say. Trent must’ve seen the flicker of hesitation in your eyes because he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently tug at the oversized sleeve. “I know, pretty girl. We’ll figure it out,” he offered simply. You wanted to ask ‘how?’ so badly, to use this one small thing to help define and clarify your entire relationship. The weight of reality had settled over you like a shadow, the stark reminder of everything complicated about the two of you neatly tucked between moments when it felt like things might finally be working.

“Okay,” you whispered softly, your fingers curling around the hem. You looked up at him, his dark eyes holding yours in a way that made your chest ache. Slowly, you nodded.  As you smoothed down the fabric, Trent reached out and tilted your chin up gently with his fingers. 

“Okay” he murmured, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, “day by day. Yeah?” He knew that this was more than just some silly jumper. He understood how much this hurt but that’s all you could do, go day by day. To rush it wasn’t smart. It didn’t make sense. You rolled your eyes, your heart lighter despite the weight of everything else. 

“Obviously,” you teased, your voice softer than before. And with that, you grabbed your bag, ready to leave pulling the sleeves over your hands feeling like it was something far more significant than just a piece of clothing. Something that tethered you to him, even as the rest of the world threatened to pull you apart.

The beach stretched out in front of you, a vast expanse of cold, pale sand meeting the endless blue-grey of the sea. The wind was brisk but refreshing, carrying the tang of saltwater and the soft cries of distant gulls. You and Trent sat on a low sand dune, the world around you quiet save for the rhythmic crash of waves breaking against the shore. You pulled his jumper over your hands again and dug your barefeet into the sand. Trent shifted beside you, his hands buried in his pockets for warmth. He glanced at you and opened his mouth…

“So, what do—” He began to speak. You stopped him gently. 

“T, it’s okay.” your voice was soft but certain. He furrowed his brow, confused for a moment, and you turned to look at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “I know you say I yap during movies,” you teased lightly, “but you yap during moments.” You cooed gently. His mouth curved into a sheepish grin, your voice was quieter now, almost carried away by the wind. “It’s okay to just sit here and breathe.” You gestured to the horizon with a tilt of your head. “Be in the air, take in the sights, really listen to the sounds. Just… reset, you know?” Trent didn’t respond right away. He turned his attention back to the waves, the tension in his shoulders easing as he absorbed your words but you felt like you needed to explain yourself. “I just need to sit sometimes,” you added, pulling your knees to your chest and hugging them close. Your gaze swept over the sea, the endless ebb and flow grounding you in a way nothing else could. You’d come to the seaside once a month at least since your mum passed. Your dad used to bring you. You wouldn’t talk much but it just gave you two the space you so desperately needed. But even after he stopped going, you kept coming. It felt like home, a place you needed when your house at the time felt so empty.  Trent shifted closer, his knee brushing against yours. He didn’t speak, and for once, neither did you. The silence wasn’t empty; it was full—full of the crash of the waves, the rustling of the grass behind you, and the occasional whistle of the wind. You tilted your head to glance at him, and his profile was soft against the muted light of the overcast sky. His lips parted slightly, as if he were about to say something, but then he stopped himself. Instead, he leaned back on his hands, letting his eyes drift back to the horizon.

“Reset,” he echoed quietly, almost to himself. You smiled to yourself, turning back to face the waves, letting the cold air bite at your cheeks as the two of you simply sat there. The weight of the world felt lighter, here on the sand dunes, just the two of you, sharing a moment without needing to fill it with anything more than what it already was. The quiet enveloped you again, the wind whistling softly through the dunes, but soon Trent’s question broke the stillness. “Baby… what did your mum want you to tell me?” he asked gently, his voice careful but steady, his eyes fixed on you. Your breath caught in your chest, and you felt your heart skip. He felt it last night, you felt it last night, those three words looming. That lingering feeling that stemmed from the book you tried to give him when you attempted to end it all. Of course, he’d ask. It was ominous in a way. Your mum urging you to ‘tell Trent.’ But last night, your first date, you both could feel the words rising in your throats, they were desperate to come out. The love was so obviously there and sleep hadn’t cleared any of those feelings away. Trent had a way of seeing through you, even when you tried to bury things deep. The truth lingered just behind your lips, but now didn’t feel like the moment to release it.

“Erm…” you stalled, looking down at the grains of sand shifting beneath your hands as you thought. “I think she just wanted me to be brave with you,” you finally managed, your voice soft and unsteady. “I don’t think it was anything too specific.” It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn't the truth, and you both knew it. You loved Trent for years and long before this happened even your mum could see that. Trent just couldn’t be the one to cross that line. He couldn’t do it to Jack, he couldn’t put you in that position, he needed you to do it, needed to hear you say it. The look in his eyes told you he could see right through the veil of your words, but he didn’t press. Instead, he hummed softly, acknowledging the lie but choosing to let it rest for now.

“I remember once,” you began, your voice somehow even quieter now, as if sharing a memory you rarely spoke about, “I told my mum about how nice you were to me one afternoon. We were teenagers, and you bought me a hot chocolate while at a christmas market.” You smiled faintly at the memory, as Trent’s thumb brushed over your arm absently. “She asked me if I told you that. How much it meant.” You cooed.

“Did you?” He turned to look at you, curious. You shook your head with a small, rueful laugh. 

“No. When I said I hadn’t, she told me, ‘Everyone likes to know they’re… appreciated.’ I still think about that now.” You could hear your mum’s voice as you spoke her words. She didn’t say ‘appreciated’ though, she had said ‘loved’ but you couldn’t get that word out. His lips curved into a soft smile as you glanced at him. “I wish I’d taken her advice then,” you admitted, the weight of your words carrying something more. “I wish I told her more. I wish I told you more.” You sighed. You lowered your eyes, the guilt of unsaid things knotting in your chest. 

“Baby…”He exhaled as his arm tightened around you, pulling you closer as he pressed a kiss to your temple. The warmth of his lips against your skin made your eyes sting with tears. “It’s okay,” he murmured against your hair, his voice barely above a whisper. “I knew… and she definitely knew.” The words settled in your heart, bittersweet but comforting. You leaned into him, your head resting against his shoulder as the waves crashed in the distance. Neither of you spoke again for a while, but his arm stayed firmly around you, a silent promise that in this moment, you weren’t alone.

The drive away from the beach was quiet, but your mind was anything but. The ache in your chest was sharp and persistent, the kind that comes from confusion and longing tangled together. You loved Trent—you knew you loved him. So why couldn’t you just say it? Unfortunately, you knew why. You were terrified he didn’t feel the same. Terrified that once the words were out, the delicate balance you’d built together would crumble.

As the car came to a stop in his driveway, you peeled off the jumper you’d borrowed, the familiar fabric suddenly feeling too heavy on your skin. It hurt—giving it back hurt—like you were handing over a piece of him that you weren’t sure you’d get to keep. Trent wasn’t sure what to say because there was nothing to say to fix this… there were only things he could do to fix it. Trent turned to you, his eyes soft but filled with unspoken things. He didn’t take the jumper from you immediately, instead reaching out to pull you toward him, his hand firm on your hip. The motion was gentle but insistent, and before you could think, his forehead was pressed to yours.

“I’m gonna make us work, okay?” he said, his voice low and steady, a conviction behind his words that sent a shiver down your spine. You nodded, the lump in your throat making it hard to do anything else. A sniffle escaped, and he caught it, brushing a thumb across your cheek before pulling you into him for a brief, grounding hug. Believing him was all you could do because it was all you wanted. You’d dreamed of this for years, and now it was here, fragile and imperfect, but here. When the car service pulled into the driveway, your heart sank further. This wasn’t how you imagined the evening ending. Trent wanted to bring you home, you could see it in the way his eyes flickered with frustration. But you had told him it was fine, and it was. Jack would be at your place, and it just wasn’t the time—not yet. He didn’t argue, though you could feel the tension radiating off him as he walked you to the car. Before you slid inside, he kissed you in the driveway. It wasn’t a quick, casual goodbye; it was all-consuming. The kind of kiss that stole your breath, that made you feel like the ground beneath you didn’t exist. You clung to him for a moment, wishing the car would disappear, wishing you could just stay wrapped in him and let everything else fade away. But eventually, you pulled back, his hands reluctantly dropping to his sides. As you slid into the back seat of the car, the cool leather of the seats pressed against your bare thighs, a harsh reminder of reality. Through the window, you caught one last look at him—standing there, hands in his pockets, watching as the car pulled away. He looked as reluctant to let you go as you felt. The ache in your chest deepened, but somewhere in the back of your mind, his words echoed. And you had to hold onto that because it was the only thing keeping the ache from completely taking over.

You walked into the kitchen after a shower late in the day, the faint hum of voices reaching your ears as you approached. Jack was just ending a phone call, his tone sounded curt.

“Alright, mate. Talk later,” he said and hung up. Across the room, Noah sat at the island, casually picking at a plate of food, his posture relaxed as though he’d been there for a while. Jack turned to Noah with a furrowed brow, a look of mild irritation shadowing his face. “Have you heard anything from Trentski lately?” he asked, leaning against the counter with crossed arms.

“Not too much. Why?” Noah shrugged, chewing slowly, his mouth full mumbling his words together.

“He’s been off with me,” Jack said, his voice edged with frustration. “Even just now on the phone, he sounded so… standoffish. He’s been like this for a while now. I don’t know what his problem is.” You froze mid-step, pretending to fidget with something on the counter as you silently listened. Your pulse quickened, and you avoided meeting their eyes, praying your face wouldn’t betray you. Noah tilted his head thoughtfully. 

“Yeah, he has been a bit off,” he said, as if just realizing it himself. “But, you know Trent. The only time he ever really retreats like this is when he’s being pissy about something. He’s not an open book.” Noah smirked looking for a joke. But Jack only sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Right? But, bro, it feels targeted at me… like if I’ve done something lad, just say it. But no, he has to act all cryptic and moody. What’s his deal?” Jack asked openly, getting a bit frustrated with Trent’s growing resistance towards him. Where did his best friend go? Noah hesitated, a small smirk pulling at his lips before he continued.

 “Well… I mean, I did hear him talking with someone the other night,” he said casually, leaning back in his chair. Jack perked up. 

“What do you mean? Like on the phone?” He asked earnestly.

“Yeah, mate,” Noah replied, shaking his head in disbelief recalling the scene. “It was when we were all over at my place for that movie night. He stepped into the kitchen and I walked in on him on the phone. He was talking to a girl—but it was clearly more than some link to him.” Your stomach dropped, the knot of anxiety in your chest tightening. You wondered if this was the call with you. You assumed it was unless he had called someone after for reprieve. You’d hoped not, so you listened carefully. You kept your movements deliberate and slow, opening a cupboard and pretending to inspect its contents, though you were barely processing what was in front of you.

“A girl?” Jack asked, raising an eyebrow. Noah nodded. 

“Bro….” he cautioned him as if to prepare Jack for how Trent was acting on this call. “Yeah, mate. And he sounded different, too—like… nervous. Almost sweet, if you can believe it. I didn’t think much of it, he was being sus, wouldn’t let me in but now? I dunno, I think Trent’s in deep that’s why he’s not around.” He explained.

“In deep?” Jack repeated, laughing. “Come on, mate. It’s Trent. The guy doesn’t do deep.” Noah laughed along with him.

“That’s what I thought so it didn’t track at first. I just couldn’t wrap my head around it - where did he find a bird he’s like this with. But I’m serious. I think he’s caught feelings. Jack… mate, I mean it, from what I witnessed he might even have proper feelings for this girl. He was a mess.” Noah laughed reminiscing on the sheer joy he felt watching ever composed Trent fumble over his words on the phone. But then the two of them burst out laughing, the idea seemingly too absurd for them to fathom. 

“Nah, not Trenty. Not a chance.” Jack shook his head, still chuckling. “We would've met the girl,” he added. But their laughter barely registered as your heart sank. Their words lingered, each one hitting you like a stone sinking deeper into the pit of your stomach. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, and your hands trembled slightly as you gripped the counter. You glanced over your shoulder just enough to catch Jack shaking his head again. “He’d tell me if it was serious,” he said, his voice confident. “Wouldn’t he?” Noah shrugged noncommittally, and Jack turned his attention back to whatever was in front of him. You couldn’t shake the weight pressing down on your chest, the mix of emotions swirling inside you—fear, guilt, and a growing sense of hopelessness. The way they dismissed the idea of Trent being in love felt like a slap to the face, a cruel reminder of how precarious everything had been and yet simultaneously how meaningless. Would this ultimately just end up being a secret you’d have to take to the grave, the few months you got with your brother’s best friend. It all made you so angry. You wanted to scream, to storm out of the kitchen, to do something, anything, but instead, you stayed frozen in place, clinging to the façade that nothing was wrong. You reached up to grab a glass from the cabinet, trying to keep your movements calm and steady despite the weight of their conversation. Jack, leaning against the island, folded his arms as he pressed further. “Was it that girl Jess?” he asked, his tone sharp. “You know, Meg’s friend, the last one he was hooking up with? She was around his for a bit, wasn’t she?” The mention of another name—Jess—had your stomach twisting in knots, the glass slipping from your fingers. It shattered against the tile floor, the loud crash jolting all three of you. “Jesus, Y/N!” Jack whipped around, his eyes wide with alarm. “You good?” He asked with genuine concern looking at the shards scattered around your feet. A visual representation of your life at the minute, he could never understand.

“Sorry!” you stammered, kneeling quickly to pick up the pieces, your hands shaking. “I wasn’t paying attention. Sorry, sorry I’ll clean it up.” You babbled nervously as your hands shook. Jack rolled his eyes, muttering something about you being careless, while Noah leaned over slightly, glancing down at you. He tried to move the conversation forward, his voice lighthearted as if to brush past your blunder. Nothing too deep, people drop things.

“Nah, it wasn’t Jess,” Noah said, laughing a little as he kept picking at his food. “This girl has him fucked up, mate. Like, completely different vibe.” He explained.

“What do you mean?” Jack’s interest was piqued. 

“I mean,” Noah began, leaning back in his chair, “I heard him that night. He wasn’t just trying to get her to come over. He was begging for her to stay. He sounded desperate, almost scared she wouldn’t. I’m telling you mate. He was a mess.” Noah further explained to Jack.  You froze, your breath catching in your throat as the words sank in. The shards of glass in your hand suddenly felt sharper, more dangerous. Noah continued, oblivious to the effect his words were having on you. “Apparently, this is the girl, mate. He told me, like, the one. Dream girl status. He’s in love with her.” Noah emphasized word. The idea of love sent a shockwave through you. 

“Fuck.” You whimpered carelessly as your hand slipped against a jagged edge of glass, and you winced as a sharp sting sliced through your skin.

“Shit, Y/N!” Noah exclaimed, leaning forward. “You alright?” You nodded quickly, shaking your head as if to clear the haze in your mind.

“I’m fine,” you said, your voice unsteady. “Just—just a little cut. I’ll clean it up.”

“You’re bleeding everywhere,” Jack said, grabbing a tea towel and tossing it in your direction quickly, nervous you might bleed out by the time he got over to you. “Be careful, for fuck’s sake. You promise you’re okay?” He asked seriously, moving towards you now faster from the other side of the room. Noah still looked concerned, but you waved them both off, standing up and wrapping your finger in the towel. 

“It’s nothing,” you mumbled, grabbing the broom with your uninjured hand. “I’ve got it.” You waved Jack off so he gave you the space. But your mind wasn’t on the mess. It was on Noah’s words. Trent was in love? The realization hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you dizzy and disoriented. Could it really be you he was talking about? Noah knew Trent like the back of his hand… he’d know how Trent really felt about someone. Was this the call with you… or maybe worse, was this a call with someone else—someone like Jess, someone who wasn’t tangled up in a web of secrets and guilt? You stole a glance at Jack, who was already back distracted by his phone, completely unaware of the storm raging inside you. Noah, meanwhile, had gone back to his food, the conversation now drifting into casual banter. But you couldn’t focus. All you could think about was Trent. Was this real? Could he really feel that way about you? And if he did… what did it mean for everything else? For Jack? For you? You swallowed hard, the cut on your finger forgotten as the weight of it all settled on your chest.

The boy Devon, the Manchester United player, Josh’s friend, that you spotted at dinner wasted no time, spinning the scene he’d witnessed like a web of intrigue. Seeing you and Trent at dinner together had been unexpected, even puzzling. On its own, it might’ve been easily dismissed—after all, you and Trent had history, you knew each other through Jack and people could convince themselves it was merely friendly. But there was something about the way Trent looked at you that night, a softness, a protectiveness that the boy hadn’t missed. It planted a seed, one that began to grow in the back of his mind and one he was ready to share with your ex. When saw Josh next, he was ready for his opportunity to stir the pot

“You’ll never guess who I saw the other night,” Devon said, leaning against a locker with a smirk. “Mate… Y/N L/N and Trent Alexander-Arnold. At dinner.” Josh’s head whipped around at the mention of your name. 

“What?” he asked sharply, his voice betraying a flicker of interest despite himself.

“At dinner,” Devon repeated, dragging it out for effect. “Looked cozy too. Candlelit table, just the two of them.” Josh frowned, his jaw tightening. 

“C’mon. Bro, I know I said shit about her before but they’re friends. She’s Jack’s sister. That’s been her thing for years. He’s never gone for it.” Josh explained having a hard time wrapping his head around it. He knew you wanted Trent, he could even see the way Trent wanted you but it actually happening… and not behind closed doors? Out in public? It seemed so farfetched.

“Maybe,” Devon said with a shrug, though his smirk didn’t waver. “But you know, sometimes even the nice ones… snap. He didn’t look like a ‘just friends’ kind of guy to me. Looked like he finally realized what was right in front of him.” He smugly told Josh. Josh tried to laugh it off, but there was an edge to it, sharp and bitter. 

“Whatever, mate. She’s not my problem anymore.” He muttered.

“Sure,” Devon replied smoothly, though he didn’t believe it for a second. He could see the flicker of annoyance in Josh’s eyes, the remnants of a claim Josh still felt over you, no matter how fractured things had been between you. “So you wouldn’t believe a photo of them then?” Devon smirked flashing him the photo he took on his screen. Josh jumped to grab the phone, shocked. He inspected the photo fuming. Devon snatched his phone back out of his hands “Looks pretty fucking friendly to me, mate.” He smugly laughed as he turned to leave the room. But Josh couldn’t leave it there, he had seen it, he needed more information, he needed more… ammunition. As Devon walked away, his words echoed in Josh’s mind. Trent and Y/N? At dinner? It was almost laughable, except it wasn’t. Josh had known you long enough to know how deep your feelings for Trent ran, even when you tried to hide it. And if Trent had finally reciprocated? He hated the thought, he hated the photo, he hated that Trent’s waiting game won out. It made him sick. He pushed you to Trent and then as a lump formed in his throat, his anger towards you shoved it down. He hated you for choosing Trent. Cynicism crept in, laced with exasperation and a thirst for vengeance. He remembered the sting of your split, the way things ended and why, and how easily you seemed to fall into the waiting arms of Trent—at least in his eyes. And now, you two were parading around together? It wasn’t about love or loss anymore. It was about pride, about the idea of someone like Trent waltzing into his old territory without so much as a second thought. Josh began to piece together a plan. If Trent thought he could take you out of Josh’s life and into his unnoticed, he was wrong. And if you thought this could stay secret, you were wrong too. A wicked grin spread across Josh’s face as he envisioned the chaos it might cause when Jack found out. How much it would hurt you, hurt Trent. He didn’t care if he and Devon were wrong, if it was just ‘friendly.’ The perception alone would be enough. Josh grabbed his phone, thumbing through his contacts until he landed on Jack’s name. He didn’t press call—not yet. He needed to get the photo first and timing was everything, and he intended to make sure this landed perfectly.  After all, what better way to even the score than to drop a bombshell like this?

The gossip about Trent seeing someone began to brew more and more each day. Evidently, seeping beyond just Jack and Noah but into other friend groups.  You were out at the shops just stopping to pick up a few things when you spotted Megan and Jess as you rounded the corner of the produce aisle, their voices reaching you before their faces did. Megan was pleasant, flashing you a smile when she saw you, but Jess’s expression was harder to read. Her eyes lingered on you, sharp and curious, as if she was sizing you up.

“Y/N!” Megan greeted, her tone light and cheerful. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Haven’t seen you in a minute, probably since the other week at the birthday.” You offered a polite smile, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder.

