#she runs my world atp

[hsmtmts-arrows]

saylor appreciation post

[fishtank32]

Some old oc drawings

[dilf-docs]

To The Devil I Know

bfd!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: your infamous girl's trip with your best friend sarah gets crashed by his overprotective dad.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, p. in v., fingering, oral (m. and f. receiving), brat taming, it's pussy spanking time again bc i do in fact like it a lot, praise/daddy kink sprinkled somewhere, reader calls him mr. miller A LOT, exhibition kink (v nasty), degradation kink (he calls her little slut), pantie sniffing, dirty talk (they have a sentence awaiting in horny jail), y/n grinds on joel's nose bc yeah i too want that, this is contradicting but lwk sub!joel bc that man's touch starved as HELL, may do a part two idk pls give it love, dad!bod joel bc i say so (yummy), no angst (wtf dilf-docs? the angst gods are so pissed off rn)

word count: 7,195 words

side note: this request got me HOOKED the moment i opened it and since i'm currently on a pedro hyperfixiation rn, we need to put the mental illness to good use. also, this is lwk based on the song by suki waterhouse devil i know! :) i'm seeing that i have two joel fics with devil in the title btw something something abt nickels and not being a lot but weird it happened twice also WE HIT 300 FOLLOWERS??? (and its 1am and i have to wake up at 4am is anyone surprised atp...)

part: prev | masterlist | next

"Sarah!" you shout, "get your ass out here you looser!"

It's probably eight in the morning, and here you are, honking and shouting in the middle of the quiet calm suburbs.

When you spot her curly head running towards you in a rush, you know she's pissed.

"Stop screaming!" she shouts back, "my neighbours will hate me"

You've known Sarah since you were kids. When you first moved to Texas, she was the only one who spoke to you in school. You grew up with her among white picket fences and scrapped knees, mantaining the friendship even as you moved away, until your return for college.

"Why would I even care? I don't live here!" you joke from the driver's seat, hopping off and giving her a hug. "I'm sorry but I can't help it. I'm just so excited for this trip, we've been planning it for ages!"

You keep talking excitedly about your plans, not noticing how her face falls.

"Yeah, about that..."

"You girls ready?" a third voice enters the picture, definitely not belonging to a girl.

"Uh, Sarah" you breath in, "Why the fuck is your dad here?"

In all his glory: Joel Miller, a guy you haven't seen in forever, too busy living in the dorms, girl dates with Sarah often out of her house. You wanted to explore the world: you weren't ten anymore, and the suburbs lost all of it's appeal they had when you were the age of Barbies and drawing on chalk.

"Listen, y/n. I tried, I really tried. But as soon as I opened my mouth, he started to pack his bags"

"Isn't your dad always busy at work?" you inquire, another one of the reasons Joel's face isn't a fresh memory in your head.

"That's part of the problem. He took all of the pending vacations he had at once" she sighs, sounding as dissapointed as you are. "I understand if you don't want to go"

"Are you being serious right now?" you chuckle dryly. "No, absolutely not. I saved for this trip, packed my favorite outfits and aced all my classes so my parents would allow me. Nothing is going to ruin this for me: not you, not your dad. So we'll go and we'll have all the fun we planned, yeah?" you express firmly, holding her hands. "We will have our girl summer, no matter what. Even if we have to ignore the elephant in the room..."

"Did you just call me fat?"

You turn around, and there he is: the uninvited. Joel Miller's aged face stands before you, strong arms flexing under the pressure of a couple of suitcases.

"No" you reply back, "just a nuissance"

He chuckles at your response, amused. "If you thought I'd let my babygirl go alone with you to the beach and get shit-faced drunk, you're not as smart as I remember, y/n"

Your name would always be on his tongue to call you out. Y/n, don't do that. Y/n apologize to the neighbours. Y/n, slow down. Y/n, don't be so stubborn. You were always a troublemaker, and his lips would only know how to pronounce your name if to berate you. But now, as his mouth says your name with a newly learned tone, dripping with dare and amusement, you can't help but feel a fire ignite that burns your skin.

"Dad!" Sarah calls out, taking you out of your thoughts. She flushes in embarrasment, and you scoff at the idea of giving too much of your time to think about Mr. Miller of all people. "I'm not ten anymore, we'll be just fine"

"You're barely of legal age!" he counters back. "What if somethin' was to happen to you, huh? I'd never forgive myself"

You get annoyed at his over-the-top reactions. What did he think you were gonna do? The wildest thing you had in mind was getting drunk while sitting in the sand. Not even in the water! You may be a wild spirit, but stupid you're not.

"Look, Mr. Miller" he cocks his head to the side, daringly so, almost as if waiting for you to try. "I don't know what you're thinking, but this isn't Driveway Dolls" he looks at you confused, so you try again, "Or Thelma and Louise, whatever suits your fucking old ass. Alright? This is a girls trip, heard that? Just two bestfriends enjoying their youth and summer without boys around to ruin it for them"

"Boys?" he laughs. "Too bad, then, 'cause sweetheart, I'm a man"

Your breath hitches, but you're not going to let him win; you always need to have the last word.

"Well, man up and let your daughter be free for once!"

Sarah covers her face with her palms, clearly knowing her dad more. This is a lost battle.

"Stop, y/n. Please. Dad's impossible to bend"

"He's ruining our trip!" you protest, feeling like a child throwing a tantrum.

"Take it or leave it" he leans against his truck, crossing his arms. Your eyes dart to the strained fabric of his sleeves, and when he chuckles, you don't know if he noticed or it's because of his imminent victory.

"Fine!" you throw your hands in the air, dramatically so. "Welcome on board, intruder"

Joel Miller smiles, and maybe it's the rare sight, not even common back in the day, that makes your heart skip a beat.

"And we're taking my truck"

"Are you being serious right now?!" Was this man going to take away all your freedom?

He laughs, mockingly. Rage bubbles in your chest, along something darker you aren't going to admit just yet.

"There is no way my daughter is going on a fucking hatchback to the beach"

You try to distract yourself talking to Sarah in the backseat, but her dad's prying glances time to time from the rear view mirror have you shifting uncomfortably on your seat.

He's persistent, always has been. Joel Miller, just as Sarah said, wasn't a man who could be bent. You'd remember thinking he was a sort of superhero: unbreakable. Whenever Sarah needed help, a pair of strong arms would be there, ready to take the weight off of her shoulders. He was now older, as you have noticed: grey and wrinkles sprayed all over his face. And now, the worst part of it all:

Age had made him infuriatingly attractive.

Unfair, you think, that a man so bitter that only seemed to worry and nag, was blessed with the rare quality of aging like wine. You can deny it anymore: whatever Joel Miller has now that he didn't before is working on you like a lovesick spell.

You look again to the front, just in time to catch one of his subtle (not really) stares. You keep the eye contact, only he tears away his gaze first, something akin to regret and fear circling on his warm brown orbs. The fire from before cracks inside of your belly, and the anticipation begins.

If he was going to ruin your trip, you might as well return the favor.

"M' gonna stop for gas" he says after some minutes of silence, deviating towards a gas station.

You take the opportunity to get out of the truck to strech your legs. Sarah does so too, but then whispers into your ear:

"Tell my dad I need to go to the bathroom. Don't want him worrying"

As if you'll talk to him. Despite that, you nod and she leaves you alone with her annoying dad.

"Reckless too, huh?" Joel appears by your side, almost making you drop your phone. "You know you're not s'pposed to use the damn phone on a gas station? Good thing I ain't let my daughter go alone with you"

You put your phone down. "Reckless? I know what I'm doing" but you sound nervous, for some reason.

"You haven't changed at all, have you?" Joel says, his voice surprisingly soft.

You heart gets stuck in your throat at the sudden shift, "I suppose not"

"I get that you hate me" he confesses, done filling the tank, "but I couldn't let the two of you go alone"

Your cheeks turn pink at the accusation, "I don't hate you"

He laughs, and the sound has something stirring in the lower of your belly. Why is Joel Miller of all people provoking feelings in you no other boy has ever provoked? You're used to playing with boys as you please, and you come to realize that's where the difference lies: you don't know how to handle a man.

A man so strong, your eyes don't leave him as his arms flex while pumping the gas, the delicious peek his simple white shirt gives you not going unnoticed; droplets of sweat on his temple, sliding down his jawline then getting lost down the crook of his neck. You lick your lips on instinct, horrified when you realize what you've just thought and done.

"Damn right you don't"

You could say you've reached some kind of truce, but then Sarah comes back, and when you look at Joel again, he's reverted to that annoying apathic state of his, but instead of bothering you, it only makes you want more.

"Hey" he says to Sarah, "where you went?"

"I had to pee, dad. Relax" she dismisses, shooting at you a can-you-believe-it look.

He walks away, ready to jump in the driver's seat again, when he turns around to whisper to Sarah:

"Don't ever leave me again" tone stern, "not with her"

But you hear.

You arrived late, the sun hiding behind the large body of water that seemed infinite.

"I can't believe we missed the first sunset!" you whine. "It was going to look so good on my Instagram stories..."

"This generation and their problems" Joel scoffs, taking the suitcases to the house you've rented for the next two days.

The answer is right at the tip of your tongue, but you decide to be the bigger person and remain quiet. If he wants to play, you better play smart.

"Dad, please" Sarah calls him out, and you have to hide a laugh. "Don't fight with y/n"

"I ain't doing shit" he sneers, crossing his bulking arms.

Sarah walks past him, muttering against his childishness. That angers Joel, who tries to remain cool.

"I know you hate me" you suddenly appear by his side. Your vainilla scent gets up on his nose, invading his body of you. "I just think you should try, for Sarah"

"I don't hate you" he answers, and now it's your turn to laugh.

"Yeah? Doesn't seem like it, Mr. Miller" it comes out before you can stop it, and there's something dark lurking behind his brown eyes piercing through you.

"I don't" sounding more sure this time. Serious too.

"You'll have to prove that"

You enjoy the surprise on his face and the light pink sprinkled across his cheeks.

"Prove that?"

You nod, finding all of this suddenly funny.

"Hmh, you heard me. Prove it, Mr. Miller. That you don't hate me"

But before he can respond, your bestfriend is back.

"Y/n, come on! You need to check the house. It has a shared balcony!" Sarah beams giddy.

You let her excitement infect you, taking her hand as you go inside the house. Joel stays back, your words ringing on his ears.

On the other hand, Sarah and you check the room together.

"Look this" she points at one of the mirrors in the room: it has details that remind you of the sea. "Isn't it cute?"

"It is" you agree, "we should take a picture"

"Okay. But use your phone" she says, "mine died on the road"

You're about to pull it out when you feel your pockets empty.

"It's... not here"

"You might have left it in the car" she tries to help.

"Yeah" you try to remain level-headed, "I'll go search for it"

You return to the truck, pressing your head against the window. Just like your friend guessed, it's there, abandoned on the seat.

"Lost somethin'?"

You gasp, turning around. Joel Miller's face is centimeters away from yours, breathing heavily as his body cages your smaller frame against the truck's doors.

"My phone" you find your voice after what feels like eternity, "it's inside the car"

"Need help with that?" his voice sounds low, whisper easily to be confused with a growl.

You don't know how to answer, scared for the first time of where your mouth could take you. So your solution is to nod, and step aside for him to open the car.

"There you go" he's dropping it in your hands, fingers lightly brushing yours. There's a shiver down your spine despite the cool weather, and you know damn well it's all his fault. He may feel it too, by the way he takes a step back, putting some distance.

"Need anything else?" but it feels like a slap to the face, as if he's challenging you to speak what you've been thinking but are too coward to do when he stands before you.

