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moxanji-real · 20 days ago

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♡ “Forever Yours, Stinky Baby” ♡ (A Moxanji wedding fic)

✎ One Shot, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Sfw

✎ One Piece fanfic, Oc x Canon/Self insert x Canon

✎ 6.8k words

The day had finally arrived. Sanji sat in the dressing room, adjusting the collar of his pale pink suit for what felt like the hundredth time. A soft sigh escaped him as he stared into the mirror, his blue eyes reflecting a mixture of excitement and nerves. He tugged at his tie, ensuring it was perfectly straight, and couldn’t help but let his mind wander back to the moments that had brought him here.

It felt like just yesterday that he proposed to Moxie. It had been a magical evening in Wano, the night sky painted with stars, and the soft glow of lanterns reflecting off the gentle ripples of the water. They had taken a romantic boat ride, just the two of them, floating through the picturesque canals of the beautiful country. Sanji had poured his heart out, dropping to one knee to present her with a dazzling diamond ring.

“Moxie, my love,” he had said, his voice trembling with emotion, “will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

Her answer had been immediate—a resounding “YES!” that echoed into the night as she leaped into his arms, throwing the boat off balance and sending them both toppling into the water. They’d emerged dripping wet, their elegant kimonos clinging to them as they laughed and held each other close. When they returned to the crew, soaked to the bone and grinning like fools, Moxie’s new ring glittered under the moonlight.

Sanji smiled at the memory as he slicked back his blonde hair in the mirror. He could still hear the cheers of the crew when they’d announced their engagement. Even Zoro, the eternally grumpy swordsman, had given him a rare nod of approval. They’d been through so much together—even surviving Whole Cake Island and the heartbreak it brought—but every trial had only solidified their bond. Sanji knew, now more than ever, that Moxie was his soulmate, and nothing could ever tear them apart again.

He took a deep breath and reached for a cigarette, his nerves getting the better of him. The wedding was happening on Momoiro Island, a place he had very mixed feelings about. Moxie had insisted it was her dream wedding location, and he couldn’t bear to say no to her. The island was vibrant and magical, a true fairy-tale setting that fit Moxie’s vision perfectly—but it also meant dealing with him.

The door burst open with a flamboyant flourish, and Sanji groaned internally.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite candy boy!” Ivankov declared, twirling into the room in an outrageous suit made entirely of flowers. Only Iva could pull off something so audacious.

“What do you want?” Sanji muttered, barely masking his annoyance.

“That’s no way to greet your mentor! And the flower girl of your wedding!” Ivankov retorted, clutching his chest dramatically.

Sanji rolled his eyes, turning back to the mirror to ignore Iva’s antics.

“Anyway,” Iva continued with a mischievous grin, “I just wanted to let you know… a very special guest has arrived for your wedding.”

Before Sanji could even ask who, Iva twirled out of the room, scattering flower petals behind him.

Sanji exhaled a plume of smoke, his curiosity piqued. A moment later, the door creaked open again, and Sanji froze. Standing there, looking as gruff as ever, was Zeff.

The old man’s eyes softened as he looked at Sanji. “You didn’t think I’d miss this, did you, you little brat?”

Sanji stood abruptly, his cigarette nearly falling from his lips. His voice wavered. “You old geezer… I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

Zeff’s expression remained stern, but there was a glimmer of emotion in his eyes. “Well, I’m here now,” he said, limping over with his peg leg. His gaze swept over Sanji’s suit. “Pink suits you.”

Sanji blushed at the unexpected compliment. “Thanks… Dad.”

Zeff stepped closer, adjusting Sanji’s tie with the care of a father seeing his son off. He placed a firm hand on Sanji’s shoulder, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “You take care of that girl. She’s a good one.”

“She’s not a girl anymore,” Sanji said with a proud smile. “She’s a woman. And she’s beautiful.”

Zeff chuckled, his gruff demeanor returning. “She’ll always be the girl from Baratie who distracted my best waiter.” He smirked before giving Sanji a playful bonk on the head.

“That hurt, you bastard,” Sanji grumbled, rubbing his head, though he couldn’t help but smile.

“Come on, son,” Zeff said, his tone softer now. “Let’s get you to the aisle.”

Sanji took a final drag of his cigarette, snuffing it out before linking arms with Zeff. As they exited the dressing room, the chatter outside quieted, and all eyes turned to the groom. The whispers of admiration didn’t go unnoticed—especially when they saw Zeff walking beside him.

When they reached the altar, Zeff patted Sanji’s back. “You’ll do great, you little brat. Just don’t screw it up.”

Sanji chuckled, his nerves settling slightly as he watched the groomsmen and bridesmaids make their way down the aisle. Nami looked stunning in a pink dress, Robin elegant in deep purple. Usopp and Brook followed in matching purple suits, while Luffy sported a pink tuxedo and matching hat, grinning ear to ear. The color scheme of pink and purple was vibrant and perfectly fitting for Moxie’s dream wedding.

Zoro took his place beside Sanji, crossing his arms with a scowl. “Can’t wait to see how you screw this up, love cook.”

Sanji scoffed. “I’d rather die than mess this up, moss head.”

“Is that so? Because I bet—”

“Enough!” Nami snapped, glaring at the two of them. “This is Moxie’s special day, and I won’t have you ruining it!”

Sanji instantly melted into heart-eyed adoration. “Of course, Nami-swan~!”

Nami rolled her eyes, while Zoro muttered something under his breath.

Sanji turned his attention back to the ceremony, scanning the lineup. Then he frowned. “Where the hell is Franky?”

————————————————————————

The scene shifted to the bride’s dressing room, where Moxie paced in tight circles. She was a vision of beauty in her wedding gown: a soft pink, mermaid-style dress adorned with delicate flower sequins that shimmered under the light. The off-the-shoulder, sheer purple lace complemented her figure perfectly, adding an ethereal quality to her look. Atop her head sat a floral crown of clovers, with a pink veil cascading down from beneath it, framing her face like a dream. But despite her breathtaking appearance, her movements betrayed her nerves.

“Damn it, I’m so nervous,” she muttered under her breath, her heels clicking against the floor as she continued her restless pacing. Her heart was pounding, not from excitement but from the gnawing fear that something—anything—could go wrong. She loved Sanji more than anything in the world, but the doubts wouldn’t stop whispering in the back of her mind.

A sudden knock on the door jolted her from her thoughts. She spun around, running to open it, and sighed in relief when she saw Franky standing there, his towering frame filling the doorway.

“Thank God you’re here!” she exclaimed, grabbing his mechanical hand and yanking him inside before he could even greet her properly.

“Do you have it?” she asked urgently, her eyes wide and desperate.

Franky chuckled, patting his chest with a proud grin. “Of course! I never leave the Sunny without it!” He opened a compartment in his mechanical chest, and with a flourish, he pulled out a bottle of cola.

Moxie didn’t waste a second. She snatched the bottle out of his hand and started chugging it like her life depended on it.

“Whoa, whoa!” Franky raised an eyebrow, watching in disbelief. “You’re not even gonna savor it? That’s some quality cola, you know!”

Moxie finished the bottle in record time, letting it clatter to the floor as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I needed that,” she panted, already feeling a little calmer.

“Clearly,” Franky said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You just downed that at SUPER speed. Impressive, though.”

Moxie collapsed into the chair at her vanity, her hands running through her perfectly styled hair. “I’m so tired…” she confessed, her voice heavy with exhaustion. “I couldn’t sleep at all last night. At first, I thought it was excitement, but nope—just nerves. Pure, unrelenting nerves.” She groaned, rubbing at her eyes. “Do I look awful? Are my eye bags showing? I tried to cover them up with makeup, but I don’t trust myself right now.”

Franky leaned down, inspecting her face like a craftsman evaluating his work. “Nope. Can’t even tell. You’ve got some SUPER makeup skills.”

Moxie smirked, a hint of pride breaking through her stress. “Thanks. If I weren’t a badass pirate, I’d totally consider being a makeup artist,” she joked, half-serious.

The lighthearted moment passed as Franky’s expression grew serious. He crouched to her level, his mechanical hand resting gently on her shoulder. “Alright, Moxie. What’s really going on?” His voice was calm but firm, and his piercing gaze told her there was no getting out of this conversation.

“I’m fine,” she said weakly, trying to wave him off.

Franky didn’t budge. “Don’t give me that crap. I’m your big bro, remember? You can tell me anything. What’s eating at you?”

Moxie sighed, finally meeting his eyes before looking away. She knew she couldn’t lie to Franky, not when he cared so much. She swallowed hard, her voice trembling as she spoke. “I just… I keep wondering if I deserve this. If I deserve to be Sanji’s wife.”

Franky’s eyes narrowed. “What the hell are you talking about? Of course, you do! Sanji loves you, and you love him. Why would you think you don’t deserve him?”

“It’s just…” Her voice cracked as she tried to put her thoughts into words. “Sanji’s an angel. He’s perfect—sweet, kind, a complete gentleman. And then there’s me. I’m a broken, messed-up woman who can’t even be left alone for an hour without freaking out. I’m afraid… that the clinginess he finds cute now is gonna get old. What if he gets tired of me?”

Franky sighed deeply, his mechanical hand tightening on her shoulder. “Moxie, you’re your own worst enemy. You wear this mask of confidence, but I see right through it. You’re always tearing yourself down, and honestly? It pisses me off. You’re amazing, quirks and all. Sure, you’ve got your baggage—hell, we all do—but that doesn’t make you any less deserving of love. Sanji knows you, the real you, and he still chose you. That’s gotta mean something.”

Tears welled up in Moxie’s eyes, her voice shaking as she whispered, “I just… I’ve always felt like I didn’t deserve the good things in my life. I grew up thinking I was selfish, that I didn’t deserve happiness. And now, with Sanji… It feels too good to be true. Like I’m going to mess it all up somehow.”

Franky’s expression softened, but his voice was resolute. “Listen to me, Moxie. Sanji doesn’t need or want someone ‘perfect.’ He wants you. You’re the woman he fell in love with, the one he chose to spend the rest of his life with. You think he’s perfect, right? Well, guess what? He thinks the same about you. So stop doubting yourself and go marry your Prince Charming. Make that dream of yours come true.”

Moxie stared at him, her tears threatening to spill. Slowly, she wiped her eyes, careful not to smudge her makeup. Taking a deep breath, she adjusted her veil.

“You’re right,” she said, her voice steadier now. “I need to stop letting these stupid thoughts ruin this for me. I came here to marry my Prince Charming, not to back out like an idiot.” She smiled, small but determined. “I’ve waited my whole life for this moment.”

Franky grinned, giving her a thumbs-up. “That’s what I like to hear. Now, let’s get out there and make this the most SUPER wedding ever.”

Moxie laughed softly, linking her arm with his. Together, they walked out of the dressing room, her nerves easing with every step.

————————————————————————

The scene shifts back to the ceremony, where Sanji stands at the altar, surrounded by friends, family, and crewmates. The air hums with anticipation. Brook, sitting at the orchestra, begins playing the traditional wedding march, his bony fingers gracefully gliding over the keys.

Sanji’s heart races as he hears the first notes of the song. His eyes instinctively snap to the aisle, only to widen in disbelief as Iva strides forward, a whirlwind of drama in his flower-covered suit. He scatters petals with wild, exaggerated flair, laughing to himself.

“Flowers here… flowers there… flowers everywhere!” Iva declares, tossing the petals with theatrical precision.

Sanji twitches, his eyebrow ticking in irritation at Iva’s antics. He mutters under his breath, “Does he have to make everything about him?”

But all irritation melts away the instant he sees her. At the top of the aisle, Moxie appears on Franky’s arm, radiant in a pink flowery dress. The soft light catches the details of her gown, making her seem ethereal. Gasps and murmurs ripple through the crowd.

“She’s gorgeous,” someone whispers.

“She’s stunning,” another agrees.

Sanji’s jaw drops, his eyes turning into cartoon hearts as he stares at her. His breath catches in his throat.

From the back, Zeff chuckles, arms crossed. “That idiot finally did something right,” he murmurs, pride evident in his voice.

As Iva takes his place beside Sanji at the altar, he leans in with a mischievous grin. “That dress she’s wearing? I picked it out entirely myself. You’re welcome.” He sashays into place, leaving Sanji to glare daggers at him.

Franky, striding with all the confidence of a shipwright, escorts Moxie down the aisle. Noticing Sanji’s slack-jawed expression, he grins. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” he says loudly enough for the whole crowd to hear.

Sanji doesn’t respond—he’s in too deep a trance.

When they reach the altar, Franky gently lets go of Moxie, patting her hand. “You’ve got this, sis,” he whispers before stepping into place with the other groomsmen.

Moxie steps forward, stopping directly in front of Sanji. Behind her veil, she smiles warmly. “I’ve always loved you in pink,” she teases softly, her voice carrying just enough to reach him.

Sanji immediately drops to his knees, overwhelmed by the sight of her. Tears stream from his eyes as he gazes up at her. “You’re so beautiful…” he breathes.

Without warning, he wraps his arms around her legs, nuzzling them affectionately. “I need to kiss you right now,” he declares, locking eyes with her under the veil. “I have to—”

Before he can act on his impulse, Zoro steps in, grabbing Sanji by the collar and yanking him backward. “Wait until the pastor says you can kiss her, you idiot! This is a ceremony, not one of your damn fantasies!”

Sanji flushes crimson, coughing awkwardly as he straightens himself. “Fine, fine… You’re right,” he mumbles, embarrassed. For once, he doesn’t argue. He adjusts his tie and stands upright, trying to compose himself as the officiant steps forward.

The officiant clears his throat, his voice warm and resonant.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here on this beautiful day to witness the union of Sanji and Moxie in holy matrimony. This is a day of great celebration and reverence, on which we come together to recognize and commemorate the sacred love and dedication shared between these two people. It is wonderful to have everyone here to join us today. The groom and bride would like to thank their guests for being here and would like you to know that each of you were invited here on this day because you have played an integral part in their intertwining lives.”

As the officiant speaks, Sanji and Moxie exchange tender glances. His words blur into the background as they get lost in each other’s eyes. Both of them are fighting the urge to pull the other into their arms and kiss right there and then. But they hold back, determined to respect the ceremony.

The officiant’s next words bring them back to the moment.

“Sanji and Moxie, the sacred vows you make to one another today present you with the opportunity to express your love in your own words. I would at this time invite you to publicly declare your vows.”

Turning to Sanji, the officiant says, “Sanji, you may begin by making your promise to your soon-to-be wife, Moxie.”

