lilacs and ice cream
Requested: 👍
Summary/Request: Idk if your taking requests but, If you could (if your doing it) write something about Bo Bichette again please, preferably with a gn or fem reader. I’ve read everything that I can read about him that also applies with me.
Author's Note: Alright, @goodiesinthecloset21, I'm gonna do my best with this one. I want to add that I know absolutely nothing about baseball so any terminology is the work of a quick Google search or something I've heard in a movie. Anyway, I know that you sent your request like a million years ago so I hope after all this time, it gives you a bit of what you're looking for. I decided to do something softer this time, more fluff, since the last one was smut but let me know if that's not the way you wanted it to go and I can give it another shot. Thanks babe! Love ya, stay golden!
P.S. some of this is kinda giving “strained family relationship” which was unintentional, so I’m sorry about that. Hopefully, that doesn’t take away from the story.
masterlist
the other masterlist
xx
Summer in Toronto was beautiful. You loved the way the flowers bloomed, the bright purples popping against the bright green grass; even on the smoggiest days. There was only ever one thing missing - someone to share it with. That is, until Bo came into your life. You had gone to the baseball game with your family begrudgingly, but the seats were good and you knew it was something that your dad had wanted for a long time
“I just want to be in that stadium,” he’d say at least twice a month for most of your life, “just once. To see a game and watch the Jays win”
It was nice to see him, and the rest of your family, so happy. You watched the game, intermittently laughing at your dad as he tried to start a wave that barely made it past your section, or when he spilled his popcorn after jumping up in excitement. You really started to get into it around the 3rd inning, the crowd was getting loud and rowdy and it started to rub off on you. By the time the game ended, you were beaming with excitement, so much so that you weren’t watching where you were going and you somehow walked right into a crowd of people.
“Oh my goodness I’m so sorry!” you laughed, “I guess that’ll teach me to watch where I’m going next time”
“That’s alright,” one voice said, “are you okay?”
“I’m fine. A bit embarrassed maybe,” you added before finally looking up to see who you’d bumped into. Speechless when you saw Bo Bichette smiling back at you, “but you know…” you continued, trying not to blush as you stared, “fine”
“Glad to hear it,” he said cheerfully before his teammates called him to the bus that was waiting for them, “don’t go running into anybody else now.” You watched for a second while he hopped on the bus, feeling a small tug on your arm from your mom pulling you towards your family
“(Y/N), come on, what are you doing?” she laughed
“Yeah, yeah,” you answered distractedly, “I’m coming.” Your mind wandered to that encounter all through your family meal and you weren’t sure you could ever forget it - or that you wanted to.
xx
It had been nearly a week since you bumped into Bo Bichette at the Jays game. Honestly, it kept you going during your boring serving shifts at the pub you worked at.
“I mean it was a fun story,” your co-worker, Brit, smirked as she leaned against the wall where you were cleaning a table, “but don’t you think you should be over it by now? I mean.. it was a chance encounter,” she teased, “we don’t live in a rom-com”
“I’m sorry,” you laughed in return, “but it’s one of the more exciting things that have happened in my life. And.. yeah, maybe I’ve been single for a little longer than I would like.” Brit gave you an almost pitiful look before the door was burst open by a loud crowd of men, laughing amongst themselves before stopping at the host stand to ask for a table; you could only watch for a moment as they were directed to your section before you were pulled away to run food. When you finally got to the table of boastful boys, you noticed who exactly they were
“Well, hello again,” Bo smiled as he greeted you, “I was hoping I'd see you again. Maybe get a name this time?”
