im-very-gamer-blog

[hoshifighting]

       hoshi + playboy bunny

WARNINGS: +18, smut, halloween party both reader and hoshi are dressed as playboy bunny's, fingering, crying, penetrative sex, protected sex, all fours, riding, overstimulation, aftercare, mingyu give reader encouragement, crush!hoshi, squirting, he calls reader bunny.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

“really playboy bunny? don’t you think this is too outdated?” you mutter, eyeing the little white pompom on your butt that sways every time you turn. you’re leaning forward at the mirror, tilting your head, lips pursed, wondering if this whole thing might just be too much. or maybe it’s not enough.

“y/n, every guy goes wild for this costume. it’s like... an unspoken rule.” mingyu’s sprawled across your bed, flicking through his phone, looking up just to roll his eyes. “especially if we’re talking about hoshi. dude practically loses his mind over anything with ears and a tail.”

you snort, shaking your head as you tug at the bodysuit, adjusting it for the hundredth time. “maybe he’ll just find it hilarious that i look like a bunny roadkill with ears sticking up like this.”

“nah, you look ridiculous in the best way.” he grins, propping himself up and giving you a once-over. “if you’re worried, i’ll lend you my jacket for the ride there. gotta protect my favorite attention magnet.”

that earns him a middle finger as you step back, but secretly, the idea of having mingyu’s huge jacket draped over you makes you feel a little more… armored. it’s one thing to strut around like this in the mirror, but another entirely when you’re gonna be walking into a party full of his friends, all of whom you know aren’t above throwing a snarky comment or two.

the cab ride to the party is a whole other level of weird. mingyu’s jacket hangs heavy on you, smelling like his cologne, like he’s smothering you in that woodsy scent that, admittedly, is kinda comforting. “feel like i’m cosplaying you,” you laugh, crossing your legs and watching his reflection as he watches you.

“yeah, yeah, just wait till we get there. you’re gonna be the highlight of the night,” he says, leaning back, eyes on you, like he’s planning something you don’t know about yet.

finally, you’re standing outside the house party, which is already buzzing loud enough you can feel the bass thumping up through the driveway. you hesitate for a sec, knowing the second you step inside, that jacket’s coming off. mingyu nudges you with an elbow, grinning.

it’s like a reveal, honestly. the minute you slip out of his jacket, it’s a ripple effect—heads turning, eyes widening, and then, just for a sec, silence falls across the group near the door. like the scene pauses for just one breath, and then someone’s like, “oh damn, y/n really came out tonight.”

mingyu just rolls his eyes and puts a hand on your shoulder, a little too casual, like he’s trying to ground you. “get your eyes off my friend, you creeps,” he laughs, but there’s a glint of pride there too, like he’s proud he dragged you out of your comfort zone.

and that’s when you see him—hoshi. he’s across the room, talking to some guy, laughing, and it takes you a second to realize he’s wearing…

bunny ears too.

only hoshi would have the audacity to go full playboy bunny, with the bow tie and all, shirtless, and he’s grinning, completely unbothered, his gaze wandering until he finally, finally spots you.

his grin freezes, and there’s a split second where you see his eyes drag down from your ears to your bodysuit, to the pompom swaying on your butt, and then back up to meet your eyes. and the look he gives you? god, it’s something straight out of a bad rom-com. he’s laughing, clearly in disbelief, mouthing something like “no way,” shaking his head. but then he just goes, “y/n? really?” crossing the room, and the grin on his face makes you feel like maybe you’ve outdone yourself.

“don’t laugh!” you say, smirking, and crossing your arms, even though the movement makes your boobs practically spill out of the bodysuit.

there’s no denying hoshi’s gaze keeps wandering, landing just below your face, like he’s trying not to be obvious about it and failing spectacularly.

his eyes are practically sparkling, and he’s already pulling you in, wrapping his arms around you in that way only he does, with that ridiculous amount of warmth and ease.

“you look insane!” he murmurs, his lips brushing your cheek as he plants a quick kiss there, his bare chest pressing against you. you barely have a moment to react before mingyu’s strolling up behind him, still holding that jacket he promised, but instead of handing it to you, he pauses, raises a brow, and gives hoshi a smirk. then, without missing a beat, he does the oldest, dirtiest gesture in the book—index finger slipping through a circle he makes with his other hand, his eyes meeting yours with this knowing, wicked look. and god, you can feel the heat rush straight to your cheeks.

hoshi chuckles, and he glances back at mingyu, he catches it, and his eyes go wide, cheeks flushing in that cute, bashful way that’s so him. “mingyu, dude, could you be more obvious?” he laughs.

“i mean, come on,” mingyu shrugs, crossing his arms and nodding at you. “you don’t get all dolled up like this for no reason, right? thought you might as well go all the way.”

you laugh, nudging hoshi’s shoulder as he pulls back slightly, still not quite letting go. “yeah, yeah, keep it up, mingyu, and i’ll start charging for every stare you throw my way.”

hoshi grins, leaning in closer, his voice dropping a little. “they might actually make some cash tonight,” he teases, nudging your hip playfully looking at his friends in the corner, his gaze still locked on yours, even as mingyu scoffs and steps back, giving you both a moment of space.

“oh, please, hoshi,” you mutter, trying to keep your equilibrium. “you’re staring just as much as they are, don’t even pretend.”

“can you blame me?” he says, eyes drifting down before they snap back up to yours. “i mean, i didn’t expect this level of… commitment,” he smirks, giving you an exaggerated once-over, his fingers toying with the little bit of fluff on your bunny ears. “you’re really going all in, huh?”

“well, it was either this or come as a pirate,” you reply, shrugging, though you’re hyper-aware of how close he is. “but i figured you���d like this more.”

he raises an eyebrow, leaning in even closer, his voice a conspiratorial whisper, “oh, i do. believe me. i mean, you’re practically a professional bunny now. we might have to get you a part-time gig at some club or something.”

“ha! you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” you tease back, nudging him, but your voice has this slight waver that you can’t quite control, because he’s watching you with this intent, focused look, like he’s memorizing every little detail.

“you have no idea,” he murmurs, the look in his eyes suddenly serious, like he’s not even joking. he lets his gaze linger on you, his teeth pulling at his bottom lip just slightly, and it’s impossible to ignore the warmth blooming in your chest.

“are you gonna keep staring all night, or do i get to enjoy this party?” you finally say, raising an eyebrow, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

he grins, leaning back just slightly, though his hand finds your waist, steadying you as the crowd around you shifts. “oh, i’ll stop staring, sure—right after i get my dance,” he says, voice playful again, but his eyes are still so fixed on you. “come on, you owe me one for showing up looking like that.”

“oh, you think i owe you?” you laugh, folding your arms, but before you know it, hoshi’s pulling you toward the dance floor, his hand warm on your back, guiding you through the crowd. he’s animated, so full of energy, laughing and joking as he leads you, and there’s this playful tension between you, like he’s daring you to match his pace.

once you’re in the thick of it, surrounded by bodies moving and music thumping, he spins you around, catching you off guard as he pulls you closer, his hands landing on your hips. “so… what’s the story here?” he says, voice hardly audible over the music, but his eyes are sparkling with curiosity. “is this all for fun, or is there, i don’t know, something more going on?”

“hoshi, please,” you roll your eyes, though you’re grinning, and you can’t stop yourself from leaning into him. “you really think i’d go through all this trouble for just anyone?”

he laughs, clearly pleased with himself, and there’s this smug little tilt to his smile. “so… just for me, then?” he raises an eyebrow, and you can tell he’s enjoying this way too much, practically reveling in it.

“maybe,” you shrug, though you’re fully aware of how close his hands are to the edge of your bodysuit, and the way his thumbs trace small circles on your waist is definitely not helping your focus. “guess you’ll have to keep wondering.”

“oh, that’s cold, y/n...” he says, laughing.

the music’s pulsing, and after a couple more songs, you’re breathless, finally pulling back just a little to catch your breath. “so… you planning on letting me go any time soon?” you say, grinning up at him.

hoshi just shakes his head, his hand holding onto yours and tugging you back in. “you think i’m letting someone as hot as you walk around here alone?” he says, pouting a little, his gaze dipping over you one more time, like he can’t help himself. you laugh, rolling your eyes, but it doesn’t stop that little thrill in your chest, the way he looks at you.

it’s around then that you feel a light tap on your shoulder, and when you turn, chan’s there, his usual grin stretched wide. “hey, y/n,” he greets, eyes flicking over to hoshi before he gently nudges him aside with a laugh. hoshi just shakes his head, moving back a bit, arms crossed as he watches, but that little smile doesn’t leave his face.

“hey, chan,” you say, leaning against the wall, still feeling that buzzing energy from dancing with hoshi. chan’s energy is a little lighter, a little easier, and it’s somehow refreshing. he leans close, resting one arm on the wall beside you, talking animatedly about something that happened earlier with mingyu, his other hand occasionally landing on your shoulder or arm. his fingers linger a little longer every time, but it’s friendly enough—though maybe a bit more touchy than usual.

you catch hoshi’s gaze from across the room, watching as his eyes narrow, the subtle flick of his jaw as he takes a long sip from his drink, looking way too calm. he’s still keeping that sharp eye on chan, like he’s waiting for him to do something worth stepping in for.

chan’s mid-sentence when you turn, pointing out the fluffy pompom on the back of your outfit. “look, they even gave me the tail and everything,” you laugh, turning slightly so he can see. chan’s grin widens, and he laughs, reaching out and squeezing the pompom gently with a playful chuckle.

he’s still laughing, his fingers tapping the fluffy tail, but your eyes slide over to hoshi again, and this time, he’s not sipping his drink anymore—he just downs what’s left in his cup, sets it aside, and begins walking toward you both. chan’s laugh stumbles a little as he catches sight of hoshi, and that easy confidence slips for just a second.

“hey, chan,” hoshi says, his voice light, though there’s a weight to it, an edge under the friendly tone. “mind if i steal y/n for a bit?”

chan gives a little nod, scratching his neck, though you can tell he’s unsure. “yeah, sure,” he says, stepping back, the wide smile he’d had now just a polite curve.

hoshi moves in, fingers finding your wrist, and he leans in close, his breath brushing your ear. “i’ll be waiting for you in my room,” he murmurs. he lets go of your wrist and heads toward the stairs, glancing back over his shoulder once before disappearing up them, leaving you rooted in place for a second.

“uh, sorry, chan,” you say, laughing a little to ease the tension, though your mind’s definitely upstairs now. chan brushes it off with a casual smile, telling you to go, and you slip through the crowd, making your way to the kitchen, where mingyu’s already there, nursing a drink.

you pull him to the side, leaning close. “emergency!,” you whisper, eyes wide. “hoshi told me to meet him in his bedroom.”

mingyu’s eyes go wide, practically bugging out of his head as he glances between you and the stairs. “are you serious?” he almost chokes, grinning like he’s the one who just got invited. “finally! no more listening to you go on about hoshi’s insane body and that stupid smirk he does. you elbow him, but he’s just laughing, a little too pleased about it. “so… what are you still doing here?” he says, lifting a brow. “need me to hold your hand up the stairs?”

“shut up!” you hiss, feeling the nerves hit you full force now that you’re actually thinking about it. “it’s… it’s hoshi, okay? i don’t just wanna walk up there like i’m—i don’t know, desperate or something.”

he rolls his eyes, shaking his head like you’re missing something obvious. “and you’re not desperate?” he says, giving you a look. “come on, this is the guy you’ve been daydreaming about. just go up there and knock his socks off!”

you hesitate, chewing your lip, and mingyu sighs, reaching around the counter, grabbing a bottle of tequila. he twists the cap, holding it up. “one shot for courage?” he grins, tipping the bottle towards your lips, and you let him pour, feeling the burn slide down your throat as you gulp it down.

“better?” he asks, waggling his eyebrows. he places his hands on your shoulders, giving you a small shake before he adjusts your bunny ears and fixes a few stray strands of hair.

you breathe out, nerves prickling along your skin, like you’re about to float right out of your body. “mingyu, if i faint, just drag me back down here, okay?” you half-joke, still clutching onto his arm.

he laughs, ruffling your hair again, “you’re not gonna faint. i’ll walk you to the first step though.” he gives you one last nudge, and you make it to the stairs, glancing back as he calls, “promise me you’re gonna leave this party still walking, yeah?”

you roll your eyes, giving him one last scolding look before climbing up. every step feels like a whole saga, until you’re finally at his door, just barely cracked open like it’s waiting for you. you press your fingers to the handle, steadying yourself before slipping inside and closing it gently behind you.

hoshi’s already sitting there on the edge of his bed, legs spread wide, hands braced behind him. his head’s tilted back, one brow raised with this faint smirk as he takes you in, the way your chest’s heaving just a bit too fast, cheeks already flushed. you try to calm your breathing, pressing your lips together to keep from biting them as you close the door clicking the door locked, fingers gripping the door handle as you stand there.

“c’mon, you don’t have to stand there looking all shy now,” he says, tapping his thigh, the grin on his face widening. “come here, bunny. this is what you came up here for, right?”

your heart races as you walk over, feeling every nerve in your body sparking up, and you place one knee beside him before swinging the other over so you’re straddling him, knees sinking into the bed on either side of his thighs. he settles his hands on your hips, pulling you down snug against him. you try to lean in, but he just leans back, grinning even wider.

“don’t be in such a rush,” he murmurs, his lips hovering just out of reach. “you’re already here, got all night.”

his fingers slide up your sides, over the curve of your waist, tracing every line slowly, he tilts his head, leaning closer to your neck, his breath brushing against your skin. you shiver, barely able to hold back a sigh as his lips graze your neck, soft, teasing.

“you know, i couldn’t even focus downstairs,” he murmurs against your skin, pressing a lingering kiss just below your ear. “every time i looked over, there you were… flaunting that little tail.” he chuckles lowly, the sound rumbling against your collarbone. “knew you’d come find me sooner or later.”

his hands trail down to your hips, squeezing just enough to make you feel it, but he still doesn’t kiss you, his mouth just brushing along your jaw, teasing. he’s watching every reaction, every twitch, like he’s got all the time in the world.

“you look too damn good,” he murmurs, hands sliding up to your waist again, thumbs brushing the fabric stretched tight. “been wanting to tell you that since you walked in.”

your hands slide over his shoulders, fingers curling into his skin, and you’re practically holding your breath, waiting for him to just close that last bit of space, to kiss you for real. but he just smirks, still dragging this out, his lips pressing another slow, hot kiss to your neck, then another, his hands tightening around you.

his fingers dip down, right between the base of your thighs, grazing that sensitive spot over your bodysuit. “oh, what’s this?” he hums, eyes glinting as his fingers press, right there, making you jump a little, gasping as he just laughs taunting. “nervous, bunny? you’ve been putting on quite the show tonight. kinda expected you to be ready for this.”

he brings his hand back up, dragging it slowly along the side of your thigh, back to where the tail rests. his fingers play with it, tugging gently, brushing against your skin through the fabric. “got you all dolled up like this, bouncing around with that little fluff. you know what that does to a guy?” he clicks his tongue, tilting his head and letting his mouth hover so close to yours that your lips practically ache, but just before you lean in, he pulls back, smirking when he sees you bite down on a whine.

“you want me to kiss you?” he teases, eyebrows quirking as his lips almost touch yours, only to pull back again. “look at you, bunny. i can feel you shaking, can practically see how bad you want it. all this fuss just to be up here in my lap, begging for it.” his eyes get that mischievous glint, watching you intently.

his hand drifts down again, his middle finger pressing between your thighs, applying just enough pressure through the thin fabric that you feel every inch of him pressing against you. you can’t hold back the soft whimper that escapes, your hips shifting as if you could get closer. “oh?” his voice is all smooth, leaning close, whispering in your ear as he chuckles. “think i feel something here. been this worked up for me all night, hm? tell me, bunny.”

he moves his hand just enough to pull the bodysuit aside, and his fingers brush against you, bare and wet, sensitive enough that the slightest touch makes your breath hitch. he pauses, lets out a soft groan, pulling back to look down at his fingers. “damn, you’re soaked.” he lifts his fingers to show you, glistening, and then lets them trail back down, tracing circles that make your legs tremble. “you weren’t kidding, were you? knew you wanted me bad, but this…” he laughs softly, his breath hot against your neck as he presses a kiss there. “never thought you’d be this needy.”

you try to stammer something back, but words feel impossible with the way his fingers keep moving, steady and slow, as if he’s luxuriating in every reaction. “c’mon, bunny,” he murmurs, his fingers slipping inside, pussy so wet and greedy, sucking it all in, finding you so easily that you can barely catch your breath. “give me something. tell me how long you’ve been wanting this.”

“h-hoshi…” you gasp, feeling your cheeks go even redder as he laughs, clearly pleased with himself.

“yeah?” he whispers, fingers pressing deeper, making your whole body respond, legs clenching around him. “don’t hold back. i’m right here.”

you let yourself go, your body responding to the way his fingers move, slick and ribbing, the wet sounds are almost embarrassing, echoing in the quiet of the room, but he’s not even trying to hide his laughter, each laugh dripping with that dark, horned-up energy that makes your stomach twist.

“you’re really getting into this, hm? riding my fingers like a little bunny in heat. thought you were shy?” his eyes are gleaming, and you can see that he’s practically losing his mind with lust, just as you are. the way your hips instinctively rock against his fingers is making it hard for him to think straight.

“hoshi-ah!—” you manage to gasp, your body feels electrified, like every nerve is lit up, and the pressure building inside you makes it hard to focus on anything else. he laughs, that low, throaty sound, clearly enjoying the way you’re unraveling in his hands.

“what? can’t handle it? not my fault you look so damn cute like this,” he teases. “there we go, that’s my girl. just keep riding me like that. you’ve got this.”

you grip his shoulders, feeling the warmth radiate from his skin as your eyes roll back, threatening to take you somewhere blissful and hazy. it’s like the world around you fades away, and all you can focus on is him—his fingers, still buried deep inside you, pushing you closer to that edge you desperately try to reach. the slick sounds of your pussy mix with his labored breaths, a soundtrack of pure sex echoing off the walls.

“wait,” he suddenly breathes out, his voice strained. your heart races as he shifts, trying to find a condom somewhere in the chaos that is his bedroom. even as he rummages around, his fingers stay just where they are, still pressed against you.

“hoshi…” you murmur, your voice shaky as you feel that lingering sensitivity from his touch. he glances up at you completely consumed by you.

“just a second,” he manages, and you can see how hard it is for him to keep his focus as he finally finds the little foil packet. he leans back, pulling you closer, and there’s a wicked smile playing on his lips. “herre, you do it. i wanna watch you.”

you nod, hands shaking as you reach for the condom, your fingers fumbling slightly with the package. he resumes his teasing fingers, moving them inside you, and your breath hitches.

“god, you feel incredible,” he murmurs, his breath coming out in ragged bursts as he watches you, mesmerized by how easily you respond to him. your moans escape before you can hold them back, and you feel your cheeks flush even hotter.

“m’not gonna last if you keep doing that,” he warns, but his voice betrays him, coming out breathy as he gives a playful thrust of his fingers, coaxing more sounds from you.

he resumes the rhythm of his fingers, and the sensation almost makes you forget what you’re doing. “ah—hoshi!”

“feel good?” he asks, like he’s genuinely concerned for your pleasure.

“y-yeah,” you gasp, riding the waves he creates, trying to keep yourself steady as the pleasure builds again. “so good.”

hands are trembling as you reach for him, fingers fumbling over the buttons of his jeans, your breath hitching in your throat. “it’s… it’s kinda tight,” you admit, biting your lip, you can feel his excitement growing, and it only makes you even more nervous.

“don’t worry about it. just take your time. i’m right here,” he reassures, with that, you unbutton his jeans, sliding them down just enough to expose him, and your heart skips a beat as you lower his underwear, finally revealing him to you.

your hands tremble as you reach for him, the feeling of his fingers still lingering on your skin making it hard to focus. but you do your best, slipping the rubber over his length, feeling how hard he is, and the way he breathes out sharply when you finally make contact. it makes you swell with confidence.

“wow,” you breathe, your eyes widening as you take him inside the rubber. he looks so delicious, so ready for you.

“like what you see?” he teases, his breath coming out in shallow gasps as he lays back comfortably, pulling you to him. his hand intertwine with yours, guiding you as you slide the condom on him.

“yeah, i do.”

“good.”

“hoshi, please…” you plead, you want nothing more than to feel him inside you. “i need you.”

“patience, bunny,” he murmurs, teasing you with every thrust of his fingers. “you’ve got to show me how bad you want it. ride my fingers like you did before, and then we’ll see.”

you moan, the sound echoing in the room as you start to move your hips against his fingers, rocking back and forth, feeling that familiar tension building again. “i’m trying!” you whine. “but it feels so good… i don’t want to wait.”

“i get it. trust me, i want you too. just hold on a little longer,” he encourages, a smirk playing on his lips as he watches you. you feel like you’re melting under his gaze.

the pace of his fingers increases, and you can feel the sweat starting to bead on your forehead, your breathing becoming more erratic as the sensations grow stronger. “i can’t… hoshi, i can’t hold back much longer,” you gasp, squeezing your eyes shut.

“let go for me, baby,” he breathes, pushing you further and further to that edge. “just let it all out, and then we can really have some fun. i want to feel you fall apart.”

the moment he feels you squelch around his fingers, a wicked grin spreads across hoshi's face. he uses his fingers to spread you wider, that little pompom bouncing slightly as he watches you melt. but before you can melt completely, he guides you down onto him, urging you to sink onto his waiting cock—all in. and just like that, you're sent spiraling to hell and back in the middle of your orgasm.

a scream escaping your lips as you bury your face into his chest. your cries ringing in his ears, a sweet melody.

he wraps his arms around you, holding you close, feeling the rapid thump of your heart against his chest. “you good?” he asks, his fingers slide down your back, gentle and soothing, trying to help you catch your breath as his cock twitches inside you. “you looked like you were about to explode.”

“i—i think i did,” you mumble, still a little dazed. the pompom on your costume sways with every quiver, a ridiculous but endearing sight that makes his grin widen. “hoshi, i—oh my god, it’s too much!” your voice comes out in a high-pitched whine when he grinds up.

you bury your face against him, seeking comfort in the warmth of his body, and the sound of his heartbeat thrumming against your cheek calms the storm inside you, if only just a little.

“i know it feels like a lot, but just wait. will be good, i promise. will ride me so good... my bunny..”

the thought makes u all horny again, and you can’t help but squirm as you process what he’s suggesting. “but… what if I can’t?” you stutter, glancing away shyly.

“you can, I promise,” he insists, his eyes softening as he leans closer, brushing his lips against your cheek. “I’ll take care of you, and I’ll make sure you feel every second of it. just trust me.” his words are a warm caress, soothing the lingering worries, and the way he says it makes you feel safe.

he raises your head just enough to capture your lips, and it’s like a combustion igniter between you. his tongue slips into your mouth, tasting you, teasing you with a sluggish kiss that makes you melt. it’s rousing, and you find yourself leaning into him, wanting more, craving the heat radiating off his body.

with a speedy movement, his other hand spreads your ass, giving him a better grip as he pulls you closer. “let’s get you to ride me, yeah?” he murmurs against your lips, and the way he says it makes your heart race even faster. you can barely comprehend.

“hoshi, i—” but you can’t finish your thought; he’s already guiding you, and your body instinctively responds, you can’t help but gasp into the kiss, breaking it as you try to regain your composure.

“can’t believe how wet you are for me. it drives me insane.”

“you’re so much, hoshi,” you admit, you begin to move, lifting your hips and then sinking down slowly, feeling every inch of him stretching you, filling you up completely. you can’t help but moan, eyes fluttering shut.

“yes, just like that,” he urges, his hands squeezing your hips. “you’re doing amazing, baby. keep going.” the way he praises you pushes you to ride him harder, to take more of him.

“hoshi!” you gasp, feeling the inferno pool deep in your belly. you can’t believe how good it feels to finally be connected with him like this, your bodies moving together in perfect harmony.

he grunts, flipping you around and positioning you on all fours, your bunny tiara tumbling onto the sheets as you crawl onto the bed. the fabric beneath you is soft but the way he thrusts into you is anything but gentle.

“come on, y/n, keep that ass up for me,” he growls, his breath heavy as he digs his fingers into your hips, holding you in place. “you wanna feel me deeper, right? i need to see you like this.”

you can merely hold yourself up as his thrusts grow stronger, sending your body forward with each powerful push. “hoshi, please,” you whimper, trying to maintain your balance as your body instinctively responds to him.

“please what?” he teases, his fingers tightening around your hips, his grip possessive. “are you begging for me? ‘cause if you don’t keep that ass up, i might just stop right here.” he emphasizes the last part with another hard thrust that makes you gasp, your body aching for more.

“i’m trying—fuck, fuck!” you manage to say, he’s watching you, waiting for you to comply, adds an edge of desperation to your movements.

“good girl,” he murmurs, he thrusts again, and you can feel him so deep inside you that it’s almost too much to bear. “you’re so fucking tight, y/n. it’s like you were made for me.”

you can’t help but push back against him, trying to find that perfect angle. “hoshi, please—don’t stop. i need more,” you plead.

“that’s what i like to hear,” he says. “you’re such a little minx, crawling around in that cute little outfit. it’s making it hard to think straight.” he shifts his angle slightly, hitting your g'spot with his bulbous cockhead.

the tears fill your eyes, your face twists, turning into full-blown sobs as he hits the spot again and again, you don't have more control of your body, hips slumping on bed.

“oh, baby,” hoshi coos, his voice softening as he notices. he pauses for a moment, his movements halting, but then he grips you by the hair hair roughly, pulling you back just enough to arch your back. “don’t cry. talk to me. what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

“i’m so close!” you cry, your voice cracking as you cling to the sheets, your body arching to meet his hips again.

he resumes thrusting into you, but this time it’s different—he pushes with more strength, less rhythm, like he’s trying to anchor you back to the moment. “focus on me,” he murmurs “feel every inch of me. let go of everything else.”

he smiles when he sees you react again, your eyes rolling when e lift your hips again, fucking his cock inside your swollen cunt until you spill around him. “you’re so fucking beautiful when you cry.. it makes me want to break you again and again.”

you clench tight around him, every nerve ending sparking to life, with each powerful thrust, hoshi drives you further into that delicious abyss. your body instinctively responds to him, tightening and fluttering around his length.

“oh fuck!— clench around me like that… just like that.”

you respond instinctively, clenching tighter, the action earning you a sharp intake of breath from him.

you’re clenching harder than ever, your mouth falling agape as the waves of pleasure crash over you like an unstoppable tide. hoshi can feel it; the way your body is tightening around him, squeezing him just right. he knows he’s close, too.

his fingers work their magic on your clit, massaging it furiously, until you gush around him, which he wished he could feel on his bare cock. “i can’t hold it!” you gasp, and as if hearing your plea, he speeds up, his fingers dancing over your sensitive clit.

“that’s it, y/n! let it out!”

a scream that echoes in the room even though the party's music bothered the whole time. you squirt, soaking the sheets and his body, hoshi couldn't hold after that. not here, not there. never. you looked so fucked out. because of... him?

“fuck, yes! just like that,” hoshi growls, his breath hitching as he feels you soak him, the slickness making your movements sloppier, until you fall completely on the bed.

he pulls out and heads to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. you hear the faint sounds of running water in the room.

hoshi watches you for a moment, your breathing slow and steady now, the remnants of bliss still evident on your face. he chuckles softly, shaking his head at how you’ve managed to turn his entire bed into a scene straight out of a movie.

“hey, y/n,” he says again, his voice a gentle nudge to bring you back to reality. “you still with me?”

you blink your eyes open, the world coming back into focus, and a lazy smile spreads across your lips.

“i think we need to do some cleaning.”

“cleaning?” you echo, glancing down at the damp sheets, realizing just how soaked they really are. your cheeks blush, as your mouth open. you don't even have the chance to say sorry before he's patting you.

“please, don't be embarassed! can you lift up a bit? i need to roll this off so we can get to the fresh stuff.”

“sure,” you mumble shyly, propping yourself up on your elbows. as you raise your hips slightly, he deftly pulls the duvet from under you, rolling it away to expose the clean sheets beneath.

hoshi carefully grabs a towel, its soft texture feeling comforting against your skin. he starts by dabbing gently at your body, wiping away the remnants of sex, his touch both tender and teasing. “you know, you really went all out with that costume. it’s a shame to see it go,” he smirks, as he deftly removes the bodysuit, revealing your bare skin underneath.

“it was cute, right? but not super comfy,” you admit, a shy smile creeping onto your face.

“definitely cute, but a bit too tight for my liking,” he jokes, tossing the towel aside and reaching for one of his oversized shirts hanging on the back of the door. he holds it up with a grin, the fabric slightly wrinkled but still looking inviting. “how about this? it’s way more comfortable. you can borrow it for the night.”

you nod eagerly, slipping into the shirt as he helps you pull it over your head. it swallows you whole, the fabric falling down to your thighs and making you feel cozy. “ah, much better,” you sigh, relishing the softness.

hoshi watches you with a smilling like a fool. “you look adorable.” he teases, his eyes sparkling. “um...i’m going to let mingyu know you’re sleeping with me here tonight, alright? he’ll freak out if he thinks you’re wandering home alone at this hour.”

“oh... thank you soonyoungie” you agree, flopping back onto the bed, the soft sheets welcoming you. “but don’t take too long! i might fall asleep before you come back.”

“no way! can’t have that happen,” he says, slipping into a pair of comfortable sweatpants. he flashes you a quick wink before heading towards the door. “i’ll be back in a flash. just hold tight, alright?”

[hxney-lemcn]

Best Friend — Daisuke x gn! reader

summery: being friends with Daisuke, you and him have some fun and not so fun moments, but you find yourself confessing your feelings to him accidently.

tw: mentions of Pony Express (gross), slight angst (but barely)

a/n: guys Daisuke has me in his grips rn, things kept getting written and here we are. I love him your honor.

wc: 2.3k

Master List

Part One | Part Two

It was a warm day in spring. Sun shining down, fluffy white clouds floating by, a gentle breeze tussling your hair, and your company had made it all the better. Daisuke sat across from you at a picnic table at the park. Birds chirped overhead, sounds of kids running around and playing in the distance, while both you and Daisuke were having idle chit chat. 

“How’s college going?” Daisuke asked, glancing up at you from his phone. 

“Don’t get me started,” You grumbled, brain frying at the mere thought of school and work. 

Daisuke chuckled lightly, putting his phone down and resting his head in his hand. Mirroring his movements, you asked, “How’s it going on your end?”

“Don’t get me started,” He repeated your earlier words, causing you both to break out into a small fit of laughter.