Sanji takes a deep, trembling breath, the emotions in his chest almost too much to bear. He steps forward and begins:

“Moxie-moon, my love, my life, my everything. From the moment I first laid eyes on you, I knew you were special. Your strength, your beauty, your fiery spirit—you’ve captured my heart and soul. I promise to love you, cherish you, and protect you for the rest of our lives.”

He pauses to wipe away a tear.

“I promise to make you laugh, to hold you when you cry, and to always be your rock, your support. I promise to cook for you, to dance with you, and to love you with every fiber of my being. I promise to stand by your side, through thick and thin, in sickness and in health, until death do us part. You are my sun, my moon, my stars, and I will love you forever and always. I, Sanji Vinsmoke, take you, Moxie, to be my lawfully wedded wife.”

His voice cracks as he finishes, his heart overflowing with love and adoration.

Moxie, tearing up, squeezes his hands. She takes a deep breath before launching into her own vows:

“Oh, Sanji… my sweet, handsome Sanji. From the moment I met you at the Baratie, I knew you were the one for me. Your perfect little swirly eyebrows, your dazzling smile, and those beautiful eyes—how could I resist? When I was ready to give up on love, you came into my life like a fairy tale prince. I don’t care how corny it sounds—our love is magic, and I’m so glad it’s real. You’re the best chef in the entire world and now that you’re not sneaking me bites behind Zeff’s back, I get to enjoy your cooking freely—and often. I’m so proud of you, Sanji. You’re strong, talented, and way too handsome for your own good, but somehow, I’m the lucky one who gets to call you mine.”

Moxies voice then cracks out of pure love and happiness. “I can’t wait to marry you, my stinky baby. And thank you, thank you for making my dream of finding love come true.”

Sanji tries to kiss her after hearing her vows, but once again, he’s intercepted—this time by Zeff, who throws a shoe at his head. “OW! What was that for?!” Sanji complains.

“Wait until the officiant says you can kiss her, you idiot!” Zeff scolds.

Sanji grumbles but quickly turns back to Moxie, his anger melting into adoration at the sight of her

The officiant clears his throat awkwardly, trying to bring the ceremony back on track.

“Sanji and Moxie, please face one another and join hands. Under the eyes of God, Sanji, do you take Moxie to be your lawfully wedded wife? By making this commitment, you are joining in the sacred covenant of marriage.”

He pauses, his tone serious. “Do you promise to honor her in love, to be sensitive to her needs, to comfort her in difficulty, and to put your full and complete trust in her, so long as you both shall live?”

Sanji meets the officiant’s gaze with equal seriousness, then turns to look at Moxie with pure love and devotion in his eyes. “I do,” he says firmly, his voice filled with sincerity.

The officiant nods and turns to Moxie. “Under the eyes of God, Moxie, do you take Sanji to be your lawfully wedded husband? By making this commitment, you are joining in the covenant of marriage.”

“Do you promise to honor him in love, to be sensitive to his needs, to comfort him in difficulty, and to put your full and complete trust in him, so long as you both shall live?”

Tears well up in Moxie’s eyes as she answers, her voice trembling with emotion. “I do… I do so freaking much!” Overcome, she squeezes Sanji’s hand tightly, her overwhelming love threatening to bubble over. Sanji sniffles and blinks back his own tears as they share an emotional moment.

The officiant smiles gently and continues. “To commemorate this union, you may now exchange rings. The circle formed by each ring symbolizes your eternal love and commitment to one another. Let these rings remind you always of that love, and of the promises you have made here today.”

He addresses Sanji first. “Sanji, please repeat after me as you place the ring on your loved one’s hand: ‘I, Sanji, give you Moxie, this ring as a symbol of my love and commitment. With this ring, I thee wed.’”

Sanji nods, his eyes shining with excitement. He takes the ring from the officiant, holding it carefully. “I, Sanji, give you Moxie, this ring as a symbol of my love and commitment. With this ring, I thee wed.” His voice is steady but brimming with emotion as he slips the ring onto Moxie’s finger. His fingers brush hers gently, and he adds softly, “Ah, Moxie-Moon… you’re officially mine now.” A wide grin spreads across his face, radiating pure joy.

The officiant turns to Moxie. “Moxie, please repeat after me: ‘I, Moxie, give you Sanji, this ring as a symbol of my love and commitment. With this ring, I thee wed.’”

Moxie repeats the words, her voice sweet but full of playful affection. “I, Moxie, give you Sanji, this ring as a symbol of my love and commitment. With this ring, I thee wed.” She slides the ring onto Sanji’s finger with a teasing smile. “Looks like you’re officially mine too~” Her eyes twinkle as she stares at him, both teasing and sincere.

Sanji chuckles, looking at the ring on his finger. “Ah, Moxie-Moon… You’re right. I’m officially yours now.” He takes her hand in his, intertwining their fingers. “I like the sound of that.”

The officiant beams. “By the power vested in me by myself, I now pronounce you, Sanji and Moxie, as husband and wife, lawfully wedded before God.” He grins, moving to the part everyone’s been waiting for. “You may now kiss the bride, forever sealing your union!”

Sanji lights up with happiness. “Ah, thank you, pastor!” He cups Moxie’s face in his hands, his touch gentle. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long, Moxie-Moon. I love you, my wife.” His voice is full of emotion as he continues, “I promise to always cherish and protect you, to always make you happy, and to always love you with every fiber—”

Moxie doesn’t let him finish. Overcome with anticipation, she grabs him and kisses him passionately. Sanji’s initial shock quickly fades as he wraps his arms around her, kissing her back with equal fervor. “Moxie-Moon,” he murmurs between kisses, his voice breathless.

The crowd erupts into applause and cheers. “You go get him, Moxie!” Franky calls out with a laugh. Chopper blushes and hides his face with his hooves. “Oh my… this is very… passionate,” he mutters shyly.

The kiss grows even more heated, and Moxie lifts Sanji effortlessly, prompting him to instinctively wrap his legs around her waist. They continue their intense make-out session as the crowd gasps. Even the officiant turns bright red, averting his eyes. “Ahem… perhaps we should—oh my,” he stammers, thoroughly embarrassed.

Iva smirks mischievously, watching the scene unfold. “Well, well… Looks like we know who’s wearing the pants in this relationship. I see right through you, candy boy,” he says with a knowing grin.

Eventually, Moxie and Sanji pull away from their passionate embrace, both breathless. The crowd is divided between stunned silence and roaring approval. Zeff, Sanji’s old mentor, rubs his eyes and bursts into laughter, muttering something about his boy’s dramatic flair.

The officiant, grateful for the pause, clears his throat and raises his hands. “Ladies, gentlemen, and everything in between, it is my great honor to present to you Mr. and Mrs. Vinsmoke!”

The newlyweds turn to face the cheering crowd as their hands remain intertwined. Moxie waves warmly at Jahmike, who grins and gives her an enthusiastic thumbs-up. From across the room, Princess Viola winks playfully and blows Moxie a teasing kiss. Moxie’s cheeks turn pink, but she simply smirks and looks away, choosing instead to focus on her husband. Sanji glances over at Zeff and his former Baratie coworkers, giving them a warm wave. Zeff, clearly holding back tears, rubs his eyes and laughs quietly to himself, pride shining through his usual gruff demeanor.

With the interactions behind them, the world seems to quiet as Moxie and Sanji begin their walk down the aisle. Hand in hand, they move together with perfect harmony, their love radiating in every step. Moxie gazes up at Sanji, her heart swelling with happiness so intense it feels like a dream. Sanji’s eyes never leave hers, his smile soft, filled with unspoken promises. As they walk, he leans closer and whispers, his voice tender, “You’re my dream come true, Moxie-Moon.”

The moment feels timeless, as if it belongs to them alone. With each step, their love shines brighter, lighting the path to the rest of their lives together.

————————————————————————

Time Skip: After the Wedding Ceremony

The guests were now seated, enjoying drinks and lively conversation. Robin stood and gently tapped her glass, signaling for everyone’s attention. She smiled at the newlyweds as she began her toast.

“A toast to the happy couple—Sanji and Moxie. May your love flourish like a fine wine and your days together be as smooth as its finish. And remember, Moxie, if Sanji ever overcooks a dish, there’s always poison in the kitchen to keep him in check,” she added with a sly, dark humor.

The room erupted into a mix of laughter and gasps.

Sanji chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck, while Moxie let out a genuine laugh. “Good one, Robin!” Moxie said, lifting her glass of red wine. She took a sip, savoring the taste with a pleased expression.

Sanji leaned closer, his voice soft and flirtatious. “Did I do a good job picking it out? I made sure to choose only the finest wine for the finest lady.”

Moxie set her glass down, her face suddenly serious. “Nah, it tastes like crap.”

Sanji froze, his expression falling into a crestfallen pout. “W-What? Moxie—”

Before he could say more, her lips curled into a teasing smile as she burst into laughter. “Gotcha! I’m just kidding. It’s perfect, Sanji.”

Sanji let out a relieved laugh, holding a hand over his chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack, Moxie-Moon! I might’ve cried if you really hated it.”

At that moment, Zeff approached the table, his burly frame towering over the couple. He gave Sanji a proud look before turning his attention to Moxie. “Well done, Sanji. And you—Moxie, is it? Glad to see this is the woman my idiot eggplant chose to marry.” His eyes twinkled with a hint of humor as he added, “Though maybe I should’ve brought diapers as a wedding gift, considering the whole ‘stinky baby’ thing.”

Sanji’s face turned bright red, and he waved his hands defensively. “It’s just a nickname, old man!”

“I know, I know. Just messing with you, kid.” Zeff chuckled, patting Sanji firmly on the shoulder. Then, he turned to Moxie, his tone softening. “Take care of him, okay? He’s been through a lot, but he’s got a heart of gold. I’m proud of the man he’s become—and the husband he’ll be. You’ve got yourself a good one.”

Moxie smiled warmly and shook Zeff’s hand. “Thank you, Zeff. I promise to take care of him, too.”

Zeff nodded and walked away, leaving the couple be.

Suddenly, the sound of enthusiastic eating caught their attention. Luffy was gorging himself on the wedding feast, fried chicken and seafood pasta scattered haphazardly across the table in front of him.

“Can’t you have manners for once?!” Sanji yelled, his eye twitching in frustration.

“But the food’s soooo good!” Luffy said through a mouthful. “Who made it?”

“Who else?” Sanji puffed his chest out proudly. “I made everything—the food, the cake, every single dish you’ve stuffed your face with!”

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Moxie said, grabbing Sanji’s arm and pulling him close. She planted a playful kiss on his cheek. “I love my stinky chef’s cooking.”

Sanji’s eyes turned into cartoon hearts as he swooned. “Moxie-Moon!” He wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled his cheek against hers, basking in her affection.

“Uh, Sanji,” Chopper interrupted shyly, approaching the couple. “Not to be rude, but… when are we going to have the cake?”

Before Sanji could respond, Luffy jumped up comically. “Yeah! When’s cake time?!”

Usopp overheard and started a chant. “Cake! Cake! Cake!” Chopper and Luffy eagerly joined in, pumping their fists in the air.

Sanji sighed, slightly annoyed that his moment with Moxie had been interrupted. “Quiet down! We’ll have the cake when Moxie-Moon says so.”

“Actually, now’s the perfect time,” Moxie said with a smile.

Sanji’s mood instantly brightened, and his cartoon hearts returned. “Then cake time it is!”

The couple moved to the elegant white wedding cake, adorned with intricate flower designs and topped with edible figures of themselves. Sanji looked at it proudly. “This,” he said, “is my masterpiece. A rich chocolate cake with layers of hazelnut cream, made with only the finest ingredients. It’s a dessert fit for my queen.”

He handed Moxie the first slice. “You first, my darling wife.”

Moxie grinned as she accepted it. “Only if you insist, my handsome husband.” Their eyes locked lovingly as she took a bite. Her elegant demeanor slipped as she exclaimed, “Holy shit, this is delicious!”

Sanji laughed, only to have Moxie suddenly shove a forkful of cake into his mouth. He looked startled but quickly chewed and swallowed. “Wow,” he said smugly, “I really outdid myself this time.”

Moxie smirked and smeared a bit of frosting on his face.

“Moxie!” he exclaimed, blushing furiously.

Luffy’s eyes lit up. “Food fight!” he shouted, rushing toward the cake.

“Absolutely not!” Sanji and Zeff yelled in unison.

Luffy froze, pouting as he trudged back to his seat. “Lame,” he muttered.

Meanwhile, Moxie leaned in and licked some frosting off Sanji’s cheek. His face turned bright red as his nose began to bleed. “Moxie-Moon!” he stammered, his eyes returning to heart shapes.

“What? I like my Sanji face cake,” she teased.

“Oh, Moxie…” Sanji wrapped his arms around her and kissed her deeply, much to the cheers and laughter of their guests.

Eventually, everyone got their slice of cake and settled back down. Moxie watched Sanji animatedly describe the cake’s rich flavors to his old Baratie coworkers, his passion for cooking shining brightly.

Nami approached Moxie from behind, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Hey,” she said softly.

Moxie turned to face her, a bit surprised but smiling. “Oh, hey, Nami!”

Nami hesitated for a moment, her usual cool demeanor faltering. “I just wanted to say… I’m really happy for you two. Sanji really needed someone like you in his life. And, well… maybe you needed him too.” Her cheeks turned slightly pink as she quickly added, “Not that I’m getting all sentimental or anything.”

Moxie’s eyes softened as she looked at Nami. “That means a lot, Nami. Thank you.” She grinned and leaned in to pull her into a warm hug. Nami stiffened at first, clearly unused to the display of affection, but then awkwardly patted Moxie on the back.

As they pulled apart, Moxie chuckled. “You know, I used to think you were my competition for Sanji.”

Nami’s eyes widened for a split second before she scoffed dramatically, flipping her hair. “Over my dead body! That perverted cook is all yours. Trust me, I’m not cut out for dealing with him.” She smirked, crossing her arms. “Though I guess I shouldn’t be saying that since he’s your husband now.”

Moxie laughed, her eyes crinkling with amusement. “Oh, I know he’s a handful. And a total pervert. But…” She turned her gaze toward Sanji, who was animatedly talking with his old Baratie coworkers. His face lit up with passion as he described the layers of the cake, his hands gesturing excitedly. “He’s my pervert. And I wouldn’t trade him for the world.”

Nami followed her gaze, watching Sanji wave enthusiastically when he noticed Moxie looking at him. His lovestruck grin was as bright as ever.

Nami shook her head with a small smirk. “You two are disgustingly perfect for each other.” She nudged Moxie playfully. “Go on, lovebird. Your stinky chef is waiting.”

Moxie laughed, her cheeks warming. “Thanks, Nami. For everything.”