“Yeah, course. Hi. I’m just picking up a few things.” You cooed softly. The conversation started innocently enough. Megan talked about Jack, about her plans for the weekend, and you nodded along, trying to keep your responses short. But then, the conversation shifted.

“So,” Megan said casually, “we’ve heard rumblings that Trent’s seeing someone.” Her words hit you like a freight train. A part of you was instinctively annoyed at your brother just imagining him complaining to Megan about Trent and relaying Noah’s information spilled in the kitchen. You didn’t know if that was who told her but you could imagine. Your grip on your bag tightened, but you forced your face to remain neutral. 

“Yeah? I wouldn’t know,” you said quickly, hoping the lie sounded believable.

“Hmm,” Jess hummed, a small smirk tugging at her lips. Her skepticism was evident, and you could feel her eyes burning into you. She didn’t believe you for a second. Megan tilted her head, clearly confused by your answer. 

“I mean, you two are close though, aren’t you? You’re always with the boys! I feel like you’d hear or I’d think he’d tell you even.” She smiled sincerely. If Megan was being honest she knew you had a crush on Trent, it was glaringly obvious but she wasn’t going to hurt you and call you out on it. Besides, her friend Jess liked him, she was just looking for intel. You hesitated, trying to keep your voice steady. 

“I guess… I mean, if he wasn’t, I’m sure he’d reach out or something. I don’t really know what’s going on with him right now.” You babbled awkwardly. You didn’t know what to say really. But what you did say…was a rookie mistake. You realized it the moment the words left your mouth. Jess’s smirk widened, and Megan’s eyebrows shot up.

“So he is seeing someone,” Megan said slowly, her confusion deepening. “Because he definitely hasn’t reached out to Jess.” She glanced at her friend, then back at you, as if trying to piece together a puzzle. Megan knew you liked Trent but from the lens of a little sister liking her older brother’s friend- nothing more. She wasn’t being cynical or mean she was just looking for information. And right now she was with Jess, who hadn’t shut up about Trent falling off the grid for months. Your cheeks burned, and you felt your chest tighten. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. Instead, you fumbled with your shopping bags, pretending they were suddenly too heavy to manage.

“Erm, I really don’t know,” you said, your voice shaky. “Sorry, I’ve got to go—running late.” Without waiting for a response, you darted away, your heart pounding as you put as much distance between yourself and them as possible. You could feel their eyes on you as you turned the corner, and you didn’t dare look back. The encounter left you rattled. You gripped your bags tightly, replaying the exchange in your head as you hurried down the street, your heart pounding. Megan’s raised eyebrows, Jess’s sharp, knowing glances—it all felt like a storm you weren’t prepared for. Their words echoed in your mind. ‘So he’s seeing someone.’ They didn’t know it was you, but the realization and possibility that they were piecing it together made your stomach churn. Jess’s skepticism had been palpable, her eyes narrowing like she already suspected the truth but was waiting for you to slip. You sighed as you reached your car, fumbling with the keys. Why had you even tried to lie? It wasn’t like you were good at it, and the awkward babbling only made things worse. But what were you supposed to do? Confirm it? Out yourself? Out Trent? That wasn’t an option either. But why did he want it secret? You guessed it was good Jess hadn’t heard from him. But how long had it been? Was there in overlap? As you sat in the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the walls were closing in. The more the gossip spread, the harder it would be to keep your relationship under wraps. The thought of Jack finding out this way—through whispers and rumors—made you feel sick.

You thought about texting Trent, maybe to warn him or just to vent, but even that felt risky. Instead, you took a deep breath and tried to steady yourself. This was the price of keeping things a secret, wasn’t it? The constant worry, the careful balancing act, the fear that one slip could send it all crashing down. And yet, despite it all, you knew you couldn’t stay away from him. Trent was worth it. At least, you hoped he was. You hoped he thought the same about you, that he wouldn’t falter under the pressure building around you both. As you pulled out of the parking lot, you tried to shake off the anxiety, telling yourself it would all blow over. But deep down, you knew this was only the beginning. The gossip wasn’t going to stop, and neither, it seemed, was the tension.

It felt surreal, wearing Trent’s jersey to a home game at Anfield. He’d given it to you weeks ago, but when you finally were all going to a match, he officially asked you to wear it tonight, it felt different—more deliberate, more intimate. The weight of it wasn’t just fabric; it was a claim, a silent declaration that you were his. The box was buzzing with energy as you sat with Jack, Noah, Layla, Megan, Trent’s family, and more of their friends, all of them in good spirits after the game started. But the teasing was relentless, especially from Noah.

“Big statement, Y/N,” he quipped, eyeing the bolded double barreled surname and number on your back. Everyone’s eyes flickered towards you as you took off your coat. You rolled your eyes. 

“Wait… When did you get the new kit? What the fuck… I wanted one.” Jack snapped annoyed. But then Megan spoke over him. She leaned over squeezing your leg kindly. 

“Don’t let the cameras catch that. You’ll start rumors.” Megan laughed as Noah chuckled, shaking his head. You forced a laugh, shrugging off their remarks, but your cheeks burned under their scrutiny. You turned to continue your conversation with Layla praying they’d drop the whole thing. They had no idea what the jersey truly meant, and part of you relished that secrecy, even as you squirmed under their playful jabs. 

The game flew by in a blur of cheering, tension, and stolen glances at the man on the pitch. Trent looked up toward the box once or twice, and though his focus remained on the match, you could feel his presence even from afar. It wasn’t just a jersey; it was a tether, a connection that made your chest swell with pride every time his name echoed through the stadium.When the final whistle blew and the crowd erupted but then a bit after that… your phone buzzed quietly in your lap.

'Meet me outside the box. I need to see you properly in that kit, baby.'

Your heart skipped, and you swallowed down a smile. Glancing around, you tried to look nonchalant as you slipped your phone into your pocket and stood.

“I’ll be right back,” you said casually, already heading toward the door. “Bathroom or something.” Jack barely acknowledged you, too wrapped up in conversation with Megan and their friends. Layla smirked as you stepped out of the box and into the quieter halls, your footsteps quickening as you made your way to the exit. The moment you saw him coming down the corridor, your heart skipped. He looked effortlessly striking in his tracksuit, exhaustion etched across his features, but the instant his eyes landed on you, a flash of pure happiness lit up his face. Before you could say a word, he closed the distance, pulling you into his arms in a tight, possessive embrace. His warmth surrounded you, and you buried your face into the curve of his neck, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of him. 

"You played so well," you murmured, your words muffled by his skin as you pressed soft kisses to his neck.

"Yeah?" he asked, his voice low and filled with something deeper. His hands came up to gently cup your face, tilting it so your eyes met.

"Yeah," you confirmed with a shy smile. "Were you trying to impress someone?" you teased, watching as his lips curved into a smirk.

"Maybe," he said, his thumb brushing along your cheek. "Depends. Did I?" He asked. You giggled, nodding as your arms looped around his waist. His hands slid down your sides, firm and deliberate, until they rested on your hips. He tugged you closer, the heat of his body sending a rush of warmth through you. "You look so good tonight," he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. His eyes dropped to the jersey you wore-his jersey—and his fingers toyed with the hem. "Fuck me, I like you in this. But I wish I wasn't absolutely knackered, 'cause all I can think about is taking it off you." A teasing grin tugged at your lips as you slipped your hands around his waist, finding the drawstrings of his joggers. 

"I can take care of you tonight, don’t worry, baby," you whispered, your fingers grazing his skin beneath the fabric. "I could even take this off for you." His breath hitched, and he hummed appreciatively, leaning down to press his lips to your neck. His kisses were lazy, languid, and filled with an unspoken promise. He bit down gently, making you gasp, before soothing the spot with his tongue.

"Keep talking like that, and we’re gonna leave right now," he murmured against your skin, his hands slipping under the hem of the jersey to brush against your bare back. You laughed softly, reluctantly pulling back. 

"We should go back inside before they come looking for us." you smiled sympathetically at him. He groaned, his forehead resting against yours.

"You're lucky I'm too tired otherwise you’d be halfway to my bed right now" he teased, but his hands lingered on your hips as you pulled away. 

“I’ll be in your bed in a bit, okay?” You smirked with a cheeky grin. He hummed in response as you turned, his eyes watching your every move like you were the only thing in the world he needed. As you both made your way back to the suite, you couldn't help but feel the imprint of his touch, every whisper of his affection lingering on your skin.

After the match, the usual buzz of a big win had everyone making loose plans to head out, but Trent’s firm 'nah' shifted the momentum. Slowly, the group began to disband, everyone falling back into their own routines. You lingered in the suite as people trickled out, catching Trent’s eye. When you leaned in to hug him goodbye, you buried your face into his neck, the familiar warmth and scent of him grounding you. 

“Still want me to come over, or are you too tired?” You asked softly, whispering into his ear. He hummed against your hair, his voice low and barely audible. 

“Mmhmm please.” The moment stretched just a little too long, just a little too close, and when you finally pulled back, it was enough for Noah to pipe up.

“Ermmm… that was fucking weird, bro. Let go of her,” he laughed, his voice breaking the intimate bubble you’d created with Trent. You tried to play it cool, smoothing your expression. 

“What? A cuddle?” you said, feigning innocence.

“Yeah,” he laughed with Noah. “Y/N, are you drunk?” Jack asked you jokingly citing the only time you and Trent were that affectionate was at parties after tequila shots and lowered inhibitions. He leaned against Megan with a raised brow. “Why are you throwing yourself at him like that?” He asked a bit more earnestly and the tension sharpened, the air suddenly heavy. You could feel the blood rush to your cheeks, but before you could scramble for a response, Layla swooped in.

“Jesus, just kiss already,” she teased, swatting playfully at Trent with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. Her comment hit like a match to dry kindling. The room erupted in laughter, the tension instantly diffused. You shot her a grateful smile as she grinned back knowingly. “Coming to stay with me tonight,” Layla said, still half-laughing but with a subtle edge of sincerity, offering the perfect cover. “We’ll have a girls’ night. Do a face mask or whatever.” Trent smirked but said nothing, letting Layla’s quick wit take the spotlight. The group moved on, their teasing fading as they returned to casual chatter. The room felt lighter again, and you knew you owed Layla for smoothing over what could’ve been a minefield. As everyone packed up and started heading out, Trent caught your eye again, a quiet promise lingering between you both.

The drive home was quiet at first, the soft hum of the radio filling the silence between you and Layla. But you could feel her glances, her curiosity practically brimming over.

“So… what’s going on with you and Trent? Post-date, I mean.” She finally asked. You sighed, resting your head against the window. 

“It was meant to be good,” you began, your voice low, “but it feels just like before, especially tonight. Just hidden. I thought we were ready to move forward, you know?” Layla frowned, her tone gentle but probing. 

“So what’s stopping you?” You hesitated, the words heavy on your tongue. 

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Lay, what if I don’t want it? Not like this. Sometimes… sometimes I feel like I’m the one pulling him into the shadows, like we’re both doing this to each other. Hiding.  Like he’s subtle but I’m… hiding. And now, with Josh’s friend Devon… seeing us at dinner—God, I’m terrified.” Her face softened as she glanced at you, one hand briefly leaving the wheel to give your knee a reassuring squeeze.

 “It’ll be okay,” she said gently. “It’s just going to take time, yeah? You and Trent have always had this… thing. You guys have communicated so long with no words, going off glances but now… things have to change. You’ll figure it out.” You nodded, but her words only soothed the surface. The knots in your stomach refused to untangle. By the time you arrived at Trent’s house, the air between you and him felt thick. Not with anger—no, it wasn’t that—but with emotion. Too much, all at once.

The tension wasn’t hostile, but it was heavy. You both cared so deeply for one another, but the weight of it was beginning to show, even behind closed doors where no one else could see. When you crawled into bed with him that night, there was no talk of passion or promises. No desperate moves to bridge the gap between your feelings and your fears. Instead, you simply held each other. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as he tucked his chin over your head. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice a low murmur. You didn’t respond, but you didn’t need to. You nestled into him, letting his warmth soothe the ache in your chest. Everything about that moment should have been perfect. The way his heartbeat steadied your breathing, the way his hands absentmindedly rubbed circles into your back. And yet, nothing was. You fell asleep tangled together, but the ache of what wasn’t said lingered.

Noah was throwing a party. He had tossed you and Layla the usual invites you’d come to expect to receive. The music pulsed through his house, spilling out onto the lawn as you and Layla stepped inside. The scene was much bigger than you anticipated—people were crammed into every corner, the laughter and chatter nearly deafening. Layla raised a skeptical brow as you glanced at each other. You shrugged. Noah’s usual ‘small gathering’ had clearly spiraled into something else.

“Aye, you alright?” Trent’s voice cut through the crowd. He spotted you almost immediately, a grin spreading across his face. You’d been texting all day, but nothing substantial had changed between you. The limbo of your relationship was still palpable, and yet, seeing him now, your heart skipped a beat.

“Yeah, all good,” you replied sweetly with a small smile, though you couldn’t ignore the butterflies in your stomach. Layla folded her arms, glancing around at the sheer number of people. 

“Didn’t know the whole squad would be here,” she muttered, clearly unimpressed. Trent gave her a cheeky hug, a quick and friendly gesture, before turning his attention fully to you. His arms wrapped around you in a much tighter, longer embrace, swaying slightly with a hum as he leaned into you. His scent—faint cologne mixed with the sharp tang of alcohol—was intoxicating.

“Missed you, baby,” you whispered in his ear, your teeth pulling on his earlobe, your words soft, just for him. Before you could step back, he tightened his grip, pulling you impossibly closer. His lips brushed against your ear, and he murmured something low, too quiet for anyone else to hear.

“Look so sexy. Gonna let me fuck you in the toilet again, yeah?” He cheekily whispered. It was more of a tease then an actual ask but then again, maybe it wasn’t. Your eyes widened briefly at his words, but you nodded, the corners of your mouth twitching into a smile. Layla tugged at the back of your top, signaling for you to let go of him, because you had no plans to, but you barely moved. Trent’s arms lingered around you for just a moment longer before he reluctantly pulled away, a satisfied smirk on his lips as he met your gaze one last time.

“What did he say?” Layla asked under her breath, watching you carefully. You shook your head with a small laugh, brushing it off. 

“Nothing,” you lied, though your cheeks betrayed you with a warm flush. Layla gave you a knowing look but didn’t press further, letting the moment settle as the party surged on around you. 

Trent stood slightly off to the side of his friends, arms crossed and his focus split. Noah was with him, cracking jokes as always, but the boy beside them—Bailey—was an unfamiliar face, part of a wider circle of acquaintances that Trent didn’t know well. What started as idle conversation quickly shifted the moment Bailey’s attention landed on you across the room.Bailey’s jaw slackened, his eyes fixed on you in a way that made Trent’s stomach churn. His discomfort was immediate, though he kept his face neutral, following Bailey’s gaze. You were talking to Layla, smiling brightly, your hand gesturing animatedly as you spoke.

“She’s certainly not ugly,” Noah noticing, quipped with a laugh, slapping Bailey on the back.

“She’s so fit, mate,” Bailey added, his voice dripping with awe. “Fucks sake, mate. Any of you get with her?” Trent’s jaw tightened at the audacity of the question, but Noah—always quick to stir the pot—grinned and threw in a jab.

“Trenty wishes,” Noah smirked, throwing a few playful punches at Trent’s arm. “But he’s got a new bird now apparently. So what’s going on there with Y/N then? I thought you'd take her up on the offer eventually.”

“Nah, don’t say that. Jack would kill me, you know that,” Trent shot back quickly, his voice steady despite the unease settling in his chest. He knew bringing up Jack was the easiest way to shut the conversation down, but it wasn’t the full truth. Bailey frowned, looking between them in confusion. 

“You lot don’t think about her that way?” he asked, incredulous.

“I mean, course,” Trent admitted instinctively fast and drunkenly, the words slipping out before he could stop them. He immediately wanted to hit himself. Noah, catching the crack in Trent’s usual composure, smirked smugly. 

“Jack’s not here tonight, lad. It’s your limited window. You’re telling me you don’t notice the way she acts around you? Notice the way she looks?” Noah’s cheek was growing and Tren’t resolve was dwindling. He let out a long sigh, his gaze drifting back to you as you tilted your head back with a laugh at something Layla said. The warm overhead lights danced over your skin, making you look radiant. His chest ached with longing, the lie he lived burning in his throat.

“I mean, yeah. She’s beautiful,” Trent said softly, almost to himself.

“Beautiful?” Bailey barked out a laugh. “She’s fucking fit. Got a body on her.” Trent’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt as he scanned your body over the same way Bailey was, from the tip of your boots to the top of your head, desire on both of their minds.

“Erm, yeah, mate.” Trent’s eyes narrowed. “She’s something,” he said quietly, shaking his head in frustration. Noah, sensing the tension, pressed further, his voice full of teasing delight.

“Trent knows her well,” he told Bailey, grinning. Trent scoffed, trying to brush it off. “You do!” Noah yelped. “Bro, you’re the only one she sits with. The only one she lets touch her. And no one says anything. C’mon, Trenty, stop playing nice. Tell the lad about her.” Noah prodded pushing Trent to tell Bailey how great you were knowing it’d be hard for him. 

“Nah, mate. I guess, I don’t know,” Trent muttered, forcing the words out in a desperate attempt to end the conversation. But his chest tightened, the weight of his feelings—so much more than Noah or Bailey could understand—bearing down on him. Just then, their other friend, Aidan, walked over, draping an arm around Trent. The distraction was welcome, but it didn’t erase the pit of frustration and yearning brewing inside him. He couldn’t stand this conversation, couldn’t stand Bailey’s gawking, couldn’t stand the charade. Trent’s eyes flicked back to you, his heart thudding as he watched you smile. You were oblivious to the storm swirling in him, but he couldn’t stop himself from feeling like tonight was another reminder of just how much he hated hiding.

“We talking Jack’s sister? Yeah, I won’t lie boys, she’s leng. Come on, you know she’s good in bed as well,” Aidan added casually, his voice slurring slightly with the weight of too many drinks. Trent winced, the comment hitting him like a sharp jab.

“What? Have you?” he asked, his tone panicked and defensive, betraying the calm facade he’d been trying to maintain.

“No, I wish,” Aidan laughed, oblivious to Trent’s reaction. “I mean, you can just tell though.”

“Yeah, you can tell,” Bailey chimed in with a smirk, his eyes lingering on you from across the room. “But mate, it seems like she’s into you. I saw you hug her when she came in.”  Trent’s heart rate picked up, and he struggled to keep his expression neutral.

 “Probably the only one she’d let have a cuddle in that fit,” Noah laughed, throwing fuel on the fire watching you adjust the hem of your mini skirt knowing you’d wouldn't let just any boy put their hands on you when you were out.

“I don’t know how you practice this much restraint if you're already in,” Bailey said, shaking his head in disbelief. Trent swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as Aidan cut back in, leaning slightly closer to Trent as if to confide some secret.

“Seriously, I don’t know how you do it, bro. She always struts around us in nothing." He then looked at Noah and Bailey. "I think she likes the attention, but we all know she likes Trenty’s attention the most.” The words twisted in Trent’s gut like a knife. He hated the way they spoke about you, the casual objectification of someone they knew so well yet also barely knew beyond the surface, the way he did.

“Eh, don’t know lads. She’s just chill. I don’t think she thinks about it,” Trent said, forcing his voice to stay steady.

“Come on,” Noah rolled his eyes, annoyed that even in his drunk state, Trent wouldn’t falter. But Trent couldn’t falter, not here, not now. He knew the boys had always talked shit like this at parties, tossing your name into the mix like you were some topic for debate. Normally, he brushed it off, participating but choosing to stay silent when it came to you rather than feed into it. But tonight, it felt different. The way they lingered, the way they openly dissected the dynamics between you and him—it was too real, too close to everything he was trying so hard to protect. The bitterness welled up in his chest, the laughter around him grating on his nerves. He wanted to say something, to shut it down, but any slip of the truth would only add more fuel to their relentless teasing. So instead, he stood there, silent, his fists clenching at his sides, wishing he could pull you out of this party and into a space where none of these people and their drunken commentary could touch you.

You caught Trent’s gaze across the room, and the intensity of his stare made your cheeks flush. His lips quirked into a soft smile, but the cool, effortless demeanor he carried around everyone else seemed to dissolve under your gaze. Layla caught the exchange instantly, smirking as she raised her hand in an exaggerated wave at him. Trent waved back with a charm that felt deliberate, but even Layla could tell he was unraveling.