“H-h-hi,” you stammered, as you looked at him until you realized you should probably be professional, “hi, I'm (Y/N),” you course-corrected, “I'll be your server today. How is everyone doing today?” It was an awkward segue but you didn't know what to do
“Hi, (Y/N), I'm Bo. Nice to meet you,” he said, introducing himself in return and it calmed you down enough for you to... not look like a complete moron when doing your job, “officially.” You felt a blush creep across your face as you continued to take everyone’s orders. When you finally left the table, you exhaled sharply while your co-workers giggled
“I can’t believe this,” you whispered to yourself, “this is insane”
“It’s gonna be fine,” your friend said with a smile, “think of it this way: you’re finally continuing your rom-com”
“Come on, Brit,” you replied, hanging your head, “this isn’t funny. I’m too flustered to give them… to be a good server”
“You’ll be great!” she continued, “just be your bubbly self. They’re just people, don’t think of them otherwise”
“Yeah, just people,” you repeated, “incredibly well-known, well-recognizable, wealthy people”
“You know you also have other tables…” one of your other co-workers, who had been listening to the entire conversation, interjected, forcing you to snap out of your pity party
“SHIT!” you said quietly, rushing out to check on your tables, refilling water glasses and clearing plates where needed, all the while keeping an eye on the players of the Toronto Blue Jays. At some point in the night, the host came to grab you
“(Y/N), they’re asking for you,” the host said, “I don’t think they’re upset but they don’t want to talk to anyone else. Not even the managers”
“How long ago did they ask?” you asked
“Like less than a minute” she answered
“And they’re not upset?”
“No.. I mean I don’t think so but maybe they’re pretending? Being ‘polite mad’?” You chuckled a bit before thanking her and heading back to them, greeting them happily, making sure everything was alright
“We just wanted to ask you a question” Bo smiled
“Bo wanted to ask you a question,” one of the others clarified, and your interest was suddenly peaked
“Ah, okay,” you returned, placing your hand on the back of Bo’s chair, “what’s the question?”
“What are you doing after your shift?” he asked
“It’ll be late,” you admitted with a chuckle, “so I’ll probably be going to bed”
“What time are you off?”
“I’m on a split tonight, so I’m here until at least 10pm” you replied
“Do you work tomorrow?” Bo continued, earning a shy smile from you
“Tomorrow’s my day off. I hardly ever work Sundays”
“Are you free around.. noon?”
“Sure,” you said, “for what?”
“There’s this path I love hiking, how do you feel about that?” you said that would be great, both of you smiling at each other, almost completely ignoring everyone at the table. It took you until you got into the kitchen that you realized you had just been asked out on a date - ‘I guess it has been a while’ you thought - and now you didn’t know how to act. Bo was the one who confirmed the date, leaving you with a blush that covered your whole face; you were sure it looked like you were having an allergic reaction but you hoped he wasn't embarrassed of you...
“I'll see you tomorrow” you managed to get out after what felt like an eternity
“Tomorrow,” he said with a smile, walking backward as he left the pub, keeping his eyes locked on you until one of his teammates turned him around so he didn't hurt himself by running into the door.
xx
You woke up the next morning and practically hopped out of bed, immediately texting Brit
“Did I dream Bo Bichette asking me out on a date?” you asked
“No,” she replied plainly, after about 10 minutes
“I'm going hiking with a professional athlete today?”
“Yes”
“WHAT DO I DO?!”
“First of all,” she started a string of texts, “it's 8 in the morning, calm down.” You chuckled at her text, knowing that she had probably bitterly rolled out of bed after hearing the chime of her phone, “second, what do you mean what do you do? You go on a date with Professional Baseball Player, Bo Bichette”
“Okay.. sure," you typed, “but what do I wear?”
“You're going on a hike. Don't wear jeans”
“Thank you for that”
“Always here to help”
“I should start getting ready...”
“Again, it's 8AM” she repeated
“And the date is at noon...”
“Yeah”
“You don't need four hours to get ready”
“I need to shower”
“20 minutes”
“I have to find an outfit”
“5 minutes, 10 max”
“I have to do my hair and make myself look presentable”
“We'll say 30 minutes to be safe”
“I have to eat something...” You were grasping now but what could you do, you were nervous
“Maybe he's planning on taking you somewhere after the hike?” she countered, "I don't think eating before a hike is recommended”
“BRIT!” you text-shouted, "I'm freaking out. I don't want to be freaking out but I am. I don't want to make a fool of myself. Or him...”
“Okay, okay, okay,” you could practically hear her sigh through the screen, "you're not going to make a fool of yourself or him. No one's gonna be made a fool today. But you don't need to worry so much. Wear a pair of shorts, the ones you really like, bring a bandana or something - to get your hair off your neck a bit but also to get rid of any sweat you don't want him to see - and make sure you wear sneakers. Don't wear boots or flip-flops. And sunscreen. Always wear sunscreen!” You thanked her quickly, jokingly saying that you were glad she was finally getting on board, and placed your phone back on its charger before hopping in the shower.