Without another word, Moxie made her way across the room, weaving between guests. As she approached Sanji, his eyes lit up even more, and he extended a hand toward her. She took it without hesitation, letting him pull her close.

“There you are, my Moxie-Moon,” Sanji said, his voice low and filled with affection.

“Here I am,” Moxie replied, smiling up at him. She leaned in, resting her forehead against his. “And there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Sanji wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. “Moxie,” he whispered, “you’re my everything.”

The two swayed gently together, lost in their own little world, as the rest of the wedding celebration carried on around them.

————————————————————————

It was nighttime now, and the sounds of lively music filled the air. Soft pink and purple lights illuminated the venue, casting a dreamy glow over the celebration. Everyone was enjoying themselves, drinks flowing and laughter echoing in the night. On the dance floor, Moxie and Brook were having a silly dance-off, twirling and spinning with exaggerated movements. Brook spun her dramatically, and she let out a playful laugh—until she found herself caught by Sanji’s steady hands.

“May I have this dance?” Sanji asked, his deep blue eyes locking onto hers, sparkling with the undeniable love he felt for her.

Moxie’s lips curled into a soft smile as she gazed back at him, her green eyes shimmering. “You may,” she said, placing her hand in his and allowing him to pull her closer.

The music shifted into a slow, romantic melody as Sanji wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a gentle sway. They danced in perfect harmony, their movements fluid and natural as if the world around them had melted away.

“You have the most beautiful green eyes,” Sanji said softly, his voice tender as he stared into them. He’d told her this countless times before, but every time he said it, he meant it more than the last.

Moxie blushed faintly, lowering her gaze for a moment. “You always say that… and yet, you still manage to fluster me every single time.” She let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head at how easily he made her heart flutter.

Sanji gently lifted her chin with his fingers, his touch warm and reassuring. “Don’t look down, mon amour. Let me admire them just a little longer.” His voice was a quiet murmur, and the way he looked at her made her feel like the only woman in the world.

As they stared into each other’s eyes, the moment was suddenly interrupted by the loud ping of a button flying off Franky’s suit. It hit Usopp square in the eye.

“Oops! My bad, bro—!” Franky said, rushing over to the now-fuming sniper. “Can I get you a nice iced cola for that eye?” He pulled out a cola from his chest compartment and handed it over.

Usopp snatched it with a scowl, pressing the cold can to his face. “This is just great…” he muttered under his breath, clearly annoyed.

Moxie couldn’t help but laugh at the situation, and Sanji let out a resigned sigh. He was glad she found it funny, but he had really hoped for an uninterrupted moment with her.

Mimi, the ship’s tailor and Franky’s girlfriend, strolled over with a playful smirk. “How many times do I have to fix this for you?” she teased, feigning exasperation as she pulled out a needle and thread from her purse. She began sewing the button back onto his suit while Franky chuckled nervously.

Moxie turned her attention back to Sanji, her laughter fading into a soft smile. She leaned in and gave him an Eskimo kiss, rubbing her nose gently against his. Sanji’s pout instantly melted into a smile, and he gave her one in return.

“My stinky baby…” she said affectionately, her voice warm and teasing.

“My Moxie-Moon…” he replied, nuzzling his nose against hers.

They continued to dance together under the soft lights, stealing precious moments of intimacy before eventually sneaking away from the crowd. Hand in hand, they wandered to a quiet bench under the starry sky, the twinkling lights above creating the perfect romantic backdrop.

Sanji sighed contentedly, looking up at the heavens. “You know, Moxie… the stars don’t hold a candle to you. You’re the brightest thing in my world.”

Moxie laughed at his earnest attempt at flirting. “You’re so cheesy, baby,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder. “But I love you for it.”

Sanji smiled, interlocking his fingers with hers. “I’m cheesy for you, mademoiselle,” he murmured, leaning his head gently on top of hers.

A comfortable silence settled between them, the night enveloping them in its quiet embrace, until Moxie broke it. “I can’t wait for our honeymoon in Dressrosa…” she said with a soft sigh, her voice tinged with excitement.

Sanji smirked, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Neither can I, my love. Just don’t blame me if we don’t leave the hotel room for a while…”

Moxie gasped and playfully punched his shoulder. “Pervert!” she scolded, though a teasing grin spread across her face. “But you’re my pervert.” She leaned in and gave his cheek a light bite, causing him to wince slightly.

“That’s right. I’m your perv—hey! I’m a gentleman!” Sanji protested with a pout.

Moxie smirked, her eyes sparkling. “Can’t you be both?” she teased, tilting her head.

Sanji couldn’t help but smile at her, his heart full to bursting. He pulled her into a deep kiss, one hand cupping her cheek as he poured every ounce of love he felt into the gesture. When they pulled apart, he gazed into her eyes with an intensity that made her blush.

“How could I not be a little perverted when I married such a gorgeous fox?” he said, his voice dripping with adoration.

Moxie’s cheeks flushed bright red. Before she could respond, Sanji’s expression turned serious. He pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with a flick of his lighter before taking a slow drag. “Franky told me what you said to him earlier…” he began, exhaling a puff of smoke.

Moxie stiffened slightly, caught off guard.

“And I want to make one thing clear,” he continued, his tone low and firm. “You deserve me, Moxie. There’s never been a second where you didn’t. If anything, I don’t deserve you. You’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met. You’ve given me a happiness I didn’t think was possible.”

Moxie’s eyes filled with tears, her bottom lip trembling. “Sanji…” she whispered, her voice shaking. She flung her arms around him, burying her face in his chest as sobs wracked her body.

Sanji’s eyes widened in panic. “You’re going to ruin your makeup!” he exclaimed, his voice rising in alarm.

“To hell with my makeup!” Moxie shot back, looking up at him with mascara streaking down her face. Her voice was filled with raw emotion. “Can’t you just… stop making me love you more than I already thought was possible?”

Before he could respond, she grabbed him and kissed him fiercely, her tears mixing with their kiss. Sanji was momentarily stunned but quickly melted into it, holding her tightly as if she might disappear. When they finally pulled apart, both were left breathless, their foreheads resting against each other’s.

“I love you,” they both said at the same time, their voices blending in perfect unison.

They stared at each other in surprise before bursting into laughter.

Moments later, Jinbe appeared, clearing his throat gently. “Ah, Moxie and Sanji, the guests were wondering where the bride and groom disappeared to. I was sent to find you, but I can give you a moment longer if you need it.”

Moxie smiled and stood, brushing off her dress. “Nah, we’re good to head back.” She glanced down at Sanji, extending a hand to him. “What about you, stinky baby?”

Sanji’s eyes turned into cartoon hearts as he grabbed her hand. “Anything for my Moxie-Moon~”

With their fingers interlocked, they followed Jinbe back to the wedding venue, ready to rejoin the celebration. As they walked, the night sky sparkled above them, a perfect reflection of the love they shared.

The end.

Tag list:

@frankys-wife @jahmikexnami (you didn’t ask to be tagged but you’re a part of my fic. Even if it’s a very small one. I like to add cameos of my friends in my writings sometimes)

@flusteredladylover @lances-wife

#selfship community #selfship #self ship community #romantic f/o #moxanji #self ship #yume community #self ship writing #self ship fanfiction #self shipping #self shipper #sanji x self insert #sanji x oc #one piece selfship #one piece oc x canon #thank you guys for all your support on Moxie and Sanji’s relationship #Knowing that there are people out there that support my ship means everything to me.#they are my whole world and so much more #thank you once again 😔💞

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bratbarzal · 18 days ago

Text

On Your Side (NH13) / Chapter Eleven

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy Jensen

WC: 17k (I've literally been calling this a short filler hahahahaha)

18+ MDNI!!

Chapter Warnings: unbearable amounts of fluff like you're gonna think is this girl okay??? the answer, as you should already know, is no. I honestly think it's just fluff.... and bad smut. oral (fem receiving, very briefly) and p in v. mentions of jealousy I think. cheeto gets a name finally but honestly.... she's cheeto forever let's not forget. discussions around marriage and more babies. yeah - fluffy fluff.

Series Masterlist

Previous Part (Chapter Ten)

A/N: remember the good old days when I uploaded a chapter like every 10 days??? remember me trying to beat the week-ish allegations??? I can’t tell if me struggling to finish this fic is bc I’m worried it’s getting samey and boring or bc I don’t want to let them go but i need to get over myself!!! sorry for the wait on this one!!! I kind of veered off the path that I planned out for the end of this story, I was really adamant I didn’t want something to happen, but it doesn’t really make sense for the relationship and characters I’ve written for it NOT to happen, so pls bear with me while I figure these last couple of chapters out!! I know a few people have discovered this fic recently so thank you for reading!! I promise I do love these two as much as I haven't acted like it the last couple of months!!

BUT ANYWAY!!! MORE IMPORTANTLY!!!!! this chapter is dedicated to my bestie Rory!! it was her birthday on Monday and if I'm honest I don't know if I would have made it this far without her!! she sends me full chapter breakdowns every time I post and she loves Poppy and Nico as much as I do - literally if I perish, she will take the reins!!! she knows everything!!! I accidentally spoiled the gender to her forever ago, and she helped me figure out Cheeto's name (as well as the name cheeto lmao) and we compared lists and literally had the same number one and the same reason we are that connected!! @h1sch13r I love you so much I couldn't possibly put into words how much I appreciate you!! happy belated birthday capricorn queen!!

Nico

Ever since he moved to the states, summers in Switzerland have always been the best part of Nico’s year.

Spending much needed time with his family - staying with his parents for days at a time, back in his childhood home, eating his mother’s cooking and hanging out with his dad, and annual trips with his siblings, where the three of them got to spend a week together pretending like their lives hadn’t taken them away from each other.

Despite the chaos that came as hockey season came to a close, he always looked forward to coming home.

And last year, when he had done so after one of the most heartbreaking moments of his career, he had endured what he now considers the worst summer of his life.

And it was all because of Poppy.

He can see it so much clearer with hindsight, how he had taken himself so far off the beaten path just to avoid his feelings for her, and experiencing a summer with her only makes him regret it more.

Last year, he had come home in a slump, and he had thought, at the time, it was the noise of being knocked out of the playoffs and a brief appearance at the world championships that was lingering. He thought he was exhausted, and remorseful, and that it was the failure of carrying his teams any further that was making him feel so down.

And so he had tried his best to do things that made him feel the opposite.

He bought an apartment, not too far from his family that he felt distant, but enough so that he could be independent when he came back. And he had tried to make it feel like home - furnished nice, with personal belongings from his parent’s house that made the place feel like his, and not some rental he had no place making feel like forever.

He went on more trips with his friends, weekends away, music festivals, sporting events, and made a point of saying yes to things he might usually have turned down.

And that had been what led him to Talia - to being blinded by what probably should have stayed a summer fling, in lieu of sparing a thought to adoring eyes looking back at him from booths in bar corners, and a girl that, in the back of his mind, he had always wanted to be forever, too.

He had missed Poppy more than he ever could have realised at the time - and had fallen victim to abiding by their usual routine of radio silence in the summer, without realising that they had grown way too much since the year before to seriously keep that up.

He wishes he’d have texted her or something, back then. Commented on an instagram post, responded to a story, or called her, even. Her voice might have deterred him from ever trying to move on, and it could have saved the two of them so much time and heartache from what came as a result of that.

But maybe then she wouldn’t be here now, belly round with his child, sat out on the terrace in the back yard of his childhood home, schooling his big brother at Uno. Maybe he wouldn’t come down the stairs in the morning to the sounds of her laughing with his dad, helping him prepare breakfast for the family and asking him questions about what constitutes being offside in soccer when he’d sit down to watch Switzerland play their international games and she’d join him to try get into it, herself.

Maybe she wouldn’t go on shopping trips with his sister, and come back with bagfuls of baby clothes that she holds up to her front as she shows them all to Nico in their room, and make comments about how she can’t believe that something so big can grow from her belly.

Maybe she would still be someone he always wants to keep to himself, instead of sharing her with the people he loves the most in this world, only to have his love grow for her even more - and maybe that’s not how he ever wanted things to be.

So maybe he had to suffer through the facade he put on last summer to get to where he is now, content in every possible aspect of his life, wrapped up under the bedsheets, muttering random stories to Poppy’s belly as she sleeps, the side of his finger caressing the soft skin as he anticipates whatever movement happens inside her that is going to rouse her from whatever sweet dreams he hopes she’s having.

“What are you doing?”

There’s a brief flash of light before Poppy joins him under the covers, pulling the sheet over her head to shield them from the morning sun’s intrusion before she looks down at where he’s resting beside her belly.

Her eyes are narrowed like they’re trying to fight consciousness, and her face is swollen in that adorable way it gets in the mornings, puffy and plump, and he wants to kiss it all over.

She’s so beautiful, and she’s his, and it warms his heart every time he gets to wake up to her.

“Having a private conversation with my daughter, if you don’t mind,” he smiles up to her, soft and teasing, before she kicks him gently and shuffles her way out from under the covers.

“You made her make me want to pee,” she huffs, feet padding across the room to the en suite, where she leaves the door open as she empties her bladder, and he re-situates himself back against the pillows at the top of the bed, one arm behind his head, so he can watch her when she makes her way back.

Her bump is big enough now that she almost waddles, 6 weeks of eating his mother’s cooking, and all the incredible food they have tried in restaurants he has told her about over the years, and she had really popped in no time - and it’s the sexiest Nico thinks she’s ever been. Nose and lips constantly swollen with water retention, her voice changing, Nico witnessing the ever-growing struggle that she refuses to acknowledge - but she does everything so effortlessly, and without much complaint, that he finds it all endearing.

His eyes are drawn to her belly every time he sees her, chest puffing with pride when he takes notice of the speedy growth of it, and he fixates on it for as long as she’ll let him - usually swatting at his chest and telling him to knock it off with a telltale flush to her cheeks whenever they’re around others.

Sharing his part of the world with her these last six weeks have been pure bliss, and as she ambles her way back over to where he lays, he can’t help but be grateful for whatever led him to this - to her crawling back into bed and straight into his arms.

“I want you to teach me your language.” She mumbles into his chest, her body curved into his, legs tangling immediately as his arms circle around her.

“The language of love?” He asks with a wiggle of his brows, leaning in to kiss her lips, laughing against them as he feels them frown,

“Don’t be gross you know what I mean,” she sighs, lips fighting a smile, and he kisses her again, helping her hook her leg properly over his so she can straddle him, her bump settling between the two of them as she relaxes over his hips. “Swiss-German isn’t on Duolingo, I checked. And I can’t have you and Cheeto conspiring against me in words I don’t understand, that’s not fair.”