“God, you’ve got him absolutely gone,” she teased, nudging you with her shoulder. “Whatever you do in bed with him has him a mess. He can’t even pretend anymore, before at least he had a poker face.” She laughed. You rolled your eyes, but the warmth spreading through your chest was undeniable.

“Come on,” you said, grabbing Layla’s hand and weaving through the crowded room toward the boys.

“Hiyaaa!” Layla purred as you reached the group, giving Noah and Aidan hugs and introducing herself to Bailey with her usual flair. But before you could even exchange pleasantries, Trent was there, sliding his arm around your waist in a way that was both subtle and unmistakably possessive, keeping you from getting even in touching distance of the other boys. His fingers dipped into the back of your skirt refusing to let you even try to create space between you. The contact sent a shiver through you, grounding you in his presence. You leaned into him not wanting any space, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear as you whispered something cheeky, just for him. Whatever you said made his grin spread wider, his confidence returning as he pulled you closer.

“Gonna drive you home, hmm?” he murmured aloud, his voice low but loud enough for the others to hear. It was casual, a simple blanket statement, that he’d said a million times to you, but the promise hidden in his tone made your heart race. You glanced up at him, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

 “Maybe,” you teased back, biting your lip to keep from smiling too wide. Layla smirked at the exchange, watching Trent’s usual composure crack further.

“Nah.” He pulled on your skirt’s waist again bringing you tighter into him. “I said… I’m gonna drive you home. Alright?” Trent commandingly told you. The boys watched on in disbelief but you and Trent remained in your bubble, his hand never leaving your waist as the rest of the world faded into background noise. Bailey's jaw dropped as he took in the moment.

"Bro, they have to bang, no?" he blurted out, completely bewildered by the quiet intimacy playing out before him. Layla shrugged nonchalantly but bit her tongue to keep from saying anything.

"If l even put my hand near her, she'd call me bro and swat me away," Noah laughed, gesturing toward you. "But Trent? Nah, he gets to do whatever he wants. Got that pretty boy privilege. We've got a different thing happening here."

"Yeah, mate, he's got the green light. I don't know what he's waiting for," Aiden chimed in, his tone teetering between disbelief and amusement. Bailey blinked, staring intently as Trent's hand casually disappeared under your top, his fingers gliding softly over your stomach. It wasn't showy or bold, but the gesture was undeniably intimate.

"Wait, did he just—" Bailey started, his eyes wide as he turned to the group. "His hand is under her clothes right now. Is this happening? Lads… is this a thing? Have I just been talking about his girl the whole time?" He looked to Aiden and Noah for answers, as if they were the only ones who might hold the key to what was clearly more than just a casual friendship. Layla sighed, debating whether to tell the boys to mind their own business, but before she could speak, Noah interjected, smirking.

"Not his girl officially haha. I think he just likes the game." He smugly said. Layla snapped her head toward Noah, her eyes narrowing in irritation. The comment, whether a joke or not, grated on her. The idea that you could ever be seen as a game to Trent made her blood boil.

"That's not funny, Noah," she said firmly, her tone sharp enough to make him pause. "They’re friends. That’s how T’s always been with her.” She snapped. Noah took a deep breath of understanding. It wasn’t a joke. Even as much stick as everyone gave you and Trent, no one ever meant any mal intent by it. He knew you had a crush on Trent. He would never want Trent to mess with you like that.

“I know, Lay… sorry. It’s only jokes. They’re mates.” Noah responded awkwardly. Not because of Layla but because he would never want to offend you. The group fell into quiet hums of spectators for a moment but none of them could tear their eyes away from the two of you. Trent's attention remained solely on you, his hand moving in a way that felt both protective and adoring, and it was clear to anyone watching-this wasn't a game for him.

“Aye, lads… I’m gonna drive Y/N home,” Trent announced casually, though the way his arm tightened around your waist betrayed his eagerness. You, tipsy and giggling, clung to his side, completely oblivious to the knowing looks bouncing around the group.

“Yeah, sure,” Bailey laughed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Driving her home. Right.” Trent ignored his comment but it wasn't so easy.

“Tonight’s it, lad,” Aiden whispered, gripping Trent’s shoulder with a cheeky grin. His voice was low, but the teasing intent was unmistakable. Trent shook his head, fighting the urge to roll his eyes, but the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth was impossible to hide. To redirect the attention and save face, Trent turned to Layla.

“Lays you want a ride too?” He offered, His voice was kind, but the question was almost rhetorical. Layla waved him off immediately.

 “Nah, I’m good. Noah’s got me,” she replied with a knowing smirk, her eyes darting between the two of you. Noah raised a brow, caught off guard.

 “I do?” he asked, but when Layla shot him a pointed look, he shrugged and leaned into the moment. “Yeah, shit, sorry, sure. Yeah, I do. Always happy to help.” His smug grin only grew as he watched you and Trent prepare to leave together. The group watched as Trent guided you toward the door, his hand never leaving the small of your back. As you stepped out into the cool night air and out from prying eyes, Trent leaned down.

 “You alright, baby?” He whispered. You nodded, smiling up at him. “You wanted me to drive you home?” He looked at you smugly. 

“Mhhmm. To your house please. Just want to be with you,” you murmured, your words laced with affection. And with that, the rest of the party faded into the background, leaving just the two of you, ready to retreat to your own little world.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter or of what's to come!

Next part - Chapter 12 - Monaco xx

[qveerthe0ry]

Conquer the Heart

Summary: Joel comes out - written for @romanarose Pride Event Week 1: Coming Out Word Count: 3,981 Pairing: Joel Miller x M! Reader Rating: Mature (but my blog is 18+ mdni) Warnings: vague descriptions of sex, fluff, kissing, conversations about sexuality, really that's it this is pretty much just sweet and fluffy with a tiny hint of spice Betas: @for-a-longlongtime and @perotovar who could have guessed? Love y'all <3 A/N: I just wanted to make Joel queer idk. Title from an Orville Peck song because of course

You don’t know what possessed you to pay the $5 cover to check that place out. The Round-Up Saloon, perched on a street corner in downtown Austin. The outside was unassuming enough, but the neon lights and mechanical bull and rotating dance floor inside made it look like something straight out of Urban Cowboy. 

There were all kinds of crowds. College kids and business casuals and actual cowboys. And it’s Austin, so all the sexualities were represented in one way or another as you took note of the couples at tables and on the dance floor. You couldn’t really care about any of them, though, as soon as you laid eyes on him. 

You were drawn to him and his broad shoulders and tight Wrangler blue jeans. 

He was with a big group of women and men, all drinking and laughing and taking turns line-dancing with each other on the dance floor. 

And to think you only stumbled into the honky tonk cowboy bar out of curiosity… It certainly wasn’t your scene. 

But you’d watched Joel dance with a few women with respectful hand placement, and then he danced with a man, and hope had bubbled up inside of you to the sound of Alan Jackson. 

He was a little sweaty when you worked up the courage to talk to him, and his cologne masked all the alcohol and cigarettes in the air.

You plastered on a flirty smile and asked him if he could teach you some of his moves. When he looked taken aback and flustered, you backtracked. 

“I’m sorry, I saw you dancing with that guy— I didn’t mean to assume.” 

“Tommy? That’s my brother,” he’d explained, a little flushed in the face. 

“Oh! Shit, sorry, ignore me.”

But he’d caught your arm as you turned to hibernate for approximately 5-10 business days. 

“I don’t see no harm in teachin’ you.”

And so he did. And it was fun, and his hands on you were so warm you swear they branded his mark all over your skin. 

A few songs, all background noise to the ‘he’s just straight, don’t do this’ mantra in your head, and he was leading you off the dance floor for another beer. 

A friendly beer. Surely that’s all it was. 

But he was so friendly. He gave you pointers on how to dance, and then asked if you’re from around here, and then he was waving off his group of friends when they all announced their departure. 

He asked you about your job, and you asked about his, and then the way his hands felt rough on the skin of your arm made more sense. 

Maybe you were crazy, or the two beers you had were really getting to your head, but there was something so unspeakably electric between you. You felt it when he’d lean in closer to hear you, the way he touched your arm with the back of his bottle-filled fist, the way his hoppy breath ghosted across your cheek to reach your ear.

And then he said he should probably get home, and asked if he should walk you to your car, and maybe he wasn’t straight, you thought, as he briefly placed his hand on your back to guide you through the packed bar. 

And you really, really shouldn’t have. But you asked for his number, and he put it in your shitty flip phone, and then you kissed him. 

Right on the mouth. A quick peck that was so short you could’ve nearly pretended it was an accident. 

He looked so stunned, and guilt boiled up in your stomach. 

But he’d grabbed your wrist gently, and looked you in the eyes. 

“I’m uh… I don’t… I haven’t ever done that.” 

“That was your first kiss?” 

It was a joke, and thank god he laughed. His smile looked so fucking good under the shitty, flickering street lamps. 

“Call me, okay?” 

And then he was gone. You thought about him the whole drive home, while you got undressed and ready for bed, as you fell asleep. You felt his touch in your dreams, and when you woke in the morning you could hardly believe he was real. 

But his phone number was burning a hole in your cell phone. You stared at it on and off all Saturday long. What would you even say? Why did he even want you to call him, if he’d never even kissed a guy before? Did he just want a new drinking buddy? 

The dread built up all day long, until it was late, and a sense of now or never goaded you into calling his number. 

He answered, and you told him who you were, and he’d sounded so surprised to hear from you. He didn’t think you’d want to see him again, after he embarrassed himself, and his admission made you balk. 

You told him you were the one who felt embarrassed. He laughed at that. Said he’s a lot smoother with ladies, but you made him feel nervous. He said he wanted to meet up again. 

And so you did. 

Just a shitty diner for an early dinner on Sunday, unassuming enough. The chemistry you felt at the bar hadn’t faded. If anything, it was so much more apparent now. The way he blushed when you flirted seemed less like the bad kind of gay panic. His foot kept nudging yours under the table. 

He walked you to your car again, and then he kissed you, much less chaste than the night at the bar, with one big, rough hand on your neck and the other on your hip. 

“That was pretty good for only your second kiss,” you’d said. 

He shrugged, a sheepish smile gracing his heated face.

“Should stick around and find out about the third.” 

And if you hadn’t already been wrapped around his finger, he certainly secured the spot for you then.

He wasn’t new to dating, but he was new to this, and it showed. He got pretty easily flustered around you. On your second date, he brought up his daughter for the first time like he’d forgotten he hadn’t mentioned her before. A casual thing, talking about her getting ready to graduate high school. 

“Does Sarah know… who you’re on a date with?”

Joel shook his head. 

“Not yet. No one does… Not even sure how to explain it to myself, if I’m honest.”

You were patient with him. It’s gotta be culture shock, living nearly 40 years of your life completely straight and having some random guy at a bar change that for you overnight. 

You took things slow. You talked a lot over the phone, after Sarah went to sleep. He told you about his dating history, Sarah’s mom and only a few unserious flings after. You tried not to psychoanalyze him, but it makes a little bit of sense. Getting some girl pregnant at 19, marrying her, getting ditched with a toddler and a curt ‘good luck’ and then raising her on your own? 

No wonder he never questioned his sexuality. There was genuinely no time to. 

At first, you thought you may just be a stepping stone. A news flash for him, an experiment, something fun for a season. It didn’t bother you. It’s happened before. But as your nightly talks got longer, and as you took each other out more and more often, it became clear that it wasn’t like that. 

You watched with fascination and adoration as Joel figured things out. It was so endearing when he asked if he should hold the door open for you, or if you should take turns. Likewise, when he held your hand in public for the first time, the way he asked your permission made your heart grow way too big for your rib cage.

Things weren’t perfect, of course, but nothing ever is. You didn’t get to see him as much as you ideally would. You were both busy during the work week, and he often had father duties on the weekends. Most of your dates were quick dinner bites when Sarah had a school thing, or an odd Saturday here or there when Sarah had a sleepover. 

But that was quite enough for you. You weren’t even looking for something when you’d met him. You didn’t feel the need to move quickly when you hadn’t planned on going anywhere in the first place. 

And he was sweet, and quite self-aware. 

“Wish we could spend more time together,” he’d tell you over the phone, “I know this ain’t the way things normally go.” 

But you liked him. So much. So it didn’t bother you.

And, as the weeks passed by, he opened up more. He started asking you more pointed questions, like how you came out to those closest to, and what it was like. He asked if you were seeing other people— it’s okay if you are, was just wonderin’— and then he asked you if you wanted to be together when you made it clear you weren’t. 

“Like… as boyfriend and boyfriend?” 

He chuckled, the deep gravel a familiar tone swimming through your landline with a nervous twinge to it. 

“Yeah, as boyfriend and boyfriend.” 

And he treated you right, and you got along with him so well, and he was so put together and responsible and respectful. 

“I’d really like to be your boyfriend.” 

And his breath had hitched so loud it was caught by the receiver, but you could hear the smile in his voice when he told you that he’d really like that, too. 

A few days after that, he told you Sarah would be gone all weekend, on a team trip for some hiking and kayaking and bonding. 

“Could I stay at yours? I hate to invite myself, it’s just— Tommy’s got no boundaries. Wouldn’t want him bargin’ in, y’know, before I get to tell him.” 

You didn’t mind one bit, aside from the mountain of laundry you had to fold in preparation for his arrival. 

It was the first time you’d been truly alone with him. Your dates were always public, at least somewhat. And he’d kissed you, a ton, but that’s as far as it had ever gone. 

You definitely wanted him. You’d wanted him since the very second you laid eyes on him at that cheesy honky tonk bar. But it was funny how nervous you were, even though your experience with men put Joel’s to shame. 

It was a lot like high school, in the way you danced around each other at first. A movie on your couch, with his arm draped along the back of it. Readjusting to ‘get comfy,’ inching, until the warmth of his body was pressed against yours and his arm dropped from the back of the couch to your shoulders. 

His heartbeat was deafening, hard and fast, when you’d tucked your head against his chest. You moved your hand to his knee in the world’s most intense match of The Nervous Game and feared for his cardiovascular health. 

He said your name, and like it was the magic word, every single facade crumbled around you in an instant. 

His kisses made your head spin, and the way his thick thighs felt under your own was addictive, and it was over before either of you realized it had started. Two sets of soiled pants and underwear thrown into your washing machine, along with the last of the pretenses. And then you’d dragged him to your bed. 

The sex wasn’t even your favorite part. The best was the morning after, and how you were plastered to his back as you woke up slow and easy. The way he held your arm to his stomach, even in his sleep. And the way you only got out of bed for food or bathroom breaks, a whole day with him, alone, uninterrupted. 

Just as you started to worry that this was a one-time thing, at least for a while, Joel huffed beside you and nuzzled his head into your shoulder. 

“I wanna come out. At least to Tommy ‘n Sarah. S’not right, keeping you a secret like this when you’ve been makin’ me so happy. I know you’d make them happy too.” 

You stroked his hair, and asked if he was sure, and though his pretty brown eyes looked wide and scared, his jaw was set with a determined nod. 

So you devised a plan. Or— Joel devised it, and asked for your input, and it all made you a bit giddy. 

He had you over for dinner. Just as a friend, at first. He’d ordered pizza and stocked beer and told Tommy and Sarah he was having a friend over. 

You wondered if Tommy would recognize you from the bar, but if he did, he didn’t show it. He just talked your ear off about Texas sports and old cars.

Sarah was… well, you understood why Joel could never seem to smile wide enough when he talked about her. She was so smart, and kind-hearted, and funny. You had a hard time keeping up, but the way Joel and Tommy were around her, you think she probably has that effect on most people. 

It was a nice night, fun and easy conversation, good pizza, and a very competitive game of Boggle in which Sarah dominated. 

And it was only a little bit difficult to spend the evening as just Joel’s friend, solely because of how easily you fit into his life. You wanted to scream it from the rooftops, that Joel wanted you to be a piece in his puzzle. 

Sarah, so politely, excused herself to go to bed as it got later. The three of you left shuffled around, gathering game pieces and paper plates and empty cans, until you all eventually met back in the kitchen. Joel gave you a look, and you gave him a comforting smile right back, and it was like the room’s air was replaced with water as he spoke up.

“Tommy?”

“Mmhmm?” 

The younger brother whipped around to face you both, sliding the leftovers into the fridge with a slice in his mouth. 

“I uh… I wanted to let you know that I’m— that we’re, uh… Together?”

You watched as his dark eyes glazed over for a second, brow scrunched up in confusion. And then his gaze flickered from you to him, and back to you, and his eyes grew as big as saucers. 

“No kiddin’?”

Joel laughed. 

“Serious. He’s my… He’s my boyfriend.” 

Tommy swallowed his mouthful of pizza, wiped his mustache, and smiled. A genuine smile, sweet and warm, reaching his eyes. 

“Hermano, good for you. That’s— I’m happy for you.” 

He opened his arms and tugged Joel into a hug, and Joel grumbled something about Tommy getting pizza grease on his clothes, but he was smiling wide and relieved over Tommy’s shoulder. 

But then Joel’s face got serious again as Tommy pulled away with a manly slap to his shoulder. 

“Sarah doesn’t know yet. I wanted to make sure everyone got along first, y’know?” 

And then Tommy was looking at you and rolling his eyes and chuckling. 

“Think we all get along just fine. You should tell her soon.”

And Joel knew Tommy was right, but it didn’t stop him from looking so anxious when Tommy left with another round of goodbye hugs. 

“What are you most worried about?” 

You asked him because you knew there were many things to fret over, in his situation. 

“Just that… She’s had this idea of me this whole time, y’know? What if she sees me different, and then things change between us?” 

And god, that made your throat feel thick, and Joel’s eyes got a little misty, so you pulled him tight against you and let him sag into your hold.

“I know the feeling,” you told him, “but I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

“No?”

You huffed a laugh and tangled your fingers in the curls at the back of his neck. 

“You mean everything to her. I can tell just by how she looks at you. Never seen a teenager like their dad that much.” 

And he laughed too, a little wet against your shoulder. 

“Will you be there with me when I tell her? I don’t— I don’t think I can do it alone.”

Your lips found his bristly cheek and planted a kiss there, and you mumbled of course into the salty skin.

So you went home, with plans to come back the next day. This wasn’t easy for you, either, dating a guy with a kid for the first time. You knew she liked you, at least, but that was a face value assessment. Would she mind you taking up more of her dad’s time? Would she mind you in their space every so often? Would she mind if you came around to her soccer games or science fairs or graduation, as her dad’s boyfriend, in front of all the other kids with nuclear families? Would she resent you for shaking up what they had?

You didn’t get much sleep, thinking about it. You wondered if you should bring her some kind of gift, flowers or a trinket or something, but then you’d be trying too hard, right? 

As you got ready the next morning, you thought about all the ways it could go wrong, but none of them really seemed realistic. Sarah was sweet, and intelligent, and surely if she did have reservations, they’d be able to talk them through civilly. 

Right?

You couldn’t even listen to music on your way to their house. It was a silent fifteen minute drive with your nerves boiling over and spilling out, thinking of how awkward things could get. 

But all of that kind of fell to the wayside when Sarah answered the door and said “I haven’t seen you in forever” with a cheeky grin and those bright eyes she definitely got from Joel. 

It felt cozy when you sat down at their kitchen table while they sipped their coffee and orange juice and Sarah told you both all about the English project she was working on. It put you at ease to ask her questions about things you have in common, and for all of you to mesh so well into a normal conversation.

But as it lulled, you noticed Joel getting restless, and you noticed Sarah noticing his uneasiness. 

“Dad, you’re acting weird in front of our company.” 

And while she was alway kind and respectful, she was still a teenager with a dorky dad. 

“Well… I wanted to talk to you about somethin’.”

She looked at him with her head tilted and her eyebrow raised. 

“Now?”

She nodded her head toward you as she asked, and you couldn’t blame her for being confused as to why he had to have a heart-to-heart with his ‘friend’ visiting. 

“Yeah um… You know how you’re always tellin’ me I should get a life and start datin’?”

Sarah laughed and looked at you.

“Yeah, could you be his wingman? It’s getting sad.” 

And you laughed, and Joel laughed, but it was a little forced, and Sarah’s smart, so you could read the confusion on her face. 

“What’s this about, dad?”

Joel took a big, deep breath and took Sarah’s hand on the table. You watched her squeeze his fingers as her face twisted up in worry. 

“He’s my— we’re dating. He’s my… boyfriend.” 

The worry dissipated, and her eyes got wide and her lips pursed before her jaw slowly dropped with surprise. 

“You guys are together?” 