“That bad, huh?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” He grumbled, a pout resting on his lips. “My parents won’t stop buggin’ me about finding a job or internship. I dunno what I wanna do yet though.”

“That sucks,” You sympathized. “I still don’t know what I wanna do exactly, but my parents wouldn’t take no for an answer when it came to going to college. Lets hope I choose the right major.”

The lull in your conversation gave you time to admire your long time friend. His hair was growing out from the last time he dyed it, laying nicely on his shoulders and cut jaggedly. His brown eyes had drifted from you, staring up into the canopy of the trees that surrounded you both, the sun shining across his nose. The beauty mark that rested below his right eye and on his left cheek. He was too pretty for his own good. Not to mention his good sense of fashion and funny personality, he was like your dream boyfriend wrapped in a single package. Well actually…

Yeah, you fell for your friend…a while ago too. Could you blame yourself? He was sweet, caring, funny, pretty, maybe a little dense and average when it came to school work, but you wouldn’t have him any other way. Daisuke was a good guy, a bit lost at the moment, but you were gonna stick by his side until he found his passion, and hopefully after that too.

“They found an internship actually,” Daisuke broke the silence, brown eyes landing back on yours. 

“Oh?” You questioned back, blinking out of your stupor. “Where?”

“Pony Express,” He shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, but you could tell it was bothering him. 

“You mean the shitty delivery company?” You asked confused. “The one that ships to other planets?”

“Yeah,” Daisuke replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not concrete or anything, but they’re kinda serious about this one.”

Your stomach dropped. There was no way he was actually…

“I don’t think I can say no.”

It was like your world was crumbling. Daisuke was not only your crush, but the only friend you talked to outside of high school…he was kind of your only friend. Not only that, but the safety of those trips have been heavily criticized, especially Pony Express. They were known for cutting costs and slipping things under the rug. Many workers came out with accusations that were swiftly silenced, rumors of toxic work culture littered everywhere you could look. What were his parents thinking?!

“R-really?” You asked, trying to mask the fear that coated your words and expression. “Isn’t…there are so many other trades, why would they start you with something so demanding?”

“To teach me responsibility,” He shrugged, avoiding your gaze. You felt anger start bubbling up within you. Sure, Daisuke hasn’t had a real job yet, but that wasn’t an excuse to throw him to the wolves to teach him a lesson! Sure, they meant well, but what about an electrician's apprentice or welder, hell even a plumber! Just…something that wasn’t him hurtling through space for God knows how long with little to no communication. 

“I-it’s not as bad as it sounds,” He tried to console you, but you, you were absolutely livid, trying to calm yourself down by taking deep breaths. 

“What if I find you something different?” You asked, your desperation clearly showing. Daisuke felt his stomach twist, he always hated seeing you sad, and now he was the reason. 

“I don’t know,” He sighed. “Maybe if it’s something serious looking.

“Okay,” You nodded, suddenly getting serious. “How about we try finding alternatives together? Try to find the best of both worlds.”

“Sure,” Daisuke replied back, looking a bit more hopeful than before.

…

“Wanna sip?” You asked, tilting your drink towards Daisuke. He had seemed intrigued by what you got, but ordered something different. Sharing was a common occurrence between you both anyways, so neither of you batted an eye. 

“Thank you,” He grinned brightly, taking a quick sip before leaning back in his chair. “Oh, that is good! I’ll have to get it next time.” You nodded, taking a quick sip before placing the cup on the table. Your eyes noticed the pink hue that seemed to seep into Daisuke’s cheeks, but decided to ignore it, instead taking a glance around you both. You were visiting the local mall, spending some more time together. Many types of people walked past you as you both sat in the food court having a quick snack before continuing your shopping. 

“Y’know,” He spoke up, snapping your attention back onto him. “I think someone’s checking you out right now.” The way he spoke was conspiratorial, leaning across the table and whispering into your ear. 

You blinked in confusion, glancing around once more before whispering back, “Who?”

“That guy,” Daisuke pointed discreetly to a guy who was not even hiding the fact that he was indeed looking at you. It made your skin shiver, not liking the attention.

“Ew,” Was your immediate response, causing the both of you to break out laughing, huddling into each other like little kids who were trying to hide. 

“I thought you’ve been wanting a boyfriend for forever,” Daisuke chuckled out, whipping an invisible tear from his eye.

“Yeah,” You grumbled back, trying to ignore the way your cheeks flamed at the admission. “But not a random person.”

“Then how are you gonna find someone?” He asked innocently, tilting his head in genuine confusion. 

“I…” Was it just you or was the room getting hotter, ‘cus you felt like you were starting to sweat bullets. (Un)fourtunately, the guy from moments before walked over, somehow the sight of you and your friend laughing uncontrollably after looking at him boosted his confidence…somehow. People were still a mystery to you. 

“Hey,” The guy greeted, a slimy smirk on his lips. He wasn’t the worst looking person, he actually looked conventionally attractive, but that seemed to make this all worse for you. He was clearly confident in his looks and his friends were watching while snickering to each other. Gosh, this felt like high school all over again, he was probably gonna say something nice and then immediately insult you. You thought you were past this stage in life already…apparently not. 

“Uh, hi,” You greeted back awkwardly, constantly glancing at Daisuke like your life depended on it. 

“I noticed you from across the room and thought you looked attractive,” The random guy said, eyes once again looking you up and down. Oh God, this was worse than high school…was he being serious right now? You tried to hide your grimace, not wanting to upset him, but also not wanting to lead him on.

“Uh…thanks?” It came out as more of a question, and you elbowed Daisuke as he let out a muffled laugh, absolutely eating up this awkward encounter. 

“Yeah,” The guy nodded, not even sparing a glance to your friend. “So I was wondering if I could get your number.” Your heart dropped, panic started to thrum through your veins. What do you say? Well, no of course. But how do you say it without sounding like an asshole?

“It’s (xxx) xxx-xxxx,” Daisuke smiled ‘innocently’. You gave him a blank stare, trying your hardest to not grin like the cheshire cat. The guy put the number that not only wasn’t yours, but Daisuke’s, into his phone before winking at you.

“Cool,” The guy smiled. “I’ll text you later.”

“Y-yeah,” You coughed into your palm, trying to smother the laughter that was threatening to bubble up. As soon as the guy left your vicinity, you both broke into a fit of chuckles, clutching onto the other all the while. 

“I can’t believe you did that,” You cackled. “God I love you so much.” 

It was an innocent admission. Something you had been holding close to your heart for who knows how long. It had been bubbling and brewing with every smile he sent your way, every silly drawing and caring gesture, every time he comforted you or made you laugh. It was bound to overflow, to spill past your lips in a moment of vulnerability…but the second it left you, your expression dropped. Once again panicking as Daisuke looked at you in surprise. It was hard to ignore the pink on his cheeks this time. 

Trying to regain his composure, with a small smile he replied, “I love you too.” The atmosphere was tense, and you knew he meant it platonically…at least that’s what you thought. He was giving you an out, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to take it. But as the chatter of other people around you filled your senses once more, bags rustling and the smell of a mix of foods, you decided it wasn’t the best setting to go over such emotions. 

Fingers twitching, you grab one of Daisuke’s hands, gathering your bags in the other. He sent you a confused (and a bit frightful) look, but grabbed his own items, letting you pull him away when he was ready. Every nerve in your body felt alight, trying to ignore how his fingers curled around your own, how your heart was going a mile a minute, how you felt like you couldn’t hold it in anymore. For all you knew, he was going to intern at Pony Express, and you had been holding these feelings in for far too long, and he just needed to know you were serious about your accidental confession. 

When you both sat in your car, you turned the music down, turning to face the confused man, “I meant it.”

Blinking, he simply replied, “I meant it too.”

“No,” You groaned, face aflame and heart pounding. “I love you, Daisuke. Like, I want to hold hands with you and do gross coupley things.”

His blush had become ten times more prominent, the red coating his tanned cheeks brightly, eyes wide in astonishment. Daisuke never knew you liked him like that. Sure, he had hoped, having grown feelings for you as well. Unlike his other friends that he would go out and party with, you were more grounding, enjoying the quiet moments and letting him vent when needed. You had been his friend for so long, he couldn’t imagine a life without you by his side. Whenever his parents or you asked him what he wanted for his future, all he could really come up with was that he wanted you there.

And now you were here, confessing to him. Was he dreaming? Had he died and gone to heaven? Could this really be happening? Well, whatever this was, he wasn’t going to let this opportunity go.

“I…I wanna do that too, with you,” He replied back, gaze shifting from yours, but the giddy smile on his face gave away that he meant what he was saying. 

“R-really?” You asked hopefully. 

“Of course!” Daisuke responded passionately, his embarrassment slowly fading. “You always listen to me ramble about stupid things, and you keep my stupid drawings and you're also really pretty, or, uh, handsome, no I mean beautiful…shit.”

You chuckled, reaching out and grabbing his hand somewhat bashfully, “I think you’re pretty, handsome, and beautiful too.”

And as the both of you sat there, staring at each other with loving gazes, you felt like no matter what, things would be fine. You both can get through any problem as long as you have the other.

Bonus:

“Oh my God he texted me!” Daisuke exclaimed, calling out your name like you weren’t lying right next to him. 

Turning off your phone, you snuggled into his side, resting your head on his shoulder, both staring at his phone, “What did he say?”

“Hey, it’s the guy from the mall,” Daisuke read aloud. “Do you wanna come watch a movie at my place?” 

“Ew,” You scrunch your nose at the thought. “Who thinks it's a good idea for the first date to be at a private location?”

“He probably thought he was gonna get some,” Daisuke rolled his eyes, wrapping an arm around your waist. 

“Yeah, I think that’s even worse,” You grumbled. 

He only chuckled, asking, “What should I say back?”

“I dunno,” You shrugged. “Something stupid.”

“Sorry, I have to fold my dishes,” Daisuke spoke while typing, the silly grin never leaving his lips. 

“That’s such an old meme,” You laughed. Your boyfriend merely shrugged, clicking send anyways. The two of you watched as it was marked read, then the message bubbles that popped up and disappears periodically. The two of you were giggling like it was the funniest thing in the world.

“When are you free then?” You read out this time. “Wow, am I really that good looking?”

“Duh,” Daisuke rolled his eyes while squeezing your waist. “I just got lucky that you chose me.”

“I didn’t choose you,” You replied. “You kinda snuck your way into my heart and one day I was like, damn…I like him.”

Looking down at you, Daisuke stared like you had hung the stars and moon, causing your heart to accelerate. Leaning down, he placed a short kiss to your lips, then swiftly kissed you again and again until his heart's content.

As you both got lost in each other's love, you had completely forgotten about the random guy, whose messages were left forgotten.

[magnificentstrawberryomen]

bound to break (jolly karlsson x reader one shot)

cw: just angst oops

iwas incredibly proud of him, don’t get me wrong.

i loved his dark eyes sparkling with passion whenever he hit the stage and hit the first snares of his guitar. the concentrated, serious frown and expression he carried during the entire performance, whilst i knew more than anyone how much he was beaming on the inside, like a burning sun filled with passion, radiating to the instrument he’s playing.

but it hurt as well. it hurt that he had to chose between two of the things he loved the most; me, and his career. i wish i could’ve put it differently that night when it all went wrong—wrong for my heart now still desperately aching for him, needing him. for him to come home and wrap his arms around me like a safe heaven, singing me softly asleep, as he noticed i was close to drifting away but just needing to hear his calm and warm voice against my ear, the only thing that made me sleep fully and peacefully.

but i needed to break the silence, the painful eating silence between us whenever we were together and i just had to sit and watch him still being occupied by work instead of holding me like he always used to when he had days off.

“y/n, please. you can’t make me choose—”

“i’m not making you chose, joakim. or at least, i don’t want you to, but… i’m trying to explain to you that that i find it very hard to see you less and less, and now that you’ve just gotten back for three days you have to leave again!”

“i know!” he had yelled back, in frustration, in sadness. “i know, and it’s not like i like it either! but this is an opportunity we as a band have to take, you understand that right? we haven’t been able to play like this for y—”

“i never said i didn’t!” my voice breaks in a hoarse whisper, heart close to breaking as i interrupt him, ‘cause i knew where this conversation would end up to. it was bound to happen for a while now, and we were both tired. tired, yearning for each other every single day, yet our needs never got met. and it destroyed us, slowly but steadily, like a wall between us about to crack with each time we saw each other, waiting to get broken by either of us.

“but you understand that this situation becomes tiring for me, right? joakim, i barely see you and it becomes less and less, shorter and shorter. i miss you, i miss us—i miss who we were and could be!”

a silence is followed, only our ragged breathing being heard in the room around us, and jolly looks at me with a saddening frown, and i know i have the same look at my face, just more frustratedly and tired.

“what are you saying exactly, y/n?” he then asked after a moment, stepping slightly closer, a messy strand of hair escaping from his half up bun that i’m tempted to brush away behind his ear, but i keep both my hands to my side.

“what i’m saying is… i don’t know anymore how we can still make this work between us. i want to, truly, and you know that—but… it’s getting tiring. it’s getting tired to miss my other half, and him not even being with me when we’re together. even at home you’re constantly wrapped up in work, and i can just sit here and watch in silence waiting for you to leave your damn office and become known of my existence again.”

the memory of that night is painful. painful especially when i lay in bed at night, staring at the ceiling, the fabric of the sheets and mattress feeling extra cold now that he is not there anymore to make it warm and comfortable, safe and nice to lay in—i wasn’t able to sleep for weeks after we decided to take a break and see where life would lead us, if the road of this hectic life would take us back together or not.

so far, it didn’t. it seemed like jolly didn’t even want to take the first step. and maybe that was because of his busy schedule, maybe it was because i was too afraid of the reality peeking around the corner and watching me, watching me like a hawk to remind me all of this was never going to work out again, so i didn’t take the first step either. the only way i was in some sort of contact with him, was through a tv screen, watching him perform in a small intimate venue, which was a huge difference from the festival his band had played the night before, and just in general. they were getting more and more successful each day.

i would watch with tears stinging in my eyes, feeling both utterly heartbroken but so proud of him as well. because i knew be belonged to that stage, along with his friends, his brothers, creating music so special, inspiring and important for others with the passion clearly rushing through his body, the body that one held me with so much love and joy, that i couldn’t be mad at him anymore.

because i couldn’t take this type of love and joy from him either, because he was clearly made for this and the stage—and it hurts that he was not made for me, and a life together, after all.

[hey-august]

Buggy could literally cockwarm himself with his own hole and nobody would be the wiser.

Walking around all day yelling orders at people but also walking with a bit of a limp. His crew thinks that he may have slept wrong. Some of his bolder followers think he has given you a really, REALLY good night yesterday. Only you know that his cock has been kept snug in his ass for the last two hours and that the awkward shimmy in his seat comes from trying to give his half hard dick some friction.

Alternatively, you knock on his door and he quickly tries to hide his dick in any way possible. No he wasn’t jacking it and if he did he wasn’t thinking about you. He’s also not slowly getting a rise out of how perverted this entire situation is, talking to you like his own cock isn’t twitching inside of him. He wonders if your ass would be tighter. He’s still a bit relaxed from his solo time from yesterday, but he can still feel the sting from having to go a bit too fast. He still thinks yours would feel absolutely heavenly tough. He still things about bending you over the old, wooden desk and fucking your arse till your voice is hoarse and your tongue hangs out of your mouth like you’re a dog begging for scraps of meat. And you have no clue, theres no outwardly evidence that his brain provides him with all these dirty thoughts, he can blame his tight lipped expression and red face on an oncoming flu, you’d never be able to tell.

Relaxes when you turn to leave after you are done with your report. You stop in the doorframe. “And, Captain? You should really wash the oil from your fingers and put the bottle back into the drawer after you’re done… wouldn’t want any of the crew to catch on now wouldn’t we?”

aaaaAAAAAHHH - THE LIMP. THE SHIMMY. Also, damn, "like you're a dog begging for scraps of meat"

Buggy doesn't always sit still, so it's not odd for him to be shifting and readjusting. It's a little strange that he's sitting relatively normal, instead of that slutty leg-on-the-chair-arm pose, but whatever.

Actually, maybe sitting like that would be better… If leans this way and spreads his legs, he could have a little more playing room for his dick to pum- NOPE. NEVERMIND. Cockwarming and fucking himself in front of other people? Actually… NO. Forget it. (He'll think about it later tonight and feel a tinge of regret when all rational thought is drowned out by a need to cum.)

Also this guy opting to HIDE his dick inside himself? Honestly, Buggy might have been looking for a reason to do it.

And who's to say that he hasn't done something similar before? Shouting orders through his door while jacking off. Hiding his hard cock in his pocket and rubbing the leaking tip with his thumb while he's talking to you.

He thinks he's so sneaky. Deceptive. Hiding it well.

Meanwhile, you notice the tremors in his voice. How he licks his lips a little too frequently. The rhythmic motion in his pocket. His dialated pupils. He stands so damn close, how could you not catch on?

Of course every time he plays this silly little game and wins, Buggy gets cocky. It really was only a matter of time before he let it slip. And here's the thing - that's not even the oil he uses to jack off! It's the one he uses to soothe his muscles at the end of the day.

You called his bluff and Buggy answered when his mouth fell open and he gaped silently like a damn carnival goldvish. His eyebrows creased and quivered, pulled in different directions by shock, anger, humiliation, and his erection throbbing in his body.

If you only knew how long your dear captain laid there after you left, his dick still deep inside and leaking cum from an orgasm he wasn't prepared to have just yet.

[taeyongdoyoung]

blessed-cur(s)ed

summary: your bestie is obsessed with the idea of your blood but there's a chance it might kill him so he dares you to try it on the most popular guy in your school for supernatural beings pairing: vampire!heeseung x powerless witch!reader side couple: future vampire!sunoo x (idk what!)sunghoon implied at the end 👀 genre: fantasy, humour, romance, lowkey insta-love but actually classmates to lovers? warnings: flirty bestie!sunoo (yes, that's a warning in itself), nerdy AND popular guy!heeseung (canon event, methinks), mentions of blood, talks of death, experiments, book of cur(s)es, the bet trope with a twist, attempted murder (but not really), kissing, biting, kneeling, swearing, song references author's note: happy halloween, everyone! 🧛 i wanted to write something spooky-themed for the occasion and what better way than vampire enha to celebrate ❤️ i accidentally deleted my fic like a 🤡 so im reposting lol

word count: 2.8k

"I want to drink your blood sooo bad," Sunoo, your vampire bestie, keeps telling you.

Now, you may find that a bit strange. How is he a vampire and why are you so chill about it? Well, the thing is, you've been attending a school for supernatural beings for the past couple of years.

You come from a family of witches, but your powers haven't manifested yet. There is completely nothing special about you.

Well, except for one thing. Your blood, apparently. Your witchy ancestors loved experimenting with their own blood and according to some old book containing curses and other supernatural information, they turned it into a poison for vampires.

Which can be problematic, considering your bestie's obsession with how good you smell.

"Sunoo, shut up, I keep telling you that my blood and that of my entire family can literally kill you!" you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time only this month.

"Pfft, don't tell me you still believe that stupid old book? Your ancestors probably lied 'cause they were afraid vampires would bleed them dry. I mean, judging by your amazing smell, your great-grandparents' scent was probably just as tempting to vampires," Sunoo argues passionately.

"You can't risk it, Sunoo! I don't wanna lose my best friend just because you can't control your urges," you sigh loudly.

"Oh I can control myself alright, I've been living on deer and rabbits for as long as I remember. Just one tiny taste, honeypie, pleaseee, I swear, you won't even feel it," Sunoo continues the incessant begging. "My fangs aren't that sharp."

"Sunoo, no! I'm not even worried about myself, I trust your dorky ass, but you can literally die," you constantly remind him.

"Can being the key word!" Sunoo, ever the optimist says. "But what if I don't? What if your ancestors were full of shit?"

"No, die is the key word!" you fight back. "I can't lose my best friend. No means no."

"Ughhh," Sunoo complains even more. "What if we test it on someone?"

"What?!" you hiss-whisper.

"Some other vampire. What if we convince them to drink your blood and see if they die," Sunoo suggests boldly.

"That's attempted murder!" you look around to make sure none of your classmates heard you. Maybe it's a good thing most of them are so preoccupied with their own looks that they pay no attention to you two...

"It's not if they survive!" Sunoo keeps looking from the bright side.

"You're crazy," you shake your head. But the idea does sound fun...Wait, no, you're not even considering it!

"What about him?" Sunoo murmurs in your ear, just as someone enters the classroom.

It's Heeseung. Only the most popular guy in your school. The most liked, the most talented in all subjects, the most unattainable.

There's no way you could ever pull him. There's no way you could even convince him to drink your blood.

"Only vampires from my family know about the book of curses your family possesses," Sunoo nudges you gently. "You just have to get him alone and I'm sure he'll bite. Both literally and metaphorically."

You shake your head in disagreement.

"He won't. He's wayyy out of my league."

"That's bullshit and you know it," Sunoo rolls his eyes. "You're very pretty and you smell incredible! I bet you taste so sweet-"

"Dude, your obsession with my smell and potential taste is deeply concerning," you point out.

"Talk to him. I bet he'll be interested."

"What's in it for me? I don't wanna kill the guy..."

"You won't, I'm pretty sure. But just in case, I'll...say I killed him. If he happens to...you know. Not that vampires are alive in the first place, but whatever."

"That's the bare minimum, considering it's your idea,"

"Ugh, fine. I'll do your assignments till the end of the year," Sunoo promises. Knowing he's among the top students, constantly battling with Heeseung for the first place, this sounds like a very tempting offer. And considering this is your last year of high school...

"Deal," you shake his hand and get up from your chair. There are still a couple of minutes till class starts. So, you do the one thing you never thought you'd be able to do.

You approach THE Lee Heeseung.

"Um, hi," you greet him.

"You talking to me?" Heeseung looks up from his phone in curiosity.

"Yeah. Sorry, am I bothering you, Heeseung?"

"No, you're good," Heeseung chuckles and God, that sound is so smooth. "I just didn't think you knew my name."

"Are you kidding me? You're like the most famous guy in our entire school."

"I've been told. Is that why we've never talked for...um, let me think, the past four years?"

"Maybe so," you laugh nervously. "Sorry. You're kinda intimidating, you know that?"

"Me?" Heeseung repeats cutely, as if he's never heard a more ridiculous claim. "No way. So, did you want to ask me something?"

"Erm, yes, actually. Do you wanna hang out sometime? Like...do homework or stuff?"

"Sure, that sounds nice. Your place or mine?" he immediately agrees which is a huge shock to you.

Your place is out of the question. Your witchy parents would be furious if they found out you're trying to get a vampire to drink your blood. And his place sounds just as bad. If the poor guy drops dead in his own home with you being there, his vampire parents would be unhappy, to say the least.

"How about the forest?" you blurt out without thinking.

"The forest? That's a strange place for doing homework, no?"

"It's, um, quieter than the library," you respond dumbly.

"Forest it is," Heeseung complies to your complete amazement. "See you after class?"

"Yes, that'd be awesome," you mumble and hurry back to your seat as the teacher enters the classroom.

"How did it go?" Sunoo asks you quietly.

"He agreed to go out with me," you reply, still in shock.

"See? I told you he'd bite," Sunoo says with a wink.

But instead of being happy, you're dreading it. Because Heeseung seems like a really nice guy. And you're planning to use him as a guinea pig! And for what? To appease Sunoo's silly idea and get him to do your assignments for a year?

Class ends sooner than you'd like and you meet up with Heeseung in the forest near the school.

Little does your inexperienced ass know that your other classmates use the forest as a hook-up place! So, when Heeseung has no intention of doing any homework with you and kisses you without warning, you find yourself in an even more unexpected predicament. You're kissing him back, because duh, this is THE Lee Heeseung. When a chance like that appears right in front of you, you take it and don't let go. He smells and tastes so good and you finally get Sunoo's obsession with you. Heeseung wraps his fingers in your hair, deepening the kiss. Damn, you never expected he'd be into you! You're enjoying this unbelievable moment to the fullest when suddenly, he breaks the kiss and asks:

"Can I bite you? Just once, I promise. You just smell sooo freaking nice," Heeseung begs as if in a daze.

Fuck. If Sunoo was here, he'd tell you to agree rightaway. But your moral compass happens to be stronger than your loyalty to Sunoo's weird idea.

"I'm sorry, Heeseung, but no."

"I swear, I won't hurt you," he keeps pleading. Damnit, he's turning into Sunoo 2.0.

"It's not that. I feel terrible now, but I haven't been entirely honest with you. There is this old book of curses that my family possesses. And in it, it says my ancestors did some experiments with their blood. Apparently, theirs and my blood can be poisonous to vampires. If you bite me...you can literally die," you confess in a hurry, before you can change your mind. Heeseung deserves to know the truth.

"So...you approached me to actually do homework?" Heeseung blinks, still confused.

"No, I approached you because my dumbass best friend wanted me to use you as a test. To see if my blood is actually like sweet venom to vampires so he can get a taste of me next," you tell him everything like a fool.

"Oh," Heeseung appears so crest-fallen your heart is genuinely breaking for him.

You drop to your knees guiltily.

"I'm so sorry. Feel free to kill me."

"Not if you kill me first," Heeseung smirks coldly and attacks your neck with his fangs.

Fuck, no! You try to push him away but he's too strong! What is wrong with him? You literally just told him he might die if he drinks your blood. Why is he doing this? Is he suicidal or something?! You keep attempting to get him off of you but it's no use. As your blood is entering his system, you begin to feel so weak and dizzy. Oh, well. You kinda deserve it.

Just as your eyes are about to close and you are on the verge of losing consciousness, Heeseung's teeth leave your skin. He holds you in his arms so that you don't fall.

"Sorry, did I go too hard on you?" he asks sweetly, ever the gentleman.

"Are you crazy? What part of you can literally die did you not understand?"

"I apologize. You just smell and apparently, taste, so fucking sweet, I couldn't possibly resist. I won't do it again, I swear."

"That's right, you won't. Cause you will be dead!" you repeat, feeling completely exasperated.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm already dead," he jokes. "But seriously, my reading shows there is a huge chance old books like that are not entirely reliable. I probably should have told you that sooner..."

"Yeah, you should have!" you try to be angry but you also feel so worried for him. Even though you don't know him that well, you've already gotten attached.

"I'm really sorry," Heeseung repeats.

"Why are you apologizing? What if this actually kills you?"

"Oh, I know you'll be the death of me."

So, you wait. Nothing immediately happens, which would be reassuring, if it wasn't for Heeseung's desire to keep kissing you, as if it's the most normal thing in the world to do. Boys...

A while later, you both go to your own respective homes. The next day, you arrive at the school, informing Sunoo of what recently transpired. He's really excited that Heeseung is still alive and wants to drink from you as soon as possible. But you tell him to wait a little longer.

When the first class starts and Heeseung isn't there, you think nothing of it. Maybe he overslept. But when the second class starts and Heeseung still hasn't showed up, you begin to worry. He's the best student, he never misses class, he's so diligent and hard-working.

Fuck. You killed him. That's why he's not coming to school. You immediately rush out of the classroom, ignoring your teacher's harsh reprimands. You'll deal with that later.

That is when it hits you. You don't even know where Heeseung lives. And what would you do even if you did? Show up at his place, asking his parents: "Um, sorry, but is your son still alive? You know, regardless of being a vampire?"

That would be even crazier than what happened yesterday. You run into the forest to escape your growing panic. You run and you run until you no longer remember which way the school is.

And that is when the miracle happens. You spot him! Sitting next to a tree.

"Heeseung! You're alive!" you scream in relief and rush to hug him.

"Of course I'm alive, silly," Heeseung chuckles, hugging you back.

"Why didn't you come to class?" you explain your worries to him.

"I was feeling unbelievably peckish. Thought I'd hunt for some wild animals, but nothing helped. I'm still hungry as hell."

"That's strange," you reply. "Do you think it could be because of my blood? Do you feel any different?"

"I don't know," Heeseung shrugs. "I'm just so fucking hungry. Can I bite you again, please?"

"No, Heeseung, we still don't know whether or not it's lethal. It just might take more time. If you drink more of my blood, something bad could happen."

"You're right, I know," Heeseung's head drops in disappointment. "Forget I even asked."

"I have a turkey sandwich in my bag?" you offer. "I know vampires don't eat food like that but still..."

"You know what? That sounds really delicious, can I please try it?"

"Um, sure," you don't know why he's asking so politely since you literally just suggested it. As you unwrap and hand him the sandwich, you are amazed by how quickly he devours it.

"Damn, this was the best meal I've ever had!" Heeseung exclaims in surprise.

"Huh," you blink at him and touch his forehead on a whim. Why is it so warm? He was freakishly cold yesterday. "Are you feeling sick?"

"No, I feel much better after this sandwich, why?"

"Erm, not to concern you or anything but your skin is like super warm."

"That's...not normal for a vampire," Heeseung reasons.

"Exactly," you respond and touch his wrist with your fingers. Squeezing his veins lightly you feel something. Something that shouldn't exist. Something that you previously thought impossible. "Um, Heeseung...you have a pulse."

"What?!" he checks for himself, confirming what you just said as true. "Do you happen to know where I can read that book of your ancestors?"

"I carried it in my bag today, just in case," you praise your past self for being so clever and pull out the old book, handing it to Heeseung.

As he reads the section that contains information about your ancestors' blood.

Heeseung nods in contemplation as he finds the thing he's looking for.

"Just as I thought. This book isn't the original text your ancestors wrote. It's a translation. Or maybe I should say a mistranslation. Look, here," he points to a particular place with his finger. "It says forever cursed shall be the vampire that our blood drinks but the grammar is all wonky. Not easy to spot. It should be forever cured. I think your blood has the ability to turn vampires into humans."

"So...you're a human now?" you blink in surprise.

"I guess so."

"Fuck, Heeseung, I'm so sorry!" you cry out apologetically.

"Are you kidding? I've wanted to turn human my whole life!"

"What, why? Why give up immortality?"

"Because I just want to a normal, boring life, marry the girl of my dreams, settle down, have kids. Is that too much to ask for?"

"No, I get it," you sigh wistfully. "My parents are so disappointed in me and the fact that my witchy powers haven't manifested yet. But what if that's all I have? Just a normal girl whose blood turns vampires into humans..."

"There's nothing normal about you," Heeseung chuckles but the way he says it makes it sound like a compliment. "Hey, does that offer for doing homework in the forest still stand?"

"Sounds great to-" you don't even get to finish your sentence because Heeseung is kissing you again. Damn, you forgot that the word forest was code for making out.

Oh, well, there are worse things you could do...