She looks so cute, all pouty and pleading, and as the gravity of what she’s asking weighs down on him, he breaks out into a dreamy smile, himself.

He can’t think of any other person who had wanted to speak his language. Too complicated for most, with too many dialects to grasp properly, he has always adapted to what the people around him need. English, back in the states, which he likes to think he has mastered by now, but he still trips up on the odd word, here and there.

Some Italian, some French. Odd bits of Czech and Swedish.

And German - he and Talia always spoke in plain German.

It had never really bothered him, until now - until he has a girl on his lap, willing to learn something for him, and so their daughter can learn it too - passing his culture down another generation and sharing it with the love of his life.

“What do you want to know?” He asks, hands on her hips as she runs hers along the broad expanse of his chest, fingers trailing on the little patch of hair on his chest that she’s always drawn too, holding him in place so she can lean in and kiss him, herself.

“Everything,” she whispers against his skin, lips pressing back to the corner of his mouth. “You can teach me, right?”

“Yeah,” he shuffles his hips beneath her so she rests a little more comfortably, “I can teach you.”

He reaches up to move her hair behind her neck, leaning to press a kiss on the bare skin there, edging the strap of her bra down so that he can mutter the word for shoulder against the curve of hers, and she repeats it back to him, breathy and distant.

He does the same along her collarbone, against her neck, nipping at her jaw and her cheek.

He distracts her with his teachings, and she relays each word back almost perfectly as he slowly repositions the two of them, laying her up against the pillows so she isn’t flat on her back, and pressing kisses down her body.

With fingers grasped firmly around her calf, he lifts her leg slowly so that he can perch it over his shoulder, pecking at the side of her knee and barely just making eye contact over the curve of her bump. “You’re a fast learner, Mohn,” he praises, fingers tickling up and down her leg as she straightens her back to try and watch him as his face moves upward. “Can you remember what shoulder was?”

“Not with you between my legs like that,” she huffs, her voice just above a whisper - too used to keeping her responses low whenever the two of them have been staying at his parent’s house instead of his apartment, too used to holding back and releasing frustrated groans into the broad expanse of his chest.

The two of them had gotten creative, most of their time spent around Nico’s friends and family, only a few days here and there alone in his apartment.

Quickies in the car, fumbling hands under tables, rushed kisses whenever they get a second to themselves. There had even been a time where Poppy sought him out in the sauna.

“Should you be in here?” He had asked, straightening on the bench and running a hand through his hair as she came in and shut the door behind her, eyes on his glistening chest as she slowly made her way forward.

“Google says I’m good for 10 minutes,” she shrugged, reaching back to untie the straps of her bikini top. “Figured you’re so riled up you’ll only need 2 anyway.”

He had been training with Luca most of the day, leaving Poppy to hang with his sister, and the two of them had spent the entire time they were apart texting each other teasing messages about how much they missed each other - but were staying with his family again, and so the outdoor sauna he and his brother had built in the garden a couple of years ago was probably their best bet for privacy at that point.

Nico’s eyes flickered to the clock above the door, making a mental note of the time so he could make sure she was out in 8 minutes max, before helping her guide herself onto his lap, giving into both of their frustrations for as long as Poppy’s Googling would allow them.

“You might have to teach me again when you get back from your trip.” She tells him, spreading her legs as much as she can to accommodate his figure. He’d feel guilty for leaving her behind with his family if she hadn’t been the one to push him to go away training for a week - him and Luca accepting after her insistence that she’d be fine in the company of his parents and his sister.

“We can do that,” he chuckles, his voice low, too. “And again the day after,” he kisses a little further up, twisting at her calf to reveal the inside of her thigh, “And the day after that,” and again, even further.

“Nico,” she sighs, face scrunching, eyes fluttering shut as he glances up at her one more time, his face concealed now by the curve of her belly and relying on her subdued sounds to gauge her pleasure.

Poppy’s back arches about as much as it can as Nico closes in on the apex of her thighs, a finger hooked through the bottom of her panties, pulling them to the side as he nips at the top of her thigh, anticipation building until her hand finds purchase on the back of his head.

He lays his tongue flat against her glistening folds, bringing it up to get a taste of the heaven between Poppy’s legs, and relies on her breathy gasps and the buck of her hips to guide him to pleasure her just how she likes, lips around the bundle of nerves that makes her jolt when he sucks a little too hard, moving slowly, teasingly at first before hunger takes over.

He can’t relent until he feels her legs trembling at either side of his head, Poppy’s body slithering beneath him as his tongue works between her folds, and he can taste nothing but her sweet arousal.

He almost loses himself in her before he distantly hears a whisper of his name, ears perking at the tone in her voice - not like the usual pleasured gasp or moan, just slightly off.

“Babe, stop,” Poppy whines, fingers clutched in his hair as he withdraws from her heat, pulling back enough to check on her over her belly.

“You okay?” He frowns, hand gripping her thigh, thumb rubbing soothingly as he takes in her frustrated expression.

“No,” she pouts, “I can’t see you. I don’t like not seeing you.”

Nico pokes his tongue to the side of his cheek to stop himself laughing, feeling her fingers loosen their grip on the strands of hair in their hold enough that he can sit up a little. “Do we need to get a little creative with mirrors, or something?”

“No, I need you to come up here.”

“But I like it down here.” He sighs in faux-protest, leaning his cheek against her knee as their gazes meet.

Poppy narrows her beautiful eyes at him, and there’s no stopping the smile after that. “My back hurts like this,” she huffs, “And I don’t want your mouth right now.”

“Well if you were patient, I would have used my fingers, too,” he chuckles, retreating entirely so he can crawl up the bed.

“Don’t want your fingers either.” She starts making grabby hands when he gets closer, until he follows her guidance, holding himself up to the side of her and letting her pull him in to press their lips together.

“Greedy,” he teases into her mouth, just as one of her hands drops to tug at the waistband of his boxers. He can’t blame her for wanting more, though - not with the way they’ve both been chasing every little pleasure where they can over the past 6 weeks, and not with how he’s set to spend a week away for training with his friends.

Poppy’s hormones are yet to dissipate, and all he wants is to please her, so he lets her pull at his underwear with ease, distracting him with the swipe of her tongue against his, and the soft little moans she lets into his mouth as he works at her underwear, himself.

“You wanna go on your side?” He mumbles between her lips, remembering the position they had ended up the last time, Poppy unable to lay on her back too long, and her bump now getting in the way if she wanted to straddle him. He was too nervous for her to get on all fours, despite her protests that she could handle not collapsing onto her front, and they had ended up spooning. He had enjoyed it way more than he ever thought he would if anyone had told him months ago that being behind her on his side would have become their default position.

“Mmhm,” she hums, nodding frantically as they position themselves, his hands guiding her to comfort as she lays on her side, hair tucked behind her ear so he can press his lips to the curve of her neck before sinking into her from behind, her back arched just right to make it easy for him.

“Fuck,” he groans under his breath as he pushes himself in to the hilt, Poppy squeaking, her arm bent back and nails digging into his shoulder, “You feel so good, baby.”

She feels tight and warm around him, in a way that makes him feel like his head might explode in pure bliss, and he presses his chest straight to her back. Their skin sticks together with perspiration, clamminess building as he starts to move, and her head falls back, baring the elongated slope of her neck for him to bury his nose into.

She smells so good, even after a full night tossing and turning in his arms, and the ever-present scent of his body wash lingers in the depths of her skin, Nico inhaling fully as her hips press back onto his, a slow rhythm building.

He holds himself up with an elbow against the mattress, his other arm curling over her waist, hand reaching between her legs to rub at her clit, slick with arousal and swollen from his previous attention to it, causing her legs to tremble again.

Her arm tangles with his, nails scraping at his skin, pushing to apply more pressure where she needs it the most, and he grunts lowly into her neck, nipping at her skin and lifting his chin every now and then to gauge her response to his ministrations.

He can see her jaw slack, head craned back, lashes fluttering in blissed-out euphoria as she grows closer to her peak - and Nico is so in tune with her now that he feels like he’s there with her. A night pressed against her, and his previous stint between her legs already adding to his pleasure, and he can feel the tell-tale tension in the pit of his stomach, muscles in his thighs growing taut as he kicks up his pace a little, Poppy quietly moaning like music to his ears.

“You gonna come, huh?” He asks in a breathy growl, lips moving against the sensitive skin of her neck, “Can feel you getting close, baby, you’re so good for me.”

Nico can never forget the way such praise had made her cheeks flush all those months ago, the first time they had ever slept together - the night their baby girl had been conceived, and their lives had been set to change forever. He’s always seeking that same reaction, that glint in her eye and the stutter of her hips - and she always gives him just what he wants, walls tightening around him in a mind-numbing pressure, thighs shivering, spine curving, all muscles tensing as she falls apart. And he soon follows, coming inside of her like he’s all too used to now, teeth pressed into her shoulder and chest panting against her back.

The arm she had intertwined with his soon untangles itself to reach back and stroke through his hair as he comes down, scratching at his scalp as she gets her own breath back.

He brings his hand up to his mouth to clean his fingers of her arousal before he goes back to rest his hands against her belly, still inside her until he softens, pressing soft kisses to her skin until she giggles a little when it tickles, and the vibrations of her laughter force him to pull out before he starts to grow hard again.

He does so with a grunt and a hand on her hip, rolling out of the bed and toward the bathroom to get a cloth to clean her up, returning to her blissed out form splayed out on the mattress.

He bites back a smile as their eyes meet, edging her legs apart so he can wipe between them, swiping softly at her sensitive folds and watching her smile sleepily back at him as her chest rises and falls in laboured breaths.

“Thank you,” she sighs, blinking slowly, and he feels his cheeks push into a dimpled grin as he watches her - completely lost in the afterglow.

“You don’t have to thank me, baby,” he throws the cloth over to the nightstand, crawling up Poppy’s body to press his lips to hers.

“You make me really happy.”

He smiles, slow but big, eyes tracing the way hers crinkle a little in the corners. “You make me happy too.”

“I said really happy.”

“You make me the happiest man in the world.”

“That’s better.” She bumps her nose against his before kissing him again. “You’re a quick learner, too.”

He chuckles against the corner of her mouth, pressing one more sweet kiss there before pushing himself up, looking around the floor for his pants. “Why don’t you take a shower and I’ll bring you some breakfast? Make you really really happy,”

“Or we could eat together and you could shower with me? We could have some more fun-,”

“I’m not falling for that again, babe, you don’t want to have fun, you want me to wash your hair because your arms ache.”

He’s been lured into the shower one too many times over the past 6 weeks with the promise of a good time, only for Poppy to claim they couldn’t get too frisky and risk slipping, so he may as well put his hands to good use and shampoo her hair - guiding him on where she liked him to apply pressure until he was pretty much giving her a scalp massage.

Poppy pouts, sinking back against the pillows as she watches him hop into his underwear, pulling the briefs until the waistband snaps against his hips, her eyes following them all the way up his legs. “I thought you loved me.”

His laughter bubbles all the way up from the pit of his stomach, swirling with adoration and amusement.

“And now you’re laughing. Unbelievable.” She scoffs, feigning irritation with a telltale quiver at the corner of her lips. “Do I need to remind you that you’re going away for a whole week tomorrow? Living it up with your buddies and leaving me in the dust. I’m owed like 2 more orgasms at least before then.”

“I’ll give you three tonight, I promise.” He leans in again, thinking he’ll never make it out of the room at this point, Poppy having the most kissable lips in the entire universe. “We’ll figure out the mirror thing, so you can see me better between your legs.”

She hums against his mouth as she kisses him once more before asking, “Can you make me avocado toast please?”

“And a smoothie?” He asks, stepping away so that he isn’t drawn back in until mid-day.

She nods, a pretty smile stretching out across her swollen lips, watching as he walks backward towards the door. He keeps his eyes on her until he closes the door behind him, making his way through his family home with a smile that won’t give, feeling confident in his previous sentiment uttered to her.

Nico Hischier might just be the happiest man in the world.

Nico had thought being away from Poppy for a whole week would have been torturous - that he would be counting down the hours until he could get back to her, distant from his friends and hating every second apart - but it had almost been the opposite of that, and he only had her to thank.

He thinks that maybe 6 weeks of living out the dream life with her, and knowing that would be exactly what he was returning to, allowed him to enjoy his week away - even though it wasn’t exactly a break.

His off-season training had kicked up a gear while he was away, and he was thankful that he didn’t have to mope around missing her all the time and could concentrate a little on his gruelling routine.

They FaceTimed every morning, and every night before she went to sleep. Texted throughout the day, sending pictures back and forth of what each other got up to - Poppy spending her days with his parents and his sister, being doted on by his entire family in his absence, in ways that made his heart grow ten-fold, and his days spent training, lifting, running, hiking, doing all sorts of activities that he would send her several videos of and she would respond with some crazy comment that made him laugh out loud.

She never made him feel guilty for being away from her - never made it seem like she felt like second best to his schedule, or his career, or the season looming in the background of their relationship. She never complained about him not being around, only ever gushed about who was back home with her - telling him how much she loved hanging around with Nina, who was back in Switzerland taking her on spa trips and exploring the city with her, teaching her about their hometown and filling in all the blanks that Nico had yet to clue her in on.

And he was getting chirped like hell for walking around with a constant dopey smile on his face - something he should know better by now than to do on a boys trip, but he was long past caring.

He had the girl of his dreams blending in with the family he loved more than anything, and a little girl on the way - his best friend and brother rallying the boys to poke fun at him at the dinner table could do nothing to diminish the flame that was fuelled within him.

“I’m on my own when we get back to Jersey, even Nico’s wifed off, now,” Timo jokes as they sit around a large restaurant table on their last night of their trip, his big arm resting on the back of his chair as he sips on his beer.

“You’re getting married, too?” Their friend Leo asks, brows raised as the influx of new information hits him all at once. “You guys don’t tell me anything!”

“It’s just a saying,” Nico scoffs, his bottle pressed to his lips before he takes a swig, “We’re not engaged.”

“Yet.” Luca adds, “I give him a month before he asks her, though. You should see him around her, he’s obsessed.”

“It won’t be a month,” he denies, ignoring the second half of the sentence, completely - there’s really no point denying that anymore, “I’d have to get her dad’s permission or whatever, and her parents sort of hate me.”

Timo barks out a laugh from across the table, “Oh yeah, he yelled at her dad!”

“You yelled at someone?”

“I didn’t yell,” he frowns, the word starting to lose all meaning with its overuse. “I just called him out over something. And, to be honest, I think he might have liked me more after that.”