She looked over to you, then, and all you could do was give her a soft smile and nod. 

“I know you might have some questions—”

“How long? When did you guys meet?” 

She looked back to Joel to answer, but you could see he was still reeling, with sweat saturating the curls at his temples. 

“Just a couple months ago, he taught me how to dance to the Boot Scootin’ Boogie.”

She made a noise, like a scoff, and it made you wince.

“Months!? Dad, why didn’t you tell me?” 

You watched Joel’s eyes cloud with— fear? You’d never seen him look so scared. 

“I’m sorry, babygirl. I just— I guess I didn’t know how. At first.” 

His voice trembled, and you watched Sarah’s lip quiver before she shot out of her chair and lunged toward her dad, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. 

“I love you,” she’d mumbled, like she knew it was what he needed to hear, because his shoulders slumped and his arms wrapped around her back. 

You thought maybe you should look away. It felt real personal. But Joel had asked you to be here, and it was about you, too, as much as that fact made you want to burrow underground. 

“You could have told me sooner. I love boy talk.”

Her voice was muffled and heavy with tears, but Joel chuckled all the same through his own misty gaze. 

“I didn’t know you liked boys.” 

She pulled away but didn’t go far, letting her hands squeeze his biceps as she looked to him for an answer. 

“Me neither,” he shrugged, “I like this boy, though. A lot.” 

And he got this goofy smile on his face, even though it was a little wet, and he looked at you, and you felt so awkward but so head over heels. 

“Okay, well, you still should have told me. I would’ve been on the porch cleaning Uncle Tommy’s shotgun when he pulled up.” 

Joel groaned and covered his face but you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up out of you. 

“What are your intentions with my father?”

And though her tone was joking, her eyes grew soft as she waited for an answer. 

“I guess I just wanna make him happy. Because he makes me happy. If that’s alright with you?” 

She sat back down and rested her chin in her hand, with her lips pursed again as she thought. 

“Sarah, you can have time to think—”

“Deal.” 

She extended her hand out to you from across the table, and you took it eagerly to shake on it. But after an appropriate amount of handshake time, she didn’t let your hand go. 

“You have to come over for movie nights now.” 

“I can do that.”

“And I have to make sure your taste in movies doesn’t suck before I let you pick one.”

“That’s fair.”

“ALSO—“

“Sarah,” Joel interrupted, “this isn’t how deals work. You can’t add stuff while he’s still shaking your hand.” 

“As I was saying,” Sarah rolled her eyes, squeezing your hand tighter, “you have to treat him right. He acts all tough but he’s just a softy.”

“Oh Christ,” Joel huffed. 

“No, she has a point,” you told him with a smirk, “I promise I will, Sarah.”

Her eyes narrowed at you, but then she grinned, and finally let go of your hand. 

So yeah, you really really like Joel Miller. You’re never happier than you are when you spend the evening at his house, snuggled up on one side of him while Sarah’s snuggled up to the other, watching some movie Sarah’s usually the one to pick. 

Or when you meet him and Tommy at Sarah’s soccer game, and he greets you with a smile and lifts the bill of your Miller Contracting hat you’ve stolen to peck your lips. 

Or when you’re in your own kitchen, making his coffee, and you feel sleepy arms wrap around your waist and a sleep warm kiss at the nape of your neck. 

Really, as long as you’re with Joel, you’re the happiest you’ve ever been. And if those three little words slip out one day soon, well, there isn’t a single thing that makes you think Joel would be surprised by them.

[bratbarzal]

On Your Side (NH13) / Chapter Ten

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy Jensen

WC: 22k (one day I'll write like a normal person)

Chapter Warnings: I'll highlight the important stuff first - poppy's part has a pretty heavy scene with mentions of stillbirth/miscarriage/child loss/birthing complications and genetic disorders. poppy is safe, cheeto is safe and it's a backstory thing so if you are triggered by mentions of those topics, it's technically skippable (you can message me and I'll write up an overview without the mentions in there so you're not missing out) and at the end of the first scene of her section, the beginning of it will be marked in red, and the end will have the usual divider. other than that, there are sprinklings of angst in here - mentions of anxiety around flying, self doubt, Poppy and Nico have their little family bubble kind of burst, a bit of hurt/comfort, long distance longing and it's otherwise generally fluffy. some sexual references but not smut. some EXCESSIVE declarations of love. like we get it. you're into each other.

Series Masterlist

Previous Part (Chapter Nine)

A/N: I wrote and rewrote so much of this I've kind of driven myself crazy i’m not sure if this chapter will be everyone’s cup of tea tbh but it’s important to the characters as I close this story up. I'd like to dedicate this to my HATERS (aka the anons I literally asked to trash talk me for motivation it actually did work lmao I love you) I know that quite a few people have found this story since the last chapter so thank you for all your lovely messages, and all the stuff you guys send to me in my inbox, or tag in your reblogs it means the world 2 me!! I honestly have seen so many nice things said about this fic and my writing over the past few weeks it really really makes me so happy I love you guys so much!! I feel like putting out the bonus chapter hopefully eases some of the tension from this one, but like I said, and like you can read in the extra chapter where Cheeto is born, she's safe, don't let my warnings put you off unless those things do trigger you!!

Nico

There are quite a few routines that Nico has fallen into with Poppy over the last couple weeks where they have been much closer. 

There’s mornings with Poppy, more often rushed than not after the two of them refuse to leave whichever bed they’re in, cuddling up under the covers and hitting snooze as many times as they possibly can before they really need to get up. 

There’s the beautiful dance they have mastered in the bathroom, brushing his teeth while Poppy does her skincare routine, jutting out his chin for her to put some moisturiser over the centre of his face and letting her rub it in with soft fingers.

There are routines in the evenings, where Nico usually gets home a lot later than Poppy, her key now on his keyring so he can let himself in whenever he needs to, finds her on the couch waiting for him, and brings her back something to eat, even if she’s eaten already that night.

And lunchtimes might be his favourite, making the most out of the times he’s at the arena, and not on the road, stopping by her office, the two of them going for walks now that the weather’s nice again, and trying all the different spots close by.

Returning to her office and going giddy with affection, pressing wanting kisses to her lips where he’s never had the pleasure of doing it so casually, before.

It’s how they’ve ended up where they are now, Poppy sat on the edge of her desk, legs spread for Nico to stand between as his mouth works eagerly at the skin of her delicate neck, drinking up the soft sounds she makes for him, quiet enough that only he will hear.

“We can’t do this,” she gasps at the feeling of teeth nipping, her ass scooting forward until it’s right on the sharp edge of the wood. “Not here.”

“We’ve ticked off every other spot,” he hums just beneath her jaw, nipping at the skin there teasingly until her body arches into the attention. “Your car,” he moves further down her neck, “My car,” and further, “Every single surface in both our apartments,”

“The dryer was fun,” she reminisces, her fingertips reaching out to clutch at his shirt.

“May as well cross your office off the bucket list.” He shrugs, smirking right against her ear where he mutters the words.

“Someone could walk in.”

“Even better.”

“Nico,” she whines as he remains unrelenting in his pursuits.

“Lucky them, getting to see you all pretty for me like this,” his hands press into either side of her thighs and push at the hem of her skirt until it bunches all the way up, parting her legs even further so he can step in between them. “Wanna touch every inch of you,”

“Thought you were doing that this morning,”

This morning, he breaks out into a dopey grin at even the thought.

All these years, he has thought he was living his dream, making a successful career out of his talent, playing in one of the greatest leagues on the planet - all that before he ever experienced co-existing with Poppy.

Coming home to her after a strenuous trip away, falling asleep with her in his arms, being woken at least 10 times in the night to her repositioning herself in her sleep, eyes drifting open in the morning and looking down to see her cheek smushed into his chest, hair matted into the small space left on his pillow, taking up half of his side of the bed, drooling onto his skin as soft snores still puff out from between her parted lips.

That’s his dream, now - to wake up like that every day for the rest of his life. 

And he had told her as much when she came to, shamefully wiping at the spit on his chest with the collar of his shirt that she was wearing, kissing and kissing at her despite her protests of morning breath and needing to pee. He had followed her into the bathroom, all privacy long thrown out of the window as he brushed his teeth while she relieved herself, and Poppy did the same, and it was at the bathroom counter where he had made his first efforts to stretch out their lazy morning together.

Hoisted up beside the sink, legs wrapped around his waist as he pressed minty kisses into her neck, nipping and sucking at her skin until she tugged at his hair and pulled him up to meet her lips. 

He had told her he could do this everyday, and had meant it. But the two of them had been in such a rush to do something while they had the time, that he hadn’t really dived deeper into the topic of it being an actual possibility.

Of the two of them actually living together. Of him giving her the key to his apartment he had cut for her, and proposing that the two of them get a head start on a nursery before he has to potentially leave for the World Championships in a week.

They then moved from the bathroom to the kitchen, from the kitchen back to bed, and then from bed to a late morning start in work, entirely too distracted for him to pick back up where his thoughts left off.

“Lost count of where I got up to, gonna have to start again.” He smirks into her skin.

“You’re crazy.”

“Your fault.” He mutters with lips pressed to her jaw, “This could technically be our last shot here, Poppy,” he leans back a little to get a good look at her, head thrown back in distracted pleasure like she isn’t the one trying to get him to calm down. “You’ll be on leave by the time we get back, who knows when the next time we’ll both be in your office is,”

“I do.” She chuckles, “In 3 hours when you think you miss me too much to function, again.”

“Hey, I was checking up on you,” he presses a kiss closer to her lips, “Couldn’t have you in here all alone, know how worked up you get after a little while without me, huh?”

“I get worked up?” She scoffs, gesturing to the hands splayed out beside her hips on her desk, “You literally can’t keep your hands to yourself,”

“Can you blame me? Look at you,” he hums, kissing at the space between where her mouth curves up at the corner and her cheeks puff into a smile. “Go crazy thinking about you.”

She places soft hands on either side of his face, taking a grip of his jaw and moving him in front of her. “You can’t sweet talk me into fucking you in my office, baby,” she tells him, unable to stop the fully-fledged smile that forms when he grins back. 

“Not even if I take my shirt off?”

The look she casts down his body makes him feel exposed, an electric tingle shooting down his spine - so much that he just wants to press into her to quell it, somewhat.

“Might be worth a shot,” she shrugs, hands shifting until fingertips dance at the sensitive skin on either side of his neck, tickling back into his hair as she grasps at it, just a little. “No promises, though.”

And it’s just as he leans back in to kiss her that a hard knock rattles the door to her office, the two of them shooting apart as if shocked by electric, Poppy shimmying off her desk until she’s standing, pulling her skirt back into place and smoothing down her hair. 

Nico takes a few steps to the side, putting a good few feet between them so their closeness doesn’t rouse suspicion when Poppy invites the intruder into the room. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Josh says with a meek smile as he steps in and closes the door behind him, not at all perturbed by the presence of Nico and Poppy, and seemingly not sorry at all, “Something’s come up and I figured I should run it by you.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” Nico says, doing his best not to sigh or grumble at the fact he has been so rudely disrupted from his new favourite part of the day. 

“Actually,” Josh steps back to block the door, “It concerns you too.”

Nico frowns, glancing back towards Poppy, who’s swiping a thumb at her smudged lips and shrugging a little when she meets his eye.

“What’s up?” She asks.

“So, uhm,” he seems nervous, now, the bravado he had when stopping Nico from leaving disappearing as he swerves around him to put the little folder he is carrying on Poppy’s desk, “It seems like the fans have picked something up from an interview you did after practice today, Nico.”

Shit.

If PR are involved, it has to be something bad.

But he’d just talked about the mood in the locker room, if he remembers right? The morale amongst the team after their loss yesterday in Philly. He hadn’t cursed, hadn’t said anything offensive or troubling.

Maybe he’d pouted a little, been a little frustrated, but that’s to be expected of the position they’re all in, surely?

And why would Josh be running it by Poppy?

“Did I say something bad?”

“No, it’s not anything you said.”

Nico watches as Poppy takes the folder, slides it across her desk and opens it, and from what Nico can see from where he’s stood, it looks like a screenshot of a bunch of tweets.

Whatever they say, it seems like overkill to print them out. Couldn’t he have just pulled up twitter like a normal person?

“Oh.” Poppy frowns, and Nico finds his feet carrying him toward her just at the sight of the expression on her face as she reads down the page.

As he leans over her desk, he sees that they are tweets. The first being a video of the interview he had done after their morning skate today, and the second being a couple of screenshots - each picture zooming further and further into something in the background.

With the paper upside down, Nico can’t quite tell what that something is, but at least it isn’t something he said. 

That’s good, he thinks, right?

The confusion must be evident on his face, because once she’s looked up at him for any sort of reaction, Poppy turns the sheet around on the table, and Nico is able to zero in on exactly what the tweets are getting at, sinking into the seat on his side with bated breath.

In a crystal clear quality he didn’t even know the cameras brought into the locker room could deliver, he sees his copy of Poppy’s latest scan, sat front and centre on the shelf of his locker. 

Fuck.

His eyes skim over the rest of the tweets on the page, an influx of capital letters and exclamation points, the words barely registering in his brain until he gets to the bottom of the page.

Sentiments of ‘Nico is having a baby?’ line up against mentions of Talia, of the two of them still being together, of all the variations of shocked, mind-blown emojis.

His heart starts to hammer in his chest as he reaches for the next page, hoping there’s a tweet from someone with an ounce of sense on there.

But this page is worse. So much worse.

‘He’s with someone else. Served them at my work last week in NYC!’

And attached is a picture from when he and Poppy went to lunch with her parents.

If this whole situation didn’t flood his system with panic, he’d be able to admire just how cute the pictures are - Poppy sat beside him, looking up at him in adoration as he jokes with her father. It’s the kind of thing he doesn’t really get to see or notice when he’s not looking at her - just how infatuated she is with him. It makes his skin tingle and his chest feel warm in the best way. 

Their seats are so close that they’re practically pressed together, his hand disappearing under the table where he remembers it sat on her lap the entire meal, her fingers either tangled with his or tracing little shapes into his palm. 

‘She’s cute.’

‘Where do I know her from?

‘She works for the Devils! Seen her at a few events with the foundation!’

Nico takes a shaky breath as the rest of it unfolds in front of his eyes. 

Poppy’s name, her job, the about us section from the foundation website, her private social media pages with requests to follow, pictures where she’s in the background or smushed into a group shot. She didn’t sign up for this, he thinks, people having such little regard for her privacy online. 

His interview in the locker room had been an hour ago, maybe two, and all they had to go off was a single blurry screenshot of a scan picture. And now they have pictures of her, of the two of them together, of her parents. They know her name, her place of work, and on the very last page, when he reads, ‘She lives in my brother’s building’ he thinks his heart stops.

“You guys aren’t in trouble, or anything,” Josh reassures her, reaching out in Nico’s peripheral and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder that he really wants to shoo away. “I mean, everybody here knew, I wanted you to see everything so you can figure out how you want to handle it. Or if you want to handle it at all.”

“What do you mean?” Nico gulps, speaking mainly to divert Josh’s attention from her, to try gain back some semblance of control on the situation, himself.

“I mean, we don’t really get involved in personal stuff like this, but I could help you come up with something to say between yourselves?”

“Something to say?”

Maybe Nico has been ignorant, this whole time, to the possibility that this sort of thing could happen. It’s not like they’ve been hiding it, not really. They’re out in public a lot together - they go to the convenience store sometimes, they eat out, they grab breakfast at the same spot if neither of them have the energy to make it, themselves, waiting in the queue with Poppy perched beneath his arm and him pressing kisses to the crown of her head.

His relationship with her has never been something that he felt like he had to hide, or had to protect, not in that way, anyway. 

Especially compared to when he was with Talia. When her social media presence became catered to hinting at the two of them. Cut off shots of his arms on tables, wearing clothes he had just been seen in, posing in front of his car, in the family suite at the arena - and that had all been before he found out she had been sharing their private pictures with gossip accounts, too. 

Poppy doesn’t court attention like that. All her pictures with him or of him are hers, and hers alone. Printed out and put on her refrigerator or framed in her apartment. Or there’s maybe one or two that she rotates as her phone background, but he does the same with her so he can’t exactly complain about that.

It’s cute, he thinks, the small ways in which she tries to keep him close. 

He’s just been assuming the two of them would be on the same page about the whole thing, wanting to keep things as they were, just between them, but also not going to extra efforts to hide their relationship, to erase all essence of normality and routine they’ve managed to build.

Especially considering the fact that for so long, even they didn’t know what they were or what they would be.

He still doesn’t know, if he’s being completely honest.

Poppy isn’t a grand gesture kind of girl, he knows that. She likes things simple, likes things easy, and as much as he might want to tell everyone that she’s his girlfriend, they haven’t really had that conversation yet. And he’s trying to let her take the lead on the whole milestone thing. He doesn’t want to push her into something she’s still building herself up to in her head.

So what is he supposed to say?

“If you don’t say anything, they might continue to dig.”

“I don’t think there’s much left for them to find,” Poppy scoffs, speaking for the first time as she flicks back through the pages on her desk. “Maybe my social security number, or my dental records or something.”

Ok, she’s cracking jokes, he thinks, casting a concerned glance her way as she finally meets his eye over her desk. 

She doesn’t look angry that he’s catapulted them into this mess. Doesn’t look hurt or disappointed. She’s chewing on her bottom lip and her eyes are wide looking back at him as if she’s expecting him to say something. 

“Do we have to decide now?” Nico asks, despite knowing the answer.

The last game of the season is tomorrow. Home against the islanders. Leaving things to chance and having all eyes on him will only fuel the fires of online speculation. 

“I’ll leave you two to talk about it, if you want?”

Nico narrows his eyes at the hand that still rests on Poppy’s shoulder, patronisingly patting at the curve of it before she sends him a thankful, forced smile, and he has to bite his tongue when Josh does the same thing to him on his way out.

The silence that lingers following the click of the door to Poppy’s office is tense, elongated enough that Nico starts the feel the throbbing of his pulse in his ears. 

His eyes are cast down, but he can feel Poppy’s cautious gaze on him, can sense as she rises out from behind her desk and circles around to his side, perching herself on the edge, sat beside the damning evidence that has caused this mess.

“What are you thinking?” She asks, softly.

“I’m thinking I messed everything up.” He sighs, leaning into the chair with tension in ever muscle, back stiff, jaw clenched. “I’m so stupid, I forgot it would even be visible, I just like having it there, so I can see her all the time, I didn’t mean for this to happen, Poppy, I swear,”

“Hey, I know,” she consoles him, pushing straight off of her desk and standing in front of him, crouching to his level. “Our bubble was bound to burst eventually, Nico, it’s okay,”

“Maybe we can fix this,” he thinks out loud, “I know a guy, a hacker, he’s really good, he could probably do something,”

“He must be really good if he can turn back time, babe,” Poppy scoffs, and he straightens in the seat, adjusting his positioning and gesturing for her to sit on his lap, as awkward as it might be. “How the hell do you know a hacker, anyway, Mission Impossible?”

“His name’s Myles, he lives over in The Heights,” he hums in response, large hand cupping at her thigh to hold her in place, “Maybe he could get the pictures scrubbed from the internet, or something?”

“Is that what you want?”

“I just want to keep things the way they are,” he sighs, “I want our bubble back. I liked our bubble.”

Poppy smiles, soft and affectionate, and cards her fingers through his hair to push it back, nails scratching soothingly at his scalp. 

“I liked our bubble, too.” 

The two of them sit like that for a minute, thoughts racing between the two of them, but the tension slowly easing, the silence becoming a little more comfortable as they both take a moment to think about what it is they want to do. 

Poppy’s fingers stroke at the back of his neck and his stroke soothingly into her thigh.

“We don’t have to say anything, if you don’t want to,” She’s the first to speak, and Nico’s heart hammers at the sound of her voice, more than usual, at least. “We can just wait it out, it’s the last game of the season, these things just go away after a while, right?”

“I don’t want it to go away, Poppy.” He huffs. “I don’t want to hide you, or pretend you don’t exist, pretend we aren’t having a baby together, pretend we aren’t-,”

His fingers tighten in their grip on her flesh, and he lets out a heavy sigh, trying to refrain from laying his heart on the line in the possibility she might trample on it out of heightened emotion. 

“I can ignore it,” she says, “The stuff online, I don’t really use social media, they can say what they want about me, about us, it doesn’t really matter, right? They don’t know anything.”