Bonus:

"So, can I drink your blood now?" Sunoo asks.

"Bro, did you not hear what I just said? I turned the most popular vampire in our school for supernatural beings into a human! He can no longer even go to our school. His parents must be furious with me. I'm lucky they haven't killed me. Hell, I'm lucky they're letting me date him. I really don't get it."

"You know that doesn't sound too bad to me, right?" Sunoo keeps begging.

"I may have survived Heeseung's parents but what makes you think I'll survive yours?"

"You're my best friend. They'll get over it," Sunoo shrugs carelessly.

"You're literally addicted to the idea of my blood. Get help!"

"You wanna kiss me so bad it make you look stupid," Sunoo sticks his tongue out childishly.

"You wish," you roll your eyes.

"Do you think Heeseung will be mad at me if I bite you? Oh, right, he's human now, so he can't hurt me," Sunoo leans in.

"Sunoo, no!" you try to push him away.

"You'll let me one day, I know it," Sunoo grins widely, showing you his sharp fangs.

They might scare another witch, but not you. You know how powerful your blood is and while Heeseung was miraculously happy to turn into a human, 99% of the vampire population would rather die than become humans. So, you believe you're safe with Sunoo. For now. If you can only find someone whose scent is more tempting to him than yours...

"Good morning, everyone! Today we have a new student, his name is Sunghoon," the teacher announces all of a sudden. "Let's welcome him!"

"Hi, Sunghoon!" the class says in unison.

"Damnit, he smells incredible," Sunoo whispers in your ear.

Ah shit, here we go again...

The End

[gojo-enthusiast]

Arranged Marriage — Hiromi Higuruma

series master list

cw: smut | 18+

Kissing is Okay?

Month one was completed, you both had now been sleeping together in the same bed for 1 week now, and now have fallen into a nice little routine. You both would sit in the bed, as you read, and he would listen, or you two would put on a movie, or show. 

“Whatcha wanna watch?” Hiromi said as you were already snuggled in the sheets. “I actually want to do something else.” You said as he got in the bed, and snuggled close to you. The difference between you and Hiromi, is Hiromi has no filter, he would be the one to suggest anything intimate, with a straight face, but his ears would burn red, while you were more on the modest side, and would suggest innocent things.

“What is that?” Hiromi questioned. “Can w-we kiss? If not... It's okay, I just thought that maybe...” You stammered, feeling yourself growing red and shy, you turned to look at him, the silence deafening. Hiromi’s eyes got big with shock— “What?” He nearly bursted in shock. “Don’t look at me like I’m some baby, I know about kissing and stuff like that…" You rolled your eyes, now extremely embarrassed, and feeling rejected.

"I mean I am majoring in Literature.” You scoffed, about to turn over. “Just kissing?” He questioned. “...Yes- if... that's okay?" You lightly giggled, squeezing his nose. “Okay.” He said as he pulled your waist to him, making you flush against himself. 

Your breath hitched, realizing this was actually your first time. “Hiromi.” You whispered, your eyes looking into his. If it weren’t for the moon peeking through, you wouldn’t have been able to see his expressions, “Yeah?” — “I have… I actually… Well…” you stutter trying to find your words. “I know.” He pecked your nose. “I’ll lead.” He smiled, as he began kissing your cheek, then your forehead, then your nose, then your chin, putting his hand on your chin, he brought it down, his lips grazing yours, and he looked into your eyes, then both of you closing them at the same time, he finally kissed you, burying his hands into your hair on the side and back of your head.

He was slow at first, letting you ease yourself into it. After about 10 minutes, you felt him almost attack you in kissing, he began pushing his tongue into your mouth, and he gripped your waist, pulling you ungodly closer. “Fuck.” He groaned into your mouth, as you moaned into his. He was ravishing your lips, making you breathless— he kept up with the passionate lacing of your lips, pushing his tongue in once again, tasting you. “H-hiromi.” You moaned, into his mouth, as his thick thigh was in-between your legs, intertwining with your legs. You felt something in your core, heat up and becoming needy, you continued to let him ravish you, any bit of innocence you once had, was being stripped away with his tongue. Stripping down your defenses, you began to rock your hips into his thigh, trying to get some relief in your aching heat. “Fuck, if you do that, I'm gonna fuckin' bust.” He groaned as his manhood was achingly hard. “It feels good.” You moan, latching your lips back onto his, now pushing your tongue into his mouth, making him groan into your mouth.

“Suck on my tongue.” He groaned, you looked at him bewildered. “What?” You gulped. “Do it.” He said as he pulled your head back to his, kissing you again. You did just as he commanded you, sucking on his tongue, then pulling away, seeing his eyes dripping in lust. He needed more, he wanted more, it was taking every bit of him to restrain his need to be inside of a cunt he has yet to feel—

“I need you.” He said into your ear. “We don’t have to go all the way, just… Let me touch you." He groaned, as he was grinding against you. “Okay.” You moaned, as his hands that were once on your waist, they were now on snaking up your shirt, to your perky breast. “Ah—“ You moaned out. You felt your shirt being taken off of you, and his lips attaching to your nipple in an instant. “Hiro—“ You moaned loudly, as you rubbed your needy cunt on his thigh. “Fuck—“ He groaned into your breast. “Sit— sit on my face.” He groaned, pulling you on top of him. “What?” You blushed brightly. “Please, fuck, I need to taste you.” He was pleading with you at this point, this man was foaming at the mouth on how much he needed you. 

You looked at him with your innocent green eyes, and you gulped, "That... That doesn't sound safe..." You blushed brightly, you had read in books of what he was talking about, but now that you are straddled on this mans lap, your head was thoughtless. "It is safe..." He groaned, as he lightly thrusted his hips into your clothes core, making you moan out. "Are-are you sure?" You questioned, covering your breast with your arms. "So safe, I'll tap your thigh like this... see... if I tap three times, that means to get up... I promise you I won't need you too though... I promise..." he pleaded, hearing your concerns but then reassuring you that it was okay... You looked at him, nervous but then nodding.

You felt him tug at your panties, pulling them down, then slipping them off your ankles, bringing the wet fabric to his nose. “Hiromi!” You yelped in embarrassment. “You smell delicious my dear.” He groaned, pulling you up to him. He laid back, his head on the pillow, as you needy core was above his mouth, you knew a lot about sex, but you didn’t think this would be something you two would ever do, this was still so new.

He got tired of your reluctance, that he finally pulled your hips down, and your pussy right into his mouth. He began lapping his tongue all around your burning heat, taking in your sweet taste. “Shit.” You moan out, throwing your head back, while you gripped the head board. You felt him tug at one of your arms, pulling it to his head, lacing your hands into his hair. “Ride my face baby. Like you did my thigh.” He moaned as he sloppily made out with your cunt. You were in pure ecstasy— you simply wanted to innocently kiss him, but it led to him making out with your cunt. This man was much more vulgar than you expected, after this, he was going to be the biggest simp he ever imagined, the great bachelor Hiromi Higuruma was about to be wrapped around your finger, you were now his Queen, and he was your loyal subject. 

You kept rocking your hips, as his tongue fucked your hole, and his nose was on your clit. “I- feel weird.” You moaned out, trying to lift your hips off of him, but he only held onto you, feeling your clit fluttering, and your hole tightening. “Cum for me baby.” He moaned into your cunt, while his cock was on the verge of busting. You felt something in your stomach twisting and stretching, until you felt yourself come undone, completely snapping. Your body weakened, as you rode out your orgasm. Your breath was heavy, and you finally lifted yourself off of him, sitting on his hips. “Stay right there.” He urged you, as he grasped his cock from his boxers, and started to jerk himself off. “Fuck.” He groaned, as his licked your essence off his lips, and wiping his chin. “You look good like that.” You said into his ear, now planting kisses on his neck, and sucking lightly, something you learned in a book.

“You minx.” He hisses, as he let go of his cock, and slapped your ass. You moaned into his ear, feeling your core opening, wanting him to fill you. “Put it in.” You moaned into his mouth, as you kissed him. You were surprised by your own boldness, you felt this intense sense of peace, and overwhelming love for a man you were newly married to.

“Not yet baby, not yet.” He groaned, as he fisted his cock once more. “Please.” You groaned, as you scooted your cunt down to his cock, feeling against your wetness. “Baby slow down.” He gasped, he pulled his hand off of his cock, trying to calm you. Rubbing the sides of your arms, cooing you to be patient, and that he would finish you off with his fingers.

“No, I want it.” You moaned, as you brought your core to this tip of his cock, and sat down on it, letting it sink deep deep into you. You felt the pain of the stretch, but you were so wet, and aroused, that you didn’t care of the stretch, you sat upright, as your core had swallowed him whole. He looked at you in amazement, looking down at to where you both were connected, seeing blood at his base, and your eyes sealed shut, while little whimpers left your lips, as you rocked your hips like when you were rubbing against his thigh. “So-So good.” You moaned. He was astounded— “This little innocent thing just sank right onto me… What am I gonna do with you?” He chuckled, as he sat up and sucked on your breast once again— “Lift up a bit, let me help you.” He whispered into your ear. You lifted yourself up, still having his cock in you— You felt him slowly thrust upward, hitting your sweet spot so deliciously. Where did this little creature come from? Hiromi thought to himself. 

One minute you were sitting on his lap, then the next, he had you on your back, your legs wrapping around his lower back, as he sunk his cock deep into once again. “Ah!” You moaned, “Hiromi.” You moaned, as you squeezed your legs harder around his waist, and pulled him down by his neck, planting a kiss on your lips. “I’m gonna cum.” You moan as his hips were brutally ravishing your sweet spot. “Me too baby.” He grunted, looking deep into his eyes, while both of your mouths were open and breathing heavily. 

“Fuck.” He groaned, as he pushed his hand between your legs, rubbing your clit quickly. He’d be damned if he didn’t make sure you were pleased first, and that you were, that string once again snapped, and you squeezed around his cock as you came undone, which only made him come undone with you, milking him dry, you felt thick ropes shoot inside of you, both of you moaning into each others mouth as you latched your lips onto his… It all started with these sweet kisses, now here he is, balls deep inside, spilling everything. 

“Wow.” He said as he took a big breath in the crook of your neck, still inside of you. You were playing with his hair, as he lied there on top of you. 

“Hiromi?” You said after a few minutes of both of you catching your breath. “Hmm?” He hums as he kisses the crook of your neck. 

“I’m falling in love with you… No… I am in love with you.” You said as you continued to play with his hair. You felt his breath come to a halt, and he leaned up looking at you. 

“I’m in love with you too…” He smiled sweetly.

That was how your first kiss went with Hiromi. 

[onehelluvahater]

First thoughts on Helluva Boes S2: E10 “GhostF**ckers”

This is my points as I watched the whole episode in a very quick copy and pasted from my Notes app thing? Idk I’ll have to rewatch to give a better analysis and shit

Spoilers of course but also it’s vague and shit my bad

1. So does Veronica still work at the same building? Her crew is still there but from what we know it’s a run down building that’s very cheap and run down. Did she just not move yet? It’s been so time since that episode so I don’t see why not.

2. I love Moxxie but calm your shit little man

3. I’m literally like two minutes and so much yelling so much screaming— Viv loud doesn’t equal funny unless your audience is literal children

4. Aww poor baby Blitzo nah just fucking with you I really don’t give a fuck about him and his poor little pity party

5. Loona being a bitch as always and are we FINALLY GETTING A MILLIE EPISODE!?!?

6. I’m sure I don’t need to say “We’re in hell and we don’t believe ghosts exist?”

7. Oh boy Moxxie is having another fucking breakdown like every single episode he’s in

8. Okay the desk scene did get a little laugh out of me but just by the facial expressions of Blitzo

9. Where is Blitzo tail…? So is he wearing pants or? I’m confused on the outfit

10. Dude we get it you wanna say the r word and shit like that but keep it in your mans Viv and did he even mean by the f word? Phantom doesn’t start with an F

11. So the best fighter in the show and two characters that took down most of the Geek squad whatever that was, can’t fight two old people?

12. This song is so fucking annoying

13. Please stop it

14. My ears are bleeding

15. YES MILLY

16. YELL AT HIS ASS

17. I LOVE HER

18. YES SUFFER BLITZO

19. oh shit

20. SUFFER THO BLITZO FUCK YOU

21. Ohhh Millie backstory

22. Again she is supposed to be literally the best fighter on the team she should be kicking his ass a helluva (lol) lot more then this bruh

23. LIKE KILL HIS ASS GIRL

24. I do like the shorter hair style

25. Moxie isn’t a wrath Imp

26. But this is all very sweet I guess? Idk it just feels weird

27. In all honesty, all she says just submit the weird power and balance between the two of them. She feels like she’s owes him for her whole life here, For getting together with moxie and her new life. Him just being a creep as her boss and knowing all of that because she fucking says it to him just submits how creepy that is really is because if she says no to him, he could take away that job and maybe even Moxie.

28. Girl he don’t respect you don’t kid yourself

29. And the tail is back

30. Oooo I do like the design that was a cool shot

31. But also what the fuck is an investor demon? We have never once saw or heard of them before this. They are not in the hell hierarchy

32. FINALLY SHE CAN ACTUALLY FIGHT

33. and there she goes again

34. EWWW

35. Yes torture him more please 🙏

36. Again just kicking her ass again

37. I mean she can obviously tell it’s not him and she can’t even kill that will anyway lmao she’s literally getting her ass kicked anyway

38. BREAK HIM MILLIE

39. oh god

40. Okay the pool part was funny and an effective way to kill him

41. THANK GOD HE WONT DO THAT

42. me too moxie I hate math and love musics

43. BUT FUCK NO AM NOT SITTING THRU ANOTHER SONG

[sunnyie-eve]

30 | Favorite Food

Series: Unexpected

Paring: (Matt Sturniolo x OFC Brock!) (Chris Sturniolo x OFC Brock!)

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: none

| MASTERLIST |

"How do I look?" Matt walks into Dani's room as she laid in bed on her phone.

"Like you normally do... Why?" She asks confused.

"I have a date." He jokes with her to see her reaction and she just stares at him.

"Yeah right. You would actually try of that was the case." She laughs at him, "But you look fine." She lets him know, "Why do you really care?"

"We're filming a video with Jake on his channel and I don't want to look bad."

"Oh so you have a date with Jake... You look fine for the video." She gives him a smile.

"What are you gonna do home alone?" He sits at the end of her bed.

"Nap maybe. Who knows." She tells him truthfully.

"Matt let's go!" Chris shouts for him.

"Have fun."

-

"Hello world, I am here with the triplets." Jake starts his video with them in his car.

"The triplets are here guys." Chris nods his head.

"I think, I think I know you guys apart pretty well." Jake tells them, "Chris, Nick, Matt." He gets them all right.

"That's an odd thing. It normally takes people a day or two." Chris lets him know.

"Oh, how long did it take Dani to tell you apart?" Jake asks so they tell him right away and he wasn't surprised since she was good at stuff like that. "I thought it would be fun for us to try our favorite foods. I've done this before but my favorite food has switched. It used to be Taco Bell. Now it's Smash Burger."

"Matt's a big Smash Burger guy." Chris lets Jake know.

"They're so fucking good."

"I'm not a fan at all." Nick makes it clear, "But we're gonna try it. Maybe my opinion will shift today."

"I know Dani constantly goes out to get their burgers." Chris points out.

"And Matt gets upset at her." Nick laughs.

"I'm a huge Smash Burger guy." Matt tells Jake.

"I'm there but not fully there." Chris adds.

"Oh there's uh, ranch and ketchup too." Jake tells them know as he gets the food out and it starts the whole rant on Matt hating ketchup.

"I know Dani loves having the house alone." Matt says as he fixes the light to stay up in the backseat.

"She's probably jumping on the couch." Jake laughs.

"Pretending to have a concert by singing loudly." Nick adds.

"How was she years ago?" Chris asks Jake since she did stay with Colby a lot when him and all the guys lived together back in the day.

"A pain in the ass without Colby around." He tells them meaning that she was more herself without him around, "But she was still the sweetest. One of my favorite people." He tells them, "Not many know that we still chat a lot."

"Huh, yeah, I didn't even know that. You two really keep your friendship to yourselves." Nick tells him and Jake nods his head.

First up was Matt and his favorite food being meatballs and Jake lets him know they were $30, "All for those of you who don't know... I'm the self proclaimed meatball Matt."

"That's what they say?" Jake looks back at Chris and Nick, who say Meatball Matt.

"I don't think that's on the internet yet and just an us joke." Chris points out.

"Yeah, Meatball Matt hasn't really made an appearance yet." Matt tells Jake, "But Meatball Matt is real."

"It's hilarious that meatballs are just a big ball of meat." Jake laughs thinking about it.

"I know! Whoever, whoever came up with that idea... I love ya."

"What would you guys do if I just juggle these meatballs?" Chris asks the group and Nick says he would be scared.

As Jake leaves the car to get forks to eat with the guys bring up Dani again, "I feel like we should buy Dani dinner." Chris suggests.

"I think we should." Matt agrees.

As Jake comes back he asks Matt if he had a meatball sub from subway which makes him go on a full rant and explains that he hates meatball subs because the bread gets soggy. They talk about how they like them but Chris says he prefers Dani's and Nick agrees.

"Is Dani the cook at home?" Jake asks and they tell him yeah, "That's why she stays?" He jokes.

"She prefers to cook because she's scared when we do." Matt explains to him, "We're iffy." He adds, "Like we panic that the smoke alarm might go off. So Dani hates the three of us in the kitchen at the same time."

"I'm learning a lot here. Dani's the babysitter."

"Basically." Matt agrees, "We're thankful she puts up with us."

"She called our mom on us yesterday." Nick speaks up.

"Is she close to your parents?"

"She's their favorite child now." Chris rolls his eyes and Matt nods his head in agreement.

Next was Nick and he felt weird sitting in the front seat since he's so used to being in the back seat, "Is there spicy mayo on this?" Matt asks about his spicy chicken sandwich.

"There is. You're gonna enjoy it." Nick tells him while Matt just stares at him.

"Am I?"

"I'm not a mayo guy either. Hate it actually. The Spicy mayo and a spicy chicken sandwich... Is unbelievable." Nick looks at his food, "Isn't good?" He looks at Matt.

"Can you give me a second?"

"Oh, that might top the meatballs." Jake says shocking Matt.

"What?!" Matt shouts.

"Chicken Sandwich Nick, gotta ring to it though."

"No," Matt tells him.

"You are an avid hater." Nick points at him.

"What?"

"Dani was right." Nick brings her up.

"What are you talking about?" Matt was confused.

"Dani said...that. Behind your back." Nick lies just to fuck with him.

"Nah, she loves me too much."

"I don't know about love." Chris speaks up, "You bug her the most lately."

"Knowing Dani more, would I lie?" Nick looks back at Jake.

"Nah, she's a sneaky bitch." He tells them and they all gasp.

Chris was intimidated to go last with his classic pizza because you can never go wrong with pizza. While they eat the pizza, Chris asks if they should get Dani a burger for dinner or pizza since she loved both. Nick suggests asking her but Chris said it's supposed to be a surprise for her though.

Once Nick and Chris are done trying to figure out what to get her, Matt explains how he eats pizza weirdly. Well it was weird to Nick, Chris, and Dani. "Cause I like the pizza and I like the crust. But that's the worst part of the pizza."

"I know Dani gives you the most shit because she's odd about food." Jake laughs and Matt agrees with a smile.

[fatgirlonadate-blog]

21 Days - Day 12

In the two weeks since your mission started, the only thing you've managed to gain is a couple of orgasms and a handful of hickeys. While those were not something to complain about, it certainly wasn't going to impress Jenna tomorrow. The two of you need something - some small scrap of information - to report, and it isn't just magically going to appear with the two of you sitting around the house all day.

While your neighbors are major gossips and you've heard more than you ever wanted to know about the woman next door who puts trash in the recycling and the conspiracy about the mailman possibly stealing all of the best coupons, they have yet to share any actual useful information. It's highly likely that they know or at least have come into contact with your suspect, but relying on them for a lead hasn't produced anything useful. It's time to actively start doing something other than waiting around for clues to fall into your lap.

A distraction would also be helpful. There's been a storm brewing in your heart since Sylus walked away from you yesterday, and the longer you dwell on it the more it threatens to turn into a hurricane. He hasn't texted or called. No mysterious packages have arrived, and there's been no sign of Mephisto at your window. He feels oddly absent. Maybe it felt like a goodbye because, deep down, that’s exactly what it was—a goodbye.

You shake your head, forcing the thoughts of him from your mind. Focus. Distraction. Focused distraction. That's all you need. And maybe a stiff drink wouldn’t hurt, either.

"Xavier," You call to him, slipping your phone into your pocket as you enter the cozy living room. "You hungry?"

He glances over at you from his spot on the couch, his eyes lighting up as if you've handed him a winning lottery ticket. "Always."

"We could go out. I saw a bar in town while I was shopping yesterday. We can use it as an excuse to eavesdrop. And," you add, sweetening your offer, "I'll even buy you a drink."

Xavier sits up, his white hoodie bunching at his elbows, "Hmm. What happened to never drinking again?"

You roll your eyes at him as you join him on the couch, pulling your legs up onto the cushions and tucking your feet under his warm thighs, "Oh, that? Someone else must have said that. Must have been your other fake wife."

Xavier's laugh rings through the room as he grasps your ankles and pulls you across the couch until your thighs are in his lap. His fingers are already at your waist, poking and threatening tickles as he says, "My other wife? I'm pretty sure I only have one. And I'll end up carrying her home tonight if we go to a bar."

You giggle and scream as he pulls you closer to his lap, squirming against his playful hold with no intention to actually break free.

"That's not true!" You pout at him, trying to give him your own version of puppy-dog eyes. "Besides, that's only happened like three times. And it won't ever be happening again!"

"I highly doubt that," he teases, releasing your waist and resting his hands on your thighs. "You're such a lightweight, Mrs. Shen."

It's hard to argue with the truth, so you settle for pinching his face, "Come on. Get dressed. The sooner we leave, the sooner you'll eat."

"Okay, okay," Xavier says, ducking away from your fingers and shifting your legs off his lap, "What's wrong with what I'm wearing now?"

You eye his outfit with an exaggerated frown - gray sweatpants and a white hoodie. "Nothing, if you want to look like you're 12. We're newlyweds and you're supposed to be a brooding author. You could at least try to look the part."

Xavier's laughter is warm as he gets up from the couch, "You know, you're really bossy when you're hungry."

He's already walking down the hall before you can respond, and you watch him disappear into the bathroom with a goofy smile plastered across your face. It still feels surreal to be able to do things like this with him. Every casual touch, every brush of his lips against yours, and every time you wake up in the middle of the night and he's there next to you. It's almost easy to forget the mission - to pretend that you really are married to him and that this is where you belong. You're not sure how you're ever going to be able to give this up, not when it already feels like home.

You pluck at your own clothes and wonder if you should change. The jeans and sweater are cute, but if he's going to look the part then you should probably match. You bite at your bottom lip, considering your options, before heading to the bedroom to pick out an outfit.

Seeing your clothes next to his in the closet still never fails to make you smile. You scan the selection trying to find something between 'small-town wife' and 'hot newlywed.' The latter wins, and you quickly slip into a mid-length black dress before you can change your mind. The dress is simple and unadorned, but it's pretty and the skirt has just enough flair to accentuate your waist. It still needs something though - a little flash of color or sparkle to make it clear that this is a date and not a funeral.

You're searching through your bedside table for a necklace as Xavier enters the room. You glance toward him to see him freshly showered with a towel wrapped around his hips. The way the water droplets trace a path from his neck down over the contours of his chest as he towels his hair nearly makes you forget whatever it was you were doing. The necklace. Right. You choose the first one your eyes land on and begin to fiddle with it, averting your gaze as his hands move to the towel around his waist.

It's probably silly to feel shy about changing in front of each other at this point, but it's still new and the boundaries are unclear. Only Xavier could demand you moan his name one night and then blush when he catches you staring at him for too long the next. It's confusing and adorable, just like everything else about him.

"Let me help," he offers, coming to stand behind you as you struggle with the clasp of the necklace.

He takes it from your hands and gathers your hair to one side, sweeping it over your shoulder to get it out of the way. His fingers are warm against the back of your neck as he deftly fastens the clasp into place. They trail from your neck to your shoulders as he gently turns you around to face him.

"You're so pretty," he says, his voice soft and full of affection. He traces the thin silver chain around your neck, his fingers stopping at the diamond snowflake pendant in the center, "This is nice. I've never seen you wear it before."

"Oh," you say, forcing nonchalance into your tone. "I don't usually have a reason to wear it. It was a Christmas gift."

Xavier's fingers pause against your skin, his eyes narrowing slightly, "From who?"

The urge to lie surprises you for a moment; hadn't you already learned your lesson with the handcuffs? So you settle on the truth, "From Zayne. The doctor you met a couple of days ago."

He snorts as he pulls his hand away from your neck and walks toward the closet. "He gives you candy and buys you necklaces? No wonder he is your favorite doctor."

The pout in his voice would be adorable if not for the tension in his shoulders and stiffness in his arms as he yanks a shirt off the hanger and begins to pull it on. It's hard to resist the urge to tease him as you cross the room and slide your hand along his shoulders, urging him to turn and face you.

"He is my only doctor," you say firmly, finding the first button on his shirt and working your way up as you fasten them, "And we have known each other since we were children. As friends. Only friends."

Xavier looks down at you with dejected eyes as you flip his collar into place and smooth out the blue button-down shirt, "I don't give my friends jewelry."

"Oh, you don't?" You say with a smile, poking at his pouted lips until he laughs, "Then why did you give me a bracelet from the arcade last month?"

"That's different," he argues, pulling away from your playful hands and rolling up the cuffs on his shirt.

"Is it?" You tease him.

He's silent as he tucks his shirt in and loops his belt around his black pants, but you can imagine his excuse anyway. If he weren't so busy pouting he'd say that the arcade bracelet was a toy and not a $3,000 piece of jewelry.

"It is different," he finally says, interrupting your thoughts as he fastens his belt. "We were never just friends."

The earnestness in his voice makes your stomach flutter, and you nod in silent understanding as you reach your hands behind your neck to grasp for the clasp.

"Don't," Xavier says quickly, stepping forward and pulling your wrists away from your neck. "It looks good on you."

You blink confusedly at him, surprised at his change of heart, "You're not jealous?"

"I am," He admits, laughing softly as he raises his hand to trail his fingers along the hickeys that dot your neck, "But you're wearing something of mine, too."

Heat floods your cheeks as you understand his meaning, and you playfully slap his hand away from your neck and adjust your hair to fall around your throat concealing his marks. His eyes follow your movements, and the smile that curves his lips borders on prideful.

"Come on, Mr. Shen. I'm starving," you say, grabbing his arm and leading him toward the door.

The bar is surprisingly packed when you arrive, and the warmth is welcome after the chilly walk from the apartment. You scope out the room quickly, noting the various couples seated at tables and even more people gathered around the bar. There's a rowdy group of guys occupying the pool tables, and the faint sound music is coming from somewhere.

Xavier slips his arm around your waist and guides you toward the empty table closest to the bar. It's the perfect spot to see or overhear something, and that's exactly what you're here for.

"Food first, then work," Xavier says, pulling your chair out for you to sit.

"I'm perfectly capable of sitting in a chair on my own," you attempt to grumble, but can't keep from smiling as you take your seat. He really is the most charming man you've ever met.

Xavier's smile lights up his face as he sits in the chair across from you. He leans across the small table, and whispers, "I'm your husband, remember? I'm supposed to take care of you. Let me."

The amount of chicken wings Xavier orders could feed a family of five, and he digs in like he hasn't eaten in days. You nibble on a French fry while watching him devour his plate. The way he eats is adorable, and you add learning to cook to your growing list of priorities.

You're trying not to laugh as he takes a massive bite of his third wing and washes it down with a large gulp of his beer. You're caught staring as he sets it down with an easy smile.

"Do you want some?" he asks, nodding his head toward the plate as he licks barbecue sauce off of his fingers.

There's no reason for the action to be so hot, but you swallow hard as you watch his mouth close around his thumb and suck the sauce off with a wet pop. The memory of the last time he'd sucked on his fingers plays through his mind, and yes, you do certainly want something. But not chicken wings. 

He looks good enough to eat tonight. He always looks good, but it's so different to see him dressed in anything other than comfy clothes or his Hunter's uniform. The light blue dress shirt is clinging to him in all of the right places, accentuating his toned chest and strong arms. The sleeves rolled back expose his forearms, and he's not wearing a tie - but the open top button and the way the fabric pulls around his broad shoulders make it even better. It's truly not fair that he can be so effortlessly attractive without even being aware of it.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He asks, his eyes innocent and his brows furrowed. "Do I have food on my face?"

You nod, and lean across the small table to reach out to wipe the non-existent smear from his face. It's just an excuse to touch him, and your fingers linger as you trail them from the corner of his lips up to his ear and give it a small tug.

"Why do I feel like there was never anything on my face?" He says, laughing, tilting his head away from your mischievous fingers.

"I'm your wife," you quip, pulling your hand back and picking up your fork, "Am I not allowed to touch you?"

"You are," he answers, his eyes heating and drifting down to your lips, "As much as you'd like."

Warmth flares to life low in your stomach at the rough, promising tone in his voice. But his words aren't true - not really, a nagging voice whispers in the back of your mind. Things have certainly become more intimate between the two of you, but you have yet to even see him naked let alone touch him wherever or as much as you'd like. There's something holding him back - like there always is when it comes to him, and trying to figure it out is like trying to fit two completely different puzzles together. There's the Xavier who can't ever get enough of you and the Xavier who keeps you at an arm's length.

"So," you say, clearing your throat and your thoughts, "What's the plan, captain?"

He smiles, the heat in his gaze extinguishing, and you can almost see the shift in his demeanor as he slips back into Hunter-mode. His posture straightens and his eyes sharpen as he surveys the room. He's already shifting to stand as he lands on his target.

"I'll get some drinks from the bar. It'll give me an excuse to chat and maybe overhear something useful."

"Okay. I'll stay here." You say, mostly to yourself, as you watch him walk toward the bar.

He doesn't even make it to the counter before he's caught more than just your attention. The woman beside him smiles as he approaches the bar, and leans in toward him as he speaks. 

She's pretty, you suppose, if someone was into that sort of thing. She's slim with long blonde hair, and wearing a red dress that looks like it belongs in a night club and not a small-town bar. Tacky. It's hard to guess what she's saying at this distance, but whatever it is must be funny because you don't miss the way Xavier's shoulders shake as he laughs.