"No" you mentally slap yourself for how pathetic you sound, "this is all I needed, Mr. Miller. Thanks"

You look back one last time, despite it all. And there it is: that same look he gave you in the car.

"Anytime" but it falls deaf to your ears, as you basically ran away from him.

Him and his imposing presence, enough to make your legs tremble and your mind to stop working. Him and his smell, that brings you back to simpler times and reminds you of a a secret place in the woods, musk getting under your skin. Him and his breath, hitching when you touch hands. Him and his beating heart, just as loud as yours.

"Took you long" Sarah comments when you return, "I was already falling asleep"

She doesn't know or suspect, you tell yourself, but that doesn't stop you from feeling sick.

That night, as Sarah lays by your side and you try to sleep, all you can think about is his big hands, the lingering feeling of a warm touch. And then Joel, stepping back―coming to his senses, as if something is holding him back.

Anytime.

You can't help but wonder what stopped him.

Days have blurred between drinks by the poolside, waves crashing, wet sand in your fingers and sun carressing skin.

Despite what happened, Joel remains in the shadows, letting you and Sarah enjoy your trip in peace. You may be spending time with your bestfriend, but his presence hangs in the air, impregnated with his strong pine and whisky smell, looming over you like a shadow; suffocating, like his scent is all you can breath. You hate how your mind keeps going back to him, because despite your inicial claims to ruin him, that wasn't the purpose of this vacation, yet Joel seems to have infected you with a need that corners your mind to think of him and him only. The greed you feel is unnatural, like a spell has been cast upon you. He may be far, just as you wanted, and you should enjoy that, but it's that very same distance that is driving you insane.

Today, you and Sarah decided to go diving and then play volleyball.

The day ends, the sun sets, and so does the tiredness. But as Sarah's snores fill your ears, you toss around the bed, trying to conceal sleep to no avail.

Staring at the ceiling, you kept drifting back to Joel, mind wondering and heart racing at thoughts of strong arms caging you, warmth in your body that the breeze creeping through flowing curtains fails to provide.

The sound of wood creaking jolts you awake. His silhoutte is hard to miss, and your eyes follow it cross your bedroom. You pretend to be asleep, his scent up your nose as he walks in careful measured steps, trying not to wake you up. He looks back at Sarah, and the moonlight betrays him when it shines over his eyes, revealing an adoration that gnaws your chest.

He keeps walking, until he reaches the shared balcony. It's then that you make a choice, heart pounding in your chest as you race yourself from bed, going his way.

You go outside, finding him resting his arms on the balcony, facing the beach in silence. Soft waves crash against the wet sand, but not even that can overpower the sound of your beating heart.

"What're you doin' here?" he's asking, even if you haven't moved from your spot. Seems like your friend wasn't joking about his heightened senses, despite his old age. "Thought y'were 'sleep"

"Well, Sarah is a fast sleeper" you answer, walking to his side.

"She sure is" and the faintest of a smile appears on his face.

Joel Miller is a mystery to you: the most closed off man you've ever met, hiding behind his apparent apathy that only seems to be gone whenever Sarah is around. She's the apple of his eye, and those soft traces of a more tamed character that come to light have truly picked your interest, begging for more crumbs that will help you puzzle who he really is: he, that is as handsome as a mystery. The worst is, you don't know what attracts you more.

But you won't let him win.

"Mr. Miller?"

"Yeah?"

"Were you married?"

He looks at you, dark eyes partly iluminated by the moonlight.

"Aren't you a bit too young to be bold?"

"And aren't you too hot to be all alone?" you reply in an instant, rendering him speechless.

He chuckles, but it sounds defeated rather than amused.

"Trust me, kid" he's back at facing the ocean. Goddamn coward. "This isn't what you want"

"Don't call me kid" you berate, almost repulsed at it. "I'm twenty one"

He scoffs. "Still hella young"

"But I know what I want" a wavering hand ready to trace over his pecs, but he's stopped you before it descends. Before it's too late.

"You don't" he assures, grip on your hand stronger, without knowing how much you're enjoying this. Or maybe he does. "See? That's the problem with you kids: you think you do, but you don't"

You loose your patience.

"Tell me then, Mr. Miller. Would a kid do this?"

Taking the distraction, the same hand flies now to grop his dick, and to your surprise, it's already hard.

"Seems I'm not the only one who doesn't know what they want"

"Stop" he warns, hissing when your eager fingers unbuckle his belt. It's huge, for some reason, and you can't help but feel an ardent throb at the thought of grinding on it.

When your eyes look at Joel, he swears he sees you devilishly smirk, almost as if you were mocking him.

"Stop?" you bite your lip, feigning innocence as doe eyes look where dark ones had done before. "If that's what you want, you aren't even trying"

You kneel down, and the position gives you the perfect side of his adam's apple bobbing in a nervous gulp. He grows insecure under your intense stare, breath hitching when the wind hits his now free member as you pull down his underwear, revealing it hard and leaking with precum. You laugh delighted, with victory, and he finds himself trapped between the moon and your games, drowning on a sea feet away.

"I think I know what you want"

"How? You don't even know what you want" barely fighting it.

Your fingers grace over his soft abdomen, tracing down his belly and happy trail. Your teeth nip at the skin scattered with soft rosy lines, peppering the skin with fluttering kisses to entertain your mouth until your digits touch his hard cock. Joel whines, squirming, and you're delighted with the receptiveness, needy sounds escaping his lips.

You haven't even started yet.

"You're right, I don't" you agree. "All I know is you piss me off and that you ruined our trip, so I'm gonna take my anger out on you one way... or another"

You take your first lick, savouring the dark red head. His hips buck, a shaky gasp robbed from his chapped lips.

"Fuck" he exhales weakly, lost against the sound of water.

"Don't worry, Mr. Miller. I'll take good care of you" admiring his girth. He looks down on you, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Joel can't lie and say he isn't fascinated with the way you look at him, not believing so much appetite can fit in such a small young body. Not even his partners before you, had looked at him like he was the best thing in the world, and now here you were: the loud-mouthed brat best friend of his daughter, sucking his cock while Sarah slept just a few meters away. Just yersteday he was bickering with you, not standing your spoiled attituted and juvenile spirit that can't be tamed and won't shut up. Hell, you had even disrespected him. But here he is, not being able to find the words or actions to stop you: because he doesn't want to.

It was all so fucked up.

But then you're closing your lips around his swollen head, and he knows there's no point in fighting it anymore, his whole body urging him to give in.

"Oh, fuck" he pants, getting all worked up as you take him deeper. "Keep goin'. You're doin' a great job, sweetheart"

The praise gets to you, even if not needed.

Your tongue swirls, running the muscle with wet slides, up and down, tip to base, some pressure applied. You proceed to take in his balls, feeling him tense up. You wanted to mock him badly, but your mouth was full of his dick, so that wasn’t happening.

"D-don't stop" he pleads, sounding more like a whine.

He's deep enough that it hits your throat. You've never been this greedy, but also, have never tried with a dick so big. You feel him in the roof of your mouth, your lips at the base of the tip, brushing against skin. Joel can't keep up: breath hitching, moans ragged and consumed, barely standing if it wasn't for your hands digging in his thighs for support.

You keep building pace, seeing Joel's face scrunch up.

"M' close" his voice comes out strained, his head tilting back, wild soft locks from before now plastered against his forehead, dripping with sweat. His muscles tense, you can feel it, and it's just about time before he's coming inside your mouth.

You want it. To taste more of him, who you claim to hate but feels oh so good. Strong, just as his presence.

"So good, fuck, you're so good" in a tone so needy and desperate. It falls out of his lips, followed by more unintelligible praises dripping from his tongue.

And then, in a shaky breath, lost to the wind:

"Y/n"

You gasp, and he feels it, the air ticklish on his sensitive skin.

Joel said your name.

Your name, in a way it had never been said before. Uttered like a prayer, submerged in devotion. Your name, melting into his moans, deep within him, the calling full of a primal desire. The experience is intoxicating, making you crave more.

Joel comes with a groan, head falling back. Your name dies on his lips as his hips thrust up with your lips closing in. Thick spurts of cum mix with saliva in the back of your throat. You pull out, a string of saliva still connecting you to his dick. He looks down on you, body shaking as much as yours. Without breaking eye contact, he wipes some of the mess drooling from your lips, his calloused thumbs carresing you with a softness you didn't think was possible. The contrast makes you falter a bit, and you know Joel notices.

"There you go" your voice comes out hoarse, avoiding his eyes, "now you know what you want"

He chuckles, giving you a hand to stand up. As you raise to your feet, his face is barely inches away from yours. You can see the lines time has marked across his face, the grays coloring hair you remember to be brown, and those eyes―piercing through you like they know you better than you know yourself.

"But do you?"

Joel Miller doesn't know what is regret.

He didn't feel it when Sarah arrived unexpectedly at the ripe age of twenty, forcing him out of college. He didn't feel it when Sarah's mother left him alone to raise his daughter all by himself, aware he had tried it all to make it work. He surely didn't feel it when you came back after leaving Texas, long gone the childlike wonder and features that made him see you as an extension of his daughter, his gaze lingering a bit too long on this familiar face in a beautiful blooming new body.

But this is different, and he isn't sure if, for the first time, he's finally known what is regret.

Joel Miller also doesn't know when to back out of a fight.

He remember his brother Tommy, practically begging to let go of some asshole that dared to pick up on him, knuckles bloody no matter if he was young then and old as stubborn now, the same red painted across his willfull hands.

But now those hands prickle and sweat, no matter how much he runs them over the fabric of his jeans. And now, as your dangerous stare pierces through him across the small table, Sarah oblivious to the game as she quietly munchs her cereal, Joel Miller backs down, his gaze the first to look away.

He realizes just now why he was so afraid to look up to the sky after you left. The same stars that stared back from the high of the dark night are akin to the ones dancing in your eyes.

"Mr. Miller" your voice breaks his train of thoughts.

"Where's Sarah?" he asks in a panicked voice, realizing you've been left alone.

"Brushing her teeth" you answer, slightly taken back by his tone. "We were going out today, remember?"

Ah, yes. A little tour to an island not to far away from there.

"M' not goin'. Sorry, kid" he's decided. Before you can speak, Sarah returns and asks the question herself.

"M' tired. That's all" but it sounds rather an excuse.

"Are you sure, dad?" Sarah presses, not sure why he had changed his mind at the last minute.

"Yeah" he insists, all while avoiding those eyes of yours, unsatisfied and searching for answers of questions qithout a voice. "You girls go and have fun"

So you do.

You go and feel like you're inside of Mamma Mia (your favorite movie; both of you learned ABBA's discography thanks to it, something that offended your parents), the sun reflecting in the water, the little island with its green and sun, and the flowers that dust their petals into the shore where your boat arrives.

But when the trip is over and soft waves rock your return, you think of Joel.

You think you should feel at least a little ashamed of becoming so obssesed with a man in barely two days, who, on top of it all, is your bestfriend's dad. But then you remember the taste of him inside your mouth, how his dick had rasped against your throat, his seed warm in the tip of your tongue. And then his eyes, promises meant to be broken locked away behind tides of fear, that do an excellent job of reminding you how easy is to drown; to fall for how in hazel flickers, Joel seems he'd give you the world.

"Let's get drunk" you deadpan once you're back at the shore.

Sarah laughs at your determination, then realizes you're serious.

"What?"

"Yeah, it's our last day here" you reason. "Besides, your dad isn't here. What's he going to say?"

If you sound between angry and dissapointed at his absence, Sarah remains quiet.

"We're running away" she tries one last time, but by the look in your eyes, you've made your choice.

"Are we? We're twenty-one, Sarah. We can do whatever the fuck we want" you feel rebellious all of a sudden, "what? Don't you wanna give this trip a grand finale?"