“They know where you live, apparently.” He scoffs, and despite the voice in him telling him to reel it in, the voice that, for so long now, has been telling him to hand the reins over and let her guide him down whatever path she wants to be on, the next thing comes out without much thought behind it. “Maybe you should move in with me, my building is a lot safer.”

He had been wanting to ask her, anyway, right?

He has the key in the glove compartment of his car, ready for her to claim. They spend enough time at his place, it’s the same distance as hers from the arena. 

And the timing is almost perfect. He’ll have some time to move her in before he leaves for Europe. Have some time to get her settled before they’re separated, just for a bit. They can keep sharing these routines they’ve built so well, together.

She’ll have an all access pass to all the clothes she so often likes to lounge around in, and he’ll have an all access pass to her, to all the developments with Cheeto, to-

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

What?

In what world is it not a good idea?

“I don’t think we’re ready for that, yet.”

Not ready?

What about them isn’t ready?

“Poppy-,”

“I have a meeting in 5 minutes, I should really fix myself up.”

She pushes herself up from his lap, despite him pawing at her to stay, and rushes back to her own side of her desk, tucking her hair behind her ears as she tries to make herself look busy, avoiding the way in which he chases her gaze.

What the hell just happened?

“We need to talk about this, Mohn,”

“We will,” she reassures him, “Later, I promise. Dinner at Jesper and Nic's, yeah, with the team? I'll meet you at your place.”

His place.

No, he thinks, it should be our place.

His heart hammers in her chest as he watches her, tries to get a gauge on what on earth she’s thinking, why the hell she’s distancing herself after, I liked our bubble, too.

“Poppy,” he tries again, stepping and trying to convey something in his tone that might bring her on side, might make her reconsider. 

“I can’t be late, Nico,” she sighs, “I’ll come straight over after I finish work, okay?”

“Okay,” he sighs, shuffling over to the door with the weight of the world now on his shoulders. 

How the hell had he gone from the morning from heaven, to this?

Exiled from Poppy’s office and shot down like the thought of living with him turned her stomach. 

“Love you,” he offers as a goodbye, a hand on the door handle with his neck craned back to see her one more time, to meet her eyes and try and ingrain the sentiment to her memory.

“Yeah,” she smiles, tight and half-hearted. “Love you, too.”

Nico can’t recall a time where he’s ever been this stressed in his life.

And that seems like an almighty feat considering the year he’s had, so far. All the stuff with the team, with losing their manager half way through the season, with injuries, and fights on the ice, with trying to organise his place in the national team. With Poppy, with her parents, with navigating their relationship, navigating the fact he’s going to become a father soon.

But no, 3 missed calls to his girlfriend-but-not-his-girlfriend-but-she’s-carrying-his-baby-and-he-wants-her-to-be-his-girlfriend’s phone and he’s literally having heart palpitations and breaking out into a cold sweat.

He’s pacing, for God’s sake, shoes tapping against the hard wood of his apartment as he waits for any sign of life.

They’re all going straight to voicemail, and beyond driving all the way back to the Rock and trying to retrace her steps, he doesn’t know what to do.

Despite where they had left things earlier, despite the way she stomped all over his hopes and dreams, she had told him she’d meet him here straight after work, and it’s been almost an hour since she was due to finish.

It’s 30 minutes from the arena, maximum.

He should have stuck around and given her a ride, he thinks. At least them he’d know where she was.

But then she’d feel smothered, a whiny voice rings through his head as he presses to dial her again, the same tone ringing straight through to her machine. She doesn’t want to live with you, she probably doesn’t want to be in a car with you, either.

“C’mon, Poppy, pick up,” he sighs, trying one more time, holding his breath as he presses his phone straight to his ear, wanting to throw it against the wall when the same thing happens, again. 

He can’t calm himself down. He hasn’t been able to all afternoon since he left The Rock, driving home without any music playing, coming up to his apartment and not being able to sit still for the past few hours.

She doesn’t want to live with him. She doesn’t think they’re ready.

Despite the fact that they’ve shared a bed every night, almost - aside for when he’s been on the road - for the past two weeks. Despite the fact that all he’s done since February is try to prove himself to her. 

Prove himself as a partner, first and foremost. There for every appointment, accommodating her every craving, her every need. 

He’s even learning to cook, for Christ’s sake, beyond pasta and breakfast food, and knows her breakfast order by heart. 

He’s tried replaying their entire conversation in his head, tried figuring out which part had soured her entirely to the idea, and all he has been coming up with is blanks.

And now, she’s blanking him. Now she’s saying love you with weak smiles that make his heart ache, and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

He’s pacing so much, stomping so hard, that he almost doesn’t hear the knock at his door, stopping in his tracks just to catch the end of it and shooting over so quick he almost stumbles and crashes to the floor.

Seeing her isn’t enough for the tension to drop from his body, not entirely, not yet - not even when she gives him a guilty smile and immediately goes in for a soft, sweet kiss against his bitten lips. 

“‘M’sorry,” she mutters into his mouth, “My phone died and I left my charger in your car.” She waves her blank phone screen in between them as if to prove her point, and Nico thinks back to getting in his car to come home, earlier, huffing and puffing about all the wires in the centre console and throwing them onto the passenger seat.

He kisses her back, almost in an unspoken apology for getting so worked up, not that she had any idea just how worked up he was getting, and hums, “It’s okay,” in response. “Are you okay?”

Are we okay? He wants to ask, but doesn’t.

She’s here, now. They have to be okay.

“Yeah,” she smiles, and he wants to take it at face value. She’s had a long day at work, she’s probably exhausted. Her smile isn’t half-assed or forced. She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t want to be. “The guy who’s covering my maternity is a board-certified yapper, Nico, God help you when you have to work with him. You’re gonna miss the hell outta me.”

“Won’t have to miss you, Mohn,” he chuckles, despite the fact that it isn’t entirely true. He wouldn’t have to miss her, if she lived with him, but the way she smiles back eases his worries, a little bit. 

There’s the summer to figure things out, he realises.

There’s no rush, and he keeps getting into the habit of thinking there is.

Baby steps.

She takes them with such ease that it really makes him look like an idiot, he thinks. 

“You ready to go? Do you need a drink or anything?”

“I think I’ll last the ten minutes it takes to get there,” she rolls her eyes fondly as she takes his hand in hers, and the two of them make their way down to the parking level.

Nico bites at his tongue the whole way to Jesper and Nicole’s place.

He’s trying his best to take whatever she’s willing to give him, and if ignoring the problem at hand is what she wants to do, then he’ll do it. He won’t ask her if she’s thought any more about things, despite her telling him earlier that they’d pick it back up. He won’t ask if she’s still willing to ignore all the outside noise.

Won’t ask her why she doesn’t think they’re ready to live together.

And he bites his tongue all night, really. 

It becomes easy to do so as the two of them sink into the familiarity of the team dynamic. Loud and boisterous, fun and carefree, like they haven’t got a game left tomorrow. Like they all aren’t going to have to sit and watch the playoffs play out, thinking what if, and why not me?

Like they all aren’t getting separated for the summer, scattered across the globe with the ever so slight chance they won’t be reunited again.

Not in this format, at least.

But Poppy’s hand holds his in her lap. Poppy rests her head on his shoulder as she listens to Timo tell her all about Switzerland, hyping her up for all the cool things they’re all going to get to do together, and her looking up at Nico with a beaming smile and eyes like twinkling stars.

Poppy stays glued to his side for the group picture Nicole insists on taking, sandwiched between Nico and Timo with the biggest, cheesiest grin on her face, and he thinks he’s probably looking at her as the camera flashes - meets Nicole’s eyes when she’s looking back at the photo and knows he isn’t looking into the lens. 

Poppy rests her free hand on her bump, strokes little shapes absentmindedly on it in a way that makes Nico’s heart soar with pride.

Poppy sinks into his side when he’s talking to Nicole’s brother, and who doesn’t flinch when Nico introduces her as, “Poppy, my girlfriend,” in a way that just rolls of the tongue with little to no thought behind it.

And Poppy doesn’t bring it up until they’re sat back down at the large, extended dining table, mostly deserted and the room a lot less rowdy now that a few of the guys have cleared out for an early night.

“I’m your girlfriend, now, huh?”

Shit.

“Sounded nicer than Baby Mama,” he chuckles, the laughter quickly dying down when he sees Poppy’s reaction to his words. It’s that same weak smile she had given in her office, earlier. Resigned and reluctant. “To be honest, I didn’t really know how to ask you about it.”

“Usually starts with will you and is followed by be my girlfriend?” She teases, turning into him a little more as he leans into her, opening herself up more to him than she has all night.

“Don’t you think we’re past that, though?” He smiles softly, thankful for the soft beaming light that returns to her eyes. “Girlfriend feels,”

He doesn’t want to say small.

He doesn’t want to say not enough.

He doesn’t want to say anything that might upset her enough to retreat again, but it’s what he means.

He can’t help it.

It just feels juvenile and insufficient.

She’s so much more than that.

And, because she’s Poppy, and because she can’t help but take the burden of having to say it away from him, she takes his hand in hers, thumb rubbing at the top. “I know what you mean.”

Thank God.

“I called Nia earlier, and she called you my boyfriend, and it sorta freaked me out a little.”

“Freaked you out?” He gulps, nerves settling in the pit of his stomach at the fact that taking the next step with him is freaking her out. 

“Yeah,” she sighs, “Like boyfriend seems,”

And she looks like she’s found herself stuck in the same rut he had been in, moments prior. Knowing what she means, but unable to voice it.

“Limited,” he realises, after a moment of consideration for the way he feels just when he looks at her. “Casual, even.”

“Yes!” She agrees, lips twisting into an approving smile. “That’s exactly it! You’re so much more than my boyfriend, Nico.” 

“So much more,” he hums, leaning in to press his lips straight to hers, trying to memorise how the shape of her smile feels against in the hopes that he can use it if he ever gets that stressed again. Can remember how easy she makes it to wriggle one of these out of her, to make her eyes gleam like they hold all the love in the world in her irises. “Like your husband,” he speaks the words into her mouth like speaking them into existence, drinking up the sound of her laughter when she pushes him away with fingers to his chest.

“Don’t push your luck, baby."

He comes to the conclusion that he was probably moving a little too quick, or a little too reckless earlier that day. He had told himself as much, before the fact, constantly trying to pull himself back and follow Poppy’s lead on things, because she does make life easy in a way he can never comprehend.

How he got from pacing the floors of his apartment in a panicked, sweaty, discombobulated mess mere hours ago to laid beside her in his bed, heart lulled back into a steady, comfortable rhythm, he doesn’t know.

Only the steady rhythm doesn’t make it through the night. Not when she’s clearly mulling something over beside him.

He had thought at first she was thinking so loud he could hear her blink, but when he had looked over, she was turned the other way, and her breaths were coming out in long, slow drawls - similar to those of when she is sleeping, so he had drifted back off.

And then the tossing and turning started. Huffs and puffs and mmphs that she couldn’t seem to control. Facing him, facing away, facing up.

And then she was up, trudging over to the bathroom with slumped shoulders, spending a minute in there before returning to the bed, and plonking herself down in it with little care for how he might be asleep.

Not that he was.

“It’s 3am, Poppy, why aren’t you asleep?”

“Not tired,” she huffs, arms crossing over her chest.

“You’re always tired,” he chuckles, easing his hand into the crook of her elbow and tugging to uncross them. He pulls until she’s sinking closer to him on the mattress, but her body is stiff with tension, and he just wants to ease the load. “Growing my baby is exhausting, remember?” He tries his hand at humour, but she just sighs, shuffling to get comfortable. “Poppy, talk to me.”

“I want to move in with you.” She blurts out, and he feels like he’s going to get whiplash from the flurry of emotions that passes through him.

Relief, gratitude, happiness, confusion.

“That’s what’s keeping you awake?” He asks, like the concept of her sat worrying about that when he’s the one who asked her in the first place is crazy. All this huffing and puffing and interrupted sleep, for what?

“Well, yeah,” she drags out like it’s obvious at all, “Because you asked me and I said no.”

“I remember, I was there,” he chuckles. “Did you change your mind?”

“No.”

“I don’t understand.”

He really doesn’t.

“I didn’t say no because I didn’t want to, Nico,” she almost snaps, her voice tired and her tone direct.

“Poppy,” he levels, “It’s 3am.”

“What are you, talking clock? I know the time! I’ve been staring at it for the past like 4 hours.”

Nico lets out a heavy exhale, sitting up in bed and trying to meet her eyes in the dark. “Why did you say no?”

“I said no because I thought you only asked me because it was something convenient for us to do.” She pouts, “And I want you to want to live with me because you love me, not because your building is more secure.”

“I do love you,” he frowns, like his infatuation with her isn’t the most painstakingly tangible thing in the world. “And I want you to be safe, and to be happy,” 

“Are you in love with me?”

“Is that not what I literally just said?”

“You said you love me,”

“And that’s not the same thing?”

“I don’t know, is it?”

Jesus Christ, he curses to himself, refraining from once again pointing out the time.

Is this a pregnancy thing, he wonders? Losing your mind like this in the middle of the night? Is this what all those dreams have accumulated to? Is this his fault?

“If you’re asking me if all those times I told you that I loved you, did I mean I was in love with you, then yes. I thought that was obvious.”

He’s been in love with her way longer than he feels like he can communicate at such an absurd hour, but he’ll do it if he has to. If tomorrow when they both leave for the arena, he can slip that key he has stashed away onto her keychain and can move on with his day without the stresses of earlier.

“Oh.”

“Was it not obvious?”

“I don’t know.”

“Poppy,”

“What?”

“Do I have to lay it out for you?”

“I mean, only if you want to.”

“It’s 3am.” He reminds her, one last time.

“It’s never too early for declarations of love, Nico.” Her lips twist, and his gut does in response, amusement evident even in the darkened room, eyes glistening with mirth as they meet his.

“I just told you, Mohn, I’ve declared my love over and over.”

“Maybe you should do it again.”

“I’m in love with you, Poppy,”

“With feeling,” she encourages him, shuffling closer until their legs tangle in his favourite way.

“Even when you’re annoying and you won’t let us sleep.”

“Declarations of love can’t include the word annoying, baby.”

Maybe she’s right. How can he be annoyed when she’s calling him pet names and looking at him like that? He’s so in love with her that he’d do anything.

“I’m in love with the way you press your freakishly cold feet between my legs and send my whole body into shock every morning.” He starts, shuffling himself until they’re in his favourite position, facing each other, limbs tangled, her bump pressing into his own stomach, and her hands splayed on his chest. “And when you try to make me breakfast but you for some reason can’t touch a bagel without burning it, and I leave the house every morning smelling like burnt toast.”

“I’m trying my best, there’s a really fine line between them being done and over-done.”

“Whatever you say. I love you when you’re grumpy and hormonal, and you get really specifically annoyed and nothing I do is right but you won’t tell me that so you just huff and puff like a child.”

“I had every right to huff and puff. You asked me to move in with you because your building is safer. That’s not romantic, Nico.” And despite his earlier stress and anxiety, all he can do looking back now is laugh. He’d been so caught up in the mantra of Poppy doesn’t like grand gestures that he hadn’t taken his own words into account. “Is there anything good you love about me?”

“I’ve loved you from the day I met you, Poppy, there’s plenty of good.” And when she raises a brow, urging him to continue, he chuckles, deep and hearty and in a way that wracks through him in delight. “I love how you’re kind, and you’re funny, sometimes I even think of you and laugh,”

She frowns, and Nico can see the argumentative cogs turning in her head. “Well, that’s not-,”

“How you have something to say about everything, even the way I’m baring my soul to you.” He grabs gently at either side of her face, only just smushing her cheeks teasingly before releasing the pressure and holding her in place. “I love how you’ve given a new purpose to my life. How it’s not just me and my job anymore, it’s us and our family, and I never feel like any of this is out of my control. I want you to move in because you’re like home to me, Poppy. I want to wake up every morning I can next to you, I want to finish a long day and end it with you. I want to lay awake half way across the world and think of you in our bed, in our apartment, and know that you’re safe, and nothing can get you here.

“I don’t know how I ever pushed these feelings down for so long, Mohn, because they consume me now. I’ll never get enough of you, of your pretty smile, or that really dorky, snorty laugh you do when you’re tired, or how you always put too much sugar in my coffee and now every time I taste something sweet I think of you.”

The smile she’s giving him might be his favourite, teary eyed and so wide he thinks it must ache in her cheeks. Her lips tremble slightly and her fingertips dig deliciously into his chest. 

“The thought of you being the mother of my child, of her having that dorky laugh, and your pretty sparkly eyes, and me never getting a second of peace between the two of you talking back to me, I feel like the luckiest guy in the entire world. Is that enough feeling for you?”

“Just about.” She whispers, leaning up to press her lips straight to his, cautious not to get too lost in it before he utters his response straight into her mouth.

“Great. Your turn.”

“It’s 3am, Nico,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes, playfully. “I love you too, Jeez, are you ever gonna let me sleep?”

“Are you in love with me?”

“I’m so in love with you, that if I weren’t already pregnant right now,” her voice is deeper as she moves closer to him, lips edging toward his ear until they press at the skin just below on his neck, whispering her next words, teasingly. “I’d so let you put a baby in me.”

Nico’s so relieved he doesn’t have neighbours he could possibly wake up with the laugh that comes out of him. A loud exclamation of joy that shines straight back to him through Poppy, a wide grin and shaking shoulders as she giggles back at him.

“That’s an outrageous thing to say considering we’ve only been together officially for,” he checks his watch over her shoulder, “Like 8 hours.”

“Yeah, well,” she shrugs, offering a wink he’s thankful to catch, “When you know, you know.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Ask me again.”

“Will you move in with me, Poppy?”

“Yes.”

Moving Poppy into his apartment - their apartment - had been easier than Nico could have ever hoped. 

She had parted ways a little too easy with most of her furniture, under the sneaky compromise that keeping his stuff and moving into his building, meant that she was owed more closet space as some form of compensation. 

And Nico had figured that it was only a small sacrifice compared to what she was doing - giving up the last remaining scraps of her independence and leaving behind the beautiful home she had built for herself. The home where their relationship had began to flourish. The apartment where the wheels had been set in motion all those months ago for their baby girl to be brought into existence.

He’s sort of thankful her lease situation isn’t entirely sorted yet, with her moving out but still paying the rent until they can figure out what to do with all the stuff she’s leaving behind. Even he isn’t quite ready to say a proper goodbye.

But that’s a problem for when they get back at the end of summer.

A problem for him, at least, because he knows he won’t want her stressing about any of the technicalities at that point. 

It makes him less anxious to leave her, knowing she’s safe in their shared space, and has the benefits of Lionel being downstairs if she needs someone. 

Knowing that his initial worries for her safety ended up, thankfully, being an overreaction, entirely, after Nicole had posted her picture of the group to her public instagram, and the gossipers online had taken that as all the confirmation they needed and swiftly moved on.

Knowing that Poppy’s fully moved in, and they’ve had the luxury of properly co-existing, back in their perfect little bubble for just over a week before he has to leave.

Just over a week of shared mornings, stretched out to the fullest capacity, sometimes even into the early afternoon, the two of them only leaving bed for food and bathroom breaks. 

Late afternoons, when Poppy gets home from work, and curls up with Nico on the couch, him getting more comfortable cooking for her when she ends up falling asleep melted into the cushions, and wakes when her senses kick in and she can smell food being made without her. 

Evenings sat cross-legged on the floor, mapping out an idea for the nursery that will be going into Nico’s mostly-unused home office. Making the travel plans for Poppy to fly out and meet him once all her work back in Jersey is wrapped up, and his work with the national team is over. 

And nights spend curled up under the sheets, Nico promising to show her all the parts of his world that he’s been telling her about all these years.

It’s a life Nico gets a little too lost in, and before he knows it, before he can grasp just how much he loves what they’ve built here, already, it’s time to say goodbye to Poppy.

He tries to drag it out as much as he can.

He sets an earlier alarm, despite her grumbling protests, just so he can spend another 15 minutes with her in his arms.

He drives them both to the airport for her to drive back, spare hand holding hers over the centre console and squeezing in patterns of three every time they hit a red light. 

And he had followed Poppy’s advice, begrudgingly, arriving at the airport with plenty of time to spare, which meant he could take that little longer saying his goodbyes before he really had to go.

Goodbyes that Poppy made harder than he ever thought they could be.

“And I left my shampoo for you to use,” he mumbles into lips that continue to chase his, back starting to ache a little from leaning over the middle of the car but he couldn’t really care less.