Irritation coils around your spine and makes a home there as you rigidly sip your drink and watch the interaction play out. You wonder if this is how he feels when you tease him with jokes about other men. It's a new feeling - a bad feeling - and suddenly his pouting and jealousy make a lot more sense.

The blonde woman's hand lands on his arm, and lingers there as they talk. He could move, he could step away or shrug off her touch. But he doesn't, and your glare turns murderous as he bends his head down so she can whisper in his ear. Your nails dig into the armrests of your chair and you're imagining all of the ways to dispose of her body as the bartender finally hands Xavier a tray of drinks.

When he turns back around, his eyes find you immediately, and the bashful smile he gives you melts away some of your desire for homicide. It's silly to feel like that, especially when he looks so excited to make his way back to you.

"I wasn't sure what you wanted," Xavier explains, carefully sitting down the drink-laden tray on the table, "so I ordered a little bit of everything."

Your eyes drift over the two full bottles of wine and the half-dozen cocktails, widening in shock. There's enough alcohol here to fuel an entire frat house.

"Xavier! This must have cost a fortune," you scold, gesturing toward the tray. "This is too much! Are you trying to kill me?"

"I don't come to places like this very often," he admits, a slight blush dusting his cheeks, "I didn't know it would be so expensive. But it's fine. I got it. Besides, you don't have to drink it all."

You raise your eyebrows at him and give him a wolfish smile as you snatch a vodka cranberry from the tray and take a sip. It's crisp and strong, and it's probably your imagination, but you could swear you already feel warmth running through your veins. It's immediately soothing and familiar, and dulls all of the pesky thoughts you'd rather not be having.

"Well, now that it's here, it's not like we can let it go to waste," you tease, draining the glass and reaching for another.

He groans, shaking his head at you, as he pours himself half a glass of wine, "Take it easy. Don't force yourself to drink or you’ll make yourself sick."

He has a point, but you have a habit of not listening to good advice. You know it really isn't a good idea to drink this much. After all, alcohol is a potent neurotoxin. Dr. Zayne would not approve. But Zaynie isn't here; Xavier is. And he has his own habit of letting you get away with things.

"How was your special chat?" You ask, feeling braver with a little liquid courage in your stomach.

"Special chat?" He repeats, brows furrowing as he tentatively sips his wine.

"Yeah, you know," You say, gesturing toward the bar, "the one with the hot blonde who was apparently very, very funny?"

A knowing smile curves his lips as he returns his glass to the table, and his eyes sparkle with obvious amusement.

"She was not very funny," He says softly, reaching across the table to place his hand over yours. "And she also didn't have any useful information."

You snatch your hand out from under his childishly, and tip back your second drink.

"So she wasn't funny," you mutter, "No comment on whether or not she was hot though?"

He laughs and rolls his eyes at you, and then grabs your hand again and holds it firmly, unwilling to let you pull free from his fingers this time. He rubs his thumb over the top of your wrist as you glare at him.

"Are you jealous, Mrs. Shen?"

"No," you answer quickly, your eyes snapping to him, "Of course not."

"Right. Of course not," He says, smiling as he lifts your hand up and presses his lips to your palm, "But if you were jealous, and I know you're definitely not, but if you were...then you should know that I don't even remember what she looked like, and you're the only person I ever want to see."

His words soothe some of the sharp edges of your irritation, and your pout transforms itself into a smile against your will. It's impossible to stay mad at him when his voice is so soft and he looks at you like you're the only thing that exists.

"Good," you say quietly, squeezing his fingers before drawing your hand back to your lap, "That would be good to know, if I were jealous. Which I’m not."

The two of you continue drinking and trying to eavesdrop to the best of your ability. It's difficult because you have so little information about your suspect and it's hard to know what to even listen for. The chatter around the room is mostly poor attempts at flirting and, from what you can tell, complaints about work.

The room begins to feel overly warm as you sip your fourth drink. It's hard to concentrate on the distant voices, and you don't have even a shred of detail to offer Jenna for your status report tomorrow. It's important that you find a way to give her something - you're worried that she might decide this mission is a waste of time and cancel it altogether. And that can't happen. You're not sure that whatever it is that exists between you and Xavier will survive once you return home, and you can't give it up. Not yet. 

"Come on," You command, gripping the table to steady yourself as you rise to your feet. "Let's mingle. I can't hear anything from here. Want to play pool?"

"Only if you're ready to lose," Xavier says, his tone light. But a frown creeps onto his face as he watches you sway as you stand.

"I never lose," You chirp, and tug on his arm, trying to lead him over to the pool tables and the gaggle of people gathered around them.

Xavier halts halfway there, and looks between the sign for the bathrooms and the pool table. You feel the tension grow on the arm you're tugging at as he stops moving forward, and it forces you to turn back and look at him with a question in your eyes.

"I need to run to the bathroom," he says, "Do you need to go?"

You shake your head and release your hold on his arm to set him free. But he hesitates, his eyes shifting from you to the bathroom and back again, looking torn between choices.

"What? Are you afraid to go alone?" You joke, flashing him a cheeky smile.

Xavier sighs and shakes his head, "No. I'll be right back. Just...stay out of trouble, okay?"

He sounds so serious, and the concern in his eyes is cute. But not necessary. You are plenty capable of handling yourself for a few moments without him.

"I'll try," you answer with a roll of your eyes, turning on your heel and walking toward the pool tables.

There are several guys in various stages of drunkenness playing a round of pool. One of them is bent over the table lining up a shot, and the others seem to be enjoying giving him a hard time. You smile politely as they glance over at you, and then breeze past them to select a pool stick from the stand on the wall. It's been a while since you've played pool, but you're pretty sure you remember the basics Zayne taught you.

The pool table nearest theirs is free, and perfect for stealthily listening in while they talk. You're awkwardly fiddling with the coin slot on the side of the table when you feel a warm hand slide from your neck down to the small of your back. The caress is familiar, and you lean back into the touch as you turn to ask Xavier if he has any change.

Your question dies in your throat as you're met with dark, shaggy hair and a face you don't recognize. You instinctively flinch away from the stranger, but his hand at your back doesn't leave much room to escape.

The man's gaze rakes down your body, and a smirk tugs at his lips as he meets your eyes again. He's tall and broad, and smells distinctly of whiskey and stale cigarette smoke.

"You look like you want to play. Need a partner?" He offers, his tone suggestive, as he leans in closer to your face.

You'd rather fight 100 wanderers back to back than spend a single moment with this man. You know the feeling must be written all over your face as you force a tight smile and try to pull away, glancing desperately toward the bathrooms.

"No, thank you. I'm waiting on someone."

"Ah, don't be like that, sweetheart," he says, bringing his free hand up to tilt your face back to his. "The more the merrier."

Tendrils of fear and irritation battle and knot in your stomach as his hands tighten against you, preventing you from moving. Irritation wins out, and you push against his chest hard. It's not enough to move him, but his cocky smile fades into a frown as his eyes harden on yours.

"Get away from me," you bite out, glaring up into his eyes.

You're wondering how much trouble you'd get in if you broke his nose as Xavier steps in from the side and shoves the guy hard enough that he stumbles backwards.

"Don't fucking touch my wife," Xavier says, his voice is quiet but his tone promises violence.

Relief floods your body as Xavier wraps an arm around you, but it's short lived as the other man takes a step closer, glaring at Xavier and rolling his neck to the side. There's too much alcohol and testosterone in the room, and you can practically smell the fight that's simmering between the two of them.

The other man is taller and broader than Xavier, but you almost feel bad for him as Xavier steps in front of you and the air in the room begins to feel electric. This isn't going to end well for anyone. Particularly not this asshole.

"Why don't you go back to your friends," You suggest quickly to the man, grasping Xavier's arm tightly in your hand. "They're waiting for you."

"Why don't you shut the fuck up?" the man spits at out at you, his glare on your eyes now rather than Xavier's.

It's hard to keep up with how fast Xavier moves, but in a blink the man is laying on the floor groaning, his nose bleeding, and the rest of his group is yelling and starting to gather around you.

"Xavier!" You yell, grabbing onto his shirt and trying to pull him backward as the man on the floor gets up.

Xavier is tense and unmoving, his eyes locked on the group of men beginning to crowd around their friend. The hair on your arms stands on end as static pulses around him. You're not sure if he even realizes that he's about to use his evol, and if he loses control there's no way that you'll be able to hide it. Everyone in the bar will see, and your cover will be blown.

"Xavier, come on." You urge him, "I don't feel good. Let's go home."

He turns to you at that, his eyes softening slightly as they focus on your face, and the crackling energy dissipates from the air. He nods silently, slips his hand into yours, and begins to pull you toward the exit, ignoring the shouts of the men behind you. 

The cold Autumn air stings your lungs as you make your way out the door, but it's a welcome change from the stifling heat and tension from inside of the bar. Xavier is still tense and pulling you along behind him as you try to keep pace.

"I cannot believe you just did that," you say between breaths, your head spinning and the world blurring around you as you stumble over the sidewalk.

Xavier stops as he feels your wobbly gait, and turns to steady you with his hands. His gaze is soft and worried as he searches your face, like he's finally able to really see you for the first time in the last few moments. His shoulders sag and he reaches up to brush your hair out of your face.

"Are you okay?" He asks softly.

"I'm okay," You laugh, "But I don't think that guy is. What were you thinking?"

His fingers tighten against your cheeks and his eyes narrow, "He shouldn't have touched you, and I won't let anyone talk to you like that."

You smile up at him and shake your head, "I was fine. Really. I was thinking of breaking his nose myself before you got there."

"That's my girl," He says, a smile tugging at his lips.

You laugh, and it's impossible not to feel safe and warm as he wraps his arm around you.

"Why is it that you and trouble always seem to find each other?" He asks, his breath warm against your ear.

"Maybe it's because trouble follows you," You answer, poking at his side, "And I just happen to be there, too."

Xavier sighs dramatically, and releases you from his arms. You watch with furrowed brows as he takes a step back and then kneels on one knee. The confusion must be clear on your face because he laughs as he looks up at you and says, "Hop on. You're too drunk to make it all of the way back without breaking an ankle."

"What? I most certainly can-" you start to argue, but he cuts you off.

"Get on. Let me carry my wife home, just like I said I would."

[bratbarzal]

On Your Side (NH13) / Chapter Nine

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy Jensen

WC: 23k (have fun!!)

18+ MDNI!

Chapter Warnings: so we're hitting the ground running here - poppy is horny in abundance tbh so smut!! thigh riding, dry humping, unprotected p in v, she's just a girl who wants what she wants and who are we to judge or kink shame?? that's what I thought. and the rest of this chapter just has some lighthearted banter between two pals welcoming a baby into the world. mentions of anxiety, the usual. poppy is on edge because there's another jensen family dinner. nia being nia, the boys being the boys. if guys talking about women's hormones disturbs you look away now. jealous nico once again, a gender reveal!!!! the fluffiest one you ever did see to be honest. there's maybe a point in this where you could get second hand embarrassment but that's not my problem. honestly I've written this chapter so out of order I don't even know what else is in here or if it all links but you get what you're given atp.

Series Masterlist

Previous Part (Chapter Eight)

A/N: this is potentially my favourite chapter yet these two are so stinkin cute!!!! months ago I had a fleeting thought about a pregnancy pillow and wrote a little thing in my notes about it, and this whole fic so far (150k+ words shoutout all my yappers) has been bred from that single scene which is in this chapter. nine chapters to get the the first thought I ever had of Poppy and Nico. I really hope you guys like it and I'm sorry that this has been the longest between updates yet. hopefully a 20k chapter makes up for it. my plan was always 12 chapters but idk if it will end up being more but just the thought that this is potentially over in 3 or 4 chapters is CRAZY I'm so attached to these two idk what to do with myself!! also once again shoutout to rory @h1sch13r for always inspiring me when it comes to these two and little baby (pepper) cheeto I hope I can make up for spoiling the gender to you like an idiot weeks ago with how cute this reveal is lmao

Poppy

Poppy has given endless thought and mind space to the situation that might bring her and Nico back into some sort of intimate space, together.

A romantic, candle lit dinner, where she’s so in the moment that it only makes sense for them to turn it into something more - baby steps be damned, and he’d take her back to that huge bed of his that she loves so much and keep her there until she can’t function properly, anymore.

A movie night, cuddled up on the couch together, where them spooning ends up with his hand down her pants, or her on top of him as whatever scene flashes in the background, the movie long forgotten as they get lost in each other. 

She hadn’t given much thought to it happening in her office, with him finding her all pent up and frustrated after a long day, and he’s all freshly showered after training, his hair still damp and his t-shirt clinging to him in all the right places.

It’s a single look that has her throwing herself at him, hands cupping either side of his face to pull him down until he’s tired of craning his neck, and his hands lift her hips until he’s walking her back and planting her down on her desk.

He pushes at her skirt, pulls at her panties, and pops the buttons of her blouse, all while their mouths move around each other’s, gasps and groans falling between them and hands wandering everywhere they can possibly go. 

She tugs at his hair, bunches his t-shirt in her grip and leans into his every touch, falling back onto her palms when their lips part and moves to pepper kisses along her jaw.

“We shouldn’t do this here,” she whispers as his lips press into her neck, pressure firm as the sensitive skin there gets sucked into his mouth, his stubble scratching into her skin in such a way that she opens up even more for him - head craning back, legs widening, hips pushing right to the end of her desk where his thigh presses between them.

“No?” He mutters into her, “You want me to stop?”

“No.” She pouts, and he chuckles against her flesh, the hot air from between his lips sending shivers all the way down her spine. “Of course I don’t want you to stop.”

He hums, pressing his thigh straight against her heat, and she grinds onto it through sheer instinct, seeking whatever pleasure he can give her and moaning out in response as soon as she feels the contact.

“Good girl,” he praises, swiping his chin against the skin he’s marked up until she hisses at the feeling, the prickly hairs on his jaw scraping against where she feels like she’s been rubbed red-raw.

It isn’t until he takes her jaw in his hand, pinching slightly to pull her toward him and slotting their lips together that her hips start to gyrate of their own accord, rubbing against his thigh without shame in the middle of her office, her nails clawing into the wood of her desk until she hopes they leave some sort of mark.

“That feel good?” He mumbles into her mouth, a hand of his falling onto her hip to assist with the movements before he kisses her again.

She just hums against him, eyes screwed shut as she tries to savour the feeling when her clit presses straight against his thigh, his pants being the only barrier. 

“M’just gonna move you a little, yeah?”

She nods, mindlessly.

And then his hand is gripping at her thigh, fingers and thumb pressing into the flesh firmly to push her legs even further apart so that he can stand between them, and he unbuttons his jeans with his free hand until he can push them down. 

She can’t complain at the lack of friction when this is what she’s getting as a result.

She can see the firm outline of him through his briefs as she looks down between them, her mouth watering slightly just at the sight, until her view is obstructed by his face when he kisses her again.

She tilts her hips in anticipation, ready to meet him when he moves to push into her, but the feeling she gets instead is different. Similar to before, a layer of fabric sits between them as he presses his hips into hers, still not having undressed completely.

She whines, lips pouting so he’s kissing at them as they remain still, and he keeps at it, hips working into her own until he gets frustrated at her lack of response. 

“What’s wrong, huh?” He asks, pulling her hips forward himself until he’s right against her and she gasps, “Why’re you being pouty?”

“S’not enough,” she mumbles, “Need more.”

“Aw pretty girl,” he pouts himself, mockingly, “I’m not giving you what you need?”

She shakes her head.

“Thought this is what you wanted? To take things slow?”

“Not this.” She whines, her hand trailing down his abdomen, feeling the soft ridges even beneath his t-shirt, until they meet the elastic of his pants, snapping it teasingly against his skin. “Think you should fuck me.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

The smile he gives reads like a promise of everything to come, of all the dirty, sinful things he’s been waiting all this time to do for her, and she feels her heart jump and thud in response. 

He closes the distance again, so that she can’t see between them, his tongue lapping languidly against her own and she’s moaning into his mouth when she feels what she has been craving pressing against her entrance, pressing to slide up until it bumps against her clit and her back arches straight into him.

She feels sticky all over. Lightheaded and far-off like she isn’t even here, and when he finally pushes into her, she’s startled back into clarity.

The shrill beeping of her phone alarm rings on the nightstand right beside her head, and when her eyes adjust to the light, she feels tears of frustration well up in them at the realisation of what she’s just been deprived of.

She still feels sticky. Still feels lightheaded. Feels hot all over and tingly like she’s been left unsatisfied.

Only now, there’s no promise of any sort of reward for it.

She’s alone in her bed with nothing but a pillow for company, and she’s so exasperated she wants to scream.

Yet another cursed pregnancy dream she gets no form of relief or respite from.

She could honestly curse the Hischier genes if this is what they bring.

She’s tired of it, now.

Most of the time, she’s usually able to shake her dreams off as soon as she’s awake, but this one seems to linger in her mind, an ever-present heat creeping up her skin despite the fact she tries to wash it away in the shower.

She feels hot as she gets ready, feels hot as she drives to work, and even in her office, where she can turn on the AC and try to distract herself.

Only that doesn’t work, either. 

Obviously.

She’s brought herself to the one place that’s going to bring the whole picture back.

So she ventures upstairs to the supply closet, deciding to fill a box with everything she’s low on just to pass the time - to occupy her mind with something other than the thought of Nico, and him having her legs spread on top of her desk.

She’s closing up when she hears the distant call of her name.

“I’ll take that.” Luke appears seemingly out of nowhere as she’s in her own world, coming toward her before she really has a chance to do anything about it. “Can’t have you carrying these things on your own.”

“It’s not that heavy,” Poppy protests as he takes the box from her hands, clearly not believing her or expecting how light it would be when he takes it into his own. “Told you.”

“Doesn’t matter, it’s best you don’t lift anything, too much work on your body could make your feet swell, and that might not go down. Did you know most women go up a shoe size when they’re pregnant?”

All she can do is blink at him, narrowing her eyes as he talks like he isn’t being a complete weirdo. “I didn’t, how did you know that?”

“I bought a book.” He shrugs as he starts on the way back to her office.

“You bought a-,” she stumbles to follow after him, his long strides already carrying him halfway down the hall, “Luke, you’re gonna end up weirding yourself out with that sort of stuff.”

Him and Jack have both been on at her all week since they found out, appearing to take it in turns to bombard her with gross pregnancy facts, like Nia and the girl with the list - although she’s at least had the decency not to mention that since finding out, herself.

The boys, however, have branded themselves the Funcles, already regaling Poppy with stories of how they’re going to be the ones to make her baby laugh for the first time. 

It shouldn’t stress her out, the thought of those two being responsible for a baby - not with Mr Research in front of her - but it does. Luke would probably learn too many weird facts, and stress himself into some kind of almighty meltdown.

She had to block them last night for her own peace.

“Too late. I already know too much.”

“Like what?”

“I know that as of this week, your baby has started peeing inside you, which is absolutely gross.”

That is gross. She didn’t know that. She doesn’t really want to know that. If only she could block him in real life, too.

“I need you to hand the book over.”

“Can’t, Jack’s reading it now, we’re very serious about this funcle thing.”

“Luke,” she warns, not wanting to be on the receiving end of this horror from everybody.

“What? The more we know the better we can help you.”

“What book did you get that from?” She scoffs, pressing the button for the elevator while his hands are full.

“Same one. It’s good, I’ll tell Jack to give it to Nico after, it’s all about what you’ll be going through in each stage of your pregnancy-,”

“Nico doesn’t need the book, Luke, he’s going through it with me.” She frowns a little as she says it, a little voice in her head telling her it isn’t exactly working out like that. “And I thought me blocking you guys would have made it clear enough, I don’t want your weird facts. If I need to know something, I’ll find out from my doctor, not your deep dives on the internet.”

“Hey, to be fair, I was just trying to prepare you with the thing about your brain.” They step into the elevator and she presses the button for her floor,  “Maybe yours won’t shrink, maybe you’ll-,”

“Nope. No more talk about pregnancy symptoms. You’re on a time out, funcle privileges revoked. If you want to be unblocked, you’ve got to give up Google.”

“I don’t know if it’s worth it, I use Google for everything,” he frowns, like this is an actual thing he needs to seriously consider, “How will I know what I can and can’t eat?”

“You’re not a dog, Luke, if you can buy it, you can eat it.”

“I can buy bleach-,”

“You know exactly what I meant.”

“Fine. No more Google.” Luke huffs, stepping out with Poppy as the doors slide open, “But if I eat an unidentifiable seed and it’s poisonous, we all know who’s to blame.”

“Maybe stay away from seeds, then?”

“My body is a temple, PJ, you can’t tell me what goes in.”

If he wasn’t doing her a wasted favour with the box, she’d probably give him a hearty shove. He can be so irritating when he wants to be. Now she has his death-by-unidentifiable-seed weighing on her conscience.

“Got to get all my nutrients in if I’m gonna be Mitchie’s favourite uncle, Nico looks like the type of dude that makes chunky babies.”

He probably isn’t wrong, not that she entirely wants to think about it, but baby Cheeto measures a little over expectations every time she has a scan, and her bump is a little bigger than the average, she has been told.

“I really don’t want those kinds of ideas in my head,” she pouts, her mind immediately going to the delivery aspect of it all, relief flooding her system as her office finally comes into sight, “And for the last time, I’m not calling my baby Mitchie short for Michigan.”

“It’s better than calling it Cheeto,” Luke scoffs, “At least Mitchie is unisex.”

Poppy gasps, stopping and placing two hands over her bump as if she’s covering tiny little ears in there. “Words hurt, Luke, you’re hardly gonna be favourite uncle chirping my baby in the womb.”

“Actually, it can’t hear anything outside of your body until like 28 weeks.”

“If I could block you in person, I would.” She’s pushing the door to her office open as she says it, turning to face him and walking in backwards to give him a meaningful glare when she notices his face twist in confusion at something behind her.

When she spins around to see what he’s bothered by, she sees a tall figure stood by her wall, hands in his pockets as he looks over the photographs that line it - and even from the back, she can tell who it is.

“Dad, what are you doing here?”

“Looking at all your pictures, I’ve never seen any of these before.”

That’s because you don’t care about my work, she withholds from biting back, remembering Luke’s presence behind her and not at all prepared to have any sort of family bust up today - especially not in work. “You’re from this one. 43. A little scrawny to be an athlete, aren’t you son?” He points to one of the pictures, one of Poppy, Luke, Johnny and Holtzy before a game at the beginning of the season. 

“I’m-,” Luke frowns, almost comically if Poppy wasn’t too tense now to laugh, “Scrawny?”

“Look like you’d snap in two if I ran at you too hard.”

“Aren’t you a little old to be running at people?” Maybe she isn’t too tense to laugh. “Respectfully, I mean.”

“Thank you for your help, Luke,” Poppy takes the box from his hands and immediately puts it on the couch in the corner before he can protest, making eyes at him to get out of there before it’s too late. It’s for his own safety. “I’ll unblock you later, I promise.”

“Right.” He nods, “Catch you later, PJ. Good to meet you, sir.”

He dashes out so quick she swears he leaves a Luke shaped outline in his wake, her door swinging shut before she can even call out a response. 

“No pictures of the boyfriend?” Her dad asks once he’s gone, taking another quick look over the wall.

“They’re at home.” She says, going around the other side of her desk so that there’s some sort of barrier between them. “Did something happen? Is that why you’re here?”

“Cant a father visit his daughter at work?”

“If he can name her job title without looking it up, then sure.”

“I don’t need to know your job title, Poppet, I know the day you were born and how much you weighed, beyond that, I’m not expected to remember the little things.”

It isn’t the little things, she thinks, it’s my career.

“Whatever,” she sighs, not wanting to get into it, “What are you here for, dad?”

He sits in the chair opposite her, looking a little large for life now that she’s properly seeing him in front of her. It’s like when he would sit at her tea parties as a kid, always too big for the chairs and table.

“I came to say that what happened at dinner last week was embarrassing.”

She can’t help but roll her eyes, despite how petulant he probably thinks it is, crossing her legs and wiggling her mouse to bring her computer to life, hoping if she looks busy enough this conversation will be much shorter.

She’s been trying not to think about it, trying to suppress the floods of disappointment that wash over her every time she remembers it. Her mother’s biting words, her father’s indifference, it all hurts just the same.

“I’m not gonna apologise for defending myself, or defending Nico, I don’t care if I humiliated-,”

“I was embarrassed of myself.”

“I-,” Oh. Just as she feels herself start to get defensive again, his words register. “What?”

“I’m your dad, I’m supposed to stick up for you and have your back.” He frowns, “Especially knowing how hard your mom is on you, and what you’re going through, I was just blindsided by the whole Rich Horowitz thing with your brother, and-,”

“You’re supposed to stick up for him, too, dad. You’re just as hard on Oli.” She doesn’t know why she’s defending her brother after what he did, but after all these years it’s almost like a second nature. She can snap at him, but if anyone else does the same, she won’t let it slide.

“Says you, you called him an idiot.”

“Yeah, well he got under my skin.”

“He was being an idiot. We all were, that’s why it’s embarrassing.” He sighs, “It took your boyfriend stealing my job for me to realise-,”

“Stealing your job?”

What on Earth does he mean by that? 

“What is it that you kids say? He handed my ass to me?”

“What kid taught you that?” Oli’s boys are too young to know that one, and it won’t have come from her brother. Is the demographic at the club really that young these days that someone’s teaching her dad the meaning of having his ass handed to him? It can’t have been Nico. “What do you mean?”

“After you and your mother stormed off, he gave me and your brother a verbal spanking, if you will.”

I won’t, she thinks, unable to stop the grimace that comes out in instinctual response at her father mentioning spanking.

“He yelled at you?”

“Well I can’t picture the boy yelling, Poppy, he’s a little gentle-mannered, don’t you think?” His tone is patronising, but from the way this conversation is going, she doesn’t think that’s his intention, for once. “That isn’t a bad thing, of course! I wouldn’t want my daughter to be with a man so quick to raise his voice, anyway.”

“What did he say?”

“That’s probably up to him to tell you.” He shrugs, “He just made me realise that I haven’t been the most supportive of you lately. With all this,” his hands gesture around the room, “And that,” and then towards her belly. “And I didn’t give either of you a chance the other week. I’d like to get to know the guy who sat at a table in my house and had the guts to put me in my place. Have a do-over.”

Her mouth hangs open at the revelation, blinking slowly as she tries to come to terms with what her father has just said.

Nico stood up for her? To her dad? After how eager he was to impress him and bond with him over something - he just laid down the law on how she deserves to be treated? Like it’s nothing for him to do so? And he didn’t even tell her he’d done so, didn’t even try to get some brownie points?

And her dad respected it enough to come all the way out here and ask for another shot?

“You want a do-over?”

“I do. One of my golfing buddies has a suite at Madison Square Garden, he’s a big Knicks guy, but he rarely uses it for the Rangers, he’s said we can use it for the game on Wednesday. It is your guys they’re playing, right?”

The game on Wednesday.

Who is this man and what has he done with her dad?

Her dad who has never shown anything but distain for hockey in his life, has voiced it so much to Poppy since she started working with the Devils that she stopped talking about work, entirely.

She nods, anyway.

“And then we’re gonna treat you and Nico to lunch on Thursday, if he’s free.”

“We?”

“Me and your mother.”

Poppy gulps. She’ll probably have something to say about Nico speaking up in her defence. 

“She’ll be on her best behaviour, I’ve had assurances.”

“Right,” she scoffs, finding that hard to believe. “I don’t know, Dad, I don’t think a game against the Rangers is the best place to do this-,”

“I want to understand your world, Poppy.”

Well that’s a cruel thing to say to an overly emotional pregnant woman, she thinks, eyes watering at the thought that maybe this could actually be a turning point for them. 

All thanks to Nico.

“Okay.” She agrees, despite her better judgement warning her against doing so.

“Great. I’ll email you the details for the suite. I have to go, your mom is getting her hair done and I won’t hear the end of it if I’m late to meet back up with her.”

“You guys are over this way?”

“We’re in midtown for a conference on Tuesday, we’ll be going back on Thursday after lunch.”

Poppy just nods in response, having nothing more to say to the fact they’re just across the river and neither thought to check up on her.

She supposes this is that, her dad checking up, so she lets it go as she rounds the table to hug him goodbye before he leaves her alone with her thoughts.

She’s only alone for a minute before her door opens without a knock, and she looks up to see an out of breath Nico barging into her office, skin almost glossy with sweat and still donned in his team gym gear. 

He pants to catch his breath once he has closed the door behind him, putting his hands on his hips and frowning over at Poppy, who can’t help the alarm that crosses her own features.

“Are you okay?” She stands and rounds back to his side of her desk, standing before him to get a better look, assessing for any way in which he could be hurt, because why else would he rush straight here in a panic?

“Yeah,” he breathes, tongue swiping out against his bottom lip as he looks over her in the same way, head tilted and eyes blinking slowly, “Are you? Luke said your dad was here, I was worried you’d be upset.”

“Oh,” her lips remain in a pout around the word as her eyes dart to where she can see a little bit of sweat trickling down the side of his neck, and she feels hot, herself, all of a sudden. “I’m good.” The words slip from her mouth before she can even think of them, making up for the way her mind is racing at a million miles an hour out of nowhere.

“You sure?” He runs a hand through his hair, and she sees his t-shirt strain against bulging biceps, making her struggle to swallow and only able to nod in response. “I ran up here like a madman,” he chuckles, stepping around her to sink down into the chair behind, spreading his legs and laying his arms on the rest in a way that reminds her of the dream she had been woken too soon from this morning. 

It’s a real mental effort not to let her eyes travel lower than his broad, heaving chest as she looks down at him, perching herself on the edge of her desk, awkwardly, not knowing what to do with her own arms and legs that isn’t going to elicit such sinful thoughts.

“Sorry, I didn’t tell him to go find you or anything.”

“No, it’s okay, I asked the boys to come get me if they think you need me,” he shrugs, like that isn’t going to cause her heart to do little somersaults in her chest. “Would have ended up here at some point this morning, anyway.”

“Less stressed, though.”

“Always stressed when it comes to you.” She kicks softly at his calf, underestimating just what the effects of the touch would do to either of them when he smirks up at her, his eyes dark and inviting.

All she wants to do is crawl into his lap.

This isn’t your ridiculous dream, Poppy, she tells herself, chewing at the corner of her mouth to ground her mind.

“He wants a re-do.” She tells him, “My dad. He and my mom are staying in Manhattan for something this week, and he wants to come to the Rangers game on Wednesday, and have lunch with us the day after.”

Nico straightens up in his seat, leaning his elbows onto his knees as he looks up at her. “That’s a good sign, right?”

The gleam in his eyes paints a picture of optimism, and the thought that anything about this is going to result in a positive outcome, but Poppy knows her parents too well to get her hopes up.