So you crash into the nearest bar and waste the night away, drinking and dancing. But you're ordering a drink you don't like, and in every glass of whiskey down your throat, his name hangs in the air like the memory of his smell, locked behind a vault as if it's too sacred to say. But when Sarah gets a boy to dance and lends his friend to you, you wish there was rough where soft meets your skin, and chapped when you kiss his lips. Your body burns ablaze with sweat, alcohol and regret, a dangerous combination that makes you pull Sarah out of the bar when you feel you're about to black out. She complains, but you're set on making it to the bed before your eyelids shut.

Maybe it's because you always had what you wanted, or maybe it was the forbidden, but whatever reason had pushed you in Joel's orbit, refused to let you go.

And maybe you're imagining his voice, scolding you like a kid. Maybe you're seven again, and in the shadows of the bed, you've gone back to your childhood days. Y/n, y/n, y/n. That sick berating tone of his, acting like you're stupid and small.

"Fucking brat" he spats, drops of his angry scowl landing on your cheek. You then realize he's hovering over you, and it's real, not a product of your foggy mind. So you stand up, sobering up a bit, when he charges back again. "Makin' my daughter pass out? What the fuck were you thinkin'? Could've ended in the middle of the street. You're s'pposed to go to the damn island and then come back!"

Your mouth tastes like sand, but even if you've passed out a couple hours ago, the fire doesn't die. So your tongue is back, finding it's voice to say:

"Well, if you hadn't left us alone, this wouldn't have happened"

He chuckles, darkly. Humorless. "I see"

"What?" you challenge, a shiver down your spine that looses itself somewhere else.

"You got my daughter drunk as revenge"

You're mortified at the accusation, the remnants of alcohol now long gone of your system.

"Do you think I'd risk me and my friends' safety for you? Out of all people, you?" not caring if you sound bitter.

The truth sticks to your skin as uncomfortably as the sweat.

"I dunno, sweetheart. That's why I'm asking you" the pet name rolls effortlessly, in a rough voice that creates a wet spot in your panties. He gets closer, and you can see the tremble of his lips as he lets out a shaky breath. "Be a good girl and answer"

"I won't tell you shit" you spit.

"You little minx, thinkin' you can run your tongue like it ain't been 'round my cock before" you look like a deer caught in headlights, and Joel's enjoying this more than he should. "That's right, what'd Sarah think knowing her friend's a little slut for'er daddy's cock?"

The electric current that crosses your body sparks the fire of the woods hiding behind his auburn storms.

Now you're feeling high on a forest fire. You want the flames to engulf you, even if ashes is all there'll be left.

"Tell me you want this" his forehead clashes against yours, and the whole world falls silent, except for your ringing ears.

"I want this" and he's just as surprised as you are by the unwavering conviction. "I need you, Mr. Miller"

You try to get up, but he pushes you with full force back into your bed. Then, the base creaks, and he's on top of you, his weight pressing you against the mattress.

"What are you-"

"You think I'd let you get away easily? Have things your way? Naive lil' girl" he tuts, "I'll punish you for that"

As on cue, drowned out snores are heard from your side.

"But, Sarah-" you try to protest, his body caging you under his mercy.

"That'll mean you're behavin', right?" he runs his thumb across your lips, gently pulling them down, as if the chase was thrilling as eating the prey. "I know you don't want to wake her up and see her slut of a friend bangin' her daddy"

You tense, remaining silent at the threat, even if your body reacts other ways.

"Good girl"

He’s quick to get rid you of your shorts.

"Fuckin' hell" he murmurs against your neck, the clothing discarded somewhere in the room. "Wearin' this little shitty bottoms to rail me up, knowin' damn well when to bent and get me hard. Been thinkin' of takin' them off ever since you wore 'em first"

The confession makes you whine, and Joel's delighted by the sound, and just how putty you are under his big rough hands.

"Let's see what we got here" his large hands caress your thighs as he settles between your legs. "Black lace, baby? Such a fuckin' tease. Wore 'em for me?"

You shake your head, but his calloused digits dig on the plush skin of your thighs, making you wince at the pain.

"Don't lie to me, sweetheart. You'd said you'll be a good girl, yeah?" you nod, soaking wet, painfully so.

"Yes, I'll be"

"Show me your manners, then" he presses light kisses on the insides of your thighs, close to where you need his graying beard to tickle, "and I'll show you mine"

"Just eat me, Joel" you demand breathlessly. "Fuck. Need you, Mr. Miller, so bad"

"And why should I reward you, impatient little slut? Eager to get daddy's filthy mouth between that pretty pussy" Joel bites the inside of your thigh, and it takes all of your strength to avoid becoming a moaning mess. "You've been bad, sweetheart. A brat"

You deny it, but his head dissappears between your legs, licking the wet spot on your panties. You squirm under the teasing of his tongue, legs shutting close on instinct. You drown a whimper in your palm as he yanks your panties away.

"Don't do anything I ain't tell you to" demanding, and if you weren't this horny and out of your mind, you'd probably be scared. "There'll be consequences"

You try to obey. But then his nose, that big nose you want covered in your slick as you grind off of it between your legs, sniffs your panties. He gives it one big sniff, and then two, fingers going white as he holds the piece of fabric with too much force, shoving it on his face.

"Ye'r too fuckin' sweet, I'll give you that" he mumbles in a drunken haze. "Need to taste that drippin' cunt of yours 'night"

The bed creaks again, or maybe it's the sound of his bones starting to give in to old age, but Joel is sucking your clit, tongue pushed inside of your puffy folds. You hide a moan against his lips, hands traveling to grip his hair.

"Joel" you breathe out. 

He parts your folds easily, and before you know it, a rugged finger circles your entrance. Your back arches, and then he leaves place for his mouth again, flicking your sensitive core with his tongue. A moan a little too loud escapes your lips, making his eyes darken when the bed next to you shifts, Sarah tossing in her sleep.

"You dumb fuckin' brat. What'd I say?" his hand slams against your pussy, a sting you've never felt before, both showered in pain and pleasure, spreading across your cunt. "Don't disobey me. Apologize, now"

He stops his minstrations, and you're so achingly close to your orgasm, that the answer falls easy and rushed from your lips.

"Sorry, Mr. Miller"

"Good girl" Joel praises as he pushes his finger in, next to his tongue on your clit.

But the orgasm is so deliciously close, and you can't wait for more. So now you're grinding in his face by reflex, rubbing against his big nose just like you'd imagined. You whine at the sensation, and Joel rests his tongue flat on your clit with surprise.

"Who gave you permission to do that?" but his voice sounds more amused than nagging. "That imagination of yours is somethin' else. Have you been thinkin' bout it all this time, hmh, greedy dirty slut?"

The orgasm looms closer, hitting when Joel pushes a second rough finger in, walls clenching against his digits. He pulls away, licking his fingers with his tongue.

"Such a perfect pussy you got there, sweetheart. As sweet as you when you ain't bein' a pain in the ass"

You laugh breathless, trying to recover.

"Wanna taste?"

So now he's kissing you for the first time, his lips rough against plush skin, nibbling with your lower lips between his teeth, his tongue still tasting like you roaming free inside your mouth, like he wants to mark every corner; imprint himself in you. You've never wanted anything, hell, anyone more. The kiss leaves you hanging, heart racing at the closeness of his face and the warmhearted feeling of his lips on yours, like pieces of a puzzle fitting together.

"There you go" he chuckles, enamoured at the sight of your puffy lips. "Now it's my turn"

He's quick to get rid of the jeans and belt (oh well, it'll be another day) until he's over you, just wearing his boxers.

You'd never seen Joel naked before, why would you? But there's a vague memory of hot summer days, trying to survive the heat in the town's pool, just as the rest. He was there, eye candy for the mothers and horny teens. You hadn't understand back then, when he was all muscle, but you do know, where the mighty strenght is still hidden there, somewhere between his sturdy arms and chest as soft as his belly, round as it pushes above the only piece of cloth that forbids you to see his dick. His chest is full of hair, and God, you feel so dirty wanting to bury your face in the sweat drenched patch.

"Stop lookin' at me like that" he teases, but there is a small voice of insecurity hiding its undertones beneath his smirk under your stare.

"You're so fucking hot, Joel" comes out before you can stop it, now mouth acting up on its own.

Fuck, he thinks, he's too far gone. There's no point of return.

Your eager fingers pull down the underwear, fingers grazing the softness of his length. You slowly grabs his dick as he comes closer, never seeing anything as big and provoking as it. That makes you tighten your grip on his dick, which stands proud and tall, leaking precum, and the muscles of his thighs strain against his skin. 

He positions himself between your legs again.

"Let's put this big bad boy to use, huh?"

He grunts at your words, large hands finding your thighs for support, as he caresses up and down the skin littered with marks and kisses.

Joel pushes in. Just his tip, yet your mouth falls open at how large he already feels, and you tighten your hold on his neck.

"Tell me if it hurts" all softness on his eyes, his forehead falling against yours, as if he hadn't been punishing you just minutes ago. Your heart races at the gesture, tender meeting the rough of his edges.

The real question isn't asked, but you're on the pill and you trust him. You just want to fill him inside of you, all of him.

"I will, Mr. Miller"

He slams all the way in. You let out a broken sound, quickly muffled by his palm as he stays buried deep inside of you, givimg you time to adjust to his size. It burns, but you enjoy the way the pain feels. He slowly pulls out, before pushing all the way in again. Your slick folds take him, and he grunts, supporting his aching body by the forehead against yours one more time.

"So tight, sweetheart. Ain't nobody ruinin' this pussy but me" his growl comes out possesive as Joel establishes a steady rhythm. You softly moan as he keeps moving, pounding into you, hitting a spot no one had before, making you see stars. It gets harder to stay quiet, but Joel caputres every little sound that comes out of you in a kiss, as if that way he could preserve them better and forever.

You wrap your legs tight around him, keeping him close as your walls clench around him, his thrusts harder yet slower as he keeps going, ramming into you.

"Look at you, coatin' my dick like a fuckin' meltin' ice cream" he gently pushes it again between your folds, rubbing his dick on your clit. "So fuckin' wet, for me"

His lips are slightly parted and his eyes looked all fogged up, lost in the fire, thrusts becoming sloppier as he too feels it coming.

"So fuckin' pretty" drips from his mouth, and there's the stars in your eyes and the light you insist he's always had, even if he'd prefere the darkness. "The prettiest girl in the world with the sweetest pussy, givin' it all to this ol' perverted fuck"

The words and his big dick inside of you makes your eyes flutter shut on instinct.

"Don't sleep on me, baby" he coos, a hand brushing damp hair from your face. You recognize the look: the same in the car, on the balcony and on the poarch of his house, after letting the years go by. Back then, you thought you had dreamed it, but now that the secret saccharine sweetness reveals herself as he slams into you, you know it was real.

This is real.

You meet his gaze again and try to hold it as he pounds you so gently yet so rough, trying to show him without words that whatever this wrong and sick feeling was, you felt the same.

"Such'a good girl, takin' me so well" Joel grunts, slamming to the hilt. "Fuck, sweetheart, I'm gonna-"

His dick twitches inside of you, walls spasming around his cock as your pussy takes it all, milking him dry.

"Take it all, like the good girl you are"

Both of you pant, and it takes him a while to realize the sun is raising again until its rays hurt his eyesight.

He's about to tell you how this shouldn't be, how he, at such an old age shouldn't be pinning for his daughter's friend: so young, sweet and loud-mouthed. No matter if you felt the same, or if your body was marked in and out by him, No, because wanting isn't enough, and no tide could wash away his sins from the shore.

"Listen, y/n-" your name like he has never said it before: no scold, no malice nor lust. Just a softness he hadn't felt in years, asleep under thick layers of cold.