Nico doesn’t really like looking back on that first night at the Jensen house - there was probably no preparing him for what he was walking into, and, entirely overwhelmed by the grandeur of it all, he had lost his head. But their family dynamic was difficult.

He had witnessed it only in short bursts, before - had seen Poppy around her mom a few times, had met her dad once before that in passing - and being immersed in it, being looked down on by her mother all day, overshadowed by her brother, ignored by her father, watching the whole conversation around their pregnancy unfold at the dinner table, tensions high and emotions rampant, he had let his frustrations build to the point of boiling over.

When Poppy’s brother had first started berating her, he had tried to write it off in his head as sibling banter of sorts. He and his siblings were never quite as cruel, but he knows sometimes brothers and sisters bicker like Poppy and Oli had - biting remarks and words intended to hurt. Then, it had spiralled.

He’s seen Poppy stick up for herself, before, but he’s never experienced her blow up like that. And he had understood it completely, considering he was reaching the brink of eruption, himself - and that’s not taking into account her heightened pregnancy hormones.

He had felt protective, and even upset, himself, that this thing his family had embraced with open arms, had celebrated at time where he and Poppy needed it the most, that was turning his life around in all the best possible ways, was being rained on by the rest of them, and when Poppy had stormed off, and her mom had followed, he couldn’t sit there in silence and not say something.

What kind of partner would that have made him?

“I think you underestimate her.” He had said, quiet but firm, as silence settled over the table in Poppy’s absence.

The reactions had been slow, a gradual raise of Oli’s head, matching that of his wife, beside him, who pressed her lips together to hide what Nico hoped was a smile, and the prolonged lowering of cutlery from her father.

“Excuse me?” Philip asked, leaning onto his elbows. “What did you say?”

“Poppy,” Nico clarified, “I don’t think that any of you really understand what she’s capable of.”

“That’s my daughter you’re talking about, I think I of all people understand-,”

“She’s really smart,” Nico had interjected before he lost the courage to do so, ignoring the twinge in his gut that told him to calm down, that he shouldn’t be risking his relationship with the future grandfather of his baby like this. “And really independent, and she somehow always knows what to do if you drop her into the middle of a really tough situation. If you could see her at work, you’d get it, people go to Poppy to fix things and for her to help them, and support them, and she always does it because that’s the kind of person she is.”

Neither of them had seemed to react, but had been so far into hyping himself up to let all of his thoughts out that he doesn’t think he would have noticed if they had.

“You guys might not see it because you only see her as your daughter, or your little sister, but she is the strongest person I know. She’s an incredible woman, and she’s going to be an even better mother, and she deserves, more than anybody else, for her family to have her back right now.”

“It was just a joke, man,” Oli had scoffed, “It’s not that serious.”

“It is to her. She spent the entire ride here talking about you guys, about your family and everything you’ve built for yourself in California,” Nico had nodded to her brother, remembering all the ways Poppy had hidden her admiration for him behind sarcastic comments - even before the drive from Jersey City, over the years where she had opened up to him about her family, he had always seen a small dash of affection for her older brother - before turning to her dad, “And everything you’ve achieved, sir, everything you’ve built for yourself, and for your kids. She just wants to be seen as an equal, and I think if either of you actually noticed her, you’d see just what she’s capable of, and you wouldn’t make digs at her,” he had narrowed his eyes at Oli, “Or sit in silence while others make her feel like crap.” He hadn’t quite been able to meet Mr Jensen’s eye, but he felt a little relieved that he had managed to say what he needed. “You’re both supposed to have her back.”

Neither of them had come back to him after that, tensions rising once more in the growing silence, the hammering of his heart and the rush of blood to his head the only thing he could hear before he had excused himself, and had ascended through the house to find Poppy in her room.

He hadn’t told Poppy at the time what he had said - he felt no need to do so, it wouldn’t have changed anything, and might have made her upset or even more stressed, which he never wanted to do. But Philip had changed after - had made more efforts to be there for Poppy, to get to know Nico, and the two of them had even gotten onto texting terms.

So he doesn’t necessarily think that her parents hate him, but it’s definitely too soon to be asking for their daughter’s hand in marriage, even if it feels like the right thing to do.

Even if the thought of it has started to keep him awake at night, as Poppy tosses and turns to get comfortable beside him. Even if he finds himself stroking at the bare surface of her ring finger when they hold hands, and introducing her to others as his wife in a language she doesn’t fully grasp - pretending it’s a joke she isn’t clued in on, when really it feels more like a manifestation.

He twirls the ring she had gifted him on his own ring finger, the weight of it especially present in the midst of this conversation, frowning as Timo levels him with a stern look.

“You know that getting her dad’s permission isn’t like the law or anything right?”

He does know that. If he’s honest, he knows he’s using it as an excuse, too - but admitting to that at dinner with the boys feels like he’s setting himself up for an entire night of chirps.

He and Poppy have only technically been together for a couple months, and most of that time had already been spent apart. When he had asked her to move in, she had taken offence at him only asking due to the convenience of it all, and he half expects the same if he gets down on one knee.

He can hear her already, some muttering of, you only want to marry me because I’m having your baby, when that couldn’t be further from the truth.

When Nico pictures his future, he pictures Poppy.

Everything revolves around Poppy.

And yeah, their baby girl plays a big factor in that - seeing Poppy as a mother, raising their daughter together, providing a happy, stable home for her to thrive in. But it’s so much more than that, too.

It’s her being his partner. Waking up to her, tracing over the soft curve of her lips as she rouses from sleep, and knowing, as sure of anything in his heart, that no day can ever be bad if it starts out like that.

Feeling secure in his job, despite all the times in his life he has felt anything but, and knowing that he can succumb to the pressure of it all without having to worry about her bailing. She has his back in ways no body ever has before. She understands the demand of his career, the fact that he isn’t available at all hours of the day to her every need - but she can take care of herself. She would rather do so, and she doesn’t make him feel guilty for the fact that sometimes his schedule takes priority - because the times that he can prioritise her are valued in ways that he never thought he could provide - not if anybody asked any of his exes, at least.

She understands his role as a captain, how he has to be there for the guys, understands his love for doing so, and has never in their entire relationship, made him feel like it’s a burden, or that she feels neglected because of it.

Even before they crossed the boundaries of something more. When they were just friends - as if they were ever just anything - and he could vent all of his worries and stresses to her, and she’d talk him out of ever seeing the negatives.

She has some sort of superpower, he thinks, for turning things around like that, and he wants to bask in the glory of it for the rest of his life.

He wants that warm feeling that floods his chest at the thought of going home to her after a long day to never go away.

And he knows that it isn’t a chunk of metal around her finger, or signatures on paper, that solidifies that.

But he wants it, all the same.

“I don’t know, we haven’t been together that long.”

Timo barks out a laugh, and a couple other guys at the table raise their brows.

“Do you know when I first got to Jersey, Siegs was the one who introduced me to Poppy? You know what he said?”

Nico shakes his head, a crease forming between his brows as he frowns at his friend.

“He points at her from across the room, we were at a bar, the one near his place, he says that’s Poppy, and I look over and I think, whoa, she’s gorgeous, maybe I will like it here,” Nico narrows his eyes as Timo recalls the story, his hands unintentionally balling into fists below the table, “And before I can even get a word out, he goes, Nico’s Poppy. He told me not to even think about it.”

“We weren’t in a relationship, though.” He argues, despite the way his lips twist into an almost-smile, one trying to hide itself from prying eyes. He does quite like the ring of that. Nico’s Poppy.

It reflects that base level possessiveness he feels when he looks at her - the way he’s probably felt since the day they met, sharing a bond he had never really shared with anyone else. Feeling jealous when any of the other guys would talk to her alone, as petty as it might have been, and only ever wanting her attention on him.

“You’ve always been in something with her,” Timo shrugs, “There’s no point delaying the inevitable if it means you get to make sure she’s your Poppy forever.”

“We don’t have to be married for her to be mine.”

He does feel comfortable knowing that - feels sure and safe in their dynamic, now - knowing the life they share, the home they share, the baby they’re so close to bringing into this world together. Knowing how much she loves him, how much she’s willing to be there for him, even when he feels like he isn’t enough for her.

He’s never felt so secure in a relationship in his life, and he doesn’t need to force either of them into marriage when they’ve never really had that conversation - even if the few times he’s attempted to joke about it, she has been receptive.

“I don’t know why you’re trying to talk yourself out of it.” Luca chimes in from the side of Nico, “You’re never gonna find anybody more perfect for you. I think our parents like her more than they even like us at this point,” he tells the rest of the table, swatting at his little brother’s shoulder, before reaching for his beer.

“Yeah,” Nico sighs with a smile, knowing already there’s no one more perfect for him - he’s only been cursing himself all summer for not coming to that conclusion much sooner. “Mom will probably already have asked her for me while she’s been with her this week.”

He knows he’s delaying the inevitable, trying to pretend that marriage isn’t what he wants right now with Poppy - he had pictured it the second she told him she was pregnant, his life flashing before his eyes in home-movie-esque glimpses, babies, and white dresses, and a big house with a nice plot of land in the back for him to build a tree house like in the movies.

He knows, too, deep down, that there is the slimmest possible chance of rejection. She loves him. She shows him every day just how much - and she’s been so willing, so far, to fit herself into his life in whatever way is easiest.

He knows when he sees her, tomorrow, that the thought of dropping to one knee as soon as his eyes lock on her will cross his mind.

And he thinks when he does get back, after a week of chirps about being wifed off, he might just test the waters.

Nico doesn’t think he’s ever had a quicker flight than the one he and Luca took back from Tenerife. From check-in, to boarding, to the plane ride, itself, he felt like he had blinked and landed back on home soil, heart beating that little bit quicker in anticipation of seeing Poppy - of his eyes laying on that perfect bump for the first time in a week and catching the slightest difference, making up for lost time while they can in the privacy of their apartment before they spend the week with his brother and sister.

The train ride from the airport flies by too - Nico feeling excitement akin to when he was younger, and his dad would take him and Luca to go practice at their local rink, and he was at a point in his life that he loved nothing more than hockey, wanted nothing more than to don his skates and play to his heart’s content.

He feels that way about Poppy, now, he thinks.

Like she’s something he can dream toward - push and strive to keep her in his life for as long as he possibly can.

It feels like the blink of an eye before he’s putting his key in the door of the apartment, pushing in with his case following behind him, discarded in the entryway as he steps though the hall in search of her.

“Baby, are you home?” He calls, his heart thumping as he waits to catch his first proper glimpse of her in a week.

“In the kitchen!” She calls back, voice like his favourite song, and when he steps into the room he sees her by the oven, prepping for dinner. When she had first offered to pick him up from the train station, he had joked that he didn’t trust her driving alone on European roads, but the truth of it was that he felt better coming home to her - where she was safe, and he wasn’t putting her out just so that he could selfishly see her sooner.

And seeing her there, in the heart of the apartment he had bought last summer, when the idea of her ever being in it was nothing but a dream, swollen and round and growing their baby, he thinks that reality is more than worth the wait.

“Hey,” he sidles up behind her, arms placed on either side of her body on the counter as she chops at some peppers. Poppy angles her head so that he can press his usual kiss to her cheek, and Nico feels it puff up with a smile.

She smells clean and fresh, like home, like a mixture of the detergent she uses on their sheets, and his body wash that she still likes to steal, and he swipes his nose at her flesh as he takes a prolonged inhale of her skin, filling his lungs with the familiarity of it and making up for the days he spent away.

“Hi,” she turns back enough that he can press a kiss to her swollen lips, slow and sweet, “I figured you’d be beat when you got home so I ran you a bath, I only just shut it off like 2 minutes ago.”

He kind of likes how there isn’t a big fuss about him coming home - likes that she’s welcoming him back like it hasn’t been almost a week, and it diminishes the guilt he had been feeling for leaving her behind at all. It reinforces the thoughts he’s always had - that Poppy makes everything easy.

She puts the knife down and turns in his arms when he kisses her again, and his hand swipes from the curve of her belly to the small of her back, keeping her stomach pressed to his.

“You’re too good to me,” he mumbles before his lips touch hers again, nose bumping teasingly at hers when she starts to chase him for more. “There’s room in that tub for 3, you know.”

“It’s supposed to be for you to relax,” she tells him as her hands travel the broad expanse of his chest, sweeping to his shoulders and down the width of his arms that are circled around her. “And I’ll have dinner ready for when you get out.”

“Trust me, Mohn,” he hums, his hands travelling slowly down her sides, “That is my idea of relaxing.” And then he leans down to hook an arm behind her knees, lifting her before she has a chance to protest, all too prepared after a week of training to carry her down the hall toward the bathroom, making sure she isn’t too curled up that it’s uncomfortable with her bump. “Dinner can wait.”

“You missed me that much, huh?” She giggles as he sends a gentle kick to the door, letting it swing open before he steps into the room. “You gonna have me sit on your lap while we eat, too?”

“Yeah, you can feed me if you want,” he laughs as he places her on the counter in the bathroom, her legs parting immediately for him to slot himself between them. “And I missed you more than it might be healthy to admit.”

“I missed you too,” Poppy smiles softly, hands reaching up to tuck the grown out flicks of hair behind his ears as his own hands place themselves on either side of her hips, “Appreciated all those sweaty workout videos you sent me though, definitely made up for you being gone.”

“Thought they might,” Nico chuckles as he starts working at undressing her, sliding her shorts down her legs and throwing them into the hamper. “Appreciated that video you sent me of your belly moving like something out of Alien.”

“She’ll probably start up soon, she likes to move while I’m eating now, she keeps getting the hiccups, it’s quite cute.”

Nico leans down once he’s lifted the big t-shirt that covers Poppy’s torso, and while she works it off, he presses a soft kiss to her bare belly, nudging the curve of it with his nose before he stands to his usual height and starts to work his own clothes off. He can feel the heat of her gaze as he steps out of his underwear, and it prickles at his skin like a lingering longing, like the way his own feelings have lingered over the past week.

A week where he had pushed forward on the sheer thought of Poppy, and now that she’s in front of him, those thoughts swirl into something overwhelming.

He offers her a hand to help her down from the counter, and guides her toward the tub, the water still hot, but not scolding, on it’s way to tepid as he steps in and positions himself toward the back. He holds her steady as she steps over the edge, and sinks down as she lowers herself, her bump making it difficult to do so with ease, but he spreads his legs for her to sink back into him, and he soon feels her relax with her back to his front.

“Does it hurt,” he mutters with his limbs curved around hers, “When she moves a lot?”

He had noticed before he left that things had become a little more difficult for Poppy - sleeping, staying on her feet for extended periods - and when she had sent him a video of movements she could see through her belly, he had thought it seemed uncomfortable, but she just shrugs against him.