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, “He seemed apologetic, but I doubt my mom is going to have magically changed her entire outlook in the span of a week.”

“Getting your dad on side is still a win,” he keeps that sweet smile despite her pessimism, and she feels a little lighter just looking at the curve of his lips. 

“Yeah, I heard I have you to thank for that.”

He pauses a second while he thinks over her words, before slinking back into his seat, defeated, but still deciding to feign ignorance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?”

“Nope.”

“That’s a shame,” she pouts, “‘Cause my dad told me about someone matching your description, sitting at his dinner table and putting him in his place about not sticking up for his daughter.”

“Sounds like a decent guy,” Nico shrugs, standing from the seat, closer to Poppy than either of them could have anticipated, their knees bumping together as she’s now the one looking up at him. “Probably didn’t mean to cause any offence and just wanted to defend the mother of his child like she did for him.” His hand reaches instinctively to settle against her side, the tips of his fingers on her waist and his palm caressing her belly. 

She hums, lips curving as she watches his eyes drop to where his hand is, fighting the urge to touch him back.

“Sounds very decent.” She agrees, “No one’s ever gone to bat for me like that, before.”

“Yeah, well, whoever he is, he knows he’s the luckiest guy in the world to have you.”

A large palm comes to cradle her cheek as she beams up at him, and his touch lights all her nerve endings ablaze.

Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, she thinks, with him practically stood between her legs and his melted chocolate eyes looking into hers, swirling with what feels like adoration. 

They dart down to her lips, and his tongue swipes at his own, and just when she thinks this is it, think he’s going to lean in and close the gap, his phone buzzes in the pocket of his shorts.

He sighs as he retrieves the hand from her face to get it, frowning as he looks down at the screen while his other palm stays on her belly. “I have to get back,” he mutters, “But Thursday is fine with me, I’m free. I’ll text you when I’m done with practice, we’ll figure everything out,”

“Okay,” she smiles, despite the fact that she feels like she’s now wound tighter than a drum, all the anticipation in her body stiffening her muscles as she watches him retreat.

“Or we could do lunch together later?”

She should be embarrassed of how quick and how eager she nods in response, but she can’t really be ashamed when he smiles the way he does, a soft laugh accompanying it as the dimples settle into his cheeks. 

“Let me know what you want and when you’re free and I’ll bring it by.”

“Okay,” she breathes as he gets a little closer, smiling back shyly.

He swipes his knuckle along the curve of her bump, before leaning in and pressing a kiss to her cheek, and she hopes he doesn’t notice the way she smushes herself into it, nuzzling into the feeling of his lips against her skin. She can feel him smile against her, though, so that hope goes out of the window too quick for her to really care.

“I’ll see you later then, Poppy.”

“And Cheeto.”

And he leverages two hands at either side of her hips on her desk before leaning down, face level with her belly as he says, “And you too, Cheeto.”

She's gonna have to stop letting him into her office, for her own sanity.

“I’m gonna need your dad to tell me who hooked us up with this suite, this is insane!”

Poppy hadn’t been sure when her dad had sent over the instructions on how to get to his friend’s suite at MSG, especially not when the staff had been so attentive and treated the girls like they were the most important people in the building, having a guide literally walk them to the door before letting them know where he’d be if they needed anything replenished while they are here. But now that she’s in the suite, she gets it entirely.

She’s used to watching from the staff suite at work, but even those aren’t as nice as this one. 

The room itself is intimate, dim, warm lighting cast across leather seating, pictures of the arena on the wall, and a few pictures of Knicks winning their championships in the 70’s. Thankfully not a Rangers themed box or Poppy’s nausea might have returned. 

“It’s alright,” she shrugs, trying to ignore how incredible it is to be in a private suite at MSG. She’s a Prudential girl, always loyal to The Rock. Private restrooms and a VIP entrance won’t sway her to the dark side, she isn’t that fickle.

“Oh my God, they have baked cookies.”

When she looks over at Nia, she has the lid lifted on one of the trays in the chafer in the corner, the smell of fresh, hot cookies flooding the room and luring Poppy over like a siren-call. There’s a tray of quesadillas, some crudités, a salad and some chicken fingers, and she wants to eat all of it.

It’s probably a good thing she can’t drink, because the mini bar might have done the trick.

“I’m not waiting for my parents to dig into this.”

“You’re pregnant, they’ll understand.”

The two best friends share a knowing look before breaking out into laughter, and filling two plates with food before going to sit at the counter-like table that overlooks the ice. 

Poppy feels her anxiety slip away a little as her and Nia catch up, hearing about her work and her dad’s new random venture into woodworking that has him flooding her apartment with new shelves and a TV unit so that he can test their durability before he builds Poppy a crib, her heart melting at the thought of him being so sweet to someone who isn’t even his own daughter. 

They watch as the arena fills up, the noise building to a continuous buzz that always makes her hands shake a little, and Nia, knowing her all too well, is able to distract Poppy entirely from her parents impending arrival and whatever else is going on in her crazy mess of a head.

That is until she gasps, pointing toward the jumbotron that’s playing some sort of preview. “Look, it’s your man.”

“I don’t know if I’d call him my man.” Poppy huffs as she manages to catch a glimpse of him, a 2 second flash that has her whole body vibrating.

“I thought things were going well?”

“I don’t know, Ni,” Poppy sighs as she leans back, snapping a cucumber stick in half, “I mean, they are, but I guess I just thought he would have made a move by now.”

“Haven’t you been pushing him away every time he tries?”

“No. I pushed him away once.” She frowns, rolling her eyes when Nia raises a single brow at her incredulously, “Maybe twice, 3 times, maximum. But that was so long ago, now. And things have been so good lately, he’s been incredible.” Poppy’s limbs feel a little like jelly as she melts into her seat, her mind relaying all the ways in which Nico has been a rock for her over the past few months. Taking her to her appointments, going on grocery runs with her, coming around and helping her put them away. The whole family dinner ordeal and the agreement for a re-do. 

He’s so good to her that it’s driving her up the wall.

“But?” Nia asks, knowing her best friend all too well.

“But nothing! I wanna,” Poppy looks behind her to double check her parents haven’t arrived yet, “climb him like a tree,” she whispers, “and he’s being respectful and decent about it.”

“Ugh, what a dick.” Nia scoffs in faux-agreement, raising her arms mockingly. 

“I know.” Despite the fact that Poppy knows Nia is being sarcastic, she carries on anyway to further drive her point home. “He came by my office the other day, and he was all sweaty and gorgeous, and things got all intense, and kissed me on the cheek. How am I supposed to slip him some tongue when he kisses my cheek? And then he came back later for lunch and pretended like everything was normal.”

He had brought her a wrap and some juice, and the two of them had sat and eaten together in her office like he wasn’t about to kiss her stupid in the morning, stood between her parted legs like something fresh out of a literal fantasy she’s already had.

“I thought you’d last a little longer before you completely lost your mind, to be honest. You’re falling apart before my very eyes.”

“I haven’t even told you about the dreams yet.”

“Let’s keep it that way.” 

“I just feel like I’m running out of time, or something.”

“You guys are having a baby together, Pop, you literally have forever to figure things out.”

Poppy knows that’s technically right. It had been her exact sentiment when she had suggested taking things slow in the first place. They don’t need to rush into something just because they’re going to be parents, soon, but she had thought those things at a time where everything was confusing. 

She was still hurting a little, fresh from almost a month of the two of them not talking, of him rejecting her and telling her he wouldn’t have the capacity to be a good partner. And she had been a little overwhelmed at the time, her life changing before her eyes, and all. But he’s done so much to disprove all of that, since. 

He’s there for her, physically, emotionally, however she needs and whenever she needs him. He looks after her, tries to help in whatever way he can when she’s exhausted or feeling sick - brings her food and smoothies and sends her pick-me-up texts that make her feel like she’s floating. 

All that when he’s in the thick of his season too, fighting what is looking more and more like a losing battle for playoff contention, going home every day exhausted and beaten and bruised, and he always makes the time to call her. To ask how she’s doing, how she’s feeling, to make sure she has eaten and is tucked up for the night and safe. 

They kiss each other, they hang out like old times, he caresses her belly when they’re in private and she rubs his back affectionately when they cuddle, and sure, her hormones are all out of whack and her brain is shrinking and maybe she is falling apart, but she wants him so bad she doesn’t even know how to function, anymore.

Everything they do together points to the fact that they should be together, but he isn’t doing anything about it - and so all Poppy can think is that maybe he doesn’t want that, still.

“He’s going home for the summer, Ni,” Poppy frowns, “And we haven’t even really talked about it, but I feel like if something doesn’t happen before then, then maybe it never will.”

“That’s ridiculous, you said it yourself, the two of you are in a good place.”

“This time last year we were in a good place too, and then he left and came back with a girlfriend.”

Nia’s eyes widen as realisation flashes across her features, and Poppy’s brows push together at the depth in which she’s being perceived by her best friend. “You’re really worried about that?”

Poppy shrugs, shuffling in her seat as she watches the lights dim across the arena, thankful for the darkness so that Nia can’t notice the heat creeping up her neck.

She doesn’t want to be told she’s an idiot, right now.

“You’re being an idiot.”

Great.

“Poppy, c’mon, this isn’t even remotely the same situation, anymore. I know I’ve been giving him a hard time since he hurt you, and I’ve had a lot of other things to say, but that guy worships the ground you walk on. I posted a picture of you on my story the other day with some writing on there, and he replied to it asking me to send him the original picture like a giant lovesick dork. That’s like obsession, there’s no chance in hell he’s going home and not thinking about you and your baby every waking second of his life.”

“You unblocked him?” Poppy can feel her lips twitching a little into a smile.

She knows Nia never hated Nico after what he did - she was angry, and probably felt betrayed herself a little that she had trusted him with her best friend’s heart and he had stomped on it - but she’s never really been a forgive and forget kind of person.

But she’s been doing her own version of baby steps with Nico. When they cross paths at Poppy’s apartment, one on the way out, one on the way in, she no longer scowls at him. No longer rolls her eyes when he’s brought up in conversation.

And, evidently, she no longer has him blocked 

For everything Nico has done to prove himself to Poppy, Nia has seen it, too. 

Even just to let him back in, in such a small way, is such a big step.

“He’s on a probationary period, three strikes and he’s out.”

“Wrong sport.” Poppy smirks.

“Don’t care. Besides the point anyway, what I was trying to say is that you’re worrying too much about stupid things when you should be focusing on the things he is doing. He literally endured dinner with your parents, and is going to do it again. If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.”

“I thought the point of this pep talk was to stop my anxiety, not double it.”

She’s been trying not to think about lunch with her parents. Has been trying even not to think about them coming to this game, Nia being the only reason she hasn’t tried to make her escape by now.

They probably won’t show, anyway, and it will start their meeting off tomorrow with already raised tensions, just how her mom prefers it.

Her stress levels dip and rise like a rollercoaster in the build up to the game. The announcement of the players, the national anthem, the tension in the room palpable as the clock ticks down, high already from the last time the two teams met and the constant chatter of a fight breaking out on the ice - and she’s feeling more and more grateful that they haven’t arrived yet.

Until the door to the suite swings open, and her dad walks in on his own, an apologetic smile on his face as he rushes over.

“Sorry I’m late,” He kisses Poppy and the cheek, and greets Nia with a warm hug, sitting beside his daughter and looking out into the arena, “Did  I miss anything?”

“Pucks about to drop,” Poppy tells him as he gets himself comfy, watching as he scans the crowd with an expression that kind of, sort of, looks like awe. “Mom’s not coming?”

“Not this time,” he shrugs, patting a hand against her back gently and not really delving any further into it. “We’ll have more fun without her though.”

Nia scoffs from the other side of her, hiding her smile with a bite of a cookie while Poppy tries to swallow down her unexpected disappointment.

This will have to be enough - her dad trying his best while her mom sulks on her own in her hotel room. He’s right, anyway. It will be more fun without her here.

Poppy has work the next day, Nico having a rare morning off, himself, and so the two of them arrange for him to pick her up at lunch, driving over to meet her parents together. She blocked the afternoon out of her diary, having to account for the travel either way across the river, and for whatever trauma the two of them are about to face, no doubt needing a good 20 minutes to wind down in the car after, and her morning goes by way quicker than she probably would have liked.

She packs up her office with as much delay as she can cause, stopping every couple of minutes to put her hands on her hips and try out a couple breathing exercises that Nico has been teaching her, huffing out long breaths through puffed out cheeks and letting the tension drop from her shoulders. Once she has everything, she reluctantly heads down to meet Nico where they had agreed after he sends her a text to tell her he’s there.

She straightens her skirt out as she waits in the elevator, making sure her hair is neat and her top isn’t riding up against her small bump as it has been all morning, no longer able to cover it up with her cardigan tied around her waist, knowing her mother would call her out for being unkempt.

She wouldn’t be wearing heels if it were up to her, a subtle ache already settling into the soles of her feet, but it’s only for an hour or two, she has some sneakers in her trunk for when he brings her back for her car, and if anything, they make her legs look good so it isn’t entirely a bad thing to be wearing them around Nico.

When the doors to the parking level open, she has the expectation that he would be in his normal spot around the corner, where the players usually park - the spaces a little bigger, less chance of anyone being careless with the way they open their door and dinging it against another like she’s had happen before - but she’s surprised to see he isn’t too far, parked straight ahead so she doesn’t have far to walk.  

Nico leans against his car, dressed smart in charcoal pants and a light grey shirt, and she finds herself doing a not-so-subtle once over, mainly to check he isn’t wearing sneakers. 

She’s grateful she has a little time to walk over to him, to admire him before it’s too obvious she’s doing so, because if he got a close enough look at her, he could potentially call her out for drooling. 

She catches him doing the same, eyes lingering on her bare legs as she closes the distance between them, before flickering up to greet her with a dimpled smile.

“You look good,” she comments as she steps toward him, reaching to smooth his hair where he’s slicked it back a little, swiping her finger along his clean shaven jaw as she retreats.

“It goes against everything I believe in, wearing dress pants this early in the day.” 

“I appreciate it.”

“I know you do.”

He opens the car door for her and walks by the front to round to his side, giving her a chance to admire the back of him as he moves before he’s jumping into the drivers seat. 

She reaches to put the AC on low as he drives, getting a little hot watching his fingers flex around the wheel, and tries not to spend all her time leaning against the headrest and looking over his side profile like a crazy person. 

Although, if admiring a guy as gorgeous as Nico while he’s in her presence is a crime, she thinks she probably deserves to be locked up.

She’s a repeat offender, after all.

“You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I feel weirdly good, actually.” Her morning at work hadn’t been too hectic, a meeting and a few calls, and she hasn’t really felt sick all week, so things are definitely looking up.

And last night with her dad went better than expected, despite her mom not making an appearance.

She’s even slightly optimistic for this lunch, oddly enough, not having that nagging voice in her head telling her everything is going to fall apart, for once.

“What about you? You aren’t gonna threaten to drive off again, are you?”

“Nah,” he chuckles, casting her an amused glance before focusing back on the road. “I think I’ve got a good read for how these Jensen table talks go by now.”

“I think my dad will be okay today, he got really into the game last night. I think it was all the fighting, and my mom not being there, it was like he’s been holding back all this time.”

She had been initially disappointed when her mom hadn’t shown, but when all the fighting had started, she had been relieved. She had warned her dad when he had made the suggestion in the first place, but nothing could have properly prepared him for the carnage of a game against the Rangers, and so she just had to let him endure it.

And he loved it. It was bizarre to see. He’d been cheering on the boys, oohing and aah-ing in time with the crowd, and jumping whenever she and Nia did.

She had actually had fun, and it seemed like he did, too.

“He’ll be coming to The Rock in a jersey before we know it.”

“Is that how things work out for you, everyone just comes around in the end ‘cause your so charming?”

“Surprised it took you this long to notice.” 

Poppy’s parents are waiting in their hotel lobby when Poppy and Nico arrive after a quick drive, thankfully both dressed just as smart as they are, because she knows Nico would have something to pout about if her dad showed up in khakis. 

The four of them sit around a table in the lounge restaurant of her parent’s hotel in Midtown, her dad having tried to find another spot and her mom having quickly vetoed every cafe or restaurant in the area after vigorously trawling through the Yelp reviews and no doubt turning her nose up at every picture she came across.

Despite the setting being suited to her, she still rearranges her table setting when she arrives, still swipes at the surface and assesses her finger for dust or grime with a dissatisfied look on her face, and Poppy’s trying her best to ignore the little things. Her mom would be like this in the finest restaurant in the world, it isn’t specific to Jersey, it isn’t entirely personal.

It has been cordial, so far. Pleasantries exchanged, small talk conversed. The food had been nice, the wait staff thankfully avoiding her mother’s daring glares, and Poppy starts to feel her anxiety dwindle the more her father talks.

He asks Nico of his interests, trying to find something shared, but coming up slightly short - but that’s okay, she thinks, not everyone has something in common. Maybe they’ll discover that down the line. Maybe there’s something niche that their conversations haven’t sparked yet. 

Nico is his charming self, she has no worries there, and her dad is putting in enough effort to make up for the lack of it on her mom’s end.

Then he moves onto hockey, and Poppy can tell he had been paying attention when he had watched them play the day before. 

She and Nia had been too invested in the game to explain much to him, and it’s hard - being in the arena, watching it live - without having heard most of the terminology through commentary or any sort of breakdown of a play, and so Nico ends up pretty much going through plays and game structure with him, explaining penalties and power plays, shift switches and face-offs, and Peter sits, nodding along as if he’s actually taking it on board. 

“And what do you do with yourself when your season is over?” Her dad asks, and despite the depth in which she knows him, can see the lingering suspicion and distrust in Nico, and of their situation as a whole, she’s grateful for that fact that he’s at least trying.

“I usually go back home and spend time with my family, sir. My brother plays in the league over there so I don’t get to see him when we’re playing at the same time.”

“That’s nice. And that’s Sweden?”

“Switzerland, Dad.” Poppy corrects him, her fingers tickling mindlessly at Nico’s palm in her lap. 

“Of course! Beautiful country, Poppy’s mother and I always used to stop by Zurich whenever we were in Europe. You loved the Opera House, didn’t you, Cilla?”

“Hm,” Poppy’s mom confirms, sipping at her wine with feigned disinterest. Poppy knows she’s paying attention, is going through Nico’s every word with a fine toothed comb. “I much preferred France.”

Poppy rolls her eyes, shifting a little in her seat until her knees knock into Nico’s.

“What do your parents do, son?”

“They both work in insurance, my dad has his own firm.”

“Ah, they’re not athletic, like you and your brother?”

“They were. My mom was a swimmer, my dad played footba- sorry, soccer. And my big sister, Nina, she used to play volleyball.”

“I bet your family game nights get heated.”

He really is trying, Poppy thinks, smiling softly over at Nico as he chuckles in response, lips twisting fondly at whatever memory that invokes. 

“They aren’t too bad, only a bit competitive. No major fights, thankfully.”

“Is that what you want for our grandchild?” Priscilla chimes in, only proving Poppy’s point that she isn’t as disinterested as she’d like to seem. “For them to put all their focus on games and competitions?”

“Mom,” Poppy frowns, shuffling uncomfortably again, all too ready to jump to Nico’s defence until he speaks up from beside her.

“It’s okay,” he assures her, “I haven’t thought much about it, to be honest, I would just want them to be happy.”

He doesn’t say it like he’s trying to win points or be corny, when Poppy turns her head to look at him, she sees the slight dopey smile he has whenever he talks about their baby - a look of pure adoration for even the unknown - and she smiles too. If anything, his outlook would have the opposite effect on her mother than to give him any sort of kudos, but her heart warms, all the same. 

She clutches at his hand under the table, giving him a reassuring squeeze that he returns three times over.

“Nico plays for Switzerland, too,” she directs more towards her father, who might be a little more receptive to the fact, “They have the world championships in Prague this year, if the Devils don’t make the playoffs, Nico might be going over earlier. Might even captain the team.” She beams with pride, using her other hand to rub at the arm of the hand of his that she’s holding.

“That’s great-,”

“That’s an awfully busy schedule for a father-to-be.” Her mother scoffs from across the table. “How are you supposed to look after my daughter from half way across the world?”

“I can look after myself, Mom.”

“You shouldn’t have to. What if something happens, and he’s 9 hours away?”

Why does she have to be like this?

Poppy can feel the responsive insolence brewing within her, bubbling and steaming and about to rear it’s ugly head when another voice speaks up.

“Cilla, that’s enough. She’s shown us she can take care of herself, stop trying to instigate something and scare her for no good reason.”

Poppy feels herself mirror her mom’s expression, her mouth gaping open in shock at the nerve of him to stand up to her like that out of nowhere. As Priscilla presses her lips together in indignation, Poppy prepares hers to speak when her dad turns to Nico, completely disregarding the interruption in their conversation. 

“Is that different? Being a captain for your country compared to the Devils?”

She could lean over the table and kiss him on the head, beyond grateful for the interest he’s now showing, hoping it overpowers the venom spewed from her mother’s mouth. 

“A little bit,” Nico nods, lips curving softly at the corners, clearly appreciative, too. “I don’t really have to worry about trades and contracts and stuff when it comes to my national teammates. I grew up with a lot of those guys, and the tournament is a lot closer to home than the games here. I don’t want to say I prefer it, but it’s always nice to play closer to my family and friends.”

“You’ll have to let me know when it’s on the TV, Poppy. After last night, I’d love to watch more games. It was quite exciting.”

She squeezes his hand again, her smile wider when she looks up at him this time, her eyes settling on the dimples she wants to press her lips to. 

Her dad’s words from the other day ring in her head.

He made me realise I haven’t supported you in the way I should be.

Her dad has never stuck up for her like this. Always turning a blind eye to the way her mom zeroes in on all the things that could possibly sting her - and here he is, in public no less, putting her in her place to protect Poppy. To protect Nico, even. 

“I don’t know if that game was the best introduction for you, sir.” Nico chuckles, “We lost, too.”

“I have it on good authority that that’s only because the Rags are a bunch of no-good cheaters.”

Nico snorts, glancing down and meeting Poppy’s gaze, fondly. “Is that so?”

“I said dirty, rotten, no-good cheaters, actually,” she shrugs, “Dad, if you’re gonna start chirping, you’ve got to put a little more heart into it.”

“You’ll have to teach me, Poppet,” Peter tells his daughter, “Maybe that’s how we keep you busy this summer, you can get me up to scratch for the next season.”

And despite the way her heart hammers in her chest at the mention of her having to be kept busy and the thought of being apart from Nico, she feels the tension in her shoulder slip away. Even her mom’s sour face can’t ruin this moment, where her dad starts showing slight signs of approval for the first time in her life, she feels.

“We can discuss my rates, later.” She smiles over at him, cheeks tightening and eyes watering slightly as she smiles, her appreciation for his time, and for the moment, far outweighing her disappointment in the woman sat beside him. 

It’s only two days later that Poppy and Nico are separated again, him and the team leaving a day early for their game against the Senators, situating him overnight in a hotel in Ottawa when she really wants him back with her in Jersey.

It’s getting pathetic now, she thinks, the way she misses him all the time. It’s one day. She’s still texting him, still speaking to him practically every hour. She shouldn’t need to have him right next to her at all hours of the day.

If anything, she needs to start getting used to this - him not being around. Within the next month, he’ll be back home in Switzerland and she’ll be here, grumbling and moaning to herself and everyone but him about how she wants him back.

She’s been trialling out other people’s company too, as pitiful as that sounds. Nia she knows is a safe bet - she’ll be around, already in full auntie mode and more than ready for Poppy to enter her nesting and shopping phase. Jack and Luke will be going back to Michigan, no doubt, but they’re bound to have some trips back to Jersey. Kelsey is kind of a no-go, because despite the fact that she still considers her one of her best friends, she’s all of a sudden under the impression that Poppy is no fun now that she’s pregnant, and she doesn’t have the energy in her to prove her otherwise. Josh at work had come with her for lunch earlier in the day. He’s alright company, but a little boring, if anything - doesn’t make her laugh straight from her belly, not like Nico, not that she’s comparing them.

Nothing really compares to him, if she’s honest, so it’s a fruitless task to even try.

And so, she’s resigning herself to the little version of him that sits in his poor-signal box on her FaceTime app, crashing and pausing and cutting out sometimes when he speaks.

“I’m so hungry I could eat a horse,” Poppy groans, leaning forward onto her elbow in front of where her phone is rested on the counter, a pout on her lips as she watches Nico situate himself on his hotel bed.

“I thought you were getting food, before? Didn’t you say you were gonna have a late lunch?”

“We did,” she sighs, remembering the disappointment that the first bite of her bagel had elicited and swearing that even the memory of it has her stomach growling.

“We?”

“Yeah, I went with Josh.”

“The PR guy?” Nico looks so cute when he’s frowning, she thinks, his eyebrows pressing together and his doe-brown eyes going round, his screen pausing on a very adorable pout for a few seconds. 

“Yeah.”

“You went on a lunch date with Josh the PR guy?”

“I wouldn’t call it a date, we just had the same lunch hour.” She shrugs, trying not to get distracted at just the sight of him on a phone screen. Nia was right the other day, she really does need to pull herself together, she thinks. “I don’t think anyone in their mind would want to date me right now, I’m distinctly round and up until a week ago was walking around with a gross vomit smell about me.”

“Was it just the two of you?” He asks, doing little to dispel her undateable theory and causing her to frown, too.

“Yeah,” she drags out with the tilt of her head.

“And you went away from The Rock?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Did he pay?”

“Well, yeah, but-,” He probably wouldn’t appreciate her telling him it was Josh’s turn, implying they had shared other lunch breaks, but he cuts her off before she can.

“And you walked back to work together after?”

“We’re in the same building, and it was nice out today.”

“Has he text you since?”

“I-,” She doesn’t actually know. Poppy swipes up from their FaceTime to check her messages, seeing his name near the top. Sent 30 minutes ago, I had fun today, with a smiley face - a blushing smiley face, at that. “Yeah? But you used to pay for my lunch and text me when you got home,”

“Yeah and now you’re carrying my baby.” He’s smiling when she brings the FaceTime back, a soft smile that barely meets his eyes but melts her heart, all the same.

“Can’t argue with that logic.”

“It was a date.” He tells her, and he shifts on the other end of the phone, discomfort evident as she realises that the smile is more resolute than she first thought. “A cheap one, if you’re still hungry.”

“Well he wanted to go to that bagel place a couple streets from work,” she says, ignoring his jab, “You know the one with outdoor seating?” He nods, “He said it’s his favourite spot nearby.”

Maybe it was a date. Walking in the soft sunshine together to his favourite spot. Him buying her a bagel, an iced tea and a little tub of tiramisu for her to eat at her desk that had way too much coffee for her to eat.

Shit.

“You hate that place.” That frown comes back, defensive, almost, and he leans back onto his bent arm in a way that makes his muscles flex, distracting her entirely.

“I know,” she sighs, at the sight of him or at this conversation, she doesn’t know. “They’re so dry, I swear they’re stale, I ended up just picking mine apart, but now I-,”

“Could eat a horse?” He grins, flexing his arm like he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

“Exactly,” she smiles, “And I have nothing in.”

“You went shopping yesterday,” he hums, leaning back and getting comfortable, looking back at her with that sleepy smile that makes her want to cuddle into him. She could so slot into that space that his arm makes - it’s literally Poppy shaped.

“Yeah, but yesterday I had all the intentions of buying things to cook, and now I don’t want to cook.” She walks over to her couch with her phone in hand as she talks, throwing herself down into the cushions with a heavy sigh. “I saw someone with this giant soft pretzel earlier, and I know it isn’t moving yet, but I swear Cheeto started doing backflips at the smell. It’s all I can think about. Soft pretzels and melted cheese, I could actually cry right now just imagining it.”

“Maybe take a shower,” he hums, and he looks like he could fall asleep, any second. “You might have some energy after to make something.”

“Maybe,” she hums, back, soft tone matching his as she watches his eyes flutter. “Still won’t be a soft pretzel, though.”

“Keep me posted on whatever you pick, I’m gonna go before I fall asleep, I’m grabbing dinner with the boys.”

“Show-off.” She pouts, lips twitching when he smiles big enough for his dimples to form. “Text me when you’re back?”

“Sure thing. Make sure you eat something, yeah?”

“I will. See you later, Nico.”

Once her screen goes black with the end of the call, she falls into the back of the couch with a heavy sigh, head craned back to look at the ceiling. 

This is so hard, she thinks of missing a man that isn’t entirely hers, of trying to suppress her feelings before they spread to every fibre of her being. 

And with her patience wearing thin, all she has left is to listen to him - to follow his instruction in the hopes that this is what will make the universe reward her, subliminally giving him what he wants.

She showers, trying not to think about him as she faces up into the spray and lets the hot water rain down on her, lathering her hair in a shampoo she wishes smelled like him and dressing herself after in a hoodie she had stolen a while back, all remnants of his scent long washed away. 

She’s staring at a full refrigerator with a head empty of ideas when there is a knock at her door, and she trudges toward the entrance to her apartment with heavy feet. 

She knows as soon as she opens the door what it is, her nose perked like a sniffer dog as the aroma floods from the paper bag being held out to her.

“I got a delivery for Poppy?”

“Thank you so much,” she smiles, taking the bag from the pre-pubescent looking Postmates delivery guy, and handing him a tip from the little stack of notes she keeps on the table by her door. 

The name on the bag is for a bakery she knows is around 15 minutes away, closer to her old place up in Hoboken, and she practically skips around to her couch to open it up. 

Two soft pretzels and a tub of Cranberry-Bacon Swiss cheese dip that she had forced Nico to try one time a few years back, and hadn’t had since she moved - still warm in the bag and the smell of it causing her mouth to water.

She thinks this might be the sexiest thing he’s ever done.

Remembering a random order for a soft pretzel from years ago. Relaying her schedule over the phone before, how she didn’t like a certain bagel shop that she had probably mentioned one time before, how she had gone shopping the day prior, something that had probably been a passing comment in a text earlier in the week - flooding her with his perfect recall and insistence on delivering a love language from hundreds of miles away. 

I think I’m in love with you, she types out in a fit of giddiness, senses overpowered by the delicious smell from the bag in her lap, her judgement thankfully coming back before she can hit send, because sure they’ve told each other they love each other before, but never like that. 

Instead, she types out something much more reasonable for the occasion to send along with a selfie of her holding the bag with a stupid smile on her face.

Poppy: You’re my favourite baby daddy 😊 

Nico: I’m your only baby daddy 🙄 

Poppy: Potentially my favourite person 

Nico: Potentially?

Poppy: Cheeto’s first

Nico: So I’m second?