But your soft snores fill the silence between the beats of his heart.

tags: @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrosgrogu thank you sm for reading! hope u enjoy it :)

[navxry]

HOLY SHIT???

The way it ENDED... OH MY GOD

Oh this is so. Okay I need to lie down. What the hell. Oh my GOD. /pos /exag

JUST...

Holy SHIT I can't stop reading it (I say as I reread it again to gather my thoughts. Did it work? No. No it did not)

Hi Harmony! I just noticed that your requests are open and I decided to drop by with a small request I thought about for weeks.

I was thinking about Arlecchino for a while, and it made me ponder of the concept of Arlecchino with a darling on a reincarnation AU. Maybe Arlecchino has met her darling at such an inconvenient time, and every time that it has happened, only she remembers their past lives.

It probably goes to the point that Arlecchino starts devising ways to be able to keep her darling safe, because each time they would meet, her darling gets into an accident... And it would seem that each time she tried, then it would simply fail. And it would push to a point where she resorts to one of the more not so morally good methods.

I don't know if this counts as a req. or a brainrot, but I offer you this idea because I think it could be interesting to think about sometimes. You're free to deny it btw if its typical, hard, or overall you can't write it <3 I completely understand if that's the case.

(p.s.: this is the one running @yxstxrdrxxm BAHAHAHAHAHA I'm sorry if I haven't replied to your message during OLC, I dont know how to talk to you w/o sounding really awkward </3 also!! hydration check! Anyways thats all, have fun with the idea + I hope you have a great day Harmony :D)

Pantomime Of The Night

yandere!arlecchino x reader

cw(s) : yandere, vampire!arlecchino, mentions of blood, murder, slight gore, non-consensual touching, unbalanced power dynamics

wc : 2.1k

a/n: omg hiii! would you believe me if I said I was just thinking about you before getting this ask? also please don't worry about my message! i had a hunch that you might be in a situation of sorts. thank you so so much for requesting arlecchino because i've been itching to write for her for a long time! i decided to go with vampire!arlecchino for this because i thought it'd suit the reincarnation theme well. i hope you enjoy it<3

At the deepest hours of the night, even the innocent crackles of hearthfire sound as clamorous as gun-shots.

You're dazed by the flame's continuous dance until the aroma of freshly brewed tea reaches your senses and the servants have left. A sharp clank from Arlecchino's glass and the weight of her gaze prompt you to meet her eyes. The light from the fireplace casts shadows on the other half of her fair face, she seemed to have foregone her usual taught posture in favor of a relaxed one. One of her hands supports her cheek while the other holds the wine glass, the beverage within sloshes as the claw-like accessories on her fingers curl around the object.

Your side of the table is far more decorated, desserts that you've never even seen in your impoverished mortal life and that tea you've grown fond of over the course of your stay in her mansion sit appetizingly. All beckon you to feast, all seek to fan the flames of voracity and you offer but a thoughtless stare in return.

The master of the house seems to have noticed your lack of appetite as she finally breaks the stretched out silence, “These are all confectioneries of the highest quality from the town and as I recall, all of your favorites. But you give them no more than a blank stare... you've also not taken a sip from the tea. May I inquire why?”

The raspy tone of her observation has your arms covered in gooseflesh, though, you note she does not sound as confused as her words suggest. You can feel her onyx eyes gloss over every part of your person, inspecting and dissecting each and every visible clue. You swallow dryly, “It’s just that it's way too late in the night,”

“Yet you look as ready as ever to head out. Tell me, have you been anticipating my return, dearest?”

Arlecchino stares pointedly at your attire, likely referring to the traveling clothes you have on instead of the silk nightwear that she had gifted. Your shoulders tense unconsciously, there's something about the way she speaks at this instance that has your heartbeat crescendoing. The silver haired woman gives you a few more beats of anxiety, her talons scrape against the dainty glass.

“I’ve been informed that you have not eaten anything since yesterday.”

The words escape her painted lips easily, but they don't fail to send a jolt through your system. Throughout your stay, she'd never spoken to you like this, like you were one of her children who did not know better and decided to cross a line. That realization renders you further puzzled, you did nothing wrong to begin with, but her tone made you feel as though you were on the verge of doing so. You clear your parched throat and gather yourself to meet her eyes. This time, you do not allow yourself to wilt at the force of her burning stare.

“Arlecchino, I have something to tell you.”

The addressed woman straightens up at your sudden serious tone, her hand abandons the wine glass on the table and you inhale involuntarily at the scratches that now decorate the object, “I’m all ears, dearest.”

Your brows crease, as usual, Arlecchino is courteous, too courteous for someone who makes it obvious she's informed of something that she wasn't supposed to know. She's been like this ever since you and your travel-partner stepped foot in her ambiguous estate. Initially, you were touched by the hospitality she and her adopted children had shown you. Your greed lulled any arising suspicions, you neither questioned why she'd been so generous to a commoner with nothing more than fifty mora to their name nor did you bother to think about how she was affording all those gifts. You naïvely wished to believe in her kindness and that nothing was wrong about this house. But of course, self-woven deceptions last so long.

“Before you mistake me for being ungrateful, I did plan to inform you before leaving. Me and my friend are extremely thankful for the care your house has shown us, but we cannot stay in one place forever.”

“Why not?” you halt at her abrupt question but she follows up before you could even part your lips, “Have we lacked in any area to provide you with the adequate comfort? Have any of my children said something? If it's the latter, I'll apologize in their stead, they can be quite playful at times, I'm sure you understand.”

You stare dumbfounded at the sudden turn this conversation has taken, she wasn't supposed to behave like this. Why is she searching for a reason to make you stay when she should've been happy that a burden was about to be lifted off of her shoulders? Are all nobles this pushy?

“I—” you cut yourself off as the silver-haired woman leans in without warning, her shadow envelopes the delicacies laid out on the small table.

“Or… have you seen something?” she drawled.

You cannot hold back a flinch this time. A curse echoes in your mind at your stupidity, this was no ‘conversation’ to begin with ; this was yet another trap and you'd willingly played right into the palm of Arlecchino's hand. If there's one thing you've learned about this mysterious noblewoman, it is that she enjoys the process of dragging answers out of everyone. From the very beginning, she was aware of your scheme but, she chose to wear that mask of courtesy one more time and lured you out in the open, unguarded. If only your friend arrived to fetch you from your room at the right time, you wouldn't be in this messy situation.

Your eyes dart from her unblinking expression to the sharp accessories that adorn her gloved fingers and something about them forces you to reply quickly.

“No! I mean, you know that I'm a traveler, do you not? It's already been six months since we came to your estate, me and my friend were starting to.. crave that adventurous thrill—yes! We were starting to miss being on the road and decided to depart in the early morning.”

Once upon a time, your late mother had told you that some people in this world are like spiders. They're always at the centerpiece of their lair, leaving intricate translucent webs for unassuming prey to get tangled upon. Although the croaked warnings of your bedridden mother did not make much sense to the younger you, you understood now exactly what she meant.

“Incorrect. You were planning to escape with that friend of yours, weren't you?”

The hearthfire burns bright, shrouding Arlecchino's expression in shadows. The chilling octave of her voice defeats the warmth of the fireplace and has every muscle in your body stiffened. Escape? Her word choice never ceased to baffle you throughout this faux tea-party. She speaks as though you were her prisoner instead of a guest. She tilts her head and has the audacity to look betrayed as though you were a possession she held dear, and not a random human she decided to take pity upon.

Arlecchino runs a hand through her silvery hair with a sigh that actually indicates ennui and you bite back a scowl, “Honestly, I do not understand why you even befriended that thing. He's an obnoxious blabbermouth with a nose bigger than his brain. And he's loud, too. You've always preferred to mingle with level headed people with a sufficient intellectual capacity in the past and here you are, glaring at me as though—”

“Don’t speak like you know me!”

You pant after the force of that outburst, your voice ricochets across the walls of her room and further beyond. You open your mouth to continue but stop when you notice a strange flicker in the silver-haired woman's eyes. It's gone in a blink and is replaced with irritation just as quickly however.

“Oh, but I do know you. I know you better than you know yourself, in fact. I know that there are exactly 11 moles throughout your body, I know all your preferences and fears. Don't believe me? Did you really never stop to question how I managed to give you things that catered to your tastes? How I knew what you desired even before you did? Or were you so mesmerized by the words of that friend of yours to pay minimum attention?”

If the tone of a person's voice could kill, you'd be rotting in a ditch by now. You would've never believed someone could sound this malicious while not even raising their voice. You want nothing more than to shrink away but the adrenaline accumulated through your anger pushes you to keep digging your grave.

“And so what if that's exactly how it is? You have no right to have a say in who I choose to be ‘mesmerized’ by!”

A ‘ha!’ laden with disbelief escapes Arlecchino's lips. Fine silvery strands bounce at the mocking tilt of her head, “So what will you do now? Walk out of the gates with that waste of space like nothing happened?”

“Oh, you bet I will!” you fume, rising from the chair and turning on your heels. You barely take one step away from the table until the full weight of Arlecchino's malice crashes down on you and you remember something important.

“Arlecchino, where is my friend?”

The silver haired woman leisurely raises her wine glass at your stilted words, “In my glass.”

You swivel towards her, blinking several times as if to confirm you didn't mishear.

“Well, here and… probably in the stomach of my pet vultures, excluding the carcass, that is. I'll admit, the taste is subpar compared to the trouble I went through. That thing kept on screaming until one of the vultures tore its heart out. Ugh, my ears are still ringing.”

Your wide eyes tremble towards the glass in her hand, the deep red liquid within sloshes to the direction of Arlecchino's hand ; paired with her words, your friend’s destiny becomes a no-brainer. All your wits abandon you in that instance and in a moment of sheer panic, you take a step back. Arlecchino promptly interferes with your plans, the door and windows close with no little sound and the table and your chair disappear without a trace—all in the snap of her fingers.

“What are you?”

You would've screamed if you didn't forget how to use your lungs. But then again, you doubt anyone would come to save you from her clutches even if you did. Your eyes connect to her onyx ones and in that moment, she appeared far less human than she'd been this whole encounter. Her pupils flash as two red xs and you feel an invisible pull tugging you to her side. The temptation dominates any coherent thoughts until you find yourself an arms length away from her seated self. Her claws dig into the flesh of your arm and yank you to her lap.

Free from the haze of that strange sensation, the first thing that permeates your senses is how cold Arlecchino's proximity is. Your palm meets her chest in a feeble attempt to push her away but all it does is stun you when you notice the absence of a heartbeat. You feel the sting of something sharp on your chin and waist, your eyes glance back and forth between the sources—dread pools in your stomach. Because of your closeness and the light from the fireplace, you're able to see that the sharp objects you'd mistaken for accessories are actually her nails and the gloves, her real skin.

Perhaps your trembling was so pitiful that Arlecchino could not help but soften her gaze, “Do you truly not recall?”

You look up at her, thoroughly perplexed. There's that previous glint in her eyes again but you've already accepted that understanding this woman was beyond you. One moment she accuses you as though you've been unfaithful, then she vividly describes how she murdered an innocent man and the next she looks almost… hurt?

“Recall what?”

The silver-haired woman’s red lips part and you gulp as unnaturally sharp fangs sneer at you. Albeit, she does not answer you and you wonder if you should get accustomed to playing mental gymnastics with her just to get a simple answer. Her talons let go of your waist and drag their up to your collarbone, creating a deliberate and irrepairable tear on your clothes. Her nails drum against your skin for three seconds before they latch onto your throat.

“Although, that'll no longer be an issue.”

She forces you to make eye-contact with a sharp tug on your chin, the color drains from your face as her cool breath washes against your skin. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but are quickly shushed as you feel her fangs sink into your lower lip.