“It’s just weird, I guess,” she sighs, muscles seeming to melt against him. “Depends how she’s positioned, she was playing my ribs like a xylophone the other day, that wasn’t fun.”

Nico smiles, hand coming around her front to caress her belly, rubbing gentle circles into her soft skin. “Where is she now?”

“I think her butt is at the front,” her hand rests on top of his, moving it up a little, and a bit more to the side, “She’s gonna give me hell later, I can feel it.”

“Maybe she’ll behave now that her daddy’s home,” he mutters, his lips falling by instinct to kiss at Poppy’s bare shoulder before he hooks his chin over it, “Maybe she missed me too.”

“She definitely missed you. She practically did somersaults every time you came up in conversation.”

“My girl,” he smiles into Poppy’s neck, “Did she kick for Nina yet?”

“Oh yeah,” she laughs, her hand moving to trail up and down Nico’s leg beside her, “She jumped around so much in there that I learned a new word while you were gone.”

“From Nina?”

“Häsli,” she says with perfect, practiced pronunciation.

“Little bunny,” Nico chuckles, both hands patting at the bump where his daughter rests. “I like it.”

“Good, ‘cause your parents have started calling her it, too. No respect for Cheeto around here.”

Nico finds himself melting in ways he didn’t think he needed to - an ache so present in his bones he hadn’t even realised it was there, all of a sudden fading to nothing as he sits in the tepid, soapy water with his girls in front of him. Poppy absentmindedly uses her fingers to trickle droplets down his calves, and makes space for him to rest his head in the space where her neck and shoulder meets.

“Who’s the better teacher?” He asks, looking up and watching as the width of her cheeks puff out into a close-lipped smile.

“Well, you have an automatic advantage, considering I can’t ask your sister to teach me all the dirty stuff.”

“Is that all I’m good for, the dirty stuff?”

“I’m yet to be able to hold a conversation that has nothing to do with body parts, so you tell me.”

“Yeah, well the more you learn, the less I get away with, so we might have to put a pause on the lessons.”

“And what is it you think you’ve been getting away with?” Poppy asks, twisting a little so she can look back at him, and it’s when her eyes meet his that Nico feels some warped sense of security wash over him. He hadn’t planned on bringing this up, especially not so soon after coming back from his trip, but it just feels right.

And it’s better to get it out of the way sooner - where better to test the waters than in the bathtub?

“Whenever we meet someone, I’ve been introducing you as my wife,” he admits, cheek pressed to her shoulder blade as he looks up at her through thick lashes.

Her lips twist in amusement, eyes shimmering in the warm light of the bathroom, and it seems like she’s biting back a smile at the revelation. His heartbeat steadies just a little. “Oh really? How have you been getting around the distinct lack of a ring on my finger?”

“I tell them your hands are too swollen to wear it,” he admits, taking a hand from her belly to pick up her left one.

Her smile fades slowly as she glances down, his fingers squeezing a little at the one closest to her pinky. “Wait, you’re serious?”

“Very.”

“What about-,” she starts, and before she can glance back, Nico lifts his own left hand in anticipation of what she’s about to ask, the signet ring she had gifted him when she first came overseas, that she hasn’t even noticed for as long as they’ve been together out here, sitting comfortably on his own ring finger. “Oh.”

“I can get you your own, if you want,” he tries, trying not to hold his breath as he makes the suggestion - makes light of it, even, just to test her reaction. Her face is angled forward as she looks down at his finger, and her own hand twists to fiddle with the ring that sits there, so he can’t exactly see what she’s thinking. “I know you said you already had one, but-,”

“Just to sell the story better?” She asks, still looking at his hand.

“Or because I’m in love with you,” he pouts, his lips moving against her skin as he speaks, anticipating a rejection of sorts - although he still feels the lax press of her spine to his chest. She hasn’t gone rigid, hasn’t recoiled from his touch - their bodies are still merged together in the tight space, and a part of him feels better for it.

She turns, finally, levelling him with a look that has her gaze flickering between his eyes, like she’s trying to read his mind.

“You better not be proposing to me in the bathtub,” she frowns, “You can’t ask someone for their hand in marriage within 6 feet of a toilet, Nico, that’s definitely an unwritten rule.”

He feels something dissolve in his chest as it bubbles with affection, spreading through his bloodstream and directing itself to every corner of his body - joyous laughter rippling up his throat and spilling out into her neck.

“Why are you laughing?” She giggles, her body shaking against his in the most delightful way, “I’m dead serious, anywhere but the bathroom, please.”

“Okay,” he chuckles, wanting nothing more than to lean up and press his lips to her beautiful smile. “I’ll bare that in mind.”

“You do that.”

I will, he thinks, taking that as her confirmation.

Not in the bathtub is a far cry from not ever.

Maybe Timo was right - as much as it pains Nico to think - maybe she has always been his Poppy, and maybe, if he can find the right time and place to ask, she always will be.

Poppy

Last year, Poppy’s summer had felt like the longest of her life.

She had worked all the way through to Mid-July - choosing to work around the summer programmes that were run through the Foundation had taken up most of her time, and she would rather have taken the extra pay than mope around thinking about how everyone else was spending their time off.

Ever since college, she and Nia would spend their weekends together in the summer - and that worked the same last year, with both of them still working in Jersey and having their family nearby. It worked for their other friends too - until their lives away from the group started to take priority, and their group became whittled down to just the two best friends.

Friend group outings had become a rare occurrence, and so when they did happen, they were quite the spectacle - weekend trips down to Atlantic City, or bagging invites to parties the girls really had no business being - like rooftop bars in Manhattan, where a player from the Giants was throwing a party, and their friend Kelsey’s boyfriend, Liam, had somehow secured their names on the list.

Poppy and Nia always got ready together - reminiscent of their teenage years, blasting music through the speakers in Poppy’s bedroom and letting Nia raid her closet while she did her makeup.

“We’re gonna need to prep Els on how to be cool, she can’t be asking for players to sign her napkin so she can frame it for Jensen.” Nia called as she came out of Poppy’s closet, shrugging into the strappy sleeves of a mini dress she had borrowed, pulling her hair from getting tangled beneath the arms.

“Elsie’s not coming,” Poppy replied absentmindedly, a small, soft brush sweeping pigment across her eyelid, “It’s just me, you and Kels,”

“What? Why?” Nia had whined, zipping her dress up behind her back. “Did her sitter bail?”

“This stays between me and you, but she’s pregnant again,” Poppy told her, relaying the cliff-notes version of the hour-long conversation she had had with her cousin earlier that day. “So no more girls nights with her for a while.”

“Poor girl,” Nia huffed, falling back onto Poppy’s bed so that she could put her heels on, “I can’t think of anything worse than being pregnant right now, I’m in my prime, I’m not letting anyone dislodge my organs. Nothing is worth that kind of damage.”

“Gross” Poppy shuddered, the thought of having a baby and her age sending literal shivers down her spine. “But same. I’m so far off of being ready to be a parent, it isn’t even funny.”

She had weirdly enough been thinking a lot about what her life was turning out to be around that time - spearing straight for her 25th birthday and feeling the daunting pressure of a looming quarter-life crisis, she had put some thought at least into the traditional stuff.

But babies hadn’t been at the forefront of her mind.

“Plus, it’s hard enough to find a remotely decent guy to go on one singular date with, never mind raise a child. Elsie got lucky with Jared.”

“Right,” Nia had scoffed half-heartedly, ambling up behind Poppy and finishing off the curls in her hair. There had been a look in her eyes - dismissive and evasive - that had caught Poppy’s attention.

“What’s the look for?”

“Nothing,” Nia shrugged, lips turned down in denial and continuing to work at her best friend’s hair. “Just think that for you of all people, it’s not that hard to find somebody decent.”

Poppy frowned, watching Nia behind her, trying to think of a single guy she had ever dated or spoken to that had garnered her approval.

She had always been supportive of Poppy, knowing that if she were to start something up with a guy, it would be after a lot of thought and meticulous research - Poppy rarely dated, and if she did, it mostly didn’t work because she wasn’t that good at it. She was always so focused on work, and her friends, that trying to make time for anybody outside of all that just felt exhausting.

Guys usually ended up breaking things off with her, telling her they could tell her heart wasn’t in it, and Nia would always curse them whenever Poppy relayed it back to her, but there was always that look - like she knew something Poppy didn’t.

“You’ve literally watched my every attempt at a relationship crash and burn, Ni,” she narrowed her eyes, “I don’t get what part of my dating life seems easy to you.”

“The part where you have a ready made relationship just waiting for you to press the start button.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Nico,” Nia said, like it had been the most obvious answer in the world.

The last thing Poppy had wanted to think about - again - was Nico.

She had been trying to think of anything but since he had left Jersey, but everything unfortunately was starting to remind her of him, just as they did every other summer.

Walks in the sun, passing places they would always go together - snapping a picture of a coffee from her favourite shop and thinking of who she could send it to instead of him. Running their shared route, soft breeze running through her hair as she jogged through the park, playing music in her headphones that he had once recommended.

It had been hard to shake him off - but she had grown to be good at it over the years.

Nia bringing him up had been new - unexpected - and wasn’t contributing to the routine of forgetting he existed until he would come back to New Jersey in September.

“The second that one of you makes a move, you’re literally ready to go with the perfect man.”

“I’m not gonna be in a relationship with Nico,” Poppy snickered, trying to find humour in what nonsense her best friend was coming up with.

She didn’t have a ready to go relationship with Nico Hischier. They were friends. That was all they would ever be.

And not only had she told Nia that a hundred times before, she also knew that Nico had said the same - shrugging off jokes made in front of the two of them and smiling awkwardly at Poppy whenever anyone had dared to make a comment on their friendship being anything other than just that.

“We don’t even talk for like 4 months out of the year,” Poppy frowned, referring to the routine Nico had adopted over the years, of returning home to Switzerland for the summers, and leaving his friendship with Poppy behind - only communicating through social media likes and odd messages in the same conversation thread within a wider group chat.

She had never really minded it - not to the point of moping - but she had always wished things could be just a little different on that front.

“I don’t get why you guys don’t just text each other,” Nia rolled her eyes as she ran the barrel of the curling iron down the lengths of Poppy’s hair, eyes meeting hers in the reflection of the mirror. “You act like you’re not allowed to cross his mind all summer, it’s stupid, no offence.”

“He deserves a break, Ni,” Poppy had shrugged, “From everything, especially after how the season ended, I’m just a reminder of his life here, and he probably wants to escape that.”

“I don’t think he means you when he says those sorts of things, babe,” she responded, letting the curl drop into her free hand and scrunching it until it cooled down.

“How did we even get onto this?”

“Because I’ve been looking for an opportunity to bring it up, duh,” Nia jested, “C’mon, just reach out. It doesn’t have to be a text, what was the last thing he posted on his instagram stories? Just reply to that.”

Poppy’s lips twisted, her phone feeling increasingly heavy in her grip as she weighed her options up.

For as long as she had known him, her and Nico would never really talk over the summer. She lived her life, and he lived his, away from the Devils, away from The Rock, and it had worked well, for the most part.

Sure, a part of her always missed him. A part of her would watch his stories over, would think about what his life in Switzerland looked like, and if she could ever possibly fit into it - but another part, a larger part, would suppress all that. Push her feelings back down until they were nothing - shut away behind some barricaded door in the back of her mind.

It was weird, she thought, how much they flourished in his absence - thoughts she wouldn’t usually spare dedicated to him. Especially now that Nia was bringing it up out of nowhere.

Her perceptive best friend suggesting there could ever have been something more was sparking a flame within her she had long tried to put out. But it wasn’t entirely Nia’s doing - there had been embers floating around her subconscious for a while, now.

She blamed that night in Finnegan’s Bar, not long before he had left.

Cuddled up to him in that booth, comfortable in the lingering silence, the steady beat of his heart below her hand. She had thought, at the end of that night, that something might have been different - and she realised that had probably been why she was thinking about him more that summer.

Poppy unlocked her phone and brought up her Instagram, scrolling through the stories on the home page until she saw his picture.

“It’ll probably be some workout video, I can’t reply to that, he’s gonna think I’m thirsty.”

“You are,” Nia had jibed, “Pop, honey, you either gotta put up or shut up. If you’re not gonna reach out, I don’t wanna hear any more of your whining about him for the rest of the month.”

“You brought him up,” Poppy frowned, “Please be kinder to me when you have hot tools in your hands, you’re giving me anxiety.”

“Whatever, I’m gonna get another drink before we go, do you want one?”

“I’m good,” Poppy smiled, watching her best friend put the curling iron down safely on the heat-proof mat on her dresser and make her way out of the bedroom and through to the kitchen.

Her thumb had hovered on her screen for a good minute before she pressed down, biting the bullet and viewing his most recent story with bated breath.

There were a few of them - it seemed like he was out with friends - probably-drunken selfies and videos of a DJ at some club - but the last photo was the one that caught her attention, properly.

Nico with his arms around a girl - a gorgeous girl, sharp features, perfect hair, piercing eyes, a killer smile - and his lips pressed to her temple.

She had let the photo time out before it shrunk away into his private profile, and she had felt like time had stopped in place after that - until the sound of Nia’s heels clicking back down the hallway caught her attention.

“I know you said no but I made mine too strong so I had to pour it out a little and make two,” she had said as she entered the room, Poppy locking her phone and turning it face down before she could see.

“Thanks,” she had accepted the drink with a smile, gulping it down in the hopes that the liquor might have burned through some of the growing ache in her chest.

“Damn girl,” Nia had scoffed, “Thought you were good?”

“I realised I should drink for two, considering Elsie can’t anymore.”

“Good point! We should both do that, show our solidarity for the cause.”

“Exactly. Getting shit-faced is what she’d want us to do in her honour.”

Nia glanced down at Poppy’s downturned phone - a look Poppy wouldn’t have caught if she wasn’t nervously watching her best friend in the hopes that she, for once in her life, wouldn’t be so perceptive.

“I’ll have a baby with you.”

Poppy laughed, right from the depths of her chest, tension easing from her shoulders as she shook her head.

“I don’t want a baby,” she declined, rolling her eyes and standing up, “I want to get drunk on rooftop bars with my friends and NFL players and eat as much deli meat and cheese as my body can handle for as long as it can handle it.”

“That sounds like a plan.”

Poppy didn’t know at the time why that picture on Nico's story had felt like a kick to the gut, but she had swallowed down her hurt and smiled, tight lipped, at her best friend.

Getting wasted and forgetting about Nico for the rest of the summer - that had sounded like a plan.