“And if I run your water bill up high enough, would you come home to me to investigate?”

“Well, when you make it sound so tempting,” he kisses her, this time, before muttering, “Poppy, you’ve got to let me go.”

“But I just got you,” she pouts, chasing another kiss, “I don’t think we’ve done enough to catch up for all that time we wasted, I think we need to try out your backseat again, one more time for good measure. I promise you can leave straight after, no funny comments from me about it.”

“As nice as that sounds,” he chuckles, “Airport security scares me, I’m not getting into trouble with those guys because my girl is insatiable.”

“You’re boring,” she frowns.

“It’s 4 weeks.”

“That’s so long,” she huffs, still holding onto the front of his shirt.

“I know,” he kisses her again. "But then we have all summer together,” and again, “and by the time we get back here, we’re gonna be getting ready for baby girl to come,” and one more time for good measure. “Just 4 weeks. Maybe not even that,”

“4 weeks. My man has a medal to win.”

His chest swells at the thought of it, and he smiles, in a way that feels like might never fade. “That reminds me,” he jolts, reaching into his pocket for what he had stashed in there when clearing out his locker back at the arena the other week. He zips down the inner compartment and pulls out something that makes her gasp.

“You kept it?” She reaches out, taking the bracelet into a gentle gasp and looking at it with eyes that shine brighter than the jewels bezelled into it. 

“Of course I did,” he smirks as he takes it back to clasp it around her wrist, looking up into her eyes with a sly smirk spreading across his lips, “it was really fucking expensive.”

She swats hard at his chest, trying so hard to suppress an aching grin from taking over her pretty features. “Promise me you’ll look after yourself?”

“Of course, I have precious cargo,” she smiles, hand cradling the bottom of her growing belly, where his reaches out to join, settling his softened gaze on the roundness of it before looking back up at her. 

“You’re precious too, Mohn.” He whispers, and he can’t help himself, kissing her one final, passionate time before pressing his forehead to hers, closing his eyes and breathing her in as much as he can before he leaves. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you, Nico,” she whispers, words meant just for him, just to settle the growing ache in his bones that won’t be relieved until they’re reunited. 

“I love you too, Poppy.”

Poppy

Poppy has always loved having a space of her own. Ever since moving into her apartment, after having lived with Nia through college and a a little while after, she has relished having a place that is exclusively hers - where she doesn’t have to share responsibilities, doesn’t have to lay down boundaries, or protect what is hers, because everything is hers.

Her comfy Facebook Marketplace couch, that she had found for a steal and her and Nico - mostly Nico - had lugged all the way up to her apartment not long after she had moved in, and holds an abundance of memories, especially lately, that warm Poppy to her very core. Memories of being cuddled up with him, large hands rubbing soothing circles into her belly to try rouse any sort of premature movement in there, while he distracted her entirely from the Harry Potter movies he was supposed to be getting her invested in.

Her big cosy bed, with mountains of pillows Nico constantly grumbles at having to remove when he stays over, cloud-like heaps of blankets that she has to trap him in so that his legs stay under, and she can wrap hers around them before he manages to stick them out in the cold. 

Shelves lined with keepsakes and trinkets - which now includes little framed scan photos, a small pregnancy memory journal sent over by Nico’s mom, where the two of them have been writing little daily messages to their baby girl for her to read one day when she’s older.

And she always thought that when it came to sharing her space, when it came to being in a relationship with someone, progressing to the point of living together, and having a home be theirs and not hers, she’d have wanted it to be somewhere that had been hers, first.

She never thought she would leave her apartment, never thought she’d haul her belongings a few blocks over, give up her couch, her bed, all the random pieces of furniture she had sourced over the years, pack up her trinkets and say goodbye to the last scrap of independence she would ever have with an all-too-ecstatic wave and immerse herself so wholeheartedly into someone else’s home.

But Nico had made it easy. He makes everything easy, Poppy has very quickly realised.

It’s all he has done since they found out she was pregnant. 

Any fears of feeling like an intruder never even had the chance to materialise in her thoughts before he was calling his place theirs, referencing their home like it had always been that way, like she was always destined to be a part of his life, like there’s more to that word for him than walls and belongings. 

He had told her as much all those weeks ago, wrapped up in his sheets in the early hours of the morning, when he had told her that she was like home to him. And she had thought the same - she still thinks the same, but being here without him, she still feels it, despite him being so far away for so long.

She doesn’t feel like a house-sitter, or something temporary.

She feels it in her new routine, in figuring out his appliances, in adjusting his thermostat and shower temperatures to her liking, in replacing some of the books on his shelves he most definitely has never read with her books, her trinkets, her pictures. Their pictures. 

It has become a stark contrast to all those months ago, when she had walked into this space with heavy feet, the weight of the world on her shoulders and the fear of rejection weighing on her heart - when she had taken note of the lack of warmth, or the personality she knew all too well. 

His kitchen shelves are now lined with books of recipes she can’t wait to cook for him when they are co-existing - when summer is over, and their baby is here, and their lives have officially begun. 

She tells him as much when he calls every night, usually when she’s making dinner, and he utters the same sentiments, his features softening into that dopey smile she loves so much when he comments about missing her cooking. He’s usually propped up against the utensil pot, watching intently as she flits around their kitchen, the drawers now memorised so she no longer has to ask him where a tin opener might be, and every time she looks over, he has this far away look in his eyes like he’s watching back a dream.

His call had come a little earlier, today, after she had sent over a voice note she had taken for him at her routine scan. It had been just long enough for him to listen to it before the tell-tale FaceTime ringtone had rung out from her pocket, just as she had been hauling her groceries down the hall to finally make it home after a long day at work.

“Did you send that by accident or is it a distress signal?”

Poppy smiles down at her phone as she makes it through the front door, heading straight for the kitchen and putting the bag of groceries on the counter.

“That’s out daughter’s heartbeat,” she chuckles, admiring the way he leans down onto whatever table he has her propped up on, heart thudding as she realises he’s still out in public, despite it being late where he is, not even able to wait until he gets back to the privacy of his room like normal to call her. “Strongest one this side of the Hudson, so I’ve been told.”

“Oh really?” He rests on his forearms and uses them to support his chin, his smile tired and exhaustion seemingly creeping into his bones. It’s been almost 3 weeks now since they have seen each other, and every night Poppy sees a difference in him - focus increased and motivation teetering. There isn’t long left, though, until she leaves Jersey. Until she heads straight for him and they finally get some time together with no other responsibilities than to be with each other. “You get any pictures?”

“Whoa, kinky,” she smirks when she sees him roll his eyes, heat creeping onto his cheeks, and she huffs out a slight sigh of disappointment when he runs a hand through his hair, and she can see the ear buds carrying her voice to him. She’d only slightly been hoping to embarrass him in public. She deserves the little pleasures, she thinks.

“Of our baby, Poppy,” he huffs, his annoyance entirely forced and the way she charms him evident in the glint in his eyes, even through a phone screen.

“Duh,” she rolls her eyes as her fingers swipe through her phone, looking for the pictures she already had primed to send over to him. 

“If you have any other pictures though, you can send them through. I'll be back in my room in 10 minutes.”

“Nice try,” she scoffs, waiting for the blue line to run the whole way across her screen as the pictures and videos start sending. “That second video, when she turns a little, you can see she has your nose, it’s so cute,” she sighs, dreamily, as she settles the phone back onto the counter, leaning down to watch his reactions as he receives them. She can feel warmth spread through her chest as she takes in the movement of his eyes, flickering across all there is to take in from the latest scan - the tiny developments since the last one, especially considering she had opted for the 3D scan despite how much she thought it might freak her out.

Seeing her baby girl all curled up, tiny hands supposedly waving, little features scrunched up in a mirror image of the man Poppy loves the most in the world - it had really set her emotions off that morning. She had to sit in her car for a good 20 minutes before work, sobbing into a snotty tissue and cursing the time difference for the fact that Nico was probably asleep, not wanting to disturb him just to call and worry him. 

“I think she looks like you,” he mutters, entirely hypnotised by the videos, lips stretched into a soft smile, dimples pushing into his cheeks, emphasising the fresh gash below his eye that she has actively been trying not to look too much at. “She’s so beautiful. Did you get copies?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna put them straight into my carry on so I don’t forget to bring them over. Got a copy for your mom, too.”

“She’ll love the nose thing.”

“It’s a cute nose,” Poppy hums, “A strong one, too, swear she’s like a sniffer dog in there, I’ve been craving mac and cheese all day since she smelled someone else’s lunch yesterday. Had to go buy a grater just so I can make some from scratch.”

“I don’t have a cheese grater?”

“Not that I could find,” Poppy frowns, having searched high and low in every cupboard and drawer when she got home last night, “Although neither of us should be surprised, Nico, you don’t even have a full set of pans,”

“Why would I need a full set? I only ever use one at a time.”

“You’re giving yourself too much credit, baby, we both know you live off of meal prep delivery.” She jokes, and he shakes his head in silent denial. “But don’t worry,” she picks her phone up and switches the camera to show him the pan set she had brought home with her yesterday, “I’m here to improve your life one pot at a time.”

“Is that how you’re spending your evening?” He asks, “Stocking our kitchen with new stuff?”

“That’s the plan for tomorrow, actually,” she smiles, picturing all the shopping she can do as she starts unpacking all the ingredients for her dinner, “My dad said he found a bunch of old baby clothes in their garage, he had a meeting this way today and is gonna bring them over for me to look at tonight.”

“Your baby clothes?”

“Yeah, I’m hoping, you should see the way they dressed OlI when he was a baby, like half of his genetic structure was colour-block Gymboree.”

“I have no idea what that means,” he frowns, adorably, eyes gleaming still with the beginnings of a fond smile.

“Trust me, you don’t want to, he looks like a clown in all his baby photos. Hideous.” She shudders as she focuses her attention back on the phone, catching a glimpse of Nico stifling a yawn and checking the time. He isn't usually out of his room at this time, usually getting settled in for the night, lounging in his bed so he gets to say goodnight to her. She doesn’t really want to keep him if he’s tired. “He should be here soon, so I’ll let you go get your beauty sleep.”

“Yeah, I need all the help I can get,” he chuckles, a finger wagging toward the cut on his cheek with a tired smile. “Text me before you sleep, so I can wake up to it?” She nods. “Love you, Poppy,” The casual manner in which he utters the words does little to quell the excitement they arouse.

“Love you too, Nico.”

Poppy feels lighter than air as she pads around the apartment after their call has ended, unpacking her groceries into the refrigerator, keeping out what she needs so that she can start cooking up her dinner - her grandmother’s mac and cheese, the secrets of her recipe finally bestowed upon her now that she has someone to make it for - her phone hooked up to his speaker system, filling the space with her favourite music in a way that already makes it feel like she has been there forever. 

She cuts up her cauliflower and puts it in a pan to steam before she gets to work making her sauce, grating an almost excessive amount of cheese and giving herself an almighty ache in her arm.

It isn’t too long before she gets a message from Lionel - him now texting her to alert her of any visitors coming up, the familiarity ironing out that last crease of imposter syndrome where she had feared she might have to run is by Nico, his concierge now treating her like a proper resident.

So when the knock at the door comes, she practically skips over, a giant smile pushing at her cheeks as she reaches to open it, only for it to drop at who’s on the other side. 

“Don’t look too excited to see me, Honey,” Poppy’s mom rolls her eyes as she pushes past her, trailing two large holdalls behind her as she steps into Nico’s apartment, dropping them just past the door before she stretches her arms dramatically. 

Poppy cranes her neck out of the open door to look for any sign of her dad, any sign of a buffer or safety net to fall into, because there’s no way in hell she’s going to have to suffer her mom’s presence on her own, right now. 

“Is dad bringing more bags up here, or something?”

“No, he got held up with a working dinner, I said I’d bring this stuff over.”

She watches her mother as she slowly steps further into the apartment, casting a judgemental eye around in a way that immediately gets Poppy’s back up, feeling protective of the space already, hesitant to close the door in an attempt to give the negative energy a way out.

She can’t keep it open forever, though, not when her mom seemingly has no plans to leave.

“Is that grandma’s mac and cheese?” She asks as she enters the kitchen, lifting the lid on the pot of steaming cauliflower.

“Yeah, she finally gave me the recipe for the sauce, and I’ve been craving it all week.”

“You’ll need to take that off the heat, soon, or it will be like mush at the bottom.”

Poppy’s eyes roll by instinct as she lets out a huff, stomping toward where her mother is stood and flicking the switch for the burners. “I know what I’m doing, I literally have a step-by-step,”

“You don’t have to turn everything into an argument, Poppy, I was just saying.” She steps away from the stove, narrowing her eyes at her daughter. “God forbid I try to help you.”

“You’re not trying to help, Mom, you’re hovering,” she scoffs, “Like you literally came over just to judge.”

“You’re so dramatic,” she scoffs, “I’m hardly judging, I’ve said one thing.”

Poppy bites her tongue from retorting, one thing too many, but something starts bubbling inside her, too strong for her to swallow down, this time.

She thinks it might be Nico’s doing, this new instinct to defend herself - defend herself to her mother, at least, because God knows she has no troubles doing it with anyone else. She had always thought she had a handle on her, could control herself, could throw quick jabs back to lessen the blow of scrutiny and shame that’s usually sent her way by her mother, but hearing how Nico had stood up to her dad, she realises she’s just been masking a problem this entire time. She’s never really stood up to her, never really let her know all the ways in which she’s been hurt by her mom’s judgements over the years, too scared to stick around for what might be the final blow, too scared of the impact, or that neither of them may ever recover from it. 

But it has to be better than this - than the constant holding of her breath in anticipation of it coming. It isn’t doing either of them any favours. There’s only so far her sarcasm will get her, now. 

“I swear you hate that I don’t rely on you,” she says, softly - not through trepidation or doubt, but because she doesn’t want this space to be one where voices are raised, where tears are brought to her eyes and lumps to her throat. “I’ve lived on my own for years, cooked for myself every day almost, and it’s like you can’t even fathom for a second I might not need or want your help.”

“I’m not arguing with you over macaroni, Poppy.”

“This isn’t about macaroni, it’s about you having an incessant need to make me feel like crap. It’s like you can’t stand that I can do things on my own.”

“Maybe I can’t.”

Well, there it is.

Poppy hadn’t been expecting it to take her aback quite like this, breath held, shoulders tensed, mouth agape. There’s a shrill, nagging voice that harps, I told you so, in her head, but it does little to help. She hadn’t really wanted to be right.

If she’s entirely honest, she wanted her mom to shut her down, again. To tell her she’s being stupid, to tell her she’s proud of her independence, and is just being catty because that’s who she is. That’s who she’s always been. 

“What?”

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I can’t stand the way you behave. Maybe I loathe it,”

Her hand falls almost by instinct to cradle the curve of her bump, like she’s trying to lessen the impact, to not let the hurt she feels seep all the way to where her baby girl lays in her belly, peaceful and darling and blissfully unaware of the pain that can be inflicted by a mother’s sharp tongue.

“Maybe I wish for once in your life you’d be serious, and think about things before you just dive headfirst into situations you have no business being in. And subjecting a baby to them, nonetheless. God, Poppy, I’ve always known you to be impulsive but this,” her mother’s hand flops almost dismissively her way, hard eyes set straight on her stomach before twirling on the spot and gesturing around them, “And all this, you think you’re being independent? You’re being careless and selfish.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Not raising her voice goes straight out the window, “First of all I’m irresponsible for not living with Nico, and now I’ve moved in with him, I’m careless? Nothing I do will ever be enough for you, will it?”

“It’s not about me,”

“Yeah, right,”

“This is about your baby,”

“Don’t act like you care about my baby,” Poppy scoffs, “She’s not just another thing you can try to control. You don’t always know what’s best, Mom, and I don’t want my daughter feeling the way I feel around you, it isn’t good for any of us, so I’m gonna ask you one more time to stop.”

“Stop what? Trying to help you-,"

“You’re not helping! I don’t know how many more times I can say it! I don’t understand how I can try my best to get everything right and you just pick out all the flaws!” Here come the tears in her eyes, and the lump in her throat, too.

Of course it would have been her mother to burst her happy bubble, yet again.

“Because somebody has to open your eyes to the fact that this isn’t the dream you think it is, Poppy! Pregnancy, being a mother, it isn’t all sunshine and rainbows and handsome boyfriends who move you into their fancy apartments and promise you the world-,”

“Oh, here we go again,” Poppy fires back, “What is it then? I gave you lopsided breasts and thin hair so now you get to ruin my life?”

“Not you-,”

“Right, like you’d ever give golden boy Oliver this kind of grief,”

“Your sister.”

Poppy can feel a rush of blood to the head.

Her what?

She knows deep in her heart her mother would never do crack, but maybe she picked up something else at one of her luncheons. Maybe she accidentally stumbled into one of those botox parties and they injected a little too deep into her forehead. 

No, Poppy thinks, she can see frown lines, still.

“Her name was Primrose. Rosie. She was my first.”

There’s a steady, softer tone to her mom’s voice that Poppy hasn’t heard in years. An undertone of reminiscence and longing. Of love.

Her feet carry her by instinct, rounding past her mother and heading for the couch, patting the space beside her and meeting her mother’s eyes with a somewhat solemn gaze.

“She was from a relationship I had before your father and I got together. I was nineteen, and in college, and I had all these great things lined up for my future. I had this concrete plan, and there was nothing in the world that was gonna take me away from it. Build a career, build something for myself, and then start a family. But then I met a boy.”

It isn’t exactly how things had worked out for Poppy, but the outline seems the same. Career focused, strong minded, independent, and then, bam! Nico.

“His name was Charlie, he was an aspiring chef, working a bunch of jobs to get him through culinary school, he was a real grafter, that’s what your grandpa used to say. He was so charming, made me feel like the whole world revolved around me.” She smiles wistfully as she looks back on that time in her life, a softness to her that Poppy doesn’t quite recognise. One that’s already bringing those tears straight back to her eyes and that lump straight back to her throat. 

Charming, made her feel like the world revolved around her. Yeah, that’s a familiar outline, alright. 

“And you know how your grandparents are, they encouraged it, if anything. Grandma is always drawn in by the dreamers, she used to tell me all the time how good he was for me.”

The lump intensifies, her blood running cold at all the possibilities of where this could go.

“Everything was so perfect, until it wasn’t.”

He better not have hurt her, she thinks. She doesn’t care how old he may be now, or how pregnant is. She’ll find Chef Charlie and beat him black and blue.

“Rosie had Downs Syndrome, we found out around half way through the pregnancy.”

For as long as Poppy has been alive, her mother has worked with the Downs Syndrome Association, hosting galas and fundraising events every year - helping raise money through sponsorships to assist with education, and to support those affected as well as their families. It’s the one thing she’s always loved doing with her - seeing her so passionate and focused. And now she’s cursing herself for never wondering why - always taking that devotion to the cause and paying too much attention to her brother’s mouth in her ear, telling her not to look a gift horse in the mouth, not to question why her mom only ever lit up in that environment.

“That’s why you run the benefit.” It’s not really a question, at this point. A realisation, more than anything, the weight of it settling into her spine.

“It makes me feel closer to her.”

“What happened?”

“Charlie, he had all these plans for what our life was gonna be after he found out I was pregnant. He was going to work his way up in a restaurant, was gonna do everything he could to support us and build something for the three of us that was more than what he had growing up. My parents offered to support, but he was so set on being the provider. He made everything seem so perfect and so easy.”

Easy, like Nico, Poppy thinks. She had the same sentiment about him, earlier.

“Having a kid with special needs didn’t fit into this version of life he wanted to live, so he bowed out the first chance he got. I made it to 32 weeks on my own before she-,”

Of all the things she can say about her mom, Poppy doesn’t think she’s ever seen her choked up like this. It makes her blood run cold.

“After 28 weeks, a miscarriage is considered a stillbirth, you have to physically give birth, there isn’t another way, so they induce labour, and I didn’t want to take any time to think about it so I had them do it as soon as I found out. Your grandparents were on a cruise off the coast of Greece, and Charlie was nowhere to be found. I had to deliver a baby I knew was already gone, on my own, with nobody to hold my hand.”

Poppy takes a hold of it immediately, as if clasping her fingers around her mother’s now will make up for having no one around to do it back then, when she needed it the most.

“She was so beautiful, Poppy. She had this little button nose, she looked so delicate I didn’t want to touch her too much when they let me hold her, she was so tiny and fragile.”