“Because, we'll have ample time to get acquainted with each other starting from today.”

[thatdeadaquarius]

College be kicking my ass but we continue on like Scaramouche (alive and kicking, but still crabby about it all lmfao)

Random idea but what happens when the acolytes got hold of Creator that is able to squeeze into small places (like a cat would but less liquid) and knows how to escape? Think of sagau but instead of all the deaths, its just they got overexited and chased the Creator the moment they see them which scared them shitless seeing a mob just appear out of nowhere.

I mean who wouldn't after seeing your favourite person in your favourite game just appear right in front of you? (I apologize in advance to the poor unfortunate sucker)

Imagine a world-wide search that keeps getting them heart attacks. Venti just flying by with Dvalin ony to see you on top of the floating pillar above Dragonspine LEANING PRECARIOUSLY OH MY ARCHONS GET AWAY FROM THE EDGE---

Zhongli walking around trying to find peace and quiet only to sense your presence which led him towards Azhdaha's domain and nearly shouted in terror seeing you hanging by one of the limestones above the slumbering dragon your grace what and how the in the fucking name of teyvat did you---

Yae Miko screaming in surprise seeing you inside one of the cupboards of your grace's house (you made a small temporary one in each country in case u need more rest) that she and Ei found in one of the remote islands.

Nahida and the entire Forest Rangers having one of the most intense, frustrating and most challenging game of hide and seek in the entire freaking forest.

You hiding underneath the sand like a fricking snake everytime Cyno spots you from a disrance.

-Vine Boom 🧨

I am no longer apologizing for lateness simply bc atp its basically assumed Im terribly sorry 💀 /so gen

  

Content under -----------------✄

☆

Sun: Reader, (you/they/them)

Orbit: Headcanons-ish, Imposter SAGAU? Imposter SAGAU Reversed Ver? unclear (NOT DARK)

Stars: little here, little there

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: reader/you thinks everyone is hunting them down, dark sagau fake-baiting lmao, & Trigger Warnings: none known.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

No but the traumatic experience of you cautiously wandering into Mondstadt after realizing ur in Genshin like, ✨👄✨

and every single street/alleyway you try to go down to even avoid it is just people all looking at you like: 👁️👄👁️ ???

and ur over here equally just like: 😃 tf u lookin at????

u get up near the cathedral and finally see a playable character, Barbara, and she just fully GASPS and POINTS at you like she’s getting paid to be an actor for this

shouting sm nonsense like: “My Creator??? King of All???? IS THAT YOU?????”

and after which a few nuns check the commotion, Rosaria and Barbara’s Visions are glowing, and all join in heckling you

Venti coming (literally) flying around a corner on a breeze, saying he was trying to catch up to you, and ohhh now ur Convinced:

None of these bitches must be happy to see you, you did forcefully control their bodies if by the sounds of it they knew you/they must’ve been aware during the game, aw damn looks like u gotta run for your life now

You just book it out of Mond, Venti/Barbara yelling after you to come back, and meanwhile you’re leaving a shell-shocked Jean/Diluc/Kaeya (with Visions glowing) in ur wake on the way out

Not one being, mortal or otherwise, convinces you to stay in Mond, and you finally get to Dragonspine- the only place u know they wont follow

(well maybe the pyro characters but ur betting if u can make it up the mountain theyre not committed to,, running you down? arresting you?? ur not sure)

u make it all the way up and luckily everythings all solved like u did in the game, the traveler must be well into teyvat by now, and u decide to say “for the already achieved achievement” and fuck around and find out near the nail

U thought as u finally got on it u heard a scream somewhere in the sky, and u spotted Dvalin carrying Venti/Barbatos, and once again book it out of town (damn u cant believe theyre so committed they got the dragon in on it…)

so u haul ass all the way down the mountain, traveling only at night, living like a vampire, holing up during the day when u see Mond citizens/knights/gods/etc. walking around presumably looking for you

but u make it, finally! sweet, sweet Liyue, ur 2nd home (besides Mondstadt)

Only to immediately, like right outside the fucking gates to Liyue Harbor, run into Zhongli.

and he’s standing there like this mf knew u were coming, and the first thing out his mouth is some BS like, “…Darnell, that you??”/ref LMAOO

but instead of laughing abt it u just scream and run for your life haha

oh jesus h christ- he’s sending the adepti after you fuck- how hated are you??

sure u maybe hate Celestia a little, and sympathize with the traveler, but this seems a little extreme?!

you go to the one place u know he/any other adeptus doesnt like to come often, Azdaha’s cave

and after a night (well, day bc ur sleeping during the day now) of Azdaha sleeping peacefully, he wakes up fully coherent and u actaully have a rlly pleasant conversation with him about Liyue food lol

he also kept mentioning some kind of god? but like in reference to you?? are u connected to them, u kinda know a lot of gods atp so ur not sure which he means, a god to rule them all??? Celestia?? yeah u guess u know those fucks-

Cue u looking down from ur perch in the stalagmites above, u found a ledge and Azdaha helped you,

only to see a very concerned and borderline nervous Zhongli down below, Azhdaha just greets him like nothing’s wrong, but as soon as he sees you’re uncomfortable, helps you escape (more like teleport) away

(the old geo archon was probably nervous just be around Azhdaha u assume)

and now ur on the islands of Inazuma

u know exactly what islands are all but abandoned, the ghost one, the electrocuting one, and the scary bird one, all great options 👍

Raiden and Yae Miko manage to find you on every single one, with Yae getting more and more exasperated, and Ei getting more and more concerened with every position they find you in

hanging out on the banks of the electro river that would kill you if it weren’t for the little electro trees fending it off (thank fuck u maxed that shit out while in game)

bc u assumed they’d hate to be around it, plus lots of ronin- nope Ei is almost… scolding you?? oh but she’s got her Musou no Hitotachi out fuCK-

(she was slaying ronins that were getting too close to you)

she also is constantly jumpscaring you on tsurumi island/ghost island bc while the ghosts are gone, the creepy atmosphere isn't, and it makes her all the more terrifying as The Raiden Shogun comes walking out of the fog into the cave you've hidden in, stuff of ur nightmares for weeks as u just bird box style try to be silent and stealth around the island to get to an abandoned boat,

literally her scary ass purple sword glowing silhouette wandering around in the fog as you paddle away 💀

getting to thunder bird island and Yae Miko is literally both running/teleporting as quickly as she can to you, as you jump from floating rock to floating rock to escape her, god its so unnerving to watch someone so lazy running after you

she keeps getting in this weird “praising the heavens pose” sometimes when you jump, oh shit she’s aiming hER ATTACKS AT YOU THATS WHY-

oh good- she missed and deflected some stray debris coming ur way, u gotta get to the bird area and see if you can glide away (u managed to get a glider at some point thank fuck)

the bird is luckily on ur side against all these mfs trying to hunt u down (for controlling their bodies u guess) and flies u back to mainland teyvat

sumeru u thought would have the most mercy on u tbh, maybe fontaine bc Neuvillette only rlly cares if u break “fontaine” laws, maybe he wouldn't care to chase down a mortal like u over this

and nahida bc shes just nice

which is somewhat true, as you are acting like tarzan swinging around on vines and shit to escape the forest rangers

but she does show up in ur dreams, but shes just all foggy or distorted, u guess bc ur not of this world or smth??

and so it just unnerves u more, and u try to make it out to the desert, where at least there's no gods to worry about

mf ur hunkered down in a pyramid and see the shadowy shape of Cyno walking thru a sandstorm at you 💀

U dont kno how u got out of that one tbh, smth abt “king deshret made a plan for this” and left it behind for ppl to use to escape underground, sweet

And while Nahida and other eremites, scholars like Alhaitham/Kaveh/Dehya were looking around the desert sands, u slip by them

And u make it to the oasis at the edge of the desert, and steal an old rowboat to cross to fontaine (if i had a nickel everytime u needed to escape a god via old rowboat, youd have 2 nickels- )

and getting to Fontaine is not much better.

U literally get to the clockwork tower, foggy, ominous, uninhabited except for treasure-seekers occasionally, its perfect

until Neuvillette himself just strolls in abt 3 nights of u making camp there

u nearly shit urself as he just fake-knocked on a wall, meanwhile ur like hanging from the ceiling (four limbs out suspending you type of fictional shit)

luckily, mostly bc u were trying to wait him out (which wasn't possible ur limbs hurt so bad) he was, finally, the first person around u long enough to be genuinely kind and patient and answer questions

(Neuvillette acc couldn't figure out where u were at first, and was very confused how u got ur voice to boom around this chamber of the tower, after a minute of talking u trusted him enough to tell him to look up lol)

just in time too, he was able to hide u from the archons a little longer bc u were nervous

(u were already intimidated enough by Neuvillette being irl himself, talking to you, let alone all the other gods/vision users, as u realized afterwards thinking abt all the ppl trying to “hunt u down”, that if they all counted as ppl actually wanting to see you, that was a rlly overwhelming amount, esp if their first instinct is to run at you??? what are you, a fan-abused/disrespected kpop idol????)

☆

trying to be fancy and schedule posts once i get enough free time to actually wrangle my adhd to actually partake in my favorite hobbies 💀

well as long as I'm not getting slammed with lots of shifts again

hope u guys had a great weekend and have a good week! Happy late Valentine’s Day :)

Safe Travels Vine Boom,

💀♒

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡the Beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily / @justinsomniachild / @nanithefuck / @questionotmystopit

@kiyomi-uchiha777

[lewisvinga]

because i liked a boy | carlos sainz x fem! reader

part two.

summary; an unnecessary hate train all because y/n liked a boy

fc; nicki nicole

warnings; death threats, kys comment, slut shaming, cursing , carlos kinda eh here sorry 😣

notes; requested! i would’ve used sabrina carpenter as a fc but i love nicki nicole sm i had to use her 😣

masterlist !

liked by carlossainz55, alexandrasaintmleux, and 1,003,028 others!

yourusername: 🖤

tagged; carlossainz55

carlossainz55: mi amor ❤️ tq ❤️ [ily]

yourusername: tqqqq🥹

username: so this is carlos new girlfriend? 💀💀

username: oh!

username: well….

username: TE AMO Y/N!!!!

username: out of all ppl you love her??😀

username: she’s prettyyy

username: she’s cute ig😕

alexandrasaintmleux: pretty girl 💗

yourusername: ily!!!

username: alex, run!!

username: didn’t carlos JUST break up w isa ???

username: like 2 weeks ago, i 100% believe y/n is a homewrecker 💀💀

username: baby she’s a whole slut 💀

username: not liking this dark aesthetic, isa was classy and cute this is something else🤢

username: no way this is carlos type 😭😭

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, and 1,604,938 others!

carlossainz55: vacaciones 🏝️ [vacations]

tagged; yourusername

yourusername: mi amorrrrr 💗

carlossainz55: ❤️

yourusername: the last picture 😭 you’re so unseriouss

carlossainz55: but you love it 🥸

username: hard launching your new relationship 2 weeks after breaking up w isa?? hmmm suspicious

username: CARLOS VACATION PICS!!!!!!

username: ew y/n

username: yall are haters🥱🥱🥱 she’s gorgeous and talented asf !!

username: i knoww, these bitter fans should stay away from her😒

username: we’re not bitter, we’re just telling the truth, isa was 1000x better than y/n🤢

username: this would’ve been such a good post without y/n😒😒😒

username: we miss isa!!!

username: isa was the best wag come on now

username: she’s such a slut

username: why are you dating a homewrecker ???

liked by carlossainz55, itsyoungmiko, and 1,034,203 others!

yourusernams: a week w my faves

tagged; itsyoungmiko, pesopluma & 6 others!

username: not her hanging out w her ex during a race weekend….

username: her and peso pluma were never datingffggg it was a rumor 😭😭😭

username: no carlos???

username: not her missing carlos win just to hang out w her ex 😕

carlossainz55: ❤️ liked by yourusername !

username: we can save you carlos!!

username: hanging out w all those guys, she’s such a slut

username: carlos doesn’t deserve you!!

username: isa is 10x better, she dresses and looks better, is a supportive girlfriend, and doesn’t miss wins just to hang out w a bunch of guys! what a slut you are

username: i think the world would be better without you

username: kys

username: slut!

username: girl just break up w carlos atp we know you’re just a rebound😭😭😭😭

the comments on this post have been limited!

y/n 💗

you know i’m tired of this, carlos.

carlos❤️

mi vida [my life], you know i can’t do anything

y/n 💗

yes you can??

just one post clarifying that you broke up with isa weeks before announcing it publicly and way before you started dating me??

and that YOU made the first move, not me

carlos ❤️

it’s not easy you know

i’m a big public figure, i can’t just post things whenever i want

y/n 💗

carlos, so am i

i have a pr team too

but if MY fans were attacking you and sending you death threats, i would post something anyways

carlos ❤️

it’s not the same, amor

y/n 💗

your fans are constantly comparing me to isa, they’re constantly slut shaming me for even appearing in the back of a picture of yours or for hanging out with my guy friends

they’re sending my death threats , telling me to kms and you won’t do anything?

carlos ❤️

it’s complicated, please, amor

i can’t control them, a post won’t change their mind

please, just calm down and we can talk more when i get home

y/n 💗

okay, fine

yourusername uploaded to their story!