Looking back on last summer, Poppy barely recognises her old life. Rooftop parties with endless cocktails, tiny dresses and high heels and hair that didn’t fall flat and frizzy the second she blinked too hard at it in the mirror.

She can barely remember being able to look down at her thighs without being sat down.

The only thing that remains the same is finding time to lounge around on the beach. Growing up, spending her time on Jersey beaches - her family renting a house in Mantoloking most years, or making the trip down to Ocean City and Cape May with her girls when she was old enough - had become a staple for her, and she has been so thankful that it’s something her and Nico share a love of.

She’s adored her summer in Switzerland, so far - as far away from expectations as it might yet have been.

She hadn’t expected to get such little one-on-one time with Nico, but she can hardly complain - not when his family and friends have all welcomed her with such open arms. It’s something so new to her too, getting to do everything in a group, bonding with more than just Nico, sharing parts of herself and her life beyond what she has only ever shared with him before, and she’s never really felt so at home with such a close-knit family.

She watches sports on the couch with his dad, goes to the grocery store with his mom, plays cards out on the deck with his brother, spends as much time with his sister as she would with Nia back home in Jersey, and she gets Nico to herself at night, or on the rare couple of days in a row they’ll stay in his apartment closer to the city.

But she loves this - being so close with everyone. Loves it so much that she doesn’t really care that it isn’t just her and Nico, she doesn’t really want it to be.

Katja helps her through the rough stages of her pregnancy - sometimes anticipating symptoms before they even come on, sharing tips on how to lessen the constant ache in her stomach, how to sleep easier, what supplements she can take that don’t make her feel nauseous again or bloated and heavy.

Rino helps too, recalling what he can of his wife’s pregnancies, remembering how Katja could get her back pain to go away by relaxing in a rocking chair with a cushion wedged into her arch, and he had dug the exact one chair the depths of the garage, making sure it was safe after years of misuse and placing it out on the deck in the backyard, right beside what had always been Nico’s chair.

Luca is probably the best language teacher of them all, not that she’d tell Nico that - he’s the only one with the nerve to correct her, doing so with an amused glint in her eye until she gets it perfect and offering her a proud nod when she can finally speak a full sentence - a useful one at that, instead of random words and nicknames.

Nina allows Poppy to keep an essence of her independence - of the girl she was before she was pregnant, or had come back to Switzerland as Nico’s girlfriend. She makes sure Poppy keeps doing things for herself - accompanies her to the salon, to the local mall, gives her valued opinion on different outfits Poppy tried, and what makes her look like a frumpy mom and not her usual self. The two of them trade books between each other, get ready with each other when the group all go out, and it fills a gap that Poppy never even realised she had until she met her - this desire for a big sister, a want for something she never even knew had been ripped away from her before she was ever even born.

And Nico.

She has all of this, now, because of him.

He’s given her a life so sweet, and so wonderful, and it’s barely even started yet.

Their little girl is still sat comfortably in her stomach, kicking and moving and causing aches all over, but she’s contributed to a world so beautiful that Poppy doesn’t want to remember life before it.

And he gave it all to her.

He gave her their baby, his family, summer sun in a foreign country, rocking chairs and card games and trips to the mall.

Trips to the beach with his siblings, who don’t let him forget his status as the youngest, doting on Poppy while teasing him the whole time, breaking off from the group in search of gelato for her, and none for him, because he has two hands and two feet and a wallet bigger than anyone’s to go and get his own.

And that leaves her with just him, wading in the gloriously warm shallow sea, the sun glistening against soft waves, and his hands around her, large and safe, happy and secure - and so in love she hasn’t stopped smiling in weeks.

So infatuated by the man in front of her, that she’d let him do anything, take her anywhere he wants.

“It’s a shame it’s not just the two of us, today,” Nico hums, a large hand stroking up Poppy’s back, sliding under the straps of her bikini top and tugging, teasingly, “Bet I could have convinced you to take this off.”

“We’re in public, perv,” she scoffs, her own palms flat against his chest, “Also, you can’t accuse your own family of cockblocking you.”

“I can when they won’t leave you alone,” he pouts, “My brother and sister never waited on me hand and foot, if I want gelato I have to go get it myself.” He mimics his sisters voice, face scrunching adorably.

“My heart bleeds for you,” she groans in feigned pity, “I’m carrying precious cargo, and there’s some serious name stakes up for grabs right now.”

“So you’re pitting them against each other for your own benefit?”

“Exactly, you Hischiers love a little healthy competition,” Poppy smiles, back arching as his hand travels down her spine, the curve of her belly pressing right into his below the water. His skin smooth and hot, making her want to press even harder. “You need to up your game, I’ve got a godparent thing going on with some of the boys, too, you wouldn’t believe how much they’re willing to do for you when they think it puts them ahead in the rankings.”

“We’re not leaving our baby girl in the hands of any of those idiots in the unfortunate event of our deaths, Poppy.” Nico chuckles, lifting her with hands lowered to the backs of her thighs so that he can carry her deeper into the water.

“I know that, and you know that,” she presses a finger to the tip of his nose before her arms curl around his broad shoulders, “But if it means that Timo always brings me madeleines when he’s around, and Jesper and Nic always buy cute baby clothes for us and send me pictures, then who are we to rain on their parade?”

The smile that stretches across Nico’s lips is fond as he asks, “Who’s the front runner?”

“Well, Timo for now, obviously.”

“Obviously,” he agrees in good humour.

“But I’ve managed to convince Jonas he’s in with a good chance after we went to visit him, he kept bringing cut up fruit out to me while I was around the pool.”

“Baby, I cut up that fruit for you, don’t let him take the credit.”

“Oh, well then he’s disqualified for being a liar.”

“Why’s Timo the obvious choice?” He asks, now at a point in the water that if he let Poppy go, she would only just be able to keep her chin above the water, and she clutches on a little tighter.

“He’s an October baby, like me.” The hands around the back of his neck start playing with the ends of his hair, scratching softly at the skin as she presses herself entirely against him. “If anyone’s gonna raise our daughter, it’s going to be a Libra, we’re fair people.”

“Makes complete sense,” he jokes, “Written in the stars.”

“You get it,” she smiles, ignoring his sarcasm entirely. “But I’m waiting for the penny to drop when they realise all the boys back home are gonna want to be in the running. I have big plans for when we get back to Jersey, they’ve all got a lot of catching up to do, Luke’s in with a pretty good chance, you know.”

“You and that kid, I swear,”

“He’s very precious to me, Nico.”

“Yeah, don’t I know it.”

“Jack on the other hand has dropped way out of contention. We were talking on the phone the other day while you were training and called me Pop-belly. That’s out of line.”

Nico knows that laughing in any way at that is going to earn him some sort of reaction, but he really can’t help the way his lips quiver of their own volition.

“Yeah, laugh it up,” Poppy scoffs, swatting lightly at his shoulder, “I’ll be the only one laughing when he turns into my own personal smoothie butler when we go back. He has no chance of getting back in my good graces, but I won’t be telling him that.”

“You’re an evil genius.”

“It’s your devil spawn communicating through the womb,” Poppy hums, leaning in to press a proud kiss firmly to the dimple that forms in his cheek when he smiles at her. “I was a good girl before you corrupted me.”

“You were never a good girl,” he smirks, with his voice low, one hand travelling up the back of her thigh until he can pinch at her ass.

“Watch it, Hischier,” she warns, feeling steady enough in his hold to take an arm from around his neck and stroke the side of her finger along his slightly stubbled jaw. “You’re on thin ice with me already after shaving again, you don’t want to start being mean.”

“Oh, I’m being mean?” He asks, the hand that had pinched at her flesh now slipping beneath the fabric at the top of the back of her thighs. “You’re the one walking around in this bikini and not letting me touch you.”

“We’re in public, people get arrested for doing the things you want to do to me in places like this.”

“Could be worth it,” he shrugs, “You’re forgetting I’m kind of a national treasure, baby, they’d probably let me go with a warning.”

“Yeah, well, can’t risk it. I kind of need you. Plus, I think you’ve already done enough touching, you’ve literally impregnated me.”

“Way to make it sound romantic.” Nico mumbles, leaning to press a kiss to her bare shoulder, nose nudging once more at the thin straps of her bikini that curve around her slender neck. “Could never touch you enough.”

“You’re touching me right now, aren’t you?”

“Not where I want to.” He repositions where her legs are curled around his hips, just to emphasise his point, pulling her tighter around his torso until he can buck up into her and feel her shudder against him.

“You can touch me wherever you want later,” she promises, her eyes meeting his, speckles of sunlight glistening off the surface of the water and straight into his irises, warming them in a way that shoots heat all the way down her spine.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“You better.” She presses a sweet kiss straight to his lips, one hand holding him close as they part, and she kisses him quick again, before saying, “Thank you for cutting up my fruit.”

He smiles, eyes squinting against the sunlight and crinkling in the corners, deep dimples forming in each cheek.

“Thank you for having my baby.”

She giggles, kissing him again, unable to resist muttering, “Thank you for putting a baby in me,” against his lips before he nips at her mouth, moving along her face in a targeted attack as his hands grip firmer at her hips, tickling her until the sound of laughter fills the air around them.

—

Poppy and Nico had made their way out of the water and onto their towels in the shade by the time Nina and Luca had returned with 3 cones of gelato in hand. Luca had already eaten half of his, coffee-flavoured, and Nina had strawberry, handing a cone with a white scoop over to Poppy.

“Fior di latte,” she had smiled sweetly, “Like milk ice, you said that was your favourite.”

“Thank you,” Poppy had blushed, the smallest gesture of her remembering that sending a buzz down her spine. Nico’s putting beside her, and mutterings of how they could have gotten him one, too, soon forgotten when she started to share.

The two of them had gone for a walk to find a bar on the beach front where they could watch soccer, leaving Poppy and Nico cuddled up on their towel, lost in their own world as they shared the cone between them.

She was resting between Nico’s legs, absentmindedly licking at the dessert when a screaming blur had zoomed past them, kicking sand up in their wake as three young children chased each other down to the water.

Poppy thinks that a year ago, she might have pouted about the sand being thrown onto her legs, but she finds herself smiling softly as she reaches back with the cone, waiting for Nico to have a turn taking a bite.

“Do you ever think about having more?” She can tell without looking back at him that he’s speaking around a mouthful of gelato, and even the thought of it makes her chest warm with the rumbles of laughter.

“Kids?” Poppy asks, and he hums affirmatively in response, “We don’t even have this one yet, babe,”

“I know,” he mutters, and she can hear the smile in his tone as his thumb swipes at the curve of the top her bump, “But do you ever think about what our family might look like in a few years?”

Our family still makes her heart skip a beat, and she finds herself relaxing even further into his embrace - melting, almost, into his chest, warmed by the rays of sun he has been bathing under.

“We probably need to see how difficult this one ends up being before I think about having any more.” She licks quickly at the drip travelling down her thumb before offering the cone back to Nico, who shakes his head as he lowers it to her shoulder, nose nudging against her skin.

“Should have put two in you while I had the chance,” he mumbles, lips pressed into the side of her neck, trailing soft, but purposeful kisses.

“Not how that works, babe,” Poppy chuckles, lifting her chin to give him more space for his ministrations. “Although they do run in my family, my dad’s a twin.”

“There’s two of him?”

“Yeah, him and my uncle Peter. That’s where the whole name thing started in my family.”

“Name thing?” He juts his chin when she looks back, asking for another taste.

“We’re all P’s,” she frowns as she focuses on directing the cone back toward his mouth, making sure she doesn’t smush it in his face.

“Oli isn’t a P.” The gelato lines his lips messily as he speaks, and her eyes start to crinkle in the corners as she takes him in. How can he be so stupidly pretty with mint choc chip smearing his upper lip?

“Oli’s a fraud,” Poppy chuckles, swiping a thumb against the soft flesh of his mouth, bringing it to her own to clear it of the cold, sticky substance. “His name’s Philip Jr, but people started calling him Lil Phil and it gave him a complex.”

“Poppy, baby, did you start calling him that?”

“No comment.”

“You get all grumpy when Jack gives you dumb nicknames, and here you are calling your own flesh and blood Lil Phil.”

“I don’t get grumpy,” she pouts, recoiling her hand from his reach when he tries to lean back in for another taste of gelato.

“You threatened to block him the other day.”

“That’s ‘cause he called me Pop-belly,” she grumbles, “That’s not funny, it’s mean.”

“Not funny at all,” Nico concurs, lips twisting in the corner as he bites back a smile, eyes gleaming as he watches Poppy sit up and face him, fully. Her eyes narrow, gaze zeroing in on where he’s trying not to laugh, again, at the horrific moniker, and her own lips twist with mirth as she shuffles, resting back on her heels, limbs half on the towel and half on the warm sand.

“We should stick to your thing, when we’re picking a name for Cheeto,” she hums, meeting his eye as her tongue swipes against the cone, watching his eyelids grow heavier as he focuses on the movement of her lips. “4 letters, no chance of funny nicknames, no chance of people spelling it wrong on birthday cards,” she reaches out for him to get the taste he had been chasing before, and just as his lips press to the frozen substance, she adds, “You all have such pretty names, too. Like Luca.”

Poppy shouldn’t like the darkness that flashes across his eyes when his jealousy flares up, shouldn’t want to push his buttons to make it happen, but she can’t help herself - her favourite pastime all summer has been making Nico think she has a crush on his brother.

It’s so stupid, so childish but so so fun.

It had started off lighthearted enough - her first time meeting Luca, she had been a little knocked back by his presence - ruggedly handsome where she might usually have considered Nico softer, but there were definite similarities. And she wasn’t exactly attracted to him, but she had been flustered - obviously so - and it’s Nico’s own fault for making his notice of that fact so obvious - brows furrowed, his grip on her hand tightening, and a persistent urge to be present whenever Poppy hung around his brother.

She blames the fact that she misses that teasing aspect of their relationship - when their conversations were based off of sarcasm and inescapable charm - for how she continued to press his buttons over the summer. It’s hard to maintain their old snark when her hormones are all out whack, and all she wants is for him to get his clothes off and press her to the nearest surface at any given moment. He constantly has the upper hand, and she’s not exactly used to that being a part of their dynamic.

Teasing him about Luca kills two birds with one stone - she gets her fun, and she elicits that possessive part of him that he somehow locks away every time he gets eyes on her belly, that she can see him restraining in order to handle her with care.

“You’re not funny,” he huffs, swiping the melting gelato from her grip and taking an exasperated lick of the sides, not realising how adorable he looks making little swipes with his tongue when he’s trying to look annoyed.

“I’m dead serious, your brother’s a hunk.”

“Mohn,” he sighs, “I’ll dump this in the sand right now, and I know how much you want to eat this cone.”