Poppy: Potentially 💖 

Her mind goes back to something Nia had said at the game earlier in the week, about how Nico cared for her like it was an obsession.

Maybe she’s obsessed, too.

Nico

“What do you know about Josh from PR?”

Nico knows that he should probably feel at least an ounce of shame for going to the rest of the guys about this - should feel childish for letting his own insecurities cloud his mind like this, but he’s tried talking himself out of it, and it hasn’t worked.

The locker room has kind of always been his safe space to vent - in a room surrounded by his peers, where better to air out his grievances and have his irrational feelings validated than here?

Especially on the road, after a rough night’s sleep in a hotel bed, and in a practice facility that has a distinct chemical smell that is making him a little loopy.

This is truly his last resort, and he’s already regretting it from Jack’s response, alone.

“I know that his name is Josh and he works in PR.”

“Funny,” Nico scoffs as he leans back into the bench of his locker, running a frustrated hand through his sweat-matted hair. 

“Why, what beef do you have with Josh?”

Jack sits a few cubbies over, the distance causing his voice to carry and opening the conversation up to the other stragglers, namely Timo, who doesn’t speak up but Nico can see his attention pique.

“He took Poppy out on a date.” He grumbles.

“Our Poppy?” 

Mine, Nico thinks, but nods in response, anyway, hoping only Jack takes notice but wincing when another voice responds, instead.

“Damn,” Timo teases, “Going after a pregnant woman is ballsy.”

“Do you think he’s a problem?” He knows he shouldn’t rise to Timo’s ribbing, the panicked raise of his brow only eliciting a smirk from his fellow countryman and longtime friend, but he can’t help it.

“The last time I had any dealings with him, he was wearing a tie with turtles on it, so the chances are slim, but what do I know?”

“Poppy does like her guys dorky,” Jack joins in, a taunting glint flashing across his eyes.

“Does she like him?” Timo asks, throwing himself down beside Nico, who shrugs in response.

“She didn’t even know it was a date,” he tries to brush it off a little, to sound cocky, but he doesn’t really pull it off.

“Hardly sounds like a threat to me, Cap,” Luke speaks up from the other side of his brother, always the voice of reason. 

“I’m not threatened.” He gives a nonchalant frown.

“Sure you’re not.” Luke scoffs.

“I’m just looking out for her.”

“Of course you are.”

“Stop being annoying.”

“Stop being a liar.”

“I’m not lying.”

Luke is always so quick to call Nico out that it’s starting to remind him of Poppy, a little - sharp tongue and a slight disregard for where he pokes it, if needed. It almost makes him appreciate it, all the more.

“She’s the mother of my child, it isn’t a crime to care about who she might be going on dates with.”

“Buddy, she’s carrying your baby, the last thing she’s looking for is a serious relationship with someone else right now.”

Nico narrows his eyes at his best friend, waiting for the follow up he knows is coming where Timo says something to chip away at his dwindling resolve - something to keep him awake, tonight.

“She’s probably just looking to get some.”

Something like that.

“Get some?” He scoffs, uneasily, his face curling in disgust, “This is Poppy we’re talking about, she isn’t like that. It was a stale bagel and an iced tea, not some sordid hookup.”

“You said she didn’t know it was a date.” Luke chimes in, his tone bored and his expression the same - halfway done with having to entertain Nico’s incessant talking and no action. 

“She didn’t, he took her out to lunch. But she didn’t seem entirely opposed to the idea it was a date when I pointed it out to her.”

“Well maybe,” Timo drags out as he pushes himself off the bench and stands before him, a playful smirk on his lips, “And hear me out before you go crazy,” Nico rolls his eyes, swallowing hard in anticipation, “She’s just crazy horny.”

“Fuck off,” Nico throws one of his pads at him, bouncing off his shoulder before he catches it with a chuckle.

“No, I’m serious,” he throws it back for Nico to catch, “Pregnant women are freaky, it’s all the hormones, and most of them have their partners to scratch that itch,” Nico wonders where he’s getting all these ridiculous sayings, all of a sudden, “But you two aren’t together, so she has to get her fill from somebody else.”

Nico tries looking at the other boys for validation. Jack is already distracted on his phone, and Luke looks too grossed out to comment.

“I don’t know why I’m even speaking to you about this, I should have asked someone with at least two brain cells to rub together.”

“Fair point, hey, Curtis, come over here a sec!” Timo calls out, swinging his arm over his shoulder as he approaches, “Tell Nico, in graphic detail, just how freaky pregnant women get!”

“I want nothing to do with this conversation,” he grimaces, shrugging out from under Timo’s grip and carrying on over to his cubby. 

“He didn’t deny it!”

And he knows, deep down, that Timo has been on a personal mission to grind his gears the last few months, finding joy in getting Nico all riled up for no good reason other than it makes him laugh. He knows he shouldn’t take him seriously, but all of a sudden, his chest feels tight - and the feeling won’t go away.

He tries not to overthink any of it, but it’s no use.

All the little nagging thoughts he’s had about his relationship with Poppy over the last few months start to surface, and bubble into something dark and ugly.

Sure, they’ve had their baby steps, they’ve had the odd kiss here and there, they have told each other’s families that they’re together, have spent an awful lot of time together for two people who aren’t together, but that’s just it.

They aren’t together.

They haven’t had that conversation, haven’t set any boundaries, and as much as he hasn’t even looked at another woman since New Years Eve, he can’t expect Poppy not to have done the same.

Why wouldn’t she date Josh?

He has a decent job, seems like a nice enough guy despite his poor timing and his weird need to always be in Poppy’s office. He makes her laugh - Nico’s seen it, has felt his ears go hot as her eyes have crinkled at the corners and that sweet, melodic sound has crossed through the barrier of her lips in his presence - and she clearly likes his company enough to grab lunch with him in the first place.

And it’s those lingering worries that put him into a funk.

When Poppy texts him, his replies are short. He misses a call from her after their win in Ottawa, and doesn’t find the time to call her back. He doesn’t stop by her place when he lands after their flight back, going straight back to his apartment and tossing and turning all night wondering how long it will be before she finds someone else to keep her company and googling all the ways in which her hormones are about to come at her full force - finding an article that points out the exact timeline of it all in gut wrenching detail. He doesn’t see her before he’s locked away for their game against the Predators the next day, either - and when they lose after overtime, and a poor shootout, he feels guilt more than anything when he checks his phone after his shower and Poppy is still texting him like nothing could possibly be wrong.

Poppy: I’ve left a key under the mat if you want to drop by after the game 💖 

It had been sent sometime in the third period, over an hour ago at this point, and she’s more than likely asleep, he thinks.

But God, he wants to see her.

So where he’d usually drive straight home, he drives to her place, instead, hoping they can have some sort of conversation that suppresses the uncertainty that is starting to keep him awake at night.

He parks up beside her car on the street, and takes the stairs instead of her death-trap elevator, ignoring the protesting ache building in his thighs as he climbs all six floors in a hurry.

The key is where she said it would be, and the weight of it is nothing in comparison to the meaning of her leaving it for him, the responsibility of handling it causing his hands to shake as he opens the door quietly, in anticipation of her already resting up.

The lights are off, but there’s a lamp on beside the couch in the living room, and commercials are playing on her TV, and when he steps fully into the space, he finally sees her, and he can finally breathe.

She’s curled up on the couch, dressed in pyjama shorts that sit low on her hips and a tank top that rides up along the curve of her bump, and is snuggling into a pillow while the flashing lights from the TV reflect on her skin. He reaches onto the coffee table for the remote and puts it on mute, watching her for a second as soft snores fall from between her lips.

Jesus, he thinks, she’s beautiful.

Every time he looks at her, he finds himself picturing her features on their baby. The colour of her eyes, the roundness of them when they look straight at him, or the crinkling in the corner when she smiles, the slope of her nose, the fullness of her lips.

He wouldn’t be mad if there was nothing of his. If their baby didn’t have his eye or hair colour, his nose, his smile. He’d be happy with a mini-Poppy.

She must feel his presence as he kneels down beside her - probably hears the crack in his knees or the grunt he thought he was withholding on his way down, because her eyes flutter open slowly, focusing on him with a mellowed, dreamy gaze.

“Hey,” she smiles softly at him, voice thick with sleep and eyes still half-scrunched shut. “Tried to wait up for you.”

How could he let anyone get in his head about this? He thinks, as she looks at him with eyes that sparkle and a smile that grips at his heart like a vice. 

Is this what being apart from her is going to keep doing to him? Forcing him to spiral out of his own mind until he sees her, again?

“I was surprised to see you text so late to be honest,” he hums, reaching out to tuck her sleep-mussed hair behind her ear. “You’re usually out by 9 these days."

“Growing your baby is exhausting,” she sighs with her whole body, shifting on the couch to make room for him, and he falls down into the space she makes, positioning his body to her liking as she snuggles straight into him. He feels himself sigh, the content kind, where the aches in his muscles wither into something a little more comfortable, and everywhere she touches feels warm and soothed.

“You could have gone to bed, Poppy, I was going to see you in the morning, anyway.”

“Missed you.” He likes how there’s no preamble about it - the two of them no longer skirting around their feelings as much, not needing to think up some other excuse for wanting to see each other. She missed him enough to leave a key under the mat, enough to stay up despite her body being overworked, enough that waiting less than twelve hours just wouldn’t suffice the desire to see him again.

He has nothing to worry about, he realises. 

“Missed you, too.” He relaxes fully into the couch, an arm slung around her shoulders and the other reaching to rest in its default place on her little bump. “And Cheeto.”

Poppy hums, and he swears he can feel her arch into his touch.

It’s quiet between them for a moment, illuminated by the muted flickering of game highlights flashing across Poppy’s TV screen, and he can’t help but feel like this is where he is meant to be. This is what he’s meant to come home to. Not an empty apartment with leftovers in the fridge and a bed 10 times too big for one person.

Poppy, on the couch, warm and receptive to whatever he can give her, slow, content sighs slipping from between her lips. 

“I’m sorry,” he hears after a beat, he gives an affirmative hum as a response before he even registers what she’s said. She uses the hand on his chest as leverage to push herself up, still leaning on him slightly but able to look him in the eye. “Are you mad at me?”

“For what?” He frowns, his heart jumping under her touch.

“For Josh,” her body leans away from his a little as she rests back with her knees beneath her. “I swear I didn’t realise that he even liked me like that, and then after we spoke last night I started getting in my head about it, I don’t want you to think I’m just out here going on dates with other people.”

“I don’t think that-,”

“I just miss you a lot when you’re not here, lately,” she admits, nervously, most likely not even hearing what he had said. “And I’ve been trying to fill my time with other people so that I don’t think about you as much and that I won’t go crazy when you leave again in a few weeks.”

“Okay,”

“Not that it actually works, I-,” her lips twist as she looks down at her lap, her hands both fidgeting between them, “I just feel like I’m getting super clingy, and with you going home soon, I don’t want you to feel like I’m smothering you or something.”

“I don’t feel like that,” he doesn’t know why he keeps trying to reassure her. She’ll listen when she’s finished talking, herself, he figures, because again, she doesn’t acknowledge him. He feels his lips twisting in amusement as she carries on, revealing probably more of herself than she had originally intended. His chest warms, weirdly, at the idea that they’ve both been apart, wanting nothing more than to be with each other, worrying that they’re overbearing the other. 

“And I know this whole,” she lifts a hand to point her finger frantically between the two of them, “thing between us is moving super slow, and I know that’s my fault, but I feel really good about it. It feels really right to me. But we haven’t really talked about it since we agreed on baby steps, and I don’t know where your head is at around everything, but I don’t even see Josh like that, and I wouldn’t agree to go out with him when we’re-,” 

He wants her to finish that thought so badly.

When we’re what, Poppy?

She sighs - another big kind, where her shoulders rise slowly and drop suddenly. Like she’s gearing herself up to say something she thinks he won’t like.

“I don’t want you to go back to Switzerland and get over me again.”

What?

Where the hell did that come from?

He doesn’t think there was even a second he was ever over her. Not entirely, at least. Distracted, maybe. Ignorant, obviously. But never detached.

“And I realise that’s a stupidly super clingy thing to say, but-,”

“Hey,” his tone is clearer, firmer than the last few times he had spoken, and he reiterates the sincerity in what he’s about to say with a calloused hand to her face, the touch shocking her into reception. Glassy eyes sparkle back at him, like rippling water under moonlight, and he wants nothing more than to dive in, to bathe in the hidden vulnerability until his skin prunes, and he’s the one who bears the burden of it. “There is no getting over you. Not then, not ever.”

“But what about-,”

“Joshua’s been doing the groundwork to ask you out for months, Poppy. Probably for even longer, but I first saw he was into you back before that auction.” Back when he’d colour-coded notes for her and stared after her like she was a mirage and he’d been stranded in the desert for weeks.  

“I told you, I’m not-,” He’s doing the same thing, now, not letting her get her say. But he has a point to make, and she needs to understand the depth of his feelings for her in the only way he knows how to express them.

“I know. You didn’t even see it is what I’m saying. And you notice when one of the guys starts using more emojis in the group chat or when the coffee shop around the corner uses a different kind of milk. Why do you think that is?”

“It tastes different-,”

“Not the milk, Poppy. Why do you think you didn’t notice the guy following you around the office with hearts in his eyes?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’ve been,” she frowns as if she’s actually thinking about this for the first time. “Distracted. I don’t understand what this has to do with-,”

“Why?”

“You know why.” She levels him with a glare.

“Wanna hear you say it,” he smirks, a flicker of his eyes to her lips that twist at the attention.

“No.”

“C’mon,” he drags out, teasingly, reaching out to tuck her hair back behind her ear after it had fallen back over the side of her face, “Wanna hear you tell me how you’re so obsessed with me that you don’t even consider anyone else.”

“This has nothing to do with what we were talking about.” She pouts, crossing her arms over her chest in defiance and trying her best to look offended. She doesn’t deny it, though.

“Doesn’t it?”

“No. We were talking about you. I’m not obsessed with you.” She grumbles the last part like her mouth is fighting the truth. 

“I am.” He shrugs like it’s nothing. “Obsessed with you. Could throw a thousand women in bikinis my way I wouldn’t notice a single one of them.”

“Why’d you have to specify bikinis?” She frowns. “Who’s throwing half naked women at you?”

“That’s what you’re focusing on?”

“You can’t say something so ridiculous and not expect me to comment on it, Nico.”

“Fine, I take back the bikini thing,” he rolls his eyes, affectionately. “What I’m saying, is that me going back home for the summer isn’t going to change the way I feel. It never did in the first place, Poppy, I was just stupid and afraid of my feelings, last year.”

“And you’re not, now? This doesn’t scare you?”

From the second he found out the news, Nico can recall a bunch of times where he has thought that he should be scared. Should be spiralling out of his mind and anxious as hell about the way his life is about to turn upside down - but those kinds of feelings have just surpassed him. He has no doubt they’ll come at some point - the panic, the fear, the trepidation - but with every day that passes in the calm of it all, he feels more prepared to tackle those feelings when they do swarm him. He’s aided by the comfort of knowing that something in his life is a sure thing.

Playing in the NHL, maintaining his role as a captain of a beloved franchise, making it to and succeeding in the playoff finals, winning an international tournament, they’re all dreams. They’re all things he wants and wishes for, but may never get. He may never lift the cup. He may get a season-ending, or even worse, career-ending, injury out of nowhere. He might one day have to give up the C for someone else to lead his guys on the ice. He may fall out of contention for the national team, have to watch from the sidelines as they thrive without him.

But no matter where he ends up in all of that, he knows now who will be there.

Poppy is a certainty. 

Even if they’re not together, if they never cross that line completely, if the baby steps they’re navigating so well stumble so far out of control that a relationship is out of the picture, their futures are intertwined now. 

She will always be a part of him - of his life. Her and the little Cheeto in her belly. 

“No.” He says it with conviction, which his chest puffed as much as he can muster through the exhaustion that overwhelms his body. “You don’t scare me, Poppy Jensen."

She watches him for a bit, trying to gauge the honesty of his sentiment, and he waits with bated breath, his gaze switching smoothly in a triangle between her soft eyes and pursed lips. Once she has deliberated what he’s stated, has assessed the weight of his words until the sincerity of them settles into her bones, she leans forward until she’s resting back into his outstretched arm, head resting on his chest as the thumping of his heart beats against her ear. 

She sighs, big and tired, and her body melts completely into his, the curve of her belly pressed into his side and her arm slung over his torso. 

“Thought you weren’t obsessed,” he whispers teasingly, pointing toward the TV, where a slow-mo replay of him on the ice is taking up the screen. 

She just hums in response, nuzzling sleepily into his side, and he tries to even out his breathing, leaning back and closing his eyes to bask in the moment.

How could he have ever thought this wouldn’t be enough for her? All those months back when he’d spinelessly disregarded the beginnings of something more. When he had thought that this would have been something she would only settle for - the girl who has moulded herself to fit into whatever shape he leaves beside him and makes it seem like it’s everything she wants it to be.

He’s never known calm like it.

On the back of a loss, leading a team that is potentially one game away from losing out on playoff contention entirely, ending a difficult season plagued by injury and turbulence within the organisation. 

He’s physically depleted - his muscles stretched, his bones banged up and bruised - and he should be the same, mentally.

But he gets to come back here, to Poppy, who misses him when he’s gone, who stays up despite her own exhaustion just to see him, who keeps a place warm for him on the couch and curls up into his side until he forgets the rest of it. 

Until he forgets his instinct to second guess either of their feelings, or the need to overthink how her words might measure up to her actions.

Until he forgets the notion Talia had implied that he wouldn’t be enough, wouldn’t make her happy, makes him forget the comments her mother had made about him being absent or distant and unable to support her, or the suggestion from her brother that he wasn’t the right fit.

“You can’t fall asleep.” She speaks slow, like she isn’t far off falling asleep herself, and it isn’t until he hears her voice that he realises just how tight his eyes have welded themselves shut, too lost in the comfort of her embrace to notice that he was about to drift off. 

“Why not?” He huffs, feeling the weight of her head on his chest when he tries to sigh.

“‘Cause I don’t wanna be blamed when you mess your back up on my couch.”

He chuckles, appreciating how her impertinence doesn’t wear off even when she’s half asleep, herself. 

And despite every instinct in his body telling him that he wants to stay like this forever, he shifts his hip to nudge her upright. “Alright,” he groans as his muscles protest at the straightening of his posture, “Let’s get you to bed first then I’ll head out.”

“Carry me?” She holds her arms out as he stands, and he swats them away.

“No."

He helps her up anyway, and keeps a hold of one of her hands as he sets off down the hall toward her bedroom, taking slower steps than usual so that she doesn’t have to stumble after him - knowing she will drag her feet, anyway.

He drops her hand when he crosses the threshold, allowing her to do whatever she needs while she’s in here without him hovering. 

“What the hell is that thing?” Nico rubs at his eyes as if he’s imagining the giant, elongated cushion that takes up more than half of Poppy’s bed, only when he pulls his knuckles away, it’s still there, sprawled out and taking up the entirety of what would be his side in another universe.

“It’s my pregnancy pillow,” Poppy follows him into the room, chuckling as she sidles past him to the bed, “It’s supposed to be really good for resting on when the bump finally comes in more, after a certain point I’m not supposed to sleep on my back. But for now it’s nice to cuddle. Nia got it for me!”

“Of course she did,” he mutters, narrowing his glare at it like the pillow has personally been placed onto this Earth to spite him. He’s been tossing and turning at night wondering if Poppy is okay on her own, yearning to be closer to her, and she’s been here cuddling a pillow?  

He wants it gone.

“It’s comfy, you should give it a go, might help you relax”

“I don’t need to cuddle your giant pillow, thanks,”

“Okay, Captain Grumpy, suit yourself,” she shrugs as she edges past him to her en-suite, and he stalks behind her, watching as she reaches to grab for her toothbrush.

It’s the rattling noise of another in the holder that captures his attention, the red handle of the one she had given him all those months ago still stuck out of the glass, and he feels the tension in his shoulders dissolve somewhat just at the sight of it - waiting there for him to pick back up again like an inevitability. 

He leans against the door as he watches her, head lulling against the jamb as his eyelids grow heavier by the second. He just needs to make sure she gets into bed okay, then he can leave. He can drive back to his apartment, throw himself into his own bed and try not to grind his teeth throughout the night at the fact that a bunch of fabric and fibres is taking his rightful place. 

“You could stay.” He hasn’t even realised she’s watching him, too, hip resting against the sink as she takes the toothbrush from her mouth. “It’s late and you’re clearly spent, and you need to be back here in the morning anyway.”

“Thought you didn’t want me hurting my back on your couch?” He hums, sleepily.

There’s a beat. A heavy silence as she levels him with a look that’s more intense than her pretty eyes allow. “I don’t.” 

Oh.

He can be cool about this, he thinks, despite his exhaustion. He doesn’t want to overreact to the thought of sharing a bed with her, doesn’t want to make her rethink it or scare her away. It’s just the two of them sleeping beside each other. It’s not the craziest thing they’ve ever done.

The ever growing roundness of her belly peaking out the bottom of her tank top is evidence enough of that. 

“Your bed isn’t big enough for the three of us,” he nods back towards the pillow, his lips twisting in mirth.

“Four,” she says around her toothbrush, spitting out the paste into the sink before adding, “Five, if you’re taking Bunny into account, too.”

“Jesus, Poppy,” he snorts, and he doesn’t know why he’s pushing his luck anymore, risking the fact that she might change her mind, but he likes pressing her buttons. Likes the soft way in which she looks up at him, her eyes going round as she waits for him to respond with a slight smudge of white at the corner of her lip that he wants to swipe at with his thumb. “You sure you can fit me in?”

She nods, tilting her head like she has to convince him at all. “We could cuddle?”

He scoffs, more so in disbelief that she actually thinks he needs to be talked into it somehow. “Thought that’s what your pillow is for?” He teases, pushing himself off the doorjamb and sliding past her with a steadying hand on her hip, reaching for his toothbrush and holding it out for her to add the paste. 

“You’re really gonna use up the last of your energy to chirp a pillow?”

“It’s hideous,” he mumbles almost intelligibly around the toothbrush, snickering when Poppy bumps her hip into his. 

“It’s relaxing.” She pouts, leaning once more against the sink instead of vacating the bathroom, watching as he brushes his teeth with a lingering gaze stuck to the movement of his lips. “You did this to me, you should be more concerned about my comfort.”

“I’m very concerned about you,” he coos, finishing up at the sink and wiping his mouth with his wrist before rinsing it off. “Lie awake worrying about you here all alone, turns out you’re snuggled up to a big, strong bunch of fluff every night.”

“Ohh,” she taunts, backing out of the bathroom before calling him out. “You’re jealous.”

“M’not jealous,” he scoffs, following her and watching as she climbs into her all-too-inviting bed. “Just not playing three in the bed with your body pillow.”

He rounds the frame, and before she can protest, he grabs the thing with an unassuming grip, not expecting the weight of it and only able to fling it to the floor by his feet - not as far as he’d like but at least it isn’t on his side of the bed, anymore, he thinks.

“Hey,” she pouts adorably, lips round and too alluring for him to focus on for long. “If I can’t sleep on that, you’re gonna have to let me sleep on you.”

“On me?”

“Yep. Wrapped around you like a vine,” she affirms, “And I don’t wanna hear you whining about dead arms or dead legs, the pillow doesn’t talk back and I’m not above kicking you out in the middle of the night.”

“Can’t see myself complaining about being wrapped around like a vine,” he chuckles, his fingers working deftly to unbutton his pants, chest heating at the way her eyes follow the movement and her lips part. He tries so hard not to let the smug smile that’s threatening to break out fully take over his lips, biting at them to withhold it as he notices her stare go glassy. 

“Good.” She mutters, distracted as he pushes down, the fabric bunching at his ankles before he kicks it off and bends to take off his socks, too. 

He moves to take off his shirt, stopping with his fingers clutched at the back before he asks, “This okay?”

Her throat bobs, and her eyes flicker from the flex of his muscles to meet his gaze, widened and dazed. She presses her lips together and nods, and he can feel the heat of her stare prickle at his skin as he works the t-shirt over his head, shaking his hair back out once it’s off.

Even in the dimmed light, he can see the warmth creeping up her neck, the flush on her chest and the tug of her bottom lip between her teeth.

That article he had found the night before flashes clearly in his head, and reads back to him almost verbatim.

With the loss of fatigue and nausea at the end of the first trimester, expectant mothers may experience an increase in their sex drive. 

Poppy looks like she wants to eat him whole.

It makes him feel like he’s on fire. 

Especially when he considers what happened the last time they were in this bed together.

If she wasn’t fighting so hard to keep her eyes open, he might have called her out on it. 

He reaches to turn off the light before he crawls under the covers and sidles up to her body, laying on his side and watching as she mirrors him, the two of them knocking knees in the middle of the mattress. 

“C’mon then,” he mutters lowly into the space between them, “Do your worst.”

“You don’t actually want me to sleep on you.”

“I don’t care how you sleep as long as you’re actually sleeping.”

“You’ll regret that when I keep you up all night fidgeting in my dreams.” Her body relaxes a little more as they carry on talking, her legs loosening until he starts to feel them press a little more against his own, and he tries to best to make his limbs receptive, adapting to her touch - adapting to her needs, even. 

“You’re still having bad dreams?”

He remembers her talking to his mom about them before - about them making her feel restless, so vivid that she wakes up still feeling exhausted. He remembers his mom talking about the kind of dreams she had when she was carrying him, about animals and aliens and weird, subconscious fears she didn’t even know she had before she was pregnant.

“They’re not all bad,” she hums, “Just strange.”

“What are they about?”

Her eyes flicker up to his, still shining in the darkness of the room, and it makes his throat go dry.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Talking about it might help,” he insists.

She considers it for a second, and he holds his breath while she does, watching her gaze go back and forth between his eyes until it settles on his mouth. “I dream about you.”

“About me?” He frowns, despite the jump of his heart rate, “Like nightmares?”

“No,” she shifts toward him, closing the gap between them just that little bit more, “Not like that, not scary.” She presses her hand to his chest, soft fingertips toying with the gold chain that sits around the base of his neck. “Sad, maybe.”

“Sad dreams?” He asks, and she’s close enough now that he extends an arm out under the covers to rest on her hip, flexing his fingers out to the small of her back.

“You keep leaving me.”

“Oh.”

Great, he thinks, even the dream version of him lets her down.

“It doesn’t mean anything, it’s just a dream. I know you wouldn’t, ‘cause you’re obsessed with me, and all,” Closer again, her hips wiggle and his grip on her tightens ever so slightly. “But it feels real, and I guess I get upset about it.”

“Poppy-,”

“It’s stupid, I know.”

“It’s not stupid,” he frowns, clutching at her with purpose now, using the leverage he has on her hip to push his own closer to her, their legs fully intertwined now. “I mean, it’s stupid in the sense that I would never leave you, but it’s not stupid that the thought of it upsets you. I’d be upset, too.”

“You would?”

“Mohn,” he doesn’t know how they can get closer, but he can only try. His legs are slotted between hers, her thigh draped across his, the swell of her tummy pressed into the curve of his waist, bare skin touching where her tank top has ridden up and it’s warm and soft and intoxicating, almost. Her hands are pressed to his chest and shoulder, short nails tickling at the flesh there when she chooses to gently scrape and scratch at him, and he could so easily inch his face toward hers until their mouths meet. “If I kept dreaming that you were leaving me, I’d be waking up screaming and crying and holding onto you for dear life.”

The smile she gives him is almost shy, and he feels his heart melting into a sticky, gloopy pile in his chest. He’s so far gone for her it isn’t even funny anymore, isn’t something he feels like he can shoulder the jokes of for much longer. It’s all-consuming, and serious, and it washes over him like a tidal wave when she says, “I’d never leave you either.”

He presses the tip of his nose to hers, bumping at it until she angles her head how he needs, and he can press his lips to the swell of hers.

This kiss reminds him of the one she had given him back in her bedroom at her parent’s house.

It’s gentle, unassuming, tame, if anything.

It might be one of his favourites.

Because this kind of intimacy with her means more than the rushed, frantic collisions they had found themselves in before.

As much as he enjoyed those, and if you’d have asked him at any other point in the day, he’d have given an arm and a leg to have experienced them again, these kinds of kisses mean more to him than that. 

They’re precious to him - provide comfort when he’s laying awake most nights in his own bed, and thinking of all the ways in which he wants to take the next steps with her. He thinks about the soft press of their lips together, and the deeper meaning of it being the sturdy foundations of something way bigger.

This is where it starts for them.

It’s about more than that - it’s about the dedication the two of them share to do things right. To take their time with each other to make sure that it will last this time.

And it’s in her lips he always finds the affirmations he needs. It will last this time. 

He lets out a self-satisfied hum when they part, half chuckle, half sigh, and she tilts her head inquisitively before her eyes flutter open. “What?”

“Nothing.” And when she leans back and looks up at him with a pouty frown, he snorts. “Maybe I should be jealous of the pillow if this is what you’ve been getting up to.”

“Shh,” she cranes her neck and presses her face into the warmth of his chest, before mumbling “Pillows don’t talk, remember,” into it and smiling into the vibrations of his fond laughter.

He falls asleep thinking about the way all the curves of her perfectly fit into the curves of him - the puff of her smiling cheeks pressing into his chest, the swell of her belly pressing into his waist, and the wrap of her legs locking him into an embrace he wouldn’t want to leave even if he had a choice about it.

Nico had thought it would have been the fidgeting that kept him awake. The first few times he woke in the night to Poppy shuffling in his arms, he had just waited it out until her body relaxed, and would subtly and softly tighten his hold on her until she settled into it - the warmth of him easing her back into slumber and allowing him to fall back, too.

He had gotten used to it after that, his body not rousing fully from sleep most times, instinctively accommodating whichever position she needed to be in until he slipped back under, and he could hardly say it irritated him - the desire to be in this position far outweighing his need for an uninterrupted, full night’s sleep.

But then the noises had started. The hums and the whimpers, the staggered breaths, the whines - and he couldn’t stay asleep thinking she was having another of those dreams.

The one where some alternate, dip-shit version of himself leaves her for whatever stupid reason. 

That brings him into full consciousness, tightening his hold on her with a furrowed brow, hand splayed out across the exposed part of her lower back, where her tank has bunched up to reveal warm skin, and he presses firmly until they’re touching at every which point of their bodies they possibly can.

Maybe in her dreams she’ll feel his presence, feel comforted, and the rational part of her brain will kick in that it isn’t real - that she has nothing to worry or be afraid about if he can seep into her subconscious with every touch.