“Maybe Brit was wrong. Maybe this really was a mistake…” you grumbled to yourself as you fixed your outfit in the mirror, nearly jumping out of your skin when the doorbell rang. You tried to be as calm as you could, letting out a deep exhale before answering the door
“Hey!” Bo said with a wide smile
“Hi,” you said simply, any doubt you had was now replaced with butterflies in your stomach - being nervous was so basic but you couldn’t help it.
“I.. you ready?” He stammered. It made you feel better that he seemed a little out of his element as well
“Let me just grab a water bottle” you smiled, leaving the door open as you ran to the kitchen; a way of saying ‘you can come in, judge my apartment a little if you want,’ but you were maybe just a little too quick.
“Let’s get going then,” he remarked happily and the two of you were on your way. You weren’t sure what to expect with this hike but Bo using the word path led you to believe it wouldn’t be that bad - which would be ideal since the last time you properly went hiking would be at least 5 years ago. However, it turns out, you forgot to take into account that Bo Bichette was, in fact, Bo Bichette: Professional MLBer. In the middle of the hike, you leaned against a tree, claiming you needed the shade
“I forgot to put on sunscreen and I don't want to burn,” you falsely claimed, catching your breath as Bo leaned against the tree with you
“Sure,” he smirked, bringing out his water bottle to take a sip, “I mean I don't burn as easily but we can stay in the shade.” Once you had finally evened out your breathing, you took a sip of water and looked out at the path that you were about to continue walking
“It's beautiful out here,” you smiled, leading both of you back onto the path at a slower pace now, “I can tell why you like it so much”
“I almost brought you flowers, lilacs,” he gestured to the flowers on the path, “but I knew the path and I knew there would be lilacs here, so I decided against it”
“Aww,” you said, pouting slightly to hopefully show how cute you thought it was, “that's really sweet. I would've appreciated it either way but I'm glad I got to see this first”
“I chose right then?” he asked eagerly
“Yes,"”you smiled, “you chose right.” Bo kept your pace for the rest of the walk but you could tell it was not what he was used to and you felt a little silly not telling him you hadn't been hiking in so long. “I'm sorry that this wasn't a very.. exciting hike,” you laughed uncomfortably, “I haven't been on a trail of any kind in about 5 years. I used to do a lot more physical activity and then I guess I just kinda... stopped”
“That's okay,” he smiled in return as the trail came to an end, “it was nice to see it at this pace. Yes, I do typically go a bit faster,” he laughed to himself, “but I don't always take in the beauty of the actual walk. So, I guess I should thank you”
“You're very welcome,” you returned jokingly and he bowed to add to the humour. The two of you finally got to the car and you hesitated as to what was going to happen next
“Everything okay?” he asked, noticing your reluctance to open the door
“I just... had a really good time,” you admitted, “I'm wondering, I guess, what's next?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are we going somewhere else or should we end it here?” you said, “I mean, sorry,” you continued awkwardly, “I don't want to be presumptuous. I'm just flushed”
“What would you like to do?” he smirked
“Whatever you had planned” you admitted
“Then, I think we should go get some ice cream,” he offered, “I know a great place nearby.” You happily agreed before hopping into the passenger seat of the car. You felt butterflies the entire car ride to the ice cream shop and tried not to stare at him too often but would occasionally catch him looking back at you.
“Is Rocky Road your usual choice?” you asked, as you scooped a bit of your favourite into a spoon and bringing it to your mouth
“No,” he admitted, “I’ve never actually had it. I just wanted to try it”
“And…?” you giggled, “what do you think?”
“It’s okay,” he laughed, “I’ve had better but I’ve also had worse.” You smiled at his words and continued eating your own ice cream, taking in the pastel colours of the parlour at the same time, when you heard Bo giggle slightly; your attention immediately drawn back to him
“What?” you blushed
“You just have…” he began, gesturing to his mouth and it took you a minute to understand that you must have ice cream around your mouth.