[caption 1; back in the studio 🎧] [caption 2; pov: after pulling an all nighter in the studio😵‍💫 ]

liked by lilymhe, alexandrasaintmleux, and 1,029,928 others !

yourusername: ‘because i liked a boy’ out now.

lilymhe: AHHHHH

lilymhe: FINALLY

lilymhe: ur talented i love it and i love you 💗💗💗💗😞😞😞😞🥹🥹🥹🥹

yourusername: i love uuuuu

alexandrasaintmleux: so amazing n talented 🩷 been on repeat all day!! love you!!!

yourusername: i love you!!!

username: MOTHERR

username: y/n nation , WE’RE BACK!!!

username: carlos didn’t like???

username: fuck the haters bby ur better then them all😩

username: carlos didn’t like or comment 🫤🫤

username: she ate w this one i fear

username: gagged those bitter carlos fan girls 😭

liked by carlossainz55, lilymhe, and 1,098,726 others!

yourusername: thank you everyone for all the love and support 🩷 and thank you for my girls who have been by my side 💗🫂

tagged; lilymhe, alexandrasaintmleux, carmenmmundt

lilymhe: WE LOVE YOUUU🫶

lilymhe: we need a girls night every night 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

yourusername: i agree 😩

alexandrasaintmleux: always by your side , pretty girl!! 🫂

yourusername: luv luv u🫶

carmenmmundt: all we need is a couple glasses of wine and we tear up the night

carmenmmundt: always by your side 4eva 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩🫂

yourusername: i’m not complaining🙈

username: who needs men when you have your girls liked by yourusername !

username: hot single y/n is back, when we getting that album??

yourusername: you think because i liked a boy was the only thing i worked on? soon bby xx

[sunflowerwinds]

pulling you in | e.w

summary: the next day, new tattoo and all, you try and distract yourself from your overwhelming feelings and focus on the activities set for the day. your heart and mind are all over the place and you don’t know what to do anymore. ellie apologizes in a way that makes you even more stuck on who you want to turn to.

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

contains: mature language, reader being so confused with what she wants (bare with me), adorable pining!, more oblivious!reader: it’s painful atp

word count: 3.2K

a/n: first of all, the support for this series makes my heart soar. second of all, i’m almost to 2k follows which blows my mind. i am forever grateful for the support my writing has gotten from the little gay people on this app <3

under the summer stars masterlist

It was safe to say that you had screwed up any chance of being with Ellie. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be or in the stars for you. Whatever saying that referred to being made for each other did not apply to you and Ellie.

Maybe saying Abby was a good thing; bring you down from this fantasy world and move the hell on. You were leaning back in a lawn chair, slathered in sunscreen and wearing sunglasses to protect your retinas from the burning UV rays (and shamelessly staring at a certain somebody). The children in your cabin were playing some good old-fashioned duck-duck-goose before they had their big Tug-O-War match between all the cabins.

You could see Ellie from a distance with her own group digging in the sandbox for some ‘fossils’. Your eyes were practically formed into hearts seeing her enthusiastically explain all the dinosaur bones and which deceased animal they belonged to. Her geekiness made her even more attractive to you if that was even possible.

No. Enough.

You shook your head and found yourself glancing over at Abby’s group who were running through the extra-large bubbles, giggling happily. The tall blonde had admiration written all over her face at how much fun the kids were having; bright smile and all. You would be lying to yourself if you hadn’t been checking out Abby’s muscular arms and legs when she would break out her athletic shorts and shirts.

“You know just because you like girls doesn’t make your staring any less creepy?” You hear from beside you which causes you to jump a little.

You smack Dina’s leg for scaring you. You’re beyond glad you were wearing sunglasses as you didn’t want him to be right. Could everyone tell that you were gawking at Ellie’s fingers gently caressing the rocks like she was touching your thigh last—

My god, you needed help.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you shrug your shoulders, grabbing your handheld fan from the tote bag next to you on the ground and shaking it in front of your face.

“Come on. You don’t think I know you’re eye-fucking Ellie?” She mutters close to you as you both glance around but neither of your groups were paying attention to you guys.

“Not Ellie,” you state simply.

Dina audibly gasps and kneels down next to your chair, peeing over the direction you were.

“Wait, are you gawking at Abby?” She questioned with a soft chuckle.

“Maybe?” You say unsure of what you are truly feeling.

“I mean, yum, but I didn’t you were serious about moving on from Ellie,” Dina emphasized as you both stared at Abby grabbing one of the large coolers and moving it to where the kids were.

You sighed as your eyes flickered over at the one that held your heart before fixating on Abby once again.

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I’m going to do anything about Abby either. Just admiring from afar.”

“And where has that gotten you over the past three years?” Dina deadpanned, raising her brows at you as she patted her sweaty upper lip with the back of her hand.

You remained silent as she got you there. Dina stood up from her position next to you, patting your shoulder before jerking her head towards the Tug-O-War makeshift arena.

“C’mon. Enough pining. We gotta get the kids for Tug-O-War. It’s mine against yours first,” Dina cheekily responded before jogging over to her campers.

You shot up from your seat and grabbed your whistle that was dangling around your neck, slotting it into your mouth to blow to get everyone’s attention. All of your campers froze their game of Duck-Duck-Goose, immediately scurrying over to you.

“Alright, campers! You guys ready to do Tug-O-War?” You shout with enthusiasm in your voice.

The kids started screaming with excitement, matching your energy times a million. You winced a little bit but kept your smile.

“I said,” you pause for dramatics. “Are you ready for Tug-O-War?” You over-enunciate every word which resulted in an uproar of cheers.

You chuckle softly and motion for the kids to follow you to the makeshift arena. There, a few feet across, was your friend and opponent, Dina and her campers. The brunette had her arms crossed over her chest with a playful narrow, motioning that she was watching us. You mouth that she was going down to which she scoffed and rolled her eyes.

The mediator, Jesse, cleared his throat as he explained the rules of the game. Basic no-cheating, no pushing, shoving, etc. He had one hand on his hip with a megaphone in the other.

“Lookin’ good, mediator,” Dina calls over to Jesse who points warningly at her.

“You know the rules, Miss Dina. No sweet talking.” Jesse gave her one more glance before clearing his throat.

You snort to yourself before instructing your kids to keep their feet planted and wide and to tug as hard as they can. As soon as Jesse shouted ‘Go!’, everyone in your team began pulling with all their might. You watched as Dina’s team was completely thrown off guard and slipped over the dry grass beneath their sneakers. You kept shouting that the kids had it and to not let go.

After one final tug from your team, the ribbon in the middle of the rope moved past the white indicator line. You gasped as Jesse shouted, ‘One point to the Daisies!’. You huddled in with the kids, bouncing up and down with glee at the victory. In good spirit, the opposite teams gave each other high fives just like after a little league baseball game.

This went on for about an hour; each winner fighting against one another until it came to the last two. Not your surprise, you and Ellie’s campers came neck in neck with the points. On the sidelines, all of the other campers and friends of yours were cheering for both sides to not show preference for either team.

Ellie’s green eyes were narrowed at you with a taunting eyebrow raise while you scratched at your nose with your middle finger to discreetly flip her off. She caught it almost instantly and shook her head, prodding her tongue into her inner cheek.

“Our finalists, the mighty Daisies and the strong Dinos are about to have their final throw down. The winning team gets this highly expensive, one-of-a-kind trophy!” Jesse announced which caused the entirety of the camp which resulted in an uproar of cheers.

It was a trophy off of Amazon that read ‘#1 Champions’ that was 7 bucks but Jesse knew how to get the kids more and more competitive and eager to win. You locked eyes with Ellie from a few feet away, a shiver sliding down your back when she licked her lips before tightly gripping the thick rope.

The veins on her arms and hands protruded out, her sweat making them glisten under the hot sunbeams. You just needed a photo of what you were looking at and you would be content forever. Distracted by her annoying good looks, you tripped over your own feet when Jesse announced that the final Tug-O-War was on.

But you quickly held your ground and began tugging the rope as aggressively as possible, trying not to get overwhelmed by the amount of cheering coming from your friends and other campers. It took a few minutes before the Dinos did one final tug that caused the flag in the middle to move past the white line.

You glanced down at your hands, sighing at the sight of a few burn marks as you released the rope. Ellie was surrounded by her campers, all excitedly jumping up and down with her. You couldn’t even be sad about losing seeing her so happy. She had rubbed every single one of their heads, telling them how cool and strong they all were.

“Our winners; the Dino cabin!” Jesse shouts into the megaphone, jogging over to hand Ellie the medium-sized trophy.

Ellie snatched it from him to hold it up over her head to show it off. She then grabbed the megaphone from Jesse as well, clearing her throat as she began to give a speech.

“I just want to say thank you to my amazing group of campers. I couldn’t have done it without all of these Incredible Hulks over here,” Ellie smiled like a maniac as the campers started clapping. “But it’s getting too hot out here guys so let’s head over to the Arts cabin to make our bracelets with some snacks and drinks. Let’s go, everybody.”

You told your campers to follow you to the Arts cabin, making sure to let them know how great they did regardless of not being in first place. They all agreed but told you they were excited to get bracelet making. That eased your worries. As much as you enjoy these competitive activities, you are terrified that the kids will begin to feel bad about themselves.

As your group entered the cabin, you instructed your kids to wait in line to get snacks and drinks. You watch them all carefully make their way over to the four lines when you feel a hand rest on your clothed shoulder.

“I didn’t think Ellie could beat you,” Abby’s low voice mutters.

“She’s toned, Abs. I think it was a fair one so,” you shrug your shoulders as you check the list of activities on your clipboard.

“Yeah, I guess so but I was rooting for you.” Abby gave your shoulder a soft squeeze.

You turn to her with a friendly smile, raising your eyebrows at her own slightly frizzy braid.

“Well, I mean we all know why you were winning your Tug-O-Wars,” you eye her biceps, reaching one hand forward to touch the heated skin from being out in the sun.

Abby seemed to just let you touch her, the muscle tensing under your fingers. You look at her and notice how obvious you are with this weird attempt at flirting. You retract your hand and clear your throat.