And then she makes another noise - a mixture of a shudder-like breath and a gasp - and her hips jut forward, and he realises that maybe that isn’t the kind of dream she’s having. When he focuses on the other places they are touching, he knows for sure.

With one of his thighs slotted between hers, pressed right up against the apex where they meet, he swears he can feel a dampness even through her shorts.

Fuck.

Oh God.

He can feel himself half-hard already, he’s been that way since he crawled into bed beside her and they snuggled up so close, but this is impossible to ignore now. It doesn’t help how close they are, feeling himself stiffening into her side.

Arousal swirls like a whirlpool in the pit of his stomach, and it whooshes almost out of control when he feels her jut her hips again, grinding down onto his flesh and whimpering into his chest.

“Poppy,” he breathes, figuring he can’t let her carry on now that he’s awake, himself. It wouldn’t be right, he thinks, and curses the part of himself that argues internally. He pinches at her hip, careful not to aid her in her movements, before he tries again. “Poppy, wake up.”

She whines, shuffling as she regains consciousness, her face pressing into his chest as he just about makes out her grumbling, “Don’t want to.”

“You’ve got to.” He squeezes again, willing himself to ignore how good it feels to hold the fleshy part of her hip in his hands. He leans back a little with his neck, careful not to move any part of his lower body now that she’s awake, and looks down at her as her face contorts in confusion. “C’mon, need you to look at me.”

“Nico,” God help him, it sounds like a moan. And double God help him, because she shuffles with her whole body against him, and presses one of her thighs straight into the hardened length in his briefs. She gasps at the same time he winces, and her eyes shoot up to meet his, glistening in the dark of the night and panicked. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-,”

“S’fine,” he mumbles, desperate for her not to shuffle back away from his touch, and he feels relief flood his system when she keeps his leg slotted between hers, only separating their bodies at the top.

“Do you need to handle that?”

“No, I’ll be good.” It’s probably a lie. If she carries on the way she has been, he’ll no doubt have some sort of internal meltdown. He’ll stay hard just thinking about it for weeks. “Do you?”

“Do I?”

“Yeah, you were uhm-,” he breathes, not knowing why he’s embarrassed to say it when she’s literally pregnant with his child. They’re both adults, who have been there and done that once before - and have spent the last few hours slotted together like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. “Dreaming.”

“I was-,” she frowns, brows scrunching together and lips forming a pout around her next words that don’t quite tumble out before she gasps, her hips shifting like she has realised what rests between them for the first time, “Oh my God.”

“It’s okay,” he reassures her as she begins to shuffle back.

“Oh my God!” She scrambles away from him, the sheets twisting around her body, and he feels an almighty loss when the warmth of her is no longer pressed up against him. It makes him realise just how hard he is, now, his focus entirely on the pulsing pressure gathering between his legs instead of her touch.

“It’s fine, at least you weren’t having a nightmare-,”

“No, I’m just living one, now.” She groans, the end muffled by the fact that she pulls her sheets over her face to hide the heat creeping up her neck. 

“Poppy,” he feels a laugh rumble from the depths of his chest, and his brain works too slow to stop it before it comes out in a low chuckle, Poppy responding immediately by poking her head out with a glare.

“You think it’s funny?”

“No-,”

“Tell that to your face!” She pouts, brows furrowed in an attempt at intimidation that she’s too cute to get away with - cheeks flushed, skin glowing from the soft sweat that arose from them bundling up together for so long. “You’re laughing.”

“Not laughing,” he says through a smile, lips twisting in amusement as she huffs in response, and before she can burrow herself back under the covers, he reaches under them to paw at her hip, “C’mere.”

“No.”

“Come here.” He gives her little choice about it, firming his grasp on her flesh and reaching with his other hand to lift and pull her over, twisting his body so that they press back together and he can hold her on top of him. She puts up little protest, balancing herself with soft hands pressed to his bare chest, and he likes the way her fingers curl just a little, nails scratching just enough to feel it. She does make an effort to keep her hips raised, never pressing them fully down as he holds her above him. “It’s fi-,”

“It’s not fine.” She frowns, her nails digging in a little harder, and Nico can’t help the slight buck of his hips. “It’s not fair, I’m so worked up all the time and nothing helps and you’re not doing anything about it-,”

“Me?” He scoffs in amusement, “You want me to do something?”

“Not if you’re gonna keep laughing about it!” She swats at his chest, and he takes a hand from her hip to grasp at her wrist. “You come in here all warm and snuggly, telling me you’re obsessed with me and taking your shirt off in slow motion-,”

He uses the grip on her wrist to catch her off guard, tugging at it until she stumbles, her other wrist going limp as she falls forward, and he leans his own head up to bump their mouths together on her way down.

Poppy’s lips are parted when they meet his, and he takes immediate advantage, slotting his tongue between them until it presses straight against hers, and she responds with fervour, her body arching straight into the curves of his and hips pushing down until he feels that press of the damp patch on her shorts on his bare thigh.

She moves like putty in his hands as he repositions the two of them, twisting his body until he can lay her on the mattress, pushing down into her with the steady rocking of his hips as she lifts hers to meet his in a slow rhythm. 

She breathes soft moans into his mouth, and her legs part completely to accommodate him, wrapping themselves around him for leverage so that she can grind her core directly onto the stiff length in his briefs.

It’s heaven - the way she manages to rock herself straight onto his cock with every roll of her hips - and with the way her lips part with a gasp, he knows she feels it too.

They’re hardly kissing anymore, panting and moaning into each other’s mouths as the friction builds between them - he’s pawing under the hem of her tank top, sliding to push it further up to expose her belly, and she’s clawing at his back, gripping him closer than he thought possible as their chests press together and he realises for the first time all night that she hasn’t been wearing a bra when he feels the hardened buds poke through her top. The hand sneaking up her skin heads straight in that direction, thumb wiggling between their bodies until it runs over her nipple, the sensation furthering the arch of her back and eliciting a deep whine as she bites teasingly down on his bottom lip. 

“S’that feel good?” He mumbles into her mouth, barely able to get the words out before the pressure of her lips around his closes, her tongue darting out to poke at his. She gives an affirmative hum, and he feels the vibrations of it travel all the way down his throat, filling his chest with a warm buzz. He blames the lightheadedness it causes for his incessant need to tease her, but is thankful it doesn’t entirely ruin the moment when he follows up with, “Better than your dreams?”

“Depends if you make me come this time.” She teases back, the tip of her nose bumping his.

Whatever version of him she’s been dreaming of is a loser. A certified idiot. What kind of man has this girl at his fingertips and doesn’t finish the job? Doesn’t satisfy her the way she deserves?

A schmuck.

“Can feel you soaking through your shorts,” He has a hand on her hip that slides down, over the roundness of her ass and grips at the soft flesh of her thighs until he can push himself straight up against her core, his entire body thrumming at the way she writhes in pleasure. “How long you been like this, huh? All desperate for me?”

“Too long,” she whines, pushing back against him, seeking whatever touch or friction she can get, “Need you to fuck me, Nico.”

“Can’t,” he sighs out a halfhearted denial, to which her lips pout in response. He probably could fight through the almighty ache that has settled into his bones, he definitely wants to, but it might not live up to her expectations - the last thing he ever wants to do is disappoint her. “Not tonight, I’d last 10 seconds,”

“I don’t care.” He can tell she means it, she probably isn’t far off, herself, having gotten halfway there just in her sleep. “C’mon, you’re being mean,”

“I could be meaner,” he smirks, his cheeks pushing into dimples that she immediately presses her lips to. “You know how long I’ve waited to touch you again? When you give me those sweet little kisses,”

“Touch me then,” she breathes not too far off his ear, eliciting shivers that creep down his spine until he arches into her. “Please.”

“You don’t have to beg me, pretty Poppy.” He tells her, his voice low as he works at taking her shorts and panties off one leg at a time, her knees bending in time with the movement of his hands. “Remember what I told you before, I’ll give you whatever you want,” he presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Whatever you need,”

“Need you inside me.”

“Do you have a condom?”

“Now you ask me that?” She scoffs in disbelief, breaking out into a chuckle that quickly dies off when she takes notice of where his hands are going, pushing at the waistband of his briefs until he bears his all to her hungry eyes. Her lips part as he stumbles to kick off the fabric, and her gaze lingers as he takes himself into a firm grip and closes the distance, her lashes fluttering in anticipation. 

He slides his length teasingly against her folds, pressing into the wetness that has gathered there, coating himself in it and hearing her pleasured gasp echo around his skull.

“Is that a no?”

“Nico, I swear to God, if you don’t-,” He cuts her off as he pushes his cock into her, further than he thought it could go at first but she’s so wet that he moves with slight ease, already. She’s eager, too, lifting her hips until they meet his, and he’s as far inside her as he can possibly go, settling there as their breathing syncs and he presses his clammy forehead straight to hers.

She’s the one to start shifting, rocking her hips as they both groan and gasp into the small space between their mouths, and their matched desperation seeps into the frantic movements between them, him fucking into her in a building pace and her meeting it with the arch of her back and the scratch of her nails down his. 

He has to be careful not to collapse on top of her entirely, muscles flexing at either side of her head as he holds himself up, and she’s mindful of winding her legs too tight around him, instead working from below to push up to meet him instead of pulling him down to meet her.

It all catches up to him quicker than he would like, overstimulated by the sticky press of his chest to hers, sweat accumulating between their bodies and he feels it everywhere they touch. The clamminess of his neck under her hand at the top of his back, the sheen on his forehead that he uses to reach up to push his hair back when it starts to restrict his view of her, the curve of her belly when she arches a little too much into him and they slot all the way together. But his worries are quelled by the soft trembling of her thighs around him, and the way her mouth falls agape in unadulterated bliss. 

She’s close, too.

“So good to me,” he presses his lips clumsily to the corner of hers, remembering how she’d liked it the last time when he praised her, “My pretty flower, my good girl,”

“Yours,” she pants out, bumping her nose against his before chasing another kiss, muttering, “I’m yours,” between his lips. 

“Mine.” He affirms, his big, calloused hand cupping the side of her sweaty face, possessively. He loses his rhythm as he loses himself in her, his hips stuttering sloppily as he chases his high, “All mine. I’d give you anything. You gonna come for me?”

She nods, and when Nico gets a good look at her, her eyes are glazed over, dazed and on the verge of falling apart, and he balances himself on one hand to reach between them and press at her clit until she stumbles over the edge, legs tightening in a shaky hold around his waist as she comes around him.

He’s actively trying to commit it all to memory, the sweet sounds that spill from her lips, the delicious dig of her nails into his flesh, the tremors that travel all throughout her body as it wracks with pleasure, the way her muscles contract around his cock as it spills into her, filling her with the stutter of his hips.

He collapses to the side of her, their limbs tangling limply between them, her body twisting with his so that he stays inside, and the room filled with the noise of their panting as they both try to catch their breath.

They lay together in blissful peace for a good couple of minutes, her pointing a finger and tracing mindless doodles into his chest and him raking his fingers gently through her hair. Months, and years before that, of tension leading them both to this point, where Nico feels lighter than a feather laying beside the girl of his dreams.

He blames the dizzying way in which she consumes his thoughts for what comes out of his mouth next - but he just feels so content, so at ease, that the stupid joke stumbles out before his brain can register to stop it.

“Don’t think your pillow can do that.”

She snorts from beside him, her eyes crinkling in genuine amusement, and the way her body shakes with laughter has the rumblings of arousal travel through him again. 

“You’re such an idiot,” she giggles, swinging her leg over him and he twists in sync, making sure he stays inside her as she lifts her lips back towards his - any earlier exhaustion from either of them long forgotten as their mouths slot back together and their hips start to move again, chasing further euphoria.

Nico wakes the next morning with a sense of deja-vu that strikes at him like a bat, a full bladder, an ache that settles over him from top to toe, a buzz on a nightstand, and a sleeping Poppy beside him, tucked up against his body with tangled legs and her face pressed into his chest. 

The sun is peaking through the closed curtains, casting the room aglow, and he watches her rouse from her own sleep at the continuous vibrations from beside her. She groans as she twists out from their entanglement, and he keeps a hand at her hip to make sure she doesn’t move too far, already missing the warmth of her.

She checks her phone before she answers it, rolling back over into his side and settling next to him as she shuffles up so that they’re a bit more level.

He watches her as she speaks, admiring how she glows in the small slither of sunlight that casts directly upon her like an angel - despite the mess of her hair and the sleepy-swelling of her face. He isn’t entirely paying attention to what’s being said, watching her fingertips play with the chain that sits on the base of his neck while she talks, leaning forward to bump his nose at her brow and pressing a fleeting kiss there, content in the domesticity of it all. 

He wants all his mornings to start like this.

“That’s perfect, I’ll see you then, thank you.” She closes her call before hanging up, discarding of her phone behind her and focusing her attention back on Nico’s chest.

“Who was that?” He hums as she shuffles back up against him, his hand slithering over her hip to rest on the small of her back.

“Just my ex,” she shrugs, “I’m gonna leave you here on your own and go meet up with him.”

“Wow,” he chuckles, eyes dancing over her lips as they curl into a self-satisfied smirk, “You’ve been dying to fire that bullet, haven’t you?”

“Mmhm, I’m making the most out of my quick wit while I still have it, Luke told me the other day that women’s brains shrink during pregnancy.”

“We need to start taking Google rights away from people.” 

“That’s what I said!” She smiles like she’s proud of the way they think the same things, “It was the doctor’s office. They had a power cut and they’re gonna be running behind so our appointment has been shifted to later.” Her fingers start to dance teasingly across his chest, her tone carrying a suggestive lilt as she continues to speak, her touch moving down as she suggests, “So we could go back to sleep, or we could-,”

He leans up and kisses her with his hands cupping her cheeks, holding her firm against him as he feels her smile against his lips. “I’ll take option two.”

After a blissful morning in Poppy’s apartment, where the two of them, both literally and figuratively, stayed joint at the hip - in her bed, in her shower, no funny business, she said she just wanted to wash his hair, in her kitchen, drinking his morning coffee out of a mug she painted just for him, on her couch, snuggled up when exhaustion caught back up and they had a quick nap together, bad backs be damned - and an early afternoon spent in the doctor’s office, where they learn that their baby is now growing bones, which Poppy should start to feel move soon, and can smile and frown and squint, Nico glides through his afternoon practice with a smile of his own that won’t shift.

He has a new picture that he elatedly displays on the shelf in his cubby, the boys all getting a good look at the now not-so-Cheeto-like shape of his baby, cooing over all the new developments like proud uncles and chirping Nico for the ever-present dopey look on his face. 

No amount of jokes directed his way will ruin this for him, though. 

This feeling of rapture that hasn’t left since he first opened his eyes in the morning. The way his body buzzes at even the thought of the girl waiting for him to finish practice, to come home to an apartment that she had told him earlier to keep the key to, to kiss at her rounding belly and know that their baby is growing hair and limbs and expressions in there.

To finally say goodbye to the baby steps that he’s been taking for what feels like forever, and dive head first into the crystal clear waters of life with Poppy. Sharing a space, being intimate in every which way with one another, it feels like it’s all he’s ever wanted.

And he wants to bask in this feeling for as long as he can, pushing down the impending date of his flight back home, replying to the emails from his national team coach about the upcoming world championship games and then pretending they don’t exist. 

The idea of being in Switzerland for the summer has always filled him with joy - being home, being with his family, it’s where he needs to be after a season like he’s had - losses and injuries and all the turmoil that comes with them - but the thought of being away from Poppy, of missing any of these scans or moments with her and their baby, it fills him with dread. Her mother’s words from their dinner the week before ring through his head like a bell, loud and impossible to ignore. 

Which is why he finds himself heading for her place when his practice is over - after showering at the rink and dropping home to pick up an overnight bag, he drives over with all intentions of spending the night again. Sitting her down and talking over the potential of him flying back out for appointments and visits.

She greets him with a kiss once he’s gotten to her apartment and found her in her kitchen, rendering him stunned for only a second before he responds to her touch, hands falling to her waist and lips closing around hers.

It only drives his point further home that he can’t go too long without seeing her, now. Not if this is how he’s welcomed back, not if this is going to become a thing. 

He pulls her body flush against his, deepening the kiss like it’s been more than a few hours since he last saw her, savouring the taste of her vanilla lip balm and the way her bump presses into his stomach. 

When they part, he finds himself chasing her, pressing quick pecks at her swollen lips until she’s beaming in response, and he feels like his entire body is on fire. 

“Wow, you really are obsessed with me,” she giggles, pressing her hands to his chest to keep him at bay, looking up at him with the glimmer of the light reflecting in her eyes. “You okay?”

“I think your mom was right.”

He doesn’t even know why he said that, the words tumbling out before he can even think them over, and as he can feel his own forehead crease into a frown, and his own brows push together, he sees Poppy’s do the same.

“That might be the most unsexy thing you’ve ever said to me.” She pouts, balm smudged still around her lips as they form into a confused pout that he already wants to kiss away, “Where did that come from?”

“When she said I won’t be around enough,” he flexes his fingers against her hips, tightening his hold on her, “I was thinking about going back home before and I realised I don’t want to miss out on anything, I want to be around if you need me-,”

“Please don’t let her get in your head,” Poppy worries as her hands travel up, her fingers curling delicately around either side of his neck, “She doesn’t understand what being home means to you, she just says things she knows will sting, you shouldn’t have to fly back and forth just to make her happy-,”

“I want to make you happy.”

“You do.” She promises, “When you don’t mention my mother, at least.”

He feels a little better at that, at the conviction of her words, the honesty in her eyes, the soft curve of her lips. But the conversation needs to be had, something needs to be set in place to quell the flickering flames of anxiety that fill his chest before it becomes an inferno. 

Before he can open his mouth to carry on, she speaks instead.

“Go sit down, I have a surprise for you.”

And despite the itch in him to say something else on the topic before she completely shuts it down, he follows her command, the excited sparkle in her eyes hypnotising him into compliance. 

He waits on her couch for her to come over, and when she does, she has a small, white box in hand. Rectangle in shape, around 5 inches deep and 8 inches long.

“What’s this?” He asks when she places the box into his hands, the lid blank and closed.

“Cupcakes.”

“What’s the occasion?” When he goes to lift the lid, she places her hand over his, shuffling until she’s kneeling on the couch, ankles tucked beneath her.

“I’ve been sneaky.”

She looks proud of herself, a sweet grin hesitantly stretching her lips as her eyes dart between his, and he can feel his lips mirror hers.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” she hums, “When I had my blood taken before you came in for the scan earlier, I asked Lucy to write down the gender if she could see it clear enough.”

Nico feels his heart stutter.

It’s one of the big things he had feared missing out on, having been told they wouldn’t get a proper view of it until 16 weeks - in another 2 weeks time - at which point he would more than likely be back home. He had resigned himself to finding out over the phone - still exciting, but not the same. “But I thought they couldn’t see it yet?”

“Depends on the position Cheeto wants to be in,” Poppy shrugs, “They do say it isn’t definite, so if it grows or loses an appendage in the next few weeks, blame Lucy, not me.”

“So you know?”

There’s no way she could have hidden it from him, so far. Poppy can’t keep a secret from him to save her life.

“No. Bonnie at the bakery on the corner knows. She hid it in the frosting.”

Nico takes the lid off the box now on his lap, looking into it to see two cupcakes, a thick serving of white frosting and a round, disc-like cake topper with blue and pink writing.

“Baby Hischier?”

He feels warm all over, a static-like tingling spreading across his skin, and he can feel heat creeping up his neck. It all feels so real, so overwhelming. Seeing their baby earlier, the blurred, splotchy shape of it’s head, little features like a nose, lips and eyes starting to form more clearly in the picture. A little baby with his last name.

“It is your baby,” Poppy chuckles, reaching for the box herself and handing one of the cupcakes over to him. 

“No hyphen?” He elaborates, and he can feel his brow twitch of its own accord, catching her eye and making her lips twist, fondly, in the way that makes him already anticipate some smart-ass comeback.

“It’s a cupcake, not a billboard,” she quips, “We could do that, it that’s what you want?”

“I thought that would be what you wanted.” If it is, he’ll do it that way, but God does he all of a sudden hate hyphens. 

“I haven’t really thought about it, to be honest. Hischier just felt right when I wrote it down for Bonnie. I like your name.”

You can have it, he thinks.

“The less claim my family have to our baby, the better. Plus, it’s kind of the tradition, to give the baby it’s father’s surname.”

“Because we’re so traditional,” he chuckles, liking the way he makes her laugh, too.

“That’s true. Maybe we should make up a name, then? Say, fuck the system,”

“Hischier’s fine.” He says, resolutely, a sudden wave of possessiveness washing over him, and he only feels slightly ashamed of it.

“Hischier is great.” She reassures him, enough to make his chest puff with pride, and the smile that tugs at the corners of her mouth is enough to tell him she’s proud of her own teasing - and all too aware of his mini-neanderthal moment. “Can we get on with it, I’ve been glaring at this box all afternoon.”

“I don’t know, I’m all of a sudden nervous about eating a cupcake.”

“Welcome to my first trimester.”

He can feel the beat of his heart in every inch of his body.

He hasn’t really given it much thought, before now, if there’s any specific gender he wants it to be. He’s always thought it corny, when people say I just want a healthy baby, but that truly is all he wants.

He sees the best of both worlds - a mini him, or a mini Poppy. Half of each of them in one bundle of joy.

He’ll be in love with it, either way.

“We’ve just got to do it,” Poppy says, placing the box down on the coffee table and holding her cupcake across from his. “Close your eyes and take a bite after three.”

He nods, before cheers-ing his cupcake against hers, and then closes his eyes, taking a deep breath and waiting for Poppy to start the countdown. 

“One…” He peaks an eye open, watching and unable to stop the grin that spreads into his cheeks, already. “Two…”

She opens an eye, too.

“Close your eyes, Mohn.” He warns her.

“I was checking yours were closed.”

He makes a show of scrunching them shut, assuming she’s doing the same, and she starts the countdown back up again.

On three, he takes a bite and opens his eyes, disregarding whatever colour sits on his own cupcake and immediately watching for Poppy’s reaction.

Her bite had been clumsy, the frosting smearing on her lips, and where he had wanted to see her eyes light up, his gaze is stuck in a magnetised grip to the soft pink colour of the sugary goodness that now surrounds her mouth. 

A girl.

A mini Poppy - pretty eyes, a killer smile that he folds to in an instant, a sharp tongue that fills his life with equal parts sarcasm and light.

He’s so done for.

Before he can help himself, he discards his cupcake onto the coffee table and pounces forward, hoping that she flings hers in the same direction as he takes her face between both hands and pulls her lips into his, licking the frosting straight from them before he kisses her with all the passion he can muster.

It’s messy, he can feel the icing transfer to his own upper lip, tasting the sugar as she giggles into his mouth, and his whole body lights up with the joy of it all, their teeth clashing in a messy abundance of shared glee.

He can’t get enough of this feeling, of the sound of her blissful laughter, and so even when they part, he keeps going back for more, pressing his lips to any part of her face he can reach - her lips, her chin, her nose, her cheeks - and when they’re touching the corner of her mouth, he feels the movement of it as she asks, “Are you happy?”

“So happy.” It’s an understatement, but he’s hard pressed to think of more elaborate wording, so he kisses her again before saying, “Come home with me. To Switzerland. I don’t want to spend another summer missing you, Poppy. I don’t want to be apart from you and our baby girl.”

He doesn’t know why he hasn’t asked before. He knows it’s what he’s wanted this whole time, to be in the place he loves the most with the girls he might love more. 

“Really?”

“I wanna share the other half of my life with you. We can sort out a doctor so we don’t have to fly back and forth or miss any appointments, and it gives my family a chance to spend time with you, I can show you all my favourite places, we can-,”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“You don’t have to sell it to me, Nico, I’m already there.”

“Yeah?” The thumping of his heart is so vigorous he thinks she can probably see it, breaking out of his chest and flying out toward her like a cartoon. 

“I’m hardly gonna say no to a European summer.” She teases with a shrug, licking at the remaining frosting on her lips before she leans in to press them softly against his, again. 

“The fact I’m there is just a bonus?”

“If that’s what you want to believe.”

Next Chapter

Taglist: @alwaysclassyeagle @bunbunbl0gs @idgaf-if-youre-here @youflowerr-youfeast @thearchersstuff @bellsdi0r @wonderheartz @jjgsunflower @butterflies35 @kenziepickle @josierosie @laheyxlover @mrsmattytkachuk @dasiysthings (sorry if your tag hasn't worked btw)

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𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐬

fluff | Academic Rival!Tom Riddle | ⋆.˚🦋༘⋆ | Tom Riddle Masterlist | Masterlist

SUMMARY: When Y/N finds herself at odds with a classmate, her unlikely protector makes sure no one else dares to challenge her.

AUTHORS NOTE: Saw a headcanon on how Tom would act if you're ever in a fight.

The corridor thrummed with a tense energy, alive with whispers and glances as Y/N and a Ravenclaw girl stood face-to-face, locked in a fierce argument that had begun over a simple disagreement in Potions class. What should have been a passing spat about a misplaced ingredient had somehow snowballed into a stubborn standoff, each girl unwilling to back down.

The Ravenclaw girl’s face was flushed with anger, her jaw set as she spat, “Maybe if you actually paid attention to your own work, you’d understand why I’m right about this.”

Y/N crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing with icy resolve. “Or maybe you’re just too proud to realize you’ve made a mistake,” she shot back, her voice calm but cutting. “You didn’t even double-check your notes, did you?”

A murmur ran through the crowd, students glancing back and forth between the two girls like spectators at a duel. A few stifled gasps hinted at the onlookers’ anticipation, waiting to see if anyone would get the upper hand. But just as the Ravenclaw girl’s mouth opened, ready with her next retort, her words faltered.

Her eyes darted nervously over Y/N’s shoulder, widening. The spark of defiance in her expression dwindled as she seemed to shrink back, looking as though she’d rather be anywhere but there. Y/N frowned, about to question the girl’s sudden change in attitude, when she caught sight of a familiar figure approaching from behind.

Tom Riddle had entered the corridor, his presence as commanding and cold as ever. His gaze swept over the scene with an unreadable calm, landing on the Ravenclaw girl and pinning her there in silent intimidation. The air around them seemed to grow heavy, as though he alone commanded it, and the crowd fell into an anxious hush.

Tom gave the Ravenclaw girl a subtle, dismissive tilt of his head. His message was clear: leave. The girl’s bravado vanished in an instant, and she managed only a quick, nervous nod before she gathered her things, muttering a barely coherent apology, and practically fled down the corridor. The crowd didn’t linger long after, some students averting their eyes as they slipped away, others glancing at Tom with wary admiration, before dispersing altogether and leaving Y/N and Tom alone.

Y/N took a deep breath, turning around to find Tom watching her with a faint, almost amused smirk, his dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

“What did you do?” she asked, folding her arms, her tone one of exasperation tinged with curiosity.

Tom shrugged, feigning innocence, his expression infuriatingly calm. “I didn’t do anything,” he replied smoothly, though the glint in his eyes betrayed him.

Y/N rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “Right. Because she just happened to change her mind the moment you showed up.”

He didn’t answer immediately, but his smirk deepened, his eyes flickering with a playful light as he took a step closer, regarding her with that same knowing look. “You know,” he said softly, his voice low, almost teasing, “the only person you should be fighting with is me.”

Y/N raised a brow, her arms still crossed. “But we’re not fighting?” she replied, her voice defensive.

His gaze sharpened, and he arched an eyebrow with an amused tilt of his head. “Aren’t we?” he murmured, his tone challenging, yet the hint of amusement in his eyes suggested he was enjoying the exchange far too much. She caught the hint of a smirk on his face, one that told her he’d gotten exactly the reaction he was looking for.

Y/N felt her cheeks warm, letting out a soft huff as she crossed her arms tighter. “Fine,” she muttered, her lips twitching with an unwilling smile. “Maybe we’re… debating. But that doesn’t mean you need to chase everyone else off.”

“Debating?” he echoed, leaning in slightly. His voice dropped lower, a dangerous warmth in his tone. “If this is what you call debating, I’d hate to see what happens when we’re truly at odds.”

Y/N’s heart skipped, but she held her ground, refusing to back down. “You still don’t need to defend me, Tom,” she replied, though the firmness in her voice wavered under his intense gaze.

He tilted his head, giving a slow, almost casual shrug. “Maybe not,” he said, his voice a quiet murmur, “but that doesn’t mean I won’t.” The words were soft, almost an afterthought, but there was a possessive edge beneath the surface, a quiet claim that left no room for argument.

She let out a small laugh, shaking her head as she tried to ignore the flutter in her chest. “So, what, you’re just going to scare off anyone who dares to argue with me?”

Tom’s lips curled into a faint smirk, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Only the ones who don’t deserve your attention,” he replied. His voice was casual, almost playful, but the steely resolve in his tone betrayed the quiet possessiveness he refused to openly acknowledge.

Y/N scoffed, feeling her cheeks grow warm. “You know, this whole overprotective thing—it’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

“Is it?” He arched a brow, his eyes softening slightly. “I’d think you’d be used to it by now.” His voice lowered, and the cool amusement gave way to something deeper, something dangerously close to affection. “After all,” he murmured, his tone carrying a rare hint of warmth, “I’ll always be there to remind them that you’re not theirs to challenge.”

Her breath caught, his words leaving her momentarily speechless. There, beneath the layers of cold indifference, she caught a glimpse of the quiet, possessive loyalty he kept hidden from the world. She could feel the depth of his words—the way he would always stand by her, even if it meant he’d never voice his feelings directly.

Finally, she managed, “So… that’s your way of saying you’ll always be there to ‘debate’ with me?”

His smirk softened, a rare warmth flickering in his eyes. “Something like that,” he replied, his voice barely a whisper, as if the words were meant only for her. The unspoken promise in his tone left her pulse racing.

They stood in the quiet corridor, the weight of unspoken words lingering between them, until he gestured toward the library. “Shall we?” he asked, his tone returning to its usual calm reserve, though his gaze lingered on her with unmistakable fondness.

With a sigh and a faint smile, she nodded, falling in step beside him. And as they walked down the hall together, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that beneath Tom’s cool exterior lay a silent devotion he’d never admit—and that, despite her protests, she didn’t mind it one bit.

[jiniretracha]

ꕤ 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 '𝟐𝟒 - 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟕 ꕤ

Jung Wooyoung x fem!reader: breeding kink

summary: Wooyoung never thought he'd be so into giving you children after an evening out at the mall.

warnings: smut, wooyoung definitely has this kink irl i just know it, unprotected sex, talks of having babies

word count: 1.1k

kinktober masterlist // masterlist // ko-fi

Wooyoung was that kind of man who’d coo at babies he’d see walking down the street. He’d be muttering a high pitched hi baby, and a little wave, always earning giggles from the baby we’re talking about.