“Fine, fine, fine,” she relents as she giggles, reaching to grasp at his arm where he’s holding it away from her, fingertips stroking teasingly to make him give in. “I don’t think your brother is hot.”

“Thank you,” he smiles, offering the gelato back to her.

“Your dad on the other hand.”

“Poppy,” he warns.

“Kidding! I’m kidding,” she laughs, shuffling forward and back between his parted legs, “You’re the only man for me, baby, I swear.”

“I better be,” he pouts, guiding her back into the space he leaves, where she had been cuddled up before, where he misses the press of her body between his thighs. “I booked a table at that Italian place you liked the other week for tonight,” he tells her, voice lowered as one hand falls to her waist, and the other reaches up to push her hair behind her ear and cup at her cheek, “And it’s under my name, so you can’t ditch me for my brother or you get no tiramisu for dessert.”

Her mouth drops at the threat, spare hand reaching up to grip at his shoulder. “I promise I’ll never love another man in my life.”

She says it with a tone so serious that he can’t help but laugh, and her lips tremble too as she watches him, rolling his eyes with affection and looking away so that he doesn’t entirely give him.

She doesn’t really think it’s much of a joke, though.

There isn’t a single person on the planet who could make her feel like this - so happy, so warm, so content.

She might never love anyone like she loves Nico.

Except for maybe their daughter. And whatever other family he wants to give her in a few years.

Poppy can’t quite figure out why the thought of going out for dinner alone with Nico is making her nervous.

They’re in a relationship, have been for around 3 months now, and she’s literally carrying his child, but as he stands behind her in the apartment, hands sliding torturously slow up her spine as he zips up her dress and making eye contact with her in the mirror’s reflection, she starts to feel her heart race.

She’s trying not to be quieter than usual as they walk hand in hand in the warm summer evening air, Nico guiding her down the streets that are comfortingly familiar to him, and that are starting to feel more like home every day to her, too.

It doesn’t help that he looks so good too, hair grown out and pushed back out of his face, a clean shave - as much as she had grumbled about that, she can’t deny how gorgeous he looks - a loose black shirt and baggy linen trousers, fancy watch clutched around his wrist.

And he makes her feel good about how she looks, too, despite flashes of insecurity hitting her over the past few weeks. Their afternoon spent between the sheets when they had returned from the beach, Nico not being able to get enough of her, and whispering sweet nothings and sexy mutterings into her skin as they finally took advantage of some much needed privacy.

He had chosen her dress for her, had strapped her slightly heeled sandals onto her feet with kisses pressed to her calves, and she thinks it’s all the attention he’s given her over the past 24 hours that has her feeling what she can only describe as high.

It’s what has her stopping him at the corner before the restaurant, seeing the perfect place to prop her phone up on a nearby wall so that she can capture the moment - the two of them looking so perfect that she wants her daughter to see, wants to print it out and tape it into her memory book to show her just how in love and happy her mommy and daddy are.

“Can we take a photo?”

“You want me to take one of you?” He asks, stopping as she starts to adjust her camera settings on her phone, adding the timer so she can leave her phone perched at a good angle.

“No, I want one together. So we can show Cheeto how hot her parents were.”

Nico chuckles as she places her phone on the side and pulls him to a good distance, holding her in his arms and smiling down at her as she holds back onto him - the two of them repeating a couple times with different poses before Poppy has a nice little collection of photos, and they can carry on toward the restaurant.

She swipes through and shows them to him as they walk together, and she sends them straight to him so he can have them for himself.

“Is that hard launch material for your instagram?” He asks as she zooms in on one of them, Poppy’s arms circled around his waist, the biggest, toothiest grin on her face and her eyes scrunched shut.

“I’m gonna put them in Cheeto’s pregnancy book,” Poppy hums, not answering him directly. “Remind me to keep a card or something from the restaurant, she loves their pasta. We can come back when she’s older.”

Her nerves have increased tenfold at the mere mention of that godforsaken app.

Her instagram had never been a big deal before - private since the day she started her account, she only really ever had friends from school and work on there. She never posted in search of likes or validation, just to share little updates on her life, but she had to delete it at the start of summer once the requests to follow her started flooding in.

The first barrage had been easy to ignore, but once the zeros started adding up, and the requests went over 10,000, she figured that just getting rid of it would do her a world of good.

Anybody that needed to be updated, she could just text anyway. It wasn’t a big deal, which is why she hasn’t told Nico yet.

She doesn’t want to worry him with the fact that her whole feed had ended up on Twitter somehow anyway - that the thought of posting anything new, and it ending up shared by one of her existing followers to an intrusive gossip account freaks her out. She doesn’t have the energy to whittle down who might be leaking her stuff, so deleting the app entirely and counting the rest of her privacy as a loss had felt like the safest option.

And it’s not like she misses it.

It’s also not like she cares that much about people knowing about her and Nico - she’d scream from the rooftops about him if she could - but the lack of control scares her a little.

It’s all so invasive - seeing herself cropped out of group pictures, with threads of discourse about her, her life, her relationship with Nico and the rest of the team. Everything twisted so far out of context she starts to question her own reality.

She had sought advice from Nina about the whole thing, and the two of them had agreed that between themselves, they could figure things out - documenting their summer just for them, without stressing Nico out about what was happening behind the scenes. And she’s grateful, at least, that she has someone like Nina in her corner - who understands what it feels like, to an extent.

Telling Nico would just make him feel guilty, or, even worse, apologise for something that isn’t his fault, and so all she can really do is avoid it altogether.

She hardly posted on there anyway.

“We should probably figure out her name, soon, you know,”

Poppy snaps out of her thoughts to look up at him, twisting his lips nervously as he checks on her.

“We can’t call her Cheeto forever.”

“We can. That’s her name.”

Nico chuckles as he guides are across the street with a hand on her back, the restaurant now in sight - a small, family business, not too fancy, the kind with the most delicious recipes past down generations and made to perfection.

She loves places like this - much prefers it to fancier joints - where they can sit side by side at a small table and bask in the intimacy of it all.

An older gentleman smiles warmly at the two of them when they walk in hand in hand, and guides them to a table in the outdoor section at the back, a lit candle and a single rose in the middle of the set-up, and the starry night sky twinkling above them.

She knows exactly why she’s nervous.

It’s the first date she’s been on in a long time - her first official date with Nico, period, and it takes her back to being a little younger, when she first started going on dates, first started opening up to the idea of sharing herself with anybody else. It’s daunting, even if he is already the love of her life. Even if she’s pregnant with his child, integrated into his family, and returning to Jersey in a matter of weeks to the apartment they now share.

He helps her into her seat, pulling his around from the opposite side of the table so they can sit together how she likes, his hand immediately finding where her legs cross beneath the table and stroking at her bare skin. The waiter hands the two of them menus, and Nico asks if he can bring water with ice for the table before he nods and departs, leaving them alone.

“This is really nice, baby,” she smiles, gratefully, eyes roaming over how soft his features look out in the dimmed light, chocolate irises twinkling as they reflect the flickering flame in the centre of the table.

“Only the best for my girls,” he says lowly, and the two of them sit and smile dopily at one another and making light conversation until the waiter returns. Nico says something that Poppy hasn’t quite learned yet in his language, only just about making out the word pen before Nico takes one from the man with an appreciative thank you before he leaves again. He reaches across the table for the napkins that sit beneath their cutlery, sliding one in front of her before writing on the one in front of himself behind his other hand, hiding whatever he’s doing until he folds the paper.

“I want you to write down the name that’s on the top of your list. Then we’re gonna close our eyes and shuffle them up and pick one.”

“How do you know I have a list?” She frowns, taking the pen when he offers it over to her.

“Because you make a list for the pros and cons of what takeout we’re ordering, Poppy. Of course you have a list to name our daughter.”

She rolls her eyes, covering her napkin as she pauses with a hovered pen.

She does have a list. And she has a definitive number one.

It hadn’t even been an option before the summer, but she’s found herself imagining the name more and more over the past few weeks. Embroidered on blankets, written into birthday cards for the boys, etched into a personalised wooden bookcase like the kind she had as a little girl.

Nico is right. She isn’t going to be Cheeto forever.

“You know,” Poppy leans back to hide her paper as she writes her name down, her legs angled toward his as his hand strokes softly again up her calf, his napkin clutched tight in his other hand. “Most people don’t pick out baby names on their first date.”

“This isn’t our first date,” he scoffs, eyes narrowing at her as she folds her own. “We’ve been on dates before.”

“Name one.” Her head tilts as she challenges him, eyes meeting his as she waits for him to come up with something.

“All those times we grabbed dinner together back in Jersey,”

“Not dates.”

“There were several candles lit, Poppy.” Nico frowns, and Poppy’s lips twist as the crease between his eyebrows deepens as he thinks back on it. “All those times we got food before or after your scans, and movie nights at your place with takeout-,”

“Not dates. You have to specifically ask for those to have been dates, they were more like hang-outs.” She repeats, a hand reaching out to place itself on his knee, thumb rubbing against the linen of his pants, countering before he can bite back, “But that’s okay, I like this being our first. We’re making our own order.”

“What like getting pregnant before we’re in a relationship?”

“Exactly. Structure is boring. I like the idea of waking up and you deciding today’s the day to put me in your will and tomorrow’s the day to learn my middle name.”

“I thought you didn’t have a middle name.”

Poppy smiles, close-lipped and big, like she’s holding in laughter as she reaches up to caress his face. She kind of doesn’t want to burst his bubble - sweet, naive but well-intentioned Nico, who thinks he knows her like the back of his hand - but she wants to prove her point, more. “Giselle. After my Nanna Gigi.”

“Poppy Giselle Jensen?” He asks, mouth agape as she nods. “You’re telling me I knocked you up before I even knew your full name?”

“Way to make it sound romantic,” she mocks, just as he had, earlier on the beach, tucking his hair behind his ear and shuffling a little in her seat, legs tangling even more with his under the table. “I think it’s cool that we get to learn new things about each other all the time.”

“What have you learned about me?” His voice drops an octave, thumb stroking at her skin in an attempt to distract, but she isn’t giving in to him.

“I spent a week with your mom and sister while you were training out in Tenerife, babe, I know all your secrets from all the photo albums we went through.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yeah,” she smirks, “Little blonde baby Nico with his big, pretty brown eyes and his bowl cut. I saw everything.”

“That’s not fair,” he pouts, grasping at her ankle, “You have the upper hand.”

“You saw me with my head in a toilet bowl for like 3 months straight, I think we’re even.”

“Speaking of,” he places his folded napkin down onto the table and slides it beside hers, “Close your eyes, I’ll mix them up.”

Poppy closes her eyes, but pouts a little as she hears him shuffle the napkins around. There was no speaking of - she was talking about puking. That wasn’t necessarily speaking of their daughter. He’s just deflecting attention from his bowl cut, she thinks, but she has extensive plans for revisiting that one. Preferably with backup, when their daughter is old enough to join in.

“Alright, now I’m gonna close my eyes, and you mix them up.”

She peeks her eyes open to see his scrunched closed, and smiles to herself as she mixes the two identically folded napkins on the table, nudging him with her knee to let him know when she’s finished.

Her heart starts to pound all of a sudden when his eyes flutter open, those perfect brown eyes darting straight to hers, and she holds her breath in anticipation.

“You pick.” He tells her, sliding the two napkins toward her.

She does so without looking, unfolding it in her lap and holding it against her palm so that he can’t see.

Her lips twist as she eyes the familiar name, a sense of victory swirling in her gut until the reality of it crashes down on her, her eyebrows scrunching in confusion.

That isn’t her handwriting.

“It means ray of sunlight in Persian,” Nico tells her, peeking down at the name written in the palm of her hands, already knowing from her reaction which napkin she had chosen. “Or beautiful girl.”

“Like you know anything in Persian,” she scoffs, “It’s just your brother and sister’s names combined.”

Nico frowns, “What?” He whines in denial, a poor attempt at lying that automatically makes Poppy’s lips turn at the corners, “How would you even think of that? I’ll let you know, I did extensive research, okay, I-,”

Poppy opens the other napkin up where it sits on the surface of the table, the exact same name scrawled in the centre in her handwriting.

Lina.

Nico smiles, slow but big, cheeks dimpling and eyes crinkling, and Poppy feels those nerves in her stomach swirl into something else, entirely. Her hands start to shake and her eyes start to water as soon as his gaze meets hers, pride shining through every pore of his features.

“That’s fate, Mohn,” he breathes, leaning closer, his chair shuffling against the floor as he reaches out to caress her face softly, palms pressed at either side of her jaw. “We wrote the same name.”

“I know,” she whispers, feeling a tear slip out that he catches immediately with the pad of his thumb.

“You wanna name her after my brother and sister?”

“I do.” She nods. Of course she does.

Not only has she seen how much they mean to Nico over the last couple of months, but they’ve started to mean as much to her, too - providing her with a sibling bond she’s never really experienced with Oli, one of unconditional love and support, admiration and affection.

She wants her daughter to embody that too.

To be a beacon of love.

A ray of sunlight.

“Lina Cheeto Hischier.”

Nico’s dimpled smile turns into laughter that erupts from the depths of his belly, and fills Poppy with elation, her body turning to jelly as he pulls her in until their lips press together, giggling against each others mouths until Nico feels the need to part, his head leaning down toward Poppy’s bump, where their daughter lays once again, butt to the front, ready to cause her mother a night of grief.

“Don’t worry Lina-bug,” he whispers, eyes drifting up to meet Poppy’s, her heart soaring at the sweet, definitely pre-meditated nickname. “We’ll work on the middle name.”

“Maybe something Persian,” Poppy scoffs, her own neck craning to speak toward her stomach, her hand falling to stroke it at the side, “Considering your daddy’s such an expert, all of a sudden.”

“I thought you might need convincing,” he chuckles, “I promise I looked it up.”

He leans in to kiss her again.

“I love you,” she whispers against his lips, “So much.”

“I love you more.”

Next Chapter

Taglist: @alwaysclassyeagle @bunbunbl0gs @idgaf-if-youre-here @youflowerr-youfeast @thearchersstuff @bellsdi0r @wonderheartz @jjgsunflower @butterflies35 @kenziepickle @josierosie @laheyxlover @mrsmattytkachuk @dasiysthings (sorry if your tag hasn't worked btw)

#nico hischier #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier fanfiction #nico hischier x oc #nhl fanfiction #*oys #*writing #gang I wish I could bang out 20k words every 10 days like I used to #but thanks for being patient with me!!!!#ONCE AGAIN #NEVER PROOFREAD #I also kind of rushed the ending but 🤷‍♀️ what can you do

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