“So, later when we take our campers to the campfire for s’mores, can I save you a spot?” Abby blatantly stares at your lips before flickering up to your eyes.

From across the room, you make eye contact with Ellie who seems more confused than anything. Jesse was rambling to her about something that you weren’t able to hear as she was helping him set up the bracelet-making table, twiddling with the strands.

“Yeah, Abs. That sounds good,” you nod after forcefully tearing your eyes away from Ellie’s tense posture.

“Yeah?” Abby asks once to confirm.

You hum to ease her mind, nodding with a kind smile.

“Okay, I’ll do that,” Abby nods more so to herself before jerking her head over to her group of campers.

As Abby left you by yourself with your hammering thoughts, you felt a nudge to your hip. You look down to see one of your campers holding up a string to you.

“Can you help me make a bracelet for Beth?” Carter questions, adjusting his baby. blue glasses on his face.

“Yeah, of course, bud.”

“I sorta got mad at her earlier and I want her to know that I’m sorry for doing that,” the little blonde boy expresses, shyly messing with the string.

You thought it was so adorable to see kids express their emotions differently. You’ve noticed as people age, emotions become harder to express. There was no fear in his eyes; a little timid, sure but he knew he had to express it somehow. Yes, people are complicated but children are so open; so innocent.

“I’m sure you didn’t mean it, Carter.”

From across the room you spotted Beth, giggling with Vanessa quietly as they made their own bracelets. Carter quietly told you that he noticed how much she wore the color purple so you helped him pick out the different shades of purple beads to slide onto the bracelet.

The crowd of kids chattering was a weird comfort to you. You couldn’t express it enough how much you loved this job.

After the children had their snacks and finished up the crafting, Tommy and Joel escorted everyone’s campers to their assigned cabin. The counselors cleaned up the art room during that time period. You had no desire to clean so you snuck out to sit on the steps as you waited for everyone else to be done.

As you doodle on your clipboard, you hear the door open behind you and you pretend to make notes instead. That is until you look over your shoulder to see Ellie standing with her arms crossed behind her back.

“Hey,” you grinned at her.

Ellie reciprocates the gesture, looking away from you for a moment.

“Hi,” the auburn-haired girl tilted her head at you. “I was wondering where you went.”

Was your back sweating from anxiety or the heat?

“Sorry. I… didn’t really feel like cleaning,” you weakly chuckled before focusing back on your scribbles and doodles.

“It’s not a lot to clean so you’re good. I just wanted to, uh,” Ellie cleared her throat before making her way closer to you, the boards beneath her feet slightly squeaking.

Before you knew it, an object hit your clipboard right underneath your graphite nonsense. Your eyes drop to it and your brows furrow in confusion.

“What’s this?”

You question as you stare at the bracelet that Ellie has now thrown on the clipboard in front of you resting on your knees. It was a mixture of beads of your favorite colors with your initial smack dab in the middle.

“An apology in a way. I noticed you’ve been kind of distant today so if it was something I did or said,” Ellie scratched behind her ear as she grinned weakly at you. “I’m sorry.”

So that’s why she had been making bracelets earlier. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t been acting weird or distant all of today. You hadn’t talked to Ellie on your own once, which clearly didn’t go didn't go unnoticed by the freckled girl. You felt like an insensitive ass acting this way.

“Els, it’s a personal thing. I’m sorry for being weird,” you stated as you fiddled with the bracelet.

“It’s okay. Just… wanna make sure my favorite girl doesn’t hate me,” Ellie nervously chuckled.

What the hell was she doing to you?

”I don’t think I ever could,” you admit as you admire the slightly too-big bracelet.

Ellie nodded, her green eyes darting from the apology in your hands to your expression. She seemed so antsy to give it to you; secretly afraid that you would hate it or think it was strange or pushing a boundary.

“How’s your tattoo?” Ellie questioned.

“Oh, um, all good. You did amazing, Els.” You reassure her.

“Can I see it to double-check? For… irritation.”

You stare into her wide green eyes, noticing how dilated her pupils are. There was the smallest ring of green due to how much the pupils were taking up her eyes.

“Sure, yeah,” you carefully lifted up your shorts leg to show her the small sun.

It was a bit splotchy but adorable nonetheless. You had put on soothing shea butter lotion and washed it gently this morning so it was good as new. Ellie reached her fingers forward to carefully trace over the detailed spiral in the middle. Goosebumps rose instantly to the surface of your skin despite the drastic heat outside.

“Looks good. It suits you.” Ellie confesses to you, grinning as her thumb traces over the inked section of your upper thigh.

“I might visit you again to get more. Maybe some finger ones?” You suggest, holding your hands out to her.

Ellie carefully takes your hands in hers.

“It’d be pretty hot, honestly,” Ellie murmured like she didn’t want her comment to be heard.

“Yeah, I thought so too,” you add on with a cheeky smile, nudging her shoulder.

Ellie’s entire face flushed at your words, releasing your hand as she muttered a soft ‘shut up’. You simply chuckled as you rested your head on her shoulder.

“Well, I’ll see you later at the campfire. I just wanted to give that to you before I forgot.” Ellie scratched behind your ear with a chuckle, moving on from her slight mistake.

“Mmm, I would take a shower first though,” you tease.

Ellie shook her head and scoffed.

“Really? After I gave you a gift?” She muttered as she leaned down to place her sweaty front side over your seated back.

You let out a string of groans and ‘get off’ before Ellie reluctantly lifted her body up and off of you. She stood up on her feet and nudged your leg with her Converse-covered feet.

“I’ll see you in a bit.” Ellie nodded before turning on her heels.

You sigh as you twiddle with the sweet gesture from the freckled girl. You silently watch her make her to her own cabin, probably wrangling for the children to quiet down so that she can do a headcount.

“Getting over her, huh?” You hear from behind you which causes you to nearly jump out of your skin.

Dina’s standing there with her arms folded across her chest, the wooden door behind her shutting softly.

“I don’t want to hear it, D,” you sigh as you stand up on the chipping blue wooden staircase.

Dina continuously tries to voice her opinion on how she feels but you make a noise of protest every time. She walks up to you and places both hands on your shoulders, forcing you to listen to her at this point.

“I just don’t know why you’re forcing yourself to fixate on Abby and why you don’t just tell Ellie how you feel.”

You’ve heard this twice now and you can’t help but feel like maybe they’re right. It’s high-risk, high-reward explaining how you feel to Ellie. You would give anything to know exactly how she felt about you so that you could ultimately just either push the crush away or finally open your mouth to tell her you want her more than you needed oxygen.

“You think I should?” You question curiously, your eyes pouring into Dina’s heartfelt ones.

“Yes. 99%” Dina replies.

You groan at her answer, trying to move away from her. She chuckles and shakes your shoulders to refocus your attention on her.

“I’m kidding. Seriously, 110%. I don’t think you see how Ellie looks at you, dude.” Dina emphasizes this with complete sincerity.

Steve’s words, too, echoed in your brain as you took in what Dina said to you.

“I’m just saying if I know flirting,” he leaned down to mutter to you, “and I think I do, she wants you just as badly as you want her. My personal opinion is to go for it.”

Should you? You were making your head hurt with the constant back and forth. Ellie was the lucky one. She had no idea what was going on in your head and this you were thankful for. The sun was setting and it was nearly time for the campfire.

You walked away from Dina with a pounding question in your head: Abby or Ellie?

tag-list: @abbyshands @ih8chickentenders @elliesprettygirl @justhereforinspopics @be3flow3r @hearts4joongie @plutolovesyou @bready101 @joanvisitsrome @elliewilliamssrealgf @hysteriawillnotsuccumb @shady-lemur @melanie-watermelon @elliescoolerwife @ucannotcompare @sakiigami @shalalala-sana @joordynn @ummlover @thisiscarlatrying @phattywithawham @mxquelo @kisssssessssssyj @xyaxyn @claymoreshaze @a-little-bit-of-everybody

[bratbarzal]

On Your Side (NH13) / Chapter Nine

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy Jensen

WC: 23k (have fun!!)

18+ MDNI!

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

Series Masterlist

Previous Part (Chapter Eight)

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

Poppy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nods, mindlessly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She shakes her head.

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

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

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She’s tired of it, now.

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

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

Only that doesn’t work, either. 

Obviously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Too late. I already know too much.”

“Like what?”

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

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

“I need you to hand the book over.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can buy bleach-,”

“You know exactly what I meant.”

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

“Maybe stay away from seeds, then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dad, what are you doing here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cant a father visit his daughter at work?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I was embarrassed of myself.”

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

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

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

“Says you, you called him an idiot.”

“Yeah, well he got under my skin.”

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

“Stealing your job?”

What on Earth does he mean by that? 

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

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

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

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

“He yelled at you?”

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

“What did he say?”

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

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

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

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

“You want a do-over?”

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

The game on Wednesday.

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

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

She nods, anyway.

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

“We?”

“Me and your mother.”

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

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

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

“I want to understand your world, Poppy.”

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

All thanks to Nico.

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

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

“You guys are over this way?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Less stressed, though.”

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

All she wants to do is crawl into his lap.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

“Nope.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Or we could do lunch together later?”

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

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

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

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

“I’ll see you later then, Poppy.”

“And Cheeto.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my God, they have baked cookies.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought things were going well?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s keep it that way.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re being an idiot.”

Great.

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

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

She knows Nia never hated Nico after what he did - she was angry, and probably felt betrayed herself a little that she had trusted him with her best friend’s heart and he had stomped on it - but she’s never really been a forgive and forget kind of person.

But she’s been doing her own version of baby steps with Nico. When they cross paths at Poppy’s apartment, one on the way out, one on the way in, she no longer scowls at him. No longer rolls her eyes when he’s brought up in conversation.

And, evidently, she no longer has him blocked 

For everything Nico has done to prove himself to Poppy, Nia has seen it, too. 

Even just to let him back in, in such a small way, is such a big step.

“He’s on a probationary period, three strikes and he’s out.”

“Wrong sport.” Poppy smirks.

“Don’t care. Besides the point anyway, what I was trying to say is that you’re worrying too much about stupid things when you should be focusing on the things he is doing. He literally endured dinner with your parents, and is going to do it again. If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.”

“I thought the point of this pep talk was to stop my anxiety, not double it.”

She’s been trying not to think about lunch with her parents. Has been trying even not to think about them coming to this game, Nia being the only reason she hasn’t tried to make her escape by now.

They probably won’t show, anyway, and it will start their meeting off tomorrow with already raised tensions, just how her mom prefers it.

Her stress levels dip and rise like a rollercoaster in the build up to the game. The announcement of the players, the national anthem, the tension in the room palpable as the clock ticks down, high already from the last time the two teams met and the constant chatter of a fight breaking out on the ice - and she’s feeling more and more grateful that they haven’t arrived yet.

Until the door to the suite swings open, and her dad walks in on his own, an apologetic smile on his face as he rushes over.

“Sorry I’m late,” He kisses Poppy and the cheek, and greets Nia with a warm hug, sitting beside his daughter and looking out into the arena, “Did  I miss anything?”

“Pucks about to drop,” Poppy tells him as he gets himself comfy, watching as he scans the crowd with an expression that kind of, sort of, looks like awe. “Mom’s not coming?”

“Not this time,” he shrugs, patting a hand against her back gently and not really delving any further into it. “We’ll have more fun without her though.”

Nia scoffs from the other side of her, hiding her smile with a bite of a cookie while Poppy tries to swallow down her unexpected disappointment.

This will have to be enough - her dad trying his best while her mom sulks on her own in her hotel room. He’s right, anyway. It will be more fun without her here.