“Oh,” you said in surprise, tinged with embarrassment, but his finger soon grazed your lip, wiping away the small mess there. “Thank you,” you whispered in this unbelievable rom-com moment, his finger lingering slightly before he cleared his throat and removed it
“My pleasure” he grinned. You wondered if there might be a kiss but let him take the lead - you didn’t want to set expectations. As he drove you home, you couldn’t help think how sweet this all was - the walk, the lilacs, the ice cream, the moment - but the one thought that kept sticking in your mind was: I really hope there's a second date. He walked you to the door to your apartment building, stopping short of entering the lobby, “I had a really nice time”
“I did too,” you returned, “thank you for… everything. It’s been one of the best dates I’ve had in the city”
“I’m glad,” he smiled, reminding you of your first meeting, “maybe we can do it again?” You felt giddiness take over you and you rushed to agree, hoping that did not throw him off. “Perfect,” he finally said after what felt like a long pause, “then I think the lake is open. It’s another physical activity, I know, but paddle boats are always fun. What do you say?” The smile that spread across your face felt like it might consume you and all you could do was nod your head in agreement, “I will pick you up tomorrow then, same time?”
“I’ll bring the sunscreen,” you joked, “I wouldn’t want to burn.” He smiled at you lightly before placing a small kiss to your cheek, a feeling you’d think about until the very moment he picked you up for each and every date.
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Obsession
I'm not a complicated woman, I swear.
I'm so boring.
I'm quiet. I live alone. I drink decaf. I file my taxes in January. I majored in art history.
I crochet, goddammit! I crochet cardigans, the most boring kind of sweater! And then I wear them! Like Mister Rogers, aka the plainest person to ever exist.
No one could possibly suspect how deeply weird I am.
I've been perfect. I've never left a browser history. I've never worn blue and red together. I've kept myself as trim as my mom's genes let me. No one's ever caught me watching the movie.
You know... the movie?
You know the movie.
Well, I mean, I guess it's "movies" now, but... I know which one left a violet stain on my soul.
You can't blame me.
Well... you certainly can't, anyway.
If you were me, maxed out on good karma, toeing every line you've ever met, perfectly alone in all the universe... what would you have done differently? What other choice was there?
Never mind how I got the chance. As soon as I found out about it, there was nothing else I could do. Everything I thought I knew about myself fell away. All the safe choices and good behavior just gone, poof, like they never existed. This is my fate, it was made for me.
I was always going to be the one chewing this stick of gum.
In the end, it was like they wanted me to find it.
Dodging through an unlocked door, stealing through low-lit corridors, drawn to it like the heartbeat of the universe.
It's so silly. I know it is. Some stray neutrino passed through my brain as a child, and I watched the wrong movie, and I twisted into whatever it is that I am. All I've wanted is to become something else, and that something is big, and round, and draped in the shreds of the last clothes she'll ever wear.
That last part is really important for reasons I just can't explain. All that matters is that I literally get too big for my britches. I just need to hear that little "pop". That's it.
I can never seem to imagine past that. Regardless, I'm putting the gum to my lips, completely, defiantly unaware of how this will end. It's on my tongue, and the flavor is unreal. I guess they didn't bother with the roast beef or anything. It's just violently fruity. Juicy, and warm, and way too sweet.
A door creaks open. I was so sure I wouldn't be found, but joke's on them. It's too late.
It's a mousy woman woman with huge glasses, wearing a lab coat. She peeks around the door before she enters, like she doesn't want to offend me.
"Oh-" she says.
"Um," I say around a mouthful of juice. "I-"
And then I think, hey, wait, I've made my choice. It doesn't matter how this ends! What's she going to do, save me? I'm in control here! Kind of!
"... um." I say again. Actually, it's hard to talk. I'm swallowing a lot of juice.
She steps all the way into the room.
"Uh, hi," she says, fiddling with her glasses. She looks at me, and then down at her clipboard, and then back to me. "Are you-"
"I'm not spitting it out," I say, before gulping down another burst of juice. I'm starting to feel kinda bloated.
"No, I mean. Um," she says, "sorry, I'm new here, um."
I'm tired of my mouth working so hard, so I make a show of swallowing the gum.
"Oh!" she says, "that was fast," and she makes some sort of mark on her clipboard.
What.
"Um, could you follow me this way, please?" she asks, gesturing toward another door I hadn't noticed. One of those big ones like they have on loading docks that roll upward.
"What?" I ask, reflexively.
She walks over and pushes a big red button on the wall. The door starts lifting.