Her scan earlier in the day had been 3D, a multidimensional view of her little girl’s features, little nose, pouty lips, tiny hands. To think about the size of her in context, around the size of a mango or a large tomato, she can’t fathom what it would be like to hold her in her hands. Despite only being 19 weeks along, the thought of it makes her heart thud rampant and uneasily in her chest.

“I had all these ideas of what she could do, and what she would be, and I never let go of those, even when she was diagnosed. I had prepared myself for what life with a special needs child could be, I’d read all the books, I’d gone to a support group at the local community centre, and I’d dreamed up this great life for her. And we just never got to live it. No amount of therapy of counselling can ever erase that version of your life from your head.”

Poppy thinks about all the dreams she has for her little girl, all the ideas she already has of what she might be, might look like, might act like. To never get to see that would break her entirely.

“Your dad helped me through it after. I knew him since we were younger, always knew he was an option, but he was safe, and I always pushed him to the side. But after Rosie, after Charlie, I didn’t really want to be a dreamer anymore, didn’t want to think up these idealistic scenarios that would never come to be. Going down my own path, with Charlie, with all of it, it took me somewhere too dark to ever fathom a way out. And then your father became my light.”

Her parents have never been the lovey-dovey kind of parents, the ones that would make their children yuck with PDA or sentimentality, but they’ve always been solid. Always on the same page, always showing up for each other.

She's always thought her mom was the backbone of the two. Her father is strong, that has never been in question, but her mother has always seemed unwavering in her resilience for life in a way her dad doesn't measure up.

“Getting through my pregnancy with Oli was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but he was so easy. I never really got sick, all his scans were clear, his heartbeat strong, he moved all the time. His delivery was so quick it was like I sneezed him out.” That same wistful smile returns to her lips, and Poppy can feel the but coming a mile off, can sense her defences building back up at the impending jab, at the certain comparison where Oli always comes out on top. “And then you came.”

The you sounds more defeated than pointed. The smile drops, but not entirely, and tears begin to well in her mom’s eyes again.

“You never wanted to be where the doctor wanted you to be, you kept your legs crossed for so long every time we thought we were going in to find out your gender, we’d leave disappointed, and your dad ended up deciding we should just leave it until you were born to find out. Not do the extra tests. Let the cards fall where they may. You didn’t move that often, and I was always anxious something was happening to you.”

Cheeto’s been moving more, lately. Within the last couple of weeks, Poppy has started to feel it. Routinely, in fact, so she can’t imagine what it would be like to go days without it, now. She’d be the same, worrying all the time, thinking something was wrong - and that’s without ever having experienced any problems before. Having a previous loss looming over her head must have driven her mother crazy.

“It wasn’t until you came out after 12 hours, where they had to manually reposition you at one point when you were breached, and just as they decided they might cut me open, you started crowning. After all that trauma, you came out and you were a girl, and your dad was so happy, but I-,” Poppy sort of knows this part. Her father had been praying for a girl, had celebrated as if the Giants had won the Super Bowl. And all she knows of her mom is what she’s told her in the plainest words. She had pretty bad postnatal depression after Poppy was born. She was pretty much nursed by nannies, and Poppy had always just assumed that’s where the rift stemmed from. “I just remember sobbing. Your dad bonded with you straight away, but every time I looked at you, I thought of her. Of Rosie. They tried putting me on medication but it never really took this feeling away that something was off, and, looking back, when I found out I was having another daughter, I think I projected a lot of what I wanted for Rosie onto you. I was always planning to be her caretaker for as long as it took, so I probably tried to control you a little more than I did Oliver. And I understand that’s unfair, but bringing a girl into this world is more difficult. You have this responsibility to prepare her for the weight of it.”

Prepare her, control her, be her caretaker. She supposes they all link. It makes sense, trying to stamp this life she had dreamed up on Poppy because she never got to do it with her sister. She never stood a chance to try forge her own path, not really. Small failures in her mother’s care after that initial loss set the foundations for the rest of Poppy’s life - an ignorance to the pain she was struggling with, and belittling of her grief, resulted in someone clinging so desperately to her own control that she flattened her daughter with it. 

“No one ever prepared me, Poppy. I love your grandparents, but they didn’t set me up to handle what I went through. And despite everything that I tried to warn you of, despite everything I tried to mould you to be, all the ways I tried to protect you, all you ever wanted to do was defy me. All the time. All the way down to those scars on your knees from not wearing the pads on your bike.” Priscilla’s hand gestures to where Poppy’s legs rest between them, a reminiscent scoff falling from her lips. “I tried so hard to shield you from a life you just wanted to dive headfirst into, no helmet or anything. You never listened, you wouldn’t make a plan for your future, you attend a college doing a degree for something that isn’t a guaranteed career path. In fact, you deny having your hand held down a guaranteed path when your father offered you all those jobs. You move into a city on your own, into a high crime neighbourhood, into a job surrounded by boisterous men, and somehow you hold your own.”

There’s an underlying sense of pride that Poppy can feel now - for all the ways her mom wants to paint these things as faults or inconveniences, she also sees them as strengths.

Maybe a part of her has all a long. A version of herself from before life came at her full force, a version of her clinging to whatever surface she can find to hold on and prevail.

“And you fall in love with one of them, with a boy who isn’t safe. Who knocks on your door out of nowhere one day, and you tell me he’s there to whisk you away, and it takes me straight back to being nineteen again, to having a man who, despite making me feel like it revolved around me, turned my world upside down. So maybe I can’t stand to see you making the same mistakes, knowing what kind of pain it can cause.”

Poppy remembers the day her mom had met Nico for the first time. They had been getting ready for one of the fundraisers for the Downs Syndrome Association - her mom on edge all day, micromanaging everything Poppy did, and she had answered a knock at the door to see Nico on the other side. Her dislike of him had been brewing even before then. It isn’t even Nico she dislikes. It’s everything that he represents, crashing into her life at a time that things were resurfacing. It all makes sense, now. “That’s why you got so hell-bent on setting me up?”

“Nico seems like a good enough man, Poppy,” She doesn’t know the half of it, Poppy thinks. “And I see that he makes you happy, I’m not blind to what the two of you have, or have had for a while now. But his life, his career, it’s not a sure thing. He has a lot of pressure outside of your relationship, and he might not be the best bet for when things go wrong. I just wanted you to have something more stable.”

Poppy lets the words linger for a minute. To dwell on the situation as a whole - a lifetime of anguish between the two of them, and finally she knows the cause. 

She really wishes she could have a drink right about now. It would probably ease the tension a whole lot more, sharing a bottle of wine with her mom to really break bread. 

But the more she thinks, the more she’s sure of her response to all of it.

“I’d bet on him.”

There’s no use in telling her mom she’s sorry for what she went through. She hopes her presence is enough of an indication of that - that she’d never want to even think of her mother dealing with that kind of grief, alone. 25 years of control isn’t going to be resolved with one conversation, she knows that - knows her mom knows it, too. And it doesn’t entirely explain a lot of her other behaviours, either, so it probably isn’t going to be the only heart to heart they have. But all she can now do is explain herself. Tell her side of the story she’s trying to write for herself and hope her mom ends up too invested in the ending to close the book completely.

“I’d bet everything I have that he won’t let me down. And you might think that’s shortsighted, or naive, but I need it to be enough for you. What Nico and I have, it started off impulsive, and a little chaotic, and messy, but I promise you, it’s stable. We’ve both put a lot of work into what we have to make it safe, I really need you to trust me on that.” 

And Poppy isn’t saying it for argument’s sake. She isn’t trying to defend something she isn’t sure on, herself. Nico would never leave her when things get hard, he’s proven as much to her already. He’s taken the baby steps, he’s integrated her entirely into his life, into his family, into his home - and even disregarding all that, it isn’t in his character. He’s loyal, and supportive, and honest. He won’t let her down.

“I may be a little hard-headed, and defiant, and stubborn when it comes to what you want for me, Mom, but I would never be reckless when it comes to what’s best for my baby.”

“I understand what you’re saying, Poppy, but I thought Charlie was the best-,”

“Nico isn’t Charlie.”

She feels a little harsh to say it, but it’s the truth. Her mom can’t hold her own misfortunes over Poppy for the rest of her life, it isn’t fair.

“And as much as you might think I’m not prepared enough to come to that conclusion, that I don’t know until something happens, I know him. And I know myself. I’ve spent years trying to push these feelings that I have down and it’s done nothing but hurt me. If you gave him a chance, you’d have seen it for yourself, he doesn’t give up, not for anything.”

There’s another prolonged silence as her mom mulls on her thoughts, and Poppy can practically see the transition of emotions pass through her. Hesitation, doubt, confusion, deliberation, and then finally, acceptance. 

“Maybe when the two of you get back from your time in Europe, we can put that to the test.”

Poppy can feel her face drop, mouth agape, eyes widened, brows raised, but she can’t find it in her to care how dramatic she might look. Her mother, who would rather have her hands hammered or swallow nails than admit she may have been wrong, is willing to give her a real shot to prove herself to her.

“You’ll really give him a chance?”

“Let’s not be rash. Baby steps, darling,” her mom rolls her eyes playfully.

Poppy can’t quite believe the serendipity of the situation.

It had been in this exact spot, in this exact apartment, that those words had been uttered to her those few months ago. Hands held between her and Nico, and a promising glint in his eyes and certainty to his tone. 

And she feels the same optimism that she had back then.

She feels her face break out into an almost aching grin, tears welling at her eyes as she leans in to hug her mom, feeling the gentle rub of maternal comfort ease into her spine. 

She invites her mom to stay for dinner, the two of them working in tandem to make her grandmother’s mac and cheese, Poppy actually accepting her mother’s helping hand, and they eat together while Poppy catches her up on all the latest with her scans and tests, and all the ever developing symptoms of her pregnancy.

And as she burrows herself into her and Nico’s bed later in the night, body swallowed in sheets that smell of his detergent, surrounded by everything that reminds her of him, she just feels warm all over.

She thinks to herself that maybe this place is magic. Maybe he’s magic, healing a lifelong rift between her and her mother from over 4,000 miles away. 

And there’s no maybe about the fact that she can see forever with him. 

That, she’s sure of.

Poppy has never had any issues when it comes to flying. 

Having being fortunate enough to have vacationed with her family every year up until she turned 16, and her parents stopped inviting her, she’s never been bothered by planes or airports or travel.

In fact, she quite likes the whole process. Packing everything meticulously into little cubes, organising those into co-ordinated cases pulled at either side of her body as she ambles through the terminal, mooching around the shops for little trinkets and stocking up on copious amounts of candy. Lounging around her gate until it’s time to board and settling it in, ears cushioned by thick headphones and a nice mellow playlist to calm the chaos of her day so far, or to set the mood for the flight ahead. She likes watching in-flight movies, even likes the gross in-flight meals, always food she’d never dream in a million years of eating outside of whatever tin can she’s residing in for the next few hours. She doesn’t even mind turbulence.

But she hasn’t travelled such a long distance in a few years.

And she has never done so whilst pregnant.

All the glamour of travelling overseas, along with all the small pleasures she has found over the years, is quickly outweighed by the fact she now has to wear compression socks. Now has to keep drinking water throughout the day, which means she has to keep peeing, keep walking around despite the muscles at the bottom of her back begging her to sit back down. 

And she had thought in the days leading up to her flight that she had been keeping a brave face on her daily calls with Nico, not letting her stress about the whole thing impact his mood, or his focus leading up to semifinals of the world championship, but she’s never been so thankful for someone’s stubborn perception than when she had opened her door the night before her flight to see his sister stood on the other side of it.

“Nina?” She asks, dumbfounded, before slender arms are thrown around her, rubbing gently at her back as she sways a little into the cuddle.

“Hey, travel buddy!”

“What’s going on, what are you doing here?” Poppy asks as she welcomes her in, heart jumping erratically at the sight of her. Nina was supposed to meet her on the other side of her flight, being her ride from the airport to the hotel while Nico would be in training, and she kind of feels like her nerves have manifested her into the apartment like some sort of thirst-induced mirage. 

“Nico was getting all antsy at the thought of you travelling alone, so I’m supposed to say we decided as a family for one of us to come out and travel with you, but the truth is I may or may not have been bribed.”

“What did he bribe you with?”

“Said you’d name your daughter after whoever came.” She smiles victoriously as she makes her way through the apartment with ease, throwing herself onto the couch, just beside where Poppy has two big open cases splayed out on the floor, almost fully packed. “I had to literally pull my mom out of a cab to beat her to the airport.”

“Sounds just like the kind of Hischier family dynamics I was promised, to be fair,” Poppy chuckles, joining her in the living room and perching herself on the floor beside her cases, carrying on with her previous task of organising that she had been preoccupied with before the mysterious knock at the door. “You’re just in time actually, I was about to order some food, I’ve cleared out the refrigerator so you can take your pic of what we get if you want!”

Nia had been around earlier in the afternoon, and had helped Poppy prep the apartment to be left empty for a few months, which included clearing out all the perishable food and hauling it down to the waste disposal  room because the bag wouldn’t fit down the chute, and neither of them wanted to be held responsible for clogging it up for the whole building. She had helped her figure out what to pack, as well as bring over some travel essentials she had picked up from CVS, creating a little kit for Poppy to take on the plane with her.

Face mist, hand sanitiser, an eye mask, ear plugs and intensive lip balm - a lifesaver considering the amount Poppy has been nervously chewing on her bottom lip for the past few days straight. 

And then she had left, in an emotional goodbye where Poppy had waited until Nia was in the elevator to burst into tears, distraught at the thought of not seeing her best friend for the next few months.

It isn’t the first time they’ve ever been apart this long, but Nia has been her rock throughout her pregnancy, and leaving her behind just as all the fun parts of the whole experience are starting to kick in feels sad. But with promises made to call as often as possible, and assurances that Nia will spend the next few months meticulously planning a welcome home-baby shower hybrid, the tears soon cleared up as Poppy distracted herself making sure she wasn’t forgetting anything. 

“Aren’t you craving anything?” Nina asks as she slips down onto the floor beside her, the two of them kneeling next to each other. 

“To be honest, I felt sick before you got here, so I hadn’t really thought about it.” Poppy shrugs. She had been planning to go to bed, try and sleep away her anxiety, but she doesn’t want to seem irresponsible, not to Nina. “There’s a really great Italian place not too far from here that delivers, though. And now that you mention cravings they do these little tubs of tiramisu and if I don’t get one before I leave it’s all I’ll think about for the next four months.”

“I’m sold, we could share if you’re not too hungry.”

“We’ll share pasta, I share dessert with no one.”

“That’s fair,” Nina chuckles as she helps Poppy push herself up, her bump becoming more of a hinderance to her usual habits with every day that passes.

She ambles over to the TV console where her phone had been discarded and works at ordering the two of them dinner through her PostMates app, agreeing to share some lasagne and get a tub of dessert each.

Nina helps her sort her cases until they’re ready to zip up, and agrees to do one final check of her bag she’ll be taking on the plane so she has a fresh set of eyes to suggest anything else she might need.

“You know your hotel room will have pillows, right?” Nina scoffs, pulling one of the pillows from Poppy’s bed out of the carry-on. “Why do you have one in your bag?”

“You’re gonna think I’m crazy.” Poppy sighs, collapsing onto the couch with a heavy sigh.

“You’re having a baby with my little brother, Poppy, that ship has already sailed.” She laughs, turning to look at Poppy with the same look Nico usually gives her, exasperated somewhat but entirely fond. It makes her miss him that much more. The same dark chocolate eyes, same dimpled smile. “Promise I won’t judge, girl talk is a safe space.”

Poppy smiles, fond in her own way.

She hasn’t spent much time alone with Nina. They’ve met a few times before, hung out with Nico, with his parents, with the team - at bars, restaurants, even the arena - and Poppy remembers a couple times where Nina and her had both uttered the same sentiment. It’s nice to have another girl around. 

“I haven’t washed his pillowcase since he left,” she admits, feeling her cheeks flush already, "And I just carry it around the apartment and sniff it sometimes when I miss him.” It only barely smells like him still, but it had gotten her through those first two weeks more than she’d like to admit, shuffling over to his side of the bed to breathe him in every morning like he’d only gone out for training, and would be back before she knew it.

“Yeah, that’s weird.”

“You said no judging,” Poppy pouts.

“I lied.”

“I was gonna take it on the plane with me tomorrow.” Her flight is in the late afternoon, and she has no doubts around the fact that once her butt touches base into her designated seat, she’ll be out like a light. If it weren’t for her constant need to pee, and warnings to have intervals on her feet, she would hope to sleep the whole way through. What’s better than closing her eyes in one country and waking in another? The miles between her and Nico reduced to mere double-digits, she can’t wait for this heaviness on her chest to dissipate into nothing the second she’s breathing the same air as him. “Figured if I’m gonna be uncomfortable for 9 hours straight it might help.”

“So happy that you’re reuniting soon, because I think you’ve lost your mind,”

“Yeah,” Poppy sighs in agreement, because there’s really no use denying it, now. A month without him, longing to be with him, missing him in even the most mundane ways has well and truly sent her off the handle. Nia had told her as much, earlier, too. And Luke when she’d text him asking if he happens to see Nico in passing while he’s overseas to please send her pictures like a crazed stalker. “I thought I’d be better at this whole thing, but I miss him more than I ever have before.”

“That’s cute,” Nina smiles, sympathy glimmering in her dark irises as she tilts her head and watches the way Poppy’s own features shift.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“He has this thing whenever he talks about you, like his eyes get all animated and turn into hearts,” she smirks, “Yours do the same. It’s sweet.”

Poppy feels her mouth stretching, a deep smile tugging at each corner of her lips. “Cheeto kind of does the same thing, shuffles a little in my belly when she hears him.” She’s noticed it the last few days, slight movements whenever Nico calls, whenever his voice rings out from the confines of her phone and warms her entire body. And despite everything she reads online about how it isn’t possible for her baby to hear anything outside of her body yet, she doesn’t care. Maybe it’s a reaction to the way Poppy’s heart sings for him, instead. 

“Baby Nina, you mean?” Poppy rolls her eyes fondly as Nina settles beside her on the couch. “Are you sure she isn’t trying to shield herself from how sickening the two of you are?”

“Possibly,” Poppy’s lips twist, “I can’t believe I’m sat here whining about how much I miss him when it’s been a few weeks, you don’t get to see him for most of the year.”

“It’s different,” Nina places a comforting hand on Poppy’s arm, “You two are building a life together, as much as he’s my brother and I love him, my world doesn’t revolve around him like your world does.” Poppy nods, mulling that fact over in her head. “That came out sounding worse than I meant, I think-,”

“No, not at all,” she reassures her, shifting her arm to take her hand, “You’re right, it’s so weird being at this phase of my pregnancy and trying to wrap my mind around how everything is gonna work and him not being here, it’s a little like a mental block.”

Having her world revolve around him isn’t a bad thing, she doesn’t think. 

Telling the Poppy from a year ago that she’d be at peace with having her world revolve around any man would have had her throwing punches. Telling the girl who valued her independence like her hottest commodity - who barely liked to share her time, let alone her space, her day, her bed, with anybody else - that she would have moved in with her boyfriend, ready to start a family together and planning their final child-free summer over text threads would have been like telling her the moon was made out of cheese.

Ludicrous, but ever so slightly intriguing.

But it’s all so familiar now. All so right.

“One more day, Poppy,” Nina just so happens to echo the sentiment that Poppy has been telling herself all day. All week, all month, ever since that day outside the airport, counting down the days until this one, twisting the bracelet around her wrist nervously as if it’s a tether straight to him. “This time in 24 hours, we’ll be almost there.”

One more day, she repeats in her head, nodding with a smile to Nina and taking a deep breath.

She can do one more day.

Only one more day turns into almost two until Poppy is reunited with Nico.

She thinks she cursed herself, if she’s honest, whispering to her bump just before she had gone to sleep that night that they would be reunited with daddy before either of them knew it.

And then the travel day from hell occurred.

She thinks if she didn’t have Nina, she would have had an almighty breakdown - but every time she looked over and met those warm eyes, the tears in her own dissolved.

It had started with traffic on the way to the airport, a police incident on the skyway tripling the usual 20-minute travel time, and the only thing Poppy could find to be grateful for is that they had got an Uber instead of her driving, knowing her stress would have been tenfold if she was stopping and starting all the time. 

Lucky for her, she always allows for delays in her planning, and they made it to the airport with plenty of time to spare, check-in going without a hitch, thankfully, and still giving them time to peruse for snacks to keep Poppy’s cravings at bay for the 9 hour flight ahead.