When he started dating you, he didn’t think for a second you’d do just the same thing as he did. It wasn’t something he really planned on doing, it was tiny things that were in his nature. But when he saw them on someone else, especially you, the literal love of his life, it’d send him into a frenzy.  

It all happened when you were out in search of a gift for Hongjoong, who was turning 26 in a couple of weeks. You had bought him a few pieces of clothing, some shirts and cool sweaters he liked to wear when you stumbled across the baby clothing aisle. 

You gasped, gripping his hand tightly and smiling with literal glitter in your eyes. 

You quickly ran towards a little baby girl set, a white and lilac dress that had buttons on it. You cooed as you grabbed it and showed it to him with a pout. 

“How cute is this, Woo?” you asked in a squeal. 

Wooyoung just stared at you and how you were holding the baby clothing with such a big smile on your face. 

His knees almost buckled and he quickly blinked and smiled at you. “Yeah! It’s really pretty, babe” he said, clearing his throat.

He didn’t also want to give you the idea that he didn’t want children. Because he did. But he didn’t want to give himself away at how desperate he was at giving you babies. 

Then, you got out of the store and, because fate, he didn’t know, loved him or hated him apparently, you encountered yourselves with a mom and a little kid who seemed like he was around 4. 

You smiled at the little kid and waved at him with a little hi. 

The kid waved back at you and smiled with a toothy grin.

“Oh, he’s the cutest ever” you sighed, biting your lip at the feeling that the kid was giving you. “Imagine how ours are gonna be” you giggled, without realizing you hadn’t talked about that yet. 

Wooyoung was holding himself back from literally pulling you into the mall bathrooms and giving you a child right then and there. 

You noticed the discomfort in his moves and you swallowed, cursing yourself internally at your spill. 

When you got home, Wooyoung placed the bags by the couch and you let out a shaky breath, ready to ask the question that’s been eating your head in for a while.

“Uh… Woo?” you asked him, scratching your arm sheepishly. “Can I ask you a question?”

He looked at you and nodded. “Yeah, sure, Love. Go ahead” he said, sitting down on the loveseat.

You sighed and chewed on your lip, getting nervous. “Do you… do you want to have children?” you asked and you noticed the surprise on Wooyoung’s face, but he was fighting it internally to not let it show. “Cause, you know, when I showed you the baby dress and then when I waved at that little kid you seemed awfully uncomfortable and… I don’t know, it gave me the impression that- I don’t know…” you shrugged, feeling the stammering getting at you. “Maybe I’m overthinking things, don’t- you don’t have to answer that-”

“There is nothing more than I would love more than giving you children, Y/N” Wooyoung told you with pure sincerity in his tone.  

You widened your eyes. “Oh…”

“But I think we’re way too young, aren’t we?” he asked, like he was trying to convince himself. 

“Yeah… but… you know” you shrugged. “It doesn’t mean that we can’t practice a bit” 

Wooyoung had never bolted faster towards you. 

He soon had you under him, moving inside of you without any barrier between you two. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him moan like that, so brokenly and full of pleasure.

“God, I’m gonna give you all the children in the world, babe” he moaned before biting your neck roughly. “I’m gonna breed you so good everybody’s gonna know you’re mine, and mine only”

You moaned at his words as well, feeling yourself getting wetter as he whimpered those words to you. 

He continued moving his hips against yours, his pelvis hitting your hips. The bedroom was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, so sinfully. 

You arched your back and dug your nails against his, scratching him and you were sure you were going to leave marks. 

He pushed his face away from your neck and devoured your mouth in a fiery kiss as he grabbed one of your legs and pulled it over your shoulder. 

Wooyoung found your spot as he moved your leg, and you moaned brokenly with every single thrust. 

“You’re gonna be so full of me, you’re gonna feel me for weeks, Y/N” he whispered against your mouth. 

You smiled against his lips and then bit his lip, tugging on it. “Yeah? You want me full of babies?” you moaned the question and saw how Wooyoung’s eyes turned even darker, if it was even possible. “You want me to make you a daddy?”

That was Wooyoung’s undoing, he pushed up from you and grabbed your leg, as he hammered your spot, trying to make you cum. 

His eyes fell shut from pleasure when you clenched impossibly tight around him and continued to move his hips fervently.

You needed no stimulation as you came around his shaft with a long moan and an arched back, gripping the pillow under your head with your fingers tightly. 

He moaned, feeling his length getting soaked by your orgasm and with a couple few more thrusts, he came inside of you, shooting his load inside of you in violent spurts. 

Once he was spent, he literally collapsed on top of you with heavy panting, his face hidden on your neck. “Oh shit… love, that was amazing” he said, chuckling a little.

You giggled and carded your fingers through his hair. “Yeah… fuck, we need to do this again”

“I know”

“Woo?”

“Hmm?” he hummed against your skin.

“You do know I’m on the pill, right?” you asked him.

He smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I am aware” he replied and you hummed. “That means we got a lot to practice, huh?”

── .✦

taglist: @annhearttihaehe // @frequentlykit // @alexisfeliz // @jeonginsleftcheek // @yaorzu-blog // @jisunglyricist // @leeknowinggg // @ka0ila // @minghaosimp // @lixies-favorite-cookie // @yn-x-them // @chrizrizz // @madkati // @starzystay // @pancake-freckle // @velvetmoonlght // @regardsto-hell // @jaiuneamesolitaiire // @bangchansbeanie

i apologise if i can't tag u :(

[sunonyoreface]

He Knows - Simon "Ghost" Riley Pt. 23

Word count: 2686

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, death, use of weapons, use of a knife, graphic depictions of violence, blood, military setting.

They keep him locked away in complete and utter darkness. Not a single sound penetrates the two-foot-thick cement walls. Anything he hears is a fabrication of his mind. An audio hallucination caused by the psychological effects of the deprivation of his senses. I’m sure that’s not the only thing he imagines as his chilled bones rattle against each other and his joints stiffen from the cold. So when Ghost cracks open the vault-like door and flicks on the lights, I don’t doubt my father thinks he’s seeing things. Maybe that I’m not real or that I’m visiting him from the dead or that I’ve come for revenge. All of these could be true.

The frigid air penetrates through my long sleeves. It’s just warm enough in here to avoid hypothermia. It’s like 141 is refrigerating him, preserving him until it’s time to transport him back to their main base. That’s where the real fun will begin. In theory, at least.

Ghost keeps his word and leaves the room only after sharing the smallest nod with me. He trusts me. It’s not his choice to make. It’s mine.

I think I subconsciously knew what had to happen long before I could admit such an idea to myself.

All I’ve ever wanted since this began was for the hurting to stop. Not just the pain inflicted on me, but on every soul involved. I hated the idea of people suffering because of me. Even if they hurt me and even if they hurt others; I didn’t see the point in furthering the cycle.

But that’s just it. It’s a cycle that won’t stop until someone interrupts it. 141 thinks that’s what they’re doing, but they’re just as much a part of it as the Ultranationalists. I’d never tell Ghost that, but I don’t see any other way you can put it.

They won’t accomplish anything by locking him away and torturing him for days on end until he gives them some outdated information on my uncle that’ll just send them on another goose chase. The only thing they’ll accomplish is causing more pain.

141’s solution isn’t permanent enough.

“Y/n? Darling?” My father’s voice is weak. “Is that really you?”

For a moment I think he might cry. He looks broken. Genuinely broken. He looks like I’ve felt ever since I found out about who he is. All this makes me wonder how much his reaction is genuine.

“Don’t call me that anymore,” I respond and it’s enough to tell him that, yes, it really is me. And no, I’m not here to help. I take a step away from the locked entrance into the claustrophobic room.

I wouldn’t doubt these rooms are designed to be small for psychological reasons. The base isn’t lacking space by any means. Some psychologists at some point determined that people are easier to break when they’re caged up like animals.

“Don’t act like that darling,” his tone remains on the verge of cracking. “Can we talk? I want to know you’re okay.”

He’s lying. Something about the squint around his eyes isn’t right. Or maybe I want him to be guilty. Maybe I just want to feel justified. What would Ghost think about his body language?

It looks like it takes a significant amount of effort for him to rise his head. The once gentle, yet strong man I knew has since withered. I want to pity him. Some part of me even wants to get down on my knees and beg for forgiveness. To cut him loose and let him take me back in time.

The stronger part of me won’t let that happen.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” I tell him. My voice doesn’t let on how nervous I am. The stress of the situation doesn’t seem to sink in. That’ll happen later.

“Look,” he admits. “I need your help. They’re going to kill me. Then you. We have to do something.”

Suddenly it’s we. Not me. Not I. Not your mother and I. No, she’s in New York. All he cares about is himself. I imagine Ghost standing beside me and striking him for lying. We.

“How many deaths are you responsible for?” I don’t bother entertaining his nuances. I feel uncharacteristically calm right now as I slowly approach him. My hands don’t shake or sweat. My mouth isn’t dry. My heart beats steadily. I am in complete control.

The switch blade weighs like iron in my back pocket.

“What are you talking about?” his mask starts to slip away. I need him to tell me. I can’t do this if he doesn’t admit guilt.

“The shootings: refugee centers, churches, homeless shelters. I saw videos, you know.”

“If you saw videos, what does my answer matter?”

“I want to hear you say it,” my voice is even. I almost sound unbothered by what I’m asking him to admit like I don’t care all that much. “Take ownership of your actions.”

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” he tries to change the subject. For a moment I think he’s trying to make me feel stupid. Then I register something else in his voice. Something fearful and hesitant. What is he scared of? “This isn’t a mistake you want to make.”

“You’re ignoring me. Admit it. Admit what you did to those people. Admit what you did to me. To Mom,” The tips of my boots are just inches away from his chained feet. The air between us is charged with resentment.

“Look at what they’ve done to you, y/n,” maybe it wasn’t fear I sensed earlier. Maybe the emotion sneaking out of his chest was something entirely different. Because if I’m not mistaken now, he almost sounds disgusted. “You’re almost unrecognizable,” The flare of his nostrils confirms it. “Your mother would be so disappointed if she could see you right now.”

I feel a dull twisting sensation in my chest. Like his cold hands have wrapped around my lungs and squeezed them. Breathing feels impossible as the thick muscle twists between his bloody fingers.

My heart pumps faster and molten blood races to my neck and cheeks. My calm composure is slipping and fast.

“You’re such a fucking hypocrite,” the words snag through bared teeth. How dare he try to guilt me. I haven’t done anything wrong. The only reason I’m here is because of him. It’s all because of him.

“Nothing about me’s changed, darling. Your mother’s always supported me. You would too if you knew where the world was heading.”

“I doubt that.”              

“You’re looking at it wrong, y/n. Not everything is about making the world better. But our job, our family, will make it more secure. Those people were a threat,” he says matter-of-factly. A threat to what, exactly? They were innocent. They were children.

“Don’t do that. Don’t act like you’re doing this for the greater good. There is no world where mass killings make things better,” I snarl.

“We work for what we want. We take things into our own hands. This little crew over here, 141,” he says with a measurable amount of distaste. “Is using you. Even now, y/n,” He says this like he knows. Like it’s the complete truth and to even think otherwise is utterly mad. “If you think you’re here on your own free will. You’re wrong.”

I blink. His absolute certainty is maddening. Never could I have imagined him to be so disconnected from reality. He truly is a stranger.

“I know why you’re really here, Little Bird, doing their dirty work like a good little whore,” he seethes. There’s a controlled sense of chaos to him that taunts me. I could pull the switchblade on him. I should. Just get it over with for god’s sake.

I close the minimal space between us. Only inches away yet the distance feels like miles.

“I’m not here on their business,” I say between my teeth. As I lean over him, it’s the first time in forever I feel like I am in control. “This all started because of you and I’ll be damn-“

Suddenly the tables turn swiftly and dangerously. He leaps from the chair and his hands are wrapped around my throat in a vice like grip before I can even process what’s just happened. My arms flail and it feels like slow motion as we fall through the air with him on top of me. How the hell did he get out of his restraints?

My head hits the cement hard and the sound of bone hitting rock echoes off the walls. Not just one, but two men are now strangling me and I struggle to make out which one is real.

“This is all your fault,” spit covers my face as he speaks. Redness runs up his throat to his cheeks as his eyes bulge from exertion. My hands desperately grasp at his arms to no avail. My ears ring as they search the floor for something, anything. Then I feel the tiny piece of metal, still in my back pocket.

Ghost’s training kicks in fast.

My brain barely regiseters the object in my hands as I thrust it toward him as quickly as possible while he’s still destracted. My vision is spotting as his grip seems to tighten even stronger. I repeat the desperate action several times more until the blade is lodged in his lower stomach and I finally manage to drag it across diagonally, completely bathing us in blood.

Only then, does he falter. The man’s hands reach for the wound as he crumples to the side and I take the chance to crawl towards the corner of the room furthest from him. I can’t feel anything but the hot, tacky substance that has fully saturated my clothes. My chest quickly rises and falls as my lungs fight to breathe, but for the life of me it doesn’t feel like any air is making it to them. Panic clouds my vision and my sight turns to static. Everything sounds distorted, like I’m underwater. For a moment I think that is exactly what happened and must be why I feel like I’m drowning.

Red emergency lights flash and an alarm blares in the background. In thirty seconds an armed team of 141’s soldiers will barge through the doors to address the security breach. When they see my father’s slumped body and the growing pool of blood around the bottom of his chair, they’ll look to Ghost for answers first, then they’ll look at me. There’s no hiding what I’ve done.

“Y/n, you’re hyperventilating,” his clear, calm voice breaks through the surface. My eyes flicker up to meet his and my whole attention focuses in on him. Simon. I don’t know where he came from or if he’s real, but right now he’s the only person that can save me. “Deep breaths sweetheart, we don’t have long before they’re here,” his gloved hands cup my bloodied cheeks. I almost don’t notice his skull mask. It’s not the scariest thing in the room anymore. I am.

I nod and Simon continues, “breathe with me y/n. Ready?” he searches my face before deeply breathing in, “and out,” he says through a deep exhale. “Keep breathing. You’re doing good, but I need you to listen very carefully about what is going to happen next,” I nod again and push through another wave of anxiety.

“A team of men is going to detain you and you’ll be brought to the med center. Once you’re cleared Price will have you locked in your room. You won’t get to see me again, but I’ll be watching, okay? You’ll stay there for a few days while the higher-ups have meetings, then eventually discharge you and put you under protective services,” Ghost’s thumb gently rubs back and forth, spreading blood across my cheek. I finally come to terms with what he’s saying. I won’t be able to see him again. They’ll have assumed he had something to do with this. Otherwise, how’d I get the knife? How’d I get through security? They’ll know it was him and they’ll punish him for it.

“But you-” My voice cracks.

“I’ll be alright y/n,” Simon is so calm that I can’t help but belive him.

I want to lean into his embrace, to feel his arms fully encompass my shaking frame and fully disappear into him. Does he mean it when he says I won’t get to see him again? My already clenched heart twists. How am I supposed to just accept that? There has to be something we can do.

I catch the silhouette of my father’s body from the corner of my eye and feel my breathing start to lose control again. I did that. I killed him. Even if it was technically self-defence, my intentions were already set upon deciding to visit him. He almost did me a favour by attacking me.

I’d be stupid to think Ghost and I could have a future after I’ve committed such a heinous crime.

In the distance I hear quickly approaching footsteps as a crew of men, armed and ready, sprint down the hall towards our direction.

“Simon, I-” my voice drifts off. There’s so much I need to tell him, but I’m at a loss. Under the mask, his eyes are calm. He knows. He always has.

“I know y/n,” his voice is low with remorse. The air is still. The alarm blares in the background and our faces are illuminated by the flashing red. My last ounce of hope is suspended by a delicate thread in the space between us. “Me too,” Simon’s brows furrow as he looks me over one sorrowful last time. His shoulders heave as he prepares himself for what he has to do next.

Ghost shifts back as he rises to his full height. The automatic riffle that is often clipped to his hip is taken into both hands and aimed directly at my heart.

“Simon?” my voice trembles. He isn’t there.

“Toss the weapon to the side and put your hands behind your back,” Ghost commands. He doesn’t have to yell or threaten me. I defeatedly do exactly as he says.

The sounds of the soldiers grow louder. Their feet loudly echo through the cement halls. The rattle of their equipment can be heard over the alarm as the leader of the crew yells something indiscernible.

Six more weapons are aimed at my chest as they storm the room. Five of the faceless, towering figures line the wall, completely surrounding me. The last one approaches my father, drops his weapon, removes his gloves, presses two fingers to my father’s carotid artery, and checks for a pulse. Thirty silent seconds pass, and nothing.

He is finally gone.

All their attention returns to me. Ghost remains in the background as one of the new soldiers approaches with a pair of cuffs dangling from his hands. He doesn’t say anything as he closes the gap. The metal is cold around my wrists as the cuffs tighten and click into place.

I fight every urge to look at Ghost. All I want is the comfort of his eyes, to know everything will be all right. I can’t risk it, my every action is being monitored. Even the wrong kind of eye contact can be incriminating. How badly will they punish him? My stomach twists at the thought.

The masked man yanks me to my feet. My knees almost buckle with the unexpected pressure. A wave of dizziness washes over me and I nearly fall. I barely have time to adjust before the familiar black cloth bag is tugged over my head.

Darkness.

I’m reminded of how I was brought to 141 in nearly the same state. It feels like so much has changed and yet nothing is different. My whole life was burned to the ground, yet for them, this is just another day. I am merely a small blip on their radar, almost small enough to disregard completely, but not quite.

I hope I never see them again.

[hockybish]

Reveal

l family is everything au l quinn x mom l masterlist l

October 29, 2024

With Jack and Luke in town for the Hughes Bowl, it was the perfect excuse to have the family over for dinner and a gender reveal. It was going to be just a little party with yummy food, a cake, and maybe some board games.

Neither you nor Quinn cared if the baby was going to be a boy or girl. Hattie may have had a prefference if she wanted a little brother or a baby sister. But as long as the baby was healthy that is all the mattered.

The reveal was just a fun thing to do while the family was together.

"Ready?"

You nodded towards your husband/boyfriend/fiance/baby daddy thing, to get a move one and cut into the cake to reveal if it's blue or pink inside.

"Okay. One, two, three!" Quinn made one angled cut and then another. He then slid the pie server under the slice and slowly lifted to cake to reveal the blue sponge inside.

"It's a boy!" You squeel clapping your hands together excitedly, while the rest of the family cheered. Quinn quickly put the cake on a plate, so he could wrap his arms around you and kiss you.

"A boy" Quinn smiled. He couldn't stopp kissing you. He was happy, you were happy, everyone was happy.

Once the family had there fill of cake, a couple of presents were brought out for the unborn child. Both Jack and Luke got the baby new Devils jerseys, one had "Uncle Jack" on the namplate and another had "Uncle Luke." And from Ellen and Jim the baby got a blanket and little outfit that had Fin on it.

Hattie thought the new blanky was for her. She took if immediately and started snuggling with it. You didn't want her to throw a fit tonight, so you let her have it for now.

"You guys have any ideas on names yet?" Ellen asked when the night was winding down.

"I don't know. We had talked about maybe Caleb or Asher for a boy. I don't know yet." You rubbed your belly answering the question.

"Don't worry about it honey. There's still plenty of time. And it's not like Quinn made a bet with Jack again for naming rights." Ellen patted your leg. There was a little bit of an awkward laughter amoungst the group.

"Actually, about that" Quinn grimisced. He actually did it again. He didn't make a bet with either of his brothers but he may have made a drunken promise to name his first born son after two of his teammate buddies.

"No, not again." You groaned. You scowl at the Jack and Luke who were playing with their niece on floor. They both threw up their hands in innocence

"Sorry?" He leaned over to give you another hug, you shoved him away.

[bluelancelion]

So, I've been re-watching Stranger Things S1 - S4 and I got things to say just to let them out of my system.

First of all, kudos to the Duffer Brothers for one of the best found family ever created. I love the gang, I love the later addition of Max, Robin and Eddie. The characters are clean.

But here's the thing, let's talk about characters and, more specifically, Steve and Nancy.

So, we pretty much got a weird vibe between Nance and Steve in S4, kinda heavy hinting that Steve is totally not over Nance and they might get back together.

Now here's why this is a bad move.

First of all, I heard somewhere that Stranger Things is supposed to end like a circle, so many things that we've seen in S1 might return by the end of S5 (aka last season).

IF that's true, quoting some fans theories, then:

- Robin is gonna become Nancy's bestie (taking Barb's place)

- Steve and Nancy are gonna get back together (?)

Look.

I know what you're cooking here.

Steve and Nancy started their relationship when they both weren't fully evolved as characters, right? We're gonna pull a "right person, wrong moment" move in S1 that's gonna come back in s5 because after their MASSIVE character development, Steve and Nancy are basically two complete new people.

THAT could've worked IF Johnathan didn't exist.

Cause let's be real here, if Johnathan didn't exist, this trope would've been perfectly fit. BUT-

You guys gave us the whole "Nancy likes Steve but she's not in love with him" and then you pull out Johnny boy and pretend like we don't pick up the fact that Nancy loves him?

Plus, if Murray says so, then it's law.

I don't make the rules here! He's basically jesus, everything he says is right and if that man says Nancy and Johnathan love each other, then they love each other. If he says Hopper and Joyce love each other, then that's true, no questions asked.

"But people change, and Murray could always say that as things are now, Nancy and Steve are perfect for each other."

Yeah, maybe, but then what was the point of giving us such good chemistry between Johnathan and Nancy? They've hit it off since season 1, carrying it all on season 2, had a difficulty overcome TOGETHER in season 3, making their relationship even stronger if you ask me-

Only for it to... to what? In season 4? (I haven't rewatched season 4 yet so I don't remember the details except they wanna go to different colleges, but I'm dead sure they don't break up yet)

But noooo, the Duffer Brothers want to give us a lesson. Every person in our life is important to us and they shape the person we are today. Nancy needed a Johnathan in her life, in that specific moment of her life, not a Steve. But as we get closer to the future, or the present in s5, we might find out that the character that is Nancy Wheeler in that season, in that period of her life, doesn't need a Johnathan anymore, but a Steve.

And I don't say "need" as if boys can be swapped like socks, I mean that maybe Nancy is building her future somewhere where Johnathan doesn't want to be, or maybe Johnathan is growing into a man who's goals are far away from Nancy's.

And this is heartbreaking, cause you know these causes might lead to a break up and it had NOTHING to do with their feelings for each other. Nancy and Johnathan love each other, no matter if they break up or not because what they want in life is different.

Which brings us back to Steve getting back with Nancy.

Look, I'm all in for people finding happiness, but it feels a bit odd to give us such a good couple, make them break up (and thus breaking our hearts, but no matter what, we'll still love them both because life led them to break up, not their feelings)... Only for Nancy to be RANDOMLY back with Steve? Like???

I don't know, it gives me a bittersweet taste.

Now. Let's not forget this is Stranger Things, and stuff might go fucking south like:

- Johnathan dies and Nancy is left grieving. We have a timeskip into the future where Nance and Steve are together again, fighting the grief in the company of each other. Maybe in the past, Steve and Johnathan fought side by side in the Upside Down and it was Steve who failed to save Johnatan. In the meanwhile Steve and Nancy got closer as well, so it's easier to digest their reunion if it's under this perspective.

But seriously? Are we gonna pull that, Duffers?

OR Steve dies (please no) and Nancy's right there to hear his last wish and maybe she kisses him? Like a goodbye forever kiss, they might've worked out if it weren't for Jonathan and how things went in the end, yadda yadda

Honestly, I can think of a bunch of theories about how this could go, but no matter HOW it goes, I still think that making Steve not over Nancy is a tiny bit of an insult to his character development.

After Robin, his character was peak. He was supposed to get with her (which let's admit it, we all low-key rooted for it) but when Robin's actress proposed her idea of making Robin a lesbian, literally everything went from perfect to THE EPITOME OF PERFECTION. King (hair) Steve Harrington, popular once douchebag, now single mom besties with a lesbian? Peak writing. PEAK. WRITING.

You know what could've been even more peak? Making Steve come out as bi and have a little thing with Eddie but y'all were cowards

BACK TO MY POINT. Steve wishes for and deserves a soulmate, never ending love and a family. And, in a way, he has that already through the kids, through Robin, his friends-

I just... I don't think, and I neither see Nancy being that person for Steve. And it sucks cause they could've made a character specifically for Steve to fall in love with (I know, that was supposed to be Robin but since she's not anymore, either give Steve someone new cough Eddie would've been a good match cough OR give us a new female character so he can have his dream love story and we'd all be happy) instead of recycling old characters who had an awesome journey just to end where it all began.

And I get it, this is supposed to be Stranger Things ending, right? To finish where it all started.

And again, the Steve and Nancy of S5 might be exactly who they need in their lives at that moment.

But after EVERYTHING we've seen so far in these 4 season? Nah man. Just... It doesn't work.

I'd be happy to hear your thoughts :)

[meteoramp3]

Angel of Music - Jacaerys Velaryon

Summary: Your boyfriend's cousin, Baela is planning a Halloween party at her house, so you try to convince your boyfriend to match costumes with you.

Words: 1k

Warnings: Musical nerd alert, fluff.

  Your phone was connected to the boombox that was placed on the countertop of the kitchen. “Heathers: The Musical” was playing obnoxiously loud and your throat was rather sore after spending the past two hours screaming the lyrics like your life depended on it.

  Jace was nowhere to be found, and Vermax was hiding under the bed of your room because he did not want to know who Heather Chandler is.

  But before Kindergarten boyfriend started playing, you decided it was enough Heathers for a day and picked another album from your Spotify library, Hamilton.

  You had managed to get to the 5th song, The Schuyler Sisters, before the sound of footsteps outside the main door warned you that Jace was finally coming back from his walk, which made you turn the music down.

  The door opened and Jace walked in, locking the door and dropping a shopping bag from... Yenny? Ah, he bought a book. He looked at you and waved before making his way towards you and giving you a hug.

  - “Hi” Jace simply said while resting his chin on your shoulder, nuzzling your neck softly.

  - “Hello, you abandoned me”. You were looking at him over your shoulder with furrowed brows, he shook his head. “I needed a little break from doing nothing and Vermax jumping on my back. I'm going to end like my aunt before I even turn 25… But anyway, what were you doing while I was gone?”

  - “I got the cookie dough out of the freezer and put it in the oven”. You felt him nod, you simply patted his shoulder. “They're over there”, You pointed at the table across the room and the man basically ran over said table, making you chuckle. “Do you like them?” He nodded violently before making a thumbs up.

  - “Y'know, maybe we should send you...” chomp “to Master Chef” chomp “or one of those things,” chomp “they are amazing”.

  You looked at the man incredulously and pinched your fingers (🤌) at him, “One, swallow that before you keep talking, I don't want you to drown, and two, you're exaggerating, but thanks still”.

  You walked towards the table before grabbing a chair and sitting on it, looking at him expectantly.

  -“What?”. Jace was hitting his chest softly after choking with the cookies. “Don't you have something to tell me?” He shook his head. “No?” He shook his head again.

  You looked at him with a raised eyebrow while resting your fist against your cheek. “What about a Halloween party? At Baela’s house?”

  -“Ah! That, right…” He cleared his throat, “Do you want to go?” You nodded, “Obviously, I need to get out of this house every once in a while, y'know?”.

  He saw the look on your eyes and knew what was coming, “Let me guess, you want to match?” He saw you nod yet again “What are your suggestions this year?”

  -“Christine and the Phantom or Veronica Sawyer and JD” He left out a sigh before rubbing his temple, “Not this again…”

  -“Excuse me, but you asked for it.” Your fingers started to trace the veins on his arm, trying to seduce him into the idea. “Or do you have a better suggestion?” He shook his head.

  -“I mean, the costume is not bad… But I find it corny, if I'm honest” He cringed because, how dare he? “Jacaerys Velaryon, you're going to give me a headache. Explain yourself, traitor”.

  -“The mask. It's corny and the cloak, if it wasn't for it and the mask, anyone would think I am a waiter”.

  -“A handsome one”.

  He stared pacing around while munching on your precious cookies, running his hand through his hair dramatically and looking at the landscape outside the window.

  -“I will do it, but…” He thought for a bit, “You’re making pizza that night and your costume is on you. Deal?” He extended his hand, waiting for a handshake. “Deal”. You shook his hand.

  -“Alrig-”

  -“The tuxedo is in your closet, by the way”.

  -“You bought it already?” You nodded, “Like I said, who do you think I am? I know how to sew for a reason”.

  -“So, you made the dress yourself?”

  -“Yes sir, though I bought the small clothes and socks, obviously…”

  Jace looked at you with a proud smile on his face before cupping your cheeks with his hands and kissing you. When he pulled away, his fingers squeezed your soft cheeks. His pretty brown eyes looking at you dreamily. “My girlfriend,” He said. “My pretty, amazing and talented girlfriend. I love you”. You pulled away from him awkwardly, overwhelmed by the sudden display of affection, “Jace, where the fuck did that come from?” He shrugged.

   -“Jacaerys!” The door swung open, startling you. “My dear,” Jacaerys dramatically said. “What burdens you?” You turned around pointing at the laces in the back of the corset, his hands took hold of them before pulling on them, tightening the hard material against your back. “Like this?” He took a step back to look at you properly. “Yes, Jace. Thank you”. He lifted his finger, signing you to turn around for him. The skirt twirled delicately, the slit on it letting the lace stoking be seen.

  He fixed the sleeves a bit before stopping you, “All done?” Jace questioned while running his hand through his hair. “Yes…” You stared at him before something clicked, “Where’s your mask?”

  -“On my desk, silly. You think I'm going out like this? Nuh-uh!”

  Jacaerys walked out of the room to go search for said mask, you turned to the vanity behind you, before grabbing the mascara on it. By the time he came back, you were applying glitter on your eyelids. Jace tapped your shoulder, showing the mask before offering you his arm, you happily wrapped your arm around his and closed the door of your room.

  When you made your way to the main door, Vermax suddenly appeared with your Mary Janes in his mouth. You looked at him with a raised eyebrow before patting his head softly.

  Jace was waiting outside, he was already in the car listening to Evanescence. You locked the main door, pulling on it to make sure it was in fact locked. Jace saw you over the car and opened the door of the passenger side.

  When you sat and noticed that he was playing Fallen, your right eyebrow raised in confusion.

  He looked at you and shook his head, “No, you're not playing the song by Nightwish”.

  -“Jace!”

For those who don't know what the hell Yenny is, it's an important library here in Argentina c: (And no, I'm not from here, I'm venezuelan)