"Oh, sorry, we can wait if you want," she says, "you'll fit, don't worry."
I start to have a thought, but then my stomach gurgles and I feel like I'm on an elevator going down. I clutch my sides and double over, but... it's getting hard to bend.
"Don't worry," she says again, "it just feels weird, but you'll be okay."
The thought comes back. Someone was expecting this. They're prepared for this.
I look back at the pedestal the gum was resting on. It's already been replaced with another piece.
The worst feeling in the world is thinking you're making a defiant last stand, only to find out that the hill you chose to die on was ready-made for your dramatic exit, and that you'll be asked to leave through the gift shop and pay way too much for the photos they take of you. You know, figuratively.
I have to do something they won't see coming.
I turn around and lunge for the new piece of gum. Or, at least, I try to lunge, but my thighs are filling up and it's getting difficult to move dramatically. Still, I grab it and cram it in my mouth. Might as well be a brat.
"Oh!" she chirps again, and makes another mark on her clipboard. "Wow! So-"
God, I'm feeling so full. I can feel every inch of my clothes pulling taut against my skin. I gave in to temptation and wore a blue top, blue jeans, and a red belt. I couldn't help myself. Now, that belt is starting to dig in, trying to squeeze me in half.
I swallow the new gum, too, and look down at myself. I'm getting pretty big, bulging out around the belt. My shirt is riding up, exposing my swelling blue belly to the cool air. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her make another mark.
I try to touch my growing midsection, but it's getting hard to move my arms. They're filling up too. I feel warm all over now.
"You're blowing up so fast!" she says.
She opens her mouth to say something else, and that's when my belt snaps apart. My equator surges outward, jiggling and sloshing from the violent release.
It feels so, so strange, becoming something completely alien to what you use to be.
That said, it also feels amazing. Swelling bigger and bigger with gushing blueberry juice, bursting out of- wait.
I'm still growing, but besides the belt, everything's still on.
I try to look down again, but all I can see is the blue horizon of my belly. I flap my hands in frustration.
The lady speaks up again. "Since you're likely unable to move by yourself now, may I have your permission to roll you?"
"Um," I say, trying to think. I'm freaking out a little right now. "Uh."
I need this. It's all I've ever really needed. I just need need need to blow up and burst out of my clothes, that's it, and who cares what happens to the blueberry that used to be me.
All I need is to burst one little button and I'm done. I'll have won. Good day, miss.
The problems is, I'm perfectly round now, and my jeans are so, so tight but haven't so much as snapped a stray thread.
"Miss?" she says, "may I roll you away?"
I try to think of something to say, just to stall for a little more time. I'm so close, so so close.
Instead, I break down.
"Please," I beg her, "I'm going to lose my mind if I can't pop this button."
"Hey-" she starts, but I'm in a full-on panic right now.
"I have to, I have to, I don't know if I'll ever get another chance to be a blueberry, and like what if you roll me away and I never get juiced and I'm just stuck like this forever which would be hot but still or like what if this is as big as I can get and it's just impossible like what the fuck who even makes clothes that fit spherical women I knew I should have worn the red ones-"
"-but-"
"And I know what you're thinking! She broke the rules, it doesn't matter what she wants, she's just a blueberry now, blueberries don't want things, they're not even people! She had her chance and she blew it except she couldn't even blow it-"
"Miss! Please," she snaps, and she walks over, reaches up, and pinches my lips closed.
We lock eyes, because where else can I look, and for a moment, I just cry silent blue tears down my puffy cheeks, pouting all the while.
Then she smiles, and says, "I'm a trained professional, Miss. I can help you with that." She lets go, brushes her frizzy hair out of her eyes, and disappears behind me.
I feel her warm little hands on either side of me, like she's trying to give me a weird hug. Then I feel her squeeze into me. It feels startling, she must be way stronger than she looks. The pressure builds more and more, and I can hear her making an adorable little straining noise.
Then, there's a pop, and immediately a sense of relief. I hear a little zipping noise as the fly on my jeans explodes open. I gasp at the sensation.
Finally.
I give a little shudder, releasing the tension I hadn't realized was building the whole time. How Freudian of me, I guess. The oral stage ain't got nothing on this.
"Now then," she says, appearing in front of me again, smiling wider, making yet another mark. "May I please roll you away, Miss?"
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