Time that, in the end, didn’t matter, because their flight kept getting delayed. 

At first it was an hour, a problem with the initial departure of the inbound plane, and Poppy could deal with that. They were due to land in the early hours of the morning in Prague, anyway, so getting there an hour later didn’t really bother her. She had Nina for company, an abundance of snacks, and access to clean toilets in the airport lounge. She could have been trapped on the tin can, so all things considered an hour was too little of a delay for her to get worked up about.

That hour soon turned into two, which turned into three, and Poppy could feel her resolve dwindling as she watched the clock tick down. The first hour was more of an inconvenience than a problem. The second hour meant she probably wouldn’t make it to the hotel in time to spend some time in the room with Nico before he left, which was disheartening, but not entirely earth shattering. The third hour meant she wouldn’t get to see him at all before he left for the arena. 

Nina was trying her best to keep on top of Poppy’s nerves, but even the power of those glimmering Hischier brown eyes couldn’t outweigh a delayed flight and an irksome lack of communication from the airline. 

The only silver lining to the whole situation is the depth at which two people can bond when forced to just sit and wait together.

She learns more about Nina than Nico could ever tell her - about her career, her passions, her interests. Her love for volleyball, and various other sports, for travel, including her bucket list of countries to visit, and an already-planned itinerary of what she would want to do in each one. The two of them shared stories of their own travels over the years, gushing over secret spots they had both visited in the few spots they shared an interest in. Nina regaled Poppy with childhood stories of Nico, ones even her parents weren’t privy to - and it reinforces a lot of the things Poppy has learned herself about him over the years - of his love for learning, always wanting to educate himself, better himself. His love for trying new things, and how, despite being the youngest sibling, always encouraged his brother and sister to do the same. 

They talk about music, about movies and TV shows, fashion, podcasts, food, their differing experiences in college, and by the time it is finally time to board their flight - after replenishing their stock of snacks - their conversation carries on seamlessly until half the journey has passed, almost. 

Talking to Nina is easy. She’s friendly and charming, in a way Poppy is sure must run in their genes - hopes it does, and is passed down to her daughter like their brown eyes and dimpled smiles - and there isn’t a second of hesitance when it comes to her caring for Poppy like a little sister.

It’s the kind of sibling bond she has never really had before.

Her and Oli didn’t argue that much when they were kids, but their difference in age created an unmovable barrier between the two of them, and so they were never as close as the Hischier siblings appear to be.

It makes Poppy think of her mom, again. Think of Rosie, and the what-if of growing up with a big sister, herself. Would they have bonded over things like clothes and music? Would they have been each other’s shoulders to lean on? Knowing that it was ever a possibility makes her feel a lack that wasn’t there those couple of weeks ago, when she hadn’t ever known of her sister’s existence. 

And she knows it’s strange to hope that building a relationship with Nina might fulfil that - edging herself into whatever gap the Hischier family might leave for her might make up for this gap in her own heart that now she feels will never be filled again - but spending the day with her makes her long for something she never spared a thought to before now.

She looks after Poppy in the way a big sister would, too. Makes sure she’s getting up and walking around intermittently, makes sure whenever the beverage cart comes around, she’s ordering refreshments to make sure Poppy stays hydrated. She keeps a watchful eye on the WC when Poppy starts shifting in her seat, lets her know when the vacant sign lights up above the door so Poppy can amble over and relieve the growing pressure on her bladder from trying to constantly drink. 

And when Nina finally lets herself drift off, Poppy can’t help but stay awake, teary eyed, wondering how she ever got so lucky.

How she was lucky enough to have a partner like Nico, so in tune with her emotions that he sent his sister over to keep her company when she didn’t even know at that point it would be exactly what she needed. How she was lucky enough to have an extended family that cared enough about her to agree to it, to fight over the responsibility, as Nina had implied her and Katja had done. How she was lucky enough to get on so well with Nina, to talk to her almost non-stop for hours on end, to bond over their appreciation of so many things that stretches so far beyond their shared love of Nico. 

She gets so caught up in her appreciation that she eventually drifts off with a dopey smile on her face, the dimmed lights of the cabin soothing her to sleep for the rest of their flight, and she lets the contentment she feels seep into her bones so much that when they’re delayed another hour on the tarmac when they land, she doesn’t let it get to her. When she's stuck behind a group of pensioners who don't know how to operate the scanners at passport control, she withholds her huffs and puffs. When her bags are the last to come out on the luggage carousel, she refrains from complaining.

She’ll see him, soon. She might not get her hour alone in their hotel room. She might not get her kiss goodbye in the hotel lobby. She might not even, at this rate, catch the beginning of the game, despite it being the only thing the two of them have talked about for weeks - the possibility of the team making it to the finals in the world championships, to her getting to see him live out his dreams live in action. Between taking her bags to the hotel and travelling to the arena with Nico’s family, not yet accounting for the inevitability of further traffic on her way, because that's just her luck, she’s probably going to get there part way through the first period, and the optimistic part that remains within her tells her, at least she's getting to see him at all.

But she’s in the same country, now. When she gets out of this god forsaken airport, she’ll be breathing the same air, kind of. And the months, that turned to weeks, that turned to days, have now turned to hours. 

She can definitely do hours.

She can do anything for Nico.

In all the lead up to Poppy flying out to Europe to meet Nico, the two of them had never really accounted for it turning out like this.

If she really thinks back on it, she thinks she was giddy, too caught up in the romance of it all, of the whirlwind nature of everything that unfolded - of flying overseas to be with him, of preparing to spend the summer together, surrounded by his family, in his favourite place on earth, of getting to watch him play again like the weight of the world isn’t on his shoulders.

The ending to the Devil’s season had been tough - and he would never show it, not to Poppy, not when the two of them were spending so much time together, but it had taken a toll on him. She knows Nico doesn’t back down. She had told her mom as much. Nico doesn’t fold to pressure. He builds himself back up, builds those around him back up like the true captain he is, and he never lets the outcome of a game get to him. 

For most of the season, there’s always the next game. Always room to improve, always a chance to claw things back in his favour. But those final few months, with playoff contention just slipping further and further out of his reach, his relationship with his own game had suffered a little.

She would watch him come home with a slump in his shoulders, eased away only by her gentle embrace. Would take notice of the way he would talk about work less, shifting the subject or speaking in phrases without much heart behind them.

And seeing the spring return to his step at the thought of playing in the world championships, of initially captaining his national team, had flooded her with pride, and with hope.

Every time the team progressed, their plans would change.

The first plan had been to meet him at home in Switzerland. She had work to wrap up, keeping her in Jersey, and he was going to get his apartment over there ready to fit the two of them for the inevitable future. And then the team kept progressing. Kept winning. And plans to fly out and stay with just him turned into plans to fly out and stay with the family, his opportunity to get things ready getting shorter and shorter the better they played.

And then rolled round the quarter finals. The semi finals only two days after, the day before she was set to fly out - and no matter what the result of that game was, she would be jetting off to Prague, instead.

And she hadn’t really said it to him, not wanting to jinx anything, but it was like she had known somewhere in her heart that he would make it all the way to the end.

It’s what Nico does. He fights tooth and nail to get to where he wants to be, and she knows, after the season the Devils had, that Nico wanted that gold medal more than anything. 

And when she had been sat on that plane, waiting on the tarmac for the delayed opportunity to disembark, and had decided at that point that there was nothing she wouldn’t or couldn’t do for the man she loved, she hadn’t entirely prepared herself for the possibility that anything could mean consoling him after such a heartbreaking loss.

She would like to think she’s good at comforting him, would like to think she’s mastered it over the years of knowing him. In those first years of their budding friendship, where she might have seen him after a few games, he might have dropped by her desk, or later her office, in the days after a game, she’d do her best to pick him back up. Some dumb jokes, a hug or two, eyes meeting and sticking in what she now remembers as a heated gaze until he would melt, would give a bashful smile and crack a joke back.

And that had progressed to him coming over to her apartment. To collapsing onto her couch with a heavy sigh and trying to blend himself into her routine, to erase the part of himself that hurt and cover it up with the part of himself she made feel better.

He picked up the same sort of habits when the two of them had fully reconciled, seeking solace in just her company, even if they weren’t properly together at that point. Comforted by fleeting touches, the holding of each other’s gaze, and all the soft, affirming words spoken between the two of them. And by the end of the season when they were together, it was by intimacy, the moments shared underneath her sheets that weren’t explicit, the bump of noses, the fluttering of lashes against cheeks, the soft whispers of unspoken worries that were trapped by a duvet pulled over their heads, their doubts not allowed to seep out into the blissful world they’re trying to create together.

But this kind of pain is a crease she fears can’t be ironed out by the simplicity of touch. Of kisses in the dark, of hands on hearts and legs intertwined.

When she hears the soft beep of his key card to his hotel room, listens for the heavy footsteps that carry him down the hall, and looks up to see the man she loves, defeated and remorseful, in front of her, her resolve shatters into a million pieces. 

For all the lows she has held his hand through, nothing compares to this moment. 

That night in the bar at the end of the season last year, where she had rested her head on his chest and heard the clunky beat of his broken heart, doesn’t even come close.

It’s the rattle of a shaky breath he lets out that has her own heart breaking, shooting up from where she had been perched, picking at her fingers nervously on the edge of the hotel bed, and launching herself at him.

She pulls her body straight into his, wrapping her arms around him in the hopes that such a small gesture could ever possibly convey the love she has for him.

She had thought seeing his sorrow blasted across the jumbotron earlier in the arena had hurt. She had thought their initial, rushed reunion after the game, where he had put on a brave face and told her he would meet her back in the room, the pressure of his kiss the only giveaway to his internal anguish, was bad. 

But this is so much worse.

Holding him as he chokes out a sob, the initial flimsy wrap of his arms around her turning into fingers clutching with a white knuckle grip at the shirt on her back, trying to conceal his pain through muscles that tense around her, restricting his shaking frame from giving his emotions away.

She holds him for as long as she feels like he needs to be held, until that tension eases a little, those shaky breaths even out, and his body starts to sway a little.

When their bodies part, she can’t bring herself to entirely leave his orbit, pressing kisses to wherever she can reach as he basks in her affections, eyes fluttering closed like he’s still trying to hide from her.

“I’m so sorry you didn’t get your dream, baby,” she hums into the corner of his mouth, leaning a little to press a gentle kiss to the scar forming deep into his cheek, his neck craning to make it easier for her to reach.

His eyes squeeze tighter, keeping the warmth of his irises from her softened gaze, and she’s too close to see the bob in his throat, but she does see the clench of his jaw, stress still present in every fibre of his being. She wants to be his relief, wants to be the one to make things okay, make things better, but even she knows sometimes that isn’t for the best.

He needs to let these emotions, as heavy as they are, pass through him. He shouldn’t have to cover them up just to make her more comfortable, make their time together more enjoyable. She has the rest of her life to enjoy him, if he’ll let her.

So she clutches at the shirt covering his chest and pulls him back toward the bed, sitting him down and perching herself beside him, a comforting hand on his lap and a shoulder ready for him to cry on, literally.

She doesn’t even have to prompt him, then, to open up - the nature of their relationship thus far prevailing in the way he sniffles, turns to her with knees knocking, and starts to fiddle with her fingers resting on his thigh.

“I feel like this was my last chance to prove something,” he starts, his voice hoarse and his posture folding, “This year has just been so rough, you know?”

Poppy nods, because she does know, even if he hasn’t explicitly said it before now. Nico wears his resilience like armour, but she sees him when he’s bare. When the clunky metal that protects him from everyone else is removed, and his vulnerabilities are exposed, only to her. She sees the heavy sighs, the slumped shoulders, the forced smiles. She sees discomfort, unease, exhaustion.

“We got hit by all those injuries, and we didn’t make the playoffs, and the boys were all so down, and I,” he lets out an elongated exhale, tongue swiping out to wet the corner of his mouth, “I feel like I’m not living up to what’s expected of me, or what I expect of myself.”

She rubs soothingly at his knuckles, biting her tongue to withhold from telling him that’s he’s everything and more, because it isn’t what he’s asking of her. 

“I just needed a win.” He chokes out, and as a tear slips from his watery eyes, Poppy reaches to catch it with her thumb, swiping at his skin. “I just needed to feel like I could achieve something like this before it slips away from me.”

“Where is it slipping away to?” Poppy frowns, letting her touch linger on his cheek. 

“We’re having a baby, Poppy,” he speaks through swollen lips, glassy eyes meeting her gaze in the dark of the room. “When she comes, my dreams are gonna be different. My priorities will be different, I owe it to the two of you to be better. You deserve better.”

“It’s not one thing or the other, Nico.”

“Isn’t it?” He asks, “I have to put you first-,”

“You already do.” 

“It won’t be enough when she comes, it’s not fair to either of you,”

“Says who?”

“Says everybody. Says Talia, says your mom, says me chasing this stupid medal and leaving you to travel half way across the world on your own while you’re 5 months pregnant only for me to lose-,”

“Stop it,” she commands him, firm, despite the growing ache in the back of her throat, both hands clasped on either side of his jaw and levelling him with a stern look. “You don’t have to give me any more of yourself to be enough, Nico. I wasn’t on my own, I had Nina, because you have this little section of your beautiful brain,” she taps on the side of his head to point it out, “That, despite being worked to the bone for almost 9 months straight without a real break, and despite all the chaos of us figuring everything out, and you chasing after your dreams, which are not stupid, by the way, saw straight through me trying to pretend I wasn’t completely losing my mind these past few days and sent your sister out just to make sure I wasn’t alone-,”

“You wouldn’t have been alone if I were th-,”

Poppy places her hand over his mouth, the rest of his sentence mumbled into her palm as she narrows her eyes at him. “I said stop, didn’t I?”

He nods, his shoulders sagging and his eyebrows doing all they can to express the emotion that she’s covering him from speaking through his lips.

He’s far too good for her, she thinks.

So good that she has struggled to put it into words, basking selfishly in his affections, bathing in their love so long that the water has gone cold by the time it’s his turn to sit in it.

She has felt it for as long as she can remember, this crippling adoration for him, this warm devotion that cushions the blow of everything else life tries to throw her way - but she hasn’t said it. Not clear enough, anyway, for him to not doubt it’s there.

Not in the way he had, all those weeks ago back in his bed - their bed - at 3am. He had poured his heart out to her, and she had drank it all up with nothing left to spare.

“You do all these things for me, you send your sister half way across the world just to circle straight back, you call my dad and my brother out, you shame my family into loving me more so that they can live up to the ways that you do it, and you don’t even understand how much of yourself you already give to me. I could sit here all night and not run out of ways to tell you how you make things better. Every part of my world that you touch, you make it good, you make me good. And a lot of that comes from who you are outside of our relationship.

“So I’d never want you to think you have to give any of the other stuff up to be enough for me. I fell in love with the parts of you that you give to the foundation, to the community and all the causes we help. I love the parts of you that you save just for the ice. I love the parts of you that you leave at the Rock, in the locker room with the guys, or in the parking lot when you stop and sign stuff for the fans waiting in the cold. And whatever parts of you are left to come home to me, or that you dedicate to me when you’re not home, God, Nico, I don’t think I’ll ever even be able to measure how loved you make me feel. I can’t wait for our daughter to feel that.”

His eyes are watering, and tears drop until they run their course down his cheeks, stopped by her fingers still clasped over his mouth, fingers she removes to hold his head again, the scratch of his grown out beard tickling at her palms, to hammer her point home.

“I know that this hurts right now. I know how hard you worked for this, how bad you wanted it, and it’s okay to have wanted it so bad that it kills you that you didn’t get it, but don’t let it take away what you mean to me. This isn’t your last chance to prove yourself, Nico, not to me, not to our baby, I promise you.”

Poppy knows how it feels to want to have achieved certain things before their little girl arrives. She’s worked herself up enough about it since finding out she was pregnant, but being a parent isn’t about who she was before. She’d realised that when she had sat down with her mom, when her dad had started making more of an effort. When the two of them had made promises to try, and it had glued together small parts of her heart that she thought could never be fixed.

All they can do is be the best version of themselves in the moment. When their daughter comes, it’s about who they are then, not what medals they won, or what trophies they lifted, or milestones they hit. They can still do those things with her there, and those moments will be all the sweeter for experiencing them with their daughter.

“Can I speak yet?” He whispers, dark eyes more intense than she thinks she’s ever seen them, staring right into the depths of her soul.

“No,” she replies, in the same hushed tone, “One more thing.”

She shoots over to where she had discarded her carry on, earlier, digging through to the bottom where a small leather box sits - where it has sat since the day Nico left Jersey all those weeks ago, and she had felt an impulse too strong to ignore to get him something after he had given her bracelet back.

When she goes back to stand before him, he parts his legs, and pats his thigh until she perches herself on it, careful not to drop all of her weight until a hand curls around her waist and holds her in place. 

“It’s a signet ring,” she smiles softly as she takes it out of the box, tugging his right hand closer and sliding it onto the finger beside his pinky. “They’re supposed to be a sign of family. Usually they’re engraved, but I thought we could figure that out later and go do it together.”

“You have one, too?” He asks, admiring the way it glints as he takes it in, the band thick and heavy below his knuckle, the perfect fit. 

“I will when my hands aren’t like blown up surgical gloves.”

And through teary eyes, for the first time all night since they have been reunited, a laugh bubbles up from the pit of his stomach, hearty and deep, eyes crinkling in the corners and cheeks dimpling into that beautiful smile she loves more than anything else in the world.

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one getting you a ring?”

God, she thinks, how could he ever possibly think he isn’t enough?

Melting her heart with such a question, accompanied with an ever-so-innocent glint in his eye.

She’s still holding onto his finger, twirling the ring around on it until it starts to tickle, starts to seemingly twitch with the need to hold her back.

“Only if you want to,” she shrugs, lips twisting as he raises his hand to cup her cheek, fingers swiping her hair behind her ear and the cool metal of the jewellery pressing to her warm skin.

“I do.” He promises before he kisses her, meaningful and deep, a whole month of longing wrapped up into the searing press of their lips.

Poppy wakes the next morning to soft, continuous buzzing and a wash of light spread almost heavenly over the room. The space beside her is empty, but warm, the sheets crumpled as if only just vacated, and it’s as she starts to gain consciousness and make sense of her surroundings that she realises what the noise is.

“No, no, no, no, no!” She exclaims as she kicks the tangles sheets from her bare legs, them balling up in a messy pile as she shoots up off the bed and stumbles toward the bathroom. “Do you hate me or something?!”

“What are you talking about?” Nico chuckles deeply, the morning rasp to his voice not quite enough to distract her from the device he’s holding in his hand - the hand she had only just last night brandished with a ring, for God’s sake.

“I literally professed my undying love for you not even 12 hours ago, Nico, and this is how you repay me?”

“Maybe I’m testing the limits of the undying part,” he shrugs, amusement flickering across his stupidly beautiful eyes - and the part of Poppy that’s over the moon to see him smiling, is quickly shot down by the part of her that’s been waiting to get her hands on that bearded jaw for weeks.

“You’re testing my patience, is what you’re doing,” she scoffs, reaching to snatch the clippers from his grip. “I didn’t even get to have a turn!”

“What am I, a carnival ride?” He laughs heartily as he pulls them just out of her reach, her body stepping into his so that he can land his free hand on her hip and keep her close. “It had to go, Poppy, I looked like a caveman. Coach said we all have to clean up a little for today.”

“Your coach is a traitor,” she pouts, allowing him to crowd her back until the base of her spine bumps against the counter. “You’re my caveman. My gorgeous, sexy, caveman baby daddy who I’ve only got to see through a screen for four whole weeks, you can’t do this to me with no warning.”

“You wanna finish it off?” He asks, head tilting as he smirks down at her.

“It’s only fair I do,” she sighs, placing her hands on the counter and hoisting herself up onto it with a huff, parting her legs so that he can step between them. “Maybe I can salvage something,” she mutters, running delicate fingers over what remains, an untouched moustache and some growth left on his chin. “Can I give you a goatee?”

“Do your worst, Mohn, I’m at your mercy to defile.”

“You’re gonna regret that.”

“I’ll never regret anything where you’re concerned.”

Next Chapter

Taglist: @alwaysclassyeagle @bunbunbl0gs @idgaf-if-youre-here @youflowerr-youfeast @thearchersstuff @bellsdi0r @wonderheartz @jjgsunflower @butterflies35 @kenziepickle @josierosie @laheyxlover @mrsmattytkachuk @dasiysthings (sorry if your tag hasn't worked btw)