Poppy has work the next day, Nico having a rare morning off, himself, and so the two of them arrange for him to pick her up at lunch, driving over to meet her parents together. She blocked the afternoon out of her diary, having to account for the travel either way across the river, and for whatever trauma the two of them are about to face, no doubt needing a good 20 minutes to wind down in the car after, and her morning goes by way quicker than she probably would have liked.

She packs up her office with as much delay as she can cause, stopping every couple of minutes to put her hands on her hips and try out a couple breathing exercises that Nico has been teaching her, huffing out long breaths through puffed out cheeks and letting the tension drop from her shoulders. Once she has everything, she reluctantly heads down to meet Nico where they had agreed after he sends her a text to tell her he’s there.

She straightens her skirt out as she waits in the elevator, making sure her hair is neat and her top isn’t riding up against her small bump as it has been all morning, no longer able to cover it up with her cardigan tied around her waist, knowing her mother would call her out for being unkempt.

She wouldn’t be wearing heels if it were up to her, a subtle ache already settling into the soles of her feet, but it’s only for an hour or two, she has some sneakers in her trunk for when he brings her back for her car, and if anything, they make her legs look good so it isn’t entirely a bad thing to be wearing them around Nico.

When the doors to the parking level open, she has the expectation that he would be in his normal spot around the corner, where the players usually park - the spaces a little bigger, less chance of anyone being careless with the way they open their door and dinging it against another like she’s had happen before - but she’s surprised to see he isn’t too far, parked straight ahead so she doesn’t have far to walk.  

Nico leans against his car, dressed smart in charcoal pants and a light grey shirt, and she finds herself doing a not-so-subtle once over, mainly to check he isn’t wearing sneakers. 

She’s grateful she has a little time to walk over to him, to admire him before it’s too obvious she’s doing so, because if he got a close enough look at her, he could potentially call her out for drooling. 

She catches him doing the same, eyes lingering on her bare legs as she closes the distance between them, before flickering up to greet her with a dimpled smile.

“You look good,” she comments as she steps toward him, reaching to smooth his hair where he’s slicked it back a little, swiping her finger along his clean shaven jaw as she retreats.

“It goes against everything I believe in, wearing dress pants this early in the day.” 

“I appreciate it.”

“I know you do.”

He opens the car door for her and walks by the front to round to his side, giving her a chance to admire the back of him as he moves before he’s jumping into the drivers seat. 

She reaches to put the AC on low as he drives, getting a little hot watching his fingers flex around the wheel, and tries not to spend all her time leaning against the headrest and looking over his side profile like a crazy person. 

Although, if admiring a guy as gorgeous as Nico while he’s in her presence is a crime, she thinks she probably deserves to be locked up.

She’s a repeat offender, after all.

“You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I feel weirdly good, actually.” Her morning at work hadn’t been too hectic, a meeting and a few calls, and she hasn’t really felt sick all week, so things are definitely looking up.

And last night with her dad went better than expected, despite her mom not making an appearance.

She’s even slightly optimistic for this lunch, oddly enough, not having that nagging voice in her head telling her everything is going to fall apart, for once.

“What about you? You aren’t gonna threaten to drive off again, are you?”

“Nah,” he chuckles, casting her an amused glance before focusing back on the road. “I think I’ve got a good read for how these Jensen table talks go by now.”

“I think my dad will be okay today, he got really into the game last night. I think it was all the fighting, and my mom not being there, it was like he’s been holding back all this time.”

She had been initially disappointed when her mom hadn’t shown, but when all the fighting had started, she had been relieved. She had warned her dad when he had made the suggestion in the first place, but nothing could have properly prepared him for the carnage of a game against the Rangers, and so she just had to let him endure it.

And he loved it. It was bizarre to see. He’d been cheering on the boys, oohing and aah-ing in time with the crowd, and jumping whenever she and Nia did.

She had actually had fun, and it seemed like he did, too.

“He’ll be coming to The Rock in a jersey before we know it.”

“Is that how things work out for you, everyone just comes around in the end ‘cause your so charming?”

“Surprised it took you this long to notice.” 

Poppy’s parents are waiting in their hotel lobby when Poppy and Nico arrive after their almost-hour long drive, thankfully both dressed just as smart as they are, because she knows Nico would have something to pout about if her dad showed up in khakis. 

The four of them sit around a table in the lounge restaurant of her parent’s hotel in Midtown, her dad having tried to find another spot and her mom having quickly vetoed every cafe or restaurant in the area after vigorously trawling through the Yelp reviews and no doubt turning her nose up at every picture she came across.

Despite the setting being suited to her, she still rearranges her table setting when she arrives, still swipes at the surface and assesses her finger for dust or grime with a dissatisfied look on her face, and Poppy’s trying her best to ignore the little things. Her mom would be like this in the finest restaurant in the world, it isn’t specific to Jersey, it isn’t entirely personal.

It has been cordial, so far. Pleasantries exchanged, small talk conversed. The food had been nice, the wait staff thankfully avoiding her mother’s daring glares, and Poppy starts to feel her anxiety dwindle the more her father talks.

He asks Nico of his interests, trying to find something shared, but coming up slightly short - but that’s okay, she thinks, not everyone has something in common. Maybe they’ll discover that down the line. Maybe there’s something niche that their conversations haven’t sparked yet. 

Nico is his charming self, she has no worries there, and her dad is putting in enough effort to make up for the lack of it on her mom’s end.

Then he moves onto hockey, and Poppy can tell he had been paying attention when he had watched them play the day before. 

She and Nia had been too invested in the game to explain much to him, and it’s hard - being in the arena, watching it live - without having heard most of the terminology through commentary or any sort of breakdown of a play, and so Nico ends up pretty much going through plays and game structure with him, explaining penalties and power plays, shift switches and face-offs, and Philip sits, nodding along as if he’s actually taking it on board. 

“And what do you do with yourself when your season is over?” Her dad asks, and despite the depth in which she knows him, can see the lingering suspicion and distrust in Nico, and of their situation as a whole, she’s grateful for that fact that he’s at least trying.

“I usually go back home and spend time with my family, sir. My brother plays in the league over there so I don’t get to see him when we’re playing at the same time.”

“That’s nice. And that’s Sweden?”

“Switzerland, Dad.” Poppy corrects him, her fingers tickling mindlessly at Nico’s palm in her lap. 

“Of course! Beautiful country, Poppy’s mother and I always used to stop by Zurich whenever we were in Europe. You loved the Opera House, didn’t you, Cilla?”

“Hm,” Poppy’s mom confirms, sipping at her wine with feigned disinterest. Poppy knows she’s paying attention, is going through Nico’s every word with a fine toothed comb. “I much preferred France.”

Poppy rolls her eyes, shifting a little in her seat until her knees knock into Nico’s.

“What do your parents do, son?”

“They both work in insurance, my dad has his own firm.”

“Ah, they’re not athletic, like you and your brother?”

“They were. My mom was a swimmer, my dad played footba- sorry, soccer. And my big sister, Nina, she used to play volleyball.”

“I bet your family game nights get heated.”

He really is trying, Poppy thinks, smiling softly over at Nico as he chuckles in response, lips twisting fondly at whatever memory that invokes. 

“They aren’t too bad, only a bit competitive. No major fights, thankfully.”

“Is that what you want for our grandchild?” Priscilla chimes in, only proving Poppy’s point that she isn’t as disinterested as she’d like to seem. “For them to put all their focus on games and competitions?”

“Mom,” Poppy frowns, shuffling uncomfortably again, all too ready to jump to Nico’s defence until he speaks up from beside her.

“It’s okay,” he assures her, “I haven’t thought much about it, to be honest, I would just want them to be happy.”

He doesn’t say it like he’s trying to win points or be corny, when Poppy turns her head to look at him, she sees the slight dopey smile he has whenever he talks about their baby - a look of pure adoration for even the unknown - and she smiles too. If anything, his outlook would have the opposite effect on her mother than to give him any sort of kudos, but her heart warms, all the same. 

She clutches at his hand under the table, giving him a reassuring squeeze that he returns three times over.

“Nico plays for Switzerland, too,” she directs more towards her father, who might be a little more receptive to the fact, “They have the world championships in Prague this year, if the Devils don’t make the playoffs, Nico might be going over earlier. Might even captain the team.” She beams with pride, using her other hand to rub at the arm of the hand of his that she’s holding.

“That’s great-,”

“That’s an awfully busy schedule for a father-to-be.” Her mother scoffs from across the table. “How are you supposed to look after my daughter from half way across the world?”

“I can look after myself, Mom.”

“You shouldn’t have to. What if something happens, and he’s 9 hours away?”

Why does she have to be like this?

Poppy can feel the responsive insolence brewing within her, bubbling and steaming and about to rear it’s ugly head when another voice speaks up.

“Cilla, that’s enough. She’s shown us she can take care of herself, stop trying to instigate something and scare her for no good reason.”

Poppy feels herself mirror her mom’s expression, her mouth gaping open in shock at the nerve of him to stand up to her like that out of nowhere. As Priscilla presses her lips together in indignation, Poppy prepares hers to speak when her dad turns to Nico, completely disregarding the interruption in their conversation. 

“Is that different? Being a captain for your country compared to the Devils?”

She could lean over the table and kiss him on the head, beyond grateful for the interest he’s now showing, hoping it overpowers the venom spewed from her mother’s mouth. 

“A little bit,” Nico nods, lips curving softly at the corners, clearly appreciative, too. “I don’t really have to worry about trades and contracts and stuff when it comes to my national teammates. I grew up with a lot of those guys, and the tournament is a lot closer to home than the games here. I don’t want to say I prefer it, but it’s always nice to play closer to my family and friends.”

“You’ll have to let me know when it’s on the TV, Poppy. After last night, I’d love to watch more games. It was quite exciting.”

She squeezes his hand again, her smile wider when she looks up at him this time, her eyes settling on the dimples she wants to press her lips to. 

Her dad’s words from the other day ring in her head.

He made me realise I haven’t supported you in the way I should be.

Her dad has never stuck up for her like this. Always turning a blind eye to the way her mom zeroes in on all the things that could possibly sting her - and here he is, in public no less, putting her in her place to protect Poppy. To protect Nico, even. 

“I don’t know if that game was the best introduction for you, sir.” Nico chuckles, “We lost, too.”

“I have it on good authority that that’s only because the Rags are a bunch of no-good cheaters.”

Nico snorts, glancing down and meeting Poppy’s gaze, fondly. “Is that so?”

“I said dirty, rotten, no-good cheaters, actually,” she shrugs, “Dad, if you’re gonna start chirping, you’ve got to put a little more heart into it.”

“You’ll have to teach me, Poppet,” Philip tells his daughter, “Maybe that’s how we keep you busy this summer, you can get me up to scratch for the next season.”

And despite the way her heart hammers in her chest at the mention of her having to be kept busy and the thought of being apart from Nico, she feels the tension in her shoulder slip away. Even her mom’s sour face can’t ruin this moment, where her dad starts showing slight signs of approval for the first time in her life, she feels.

“We can discuss my rates, later.” She smiles over at him, cheeks tightening and eyes watering slightly as she smiles, her appreciation for his time, and for the moment, far outweighing her disappointment in the woman sat beside him. 

It’s only two days later that Poppy and Nico are separated again, him and the team leaving a day early for their game against the Senators, situating him overnight in a hotel in Ottawa when she really wants him back with her in Jersey.

It’s getting pathetic now, she thinks, the way she misses him all the time. It’s one day. She’s still texting him, still speaking to him practically every hour. She shouldn’t need to have him right next to her at all hours of the day.

If anything, she needs to start getting used to this - him not being around. Within the next month, he’ll be back home in Switzerland and she’ll be here, grumbling and moaning to herself and everyone but him about how she wants him back.

She’s been trialling out other people’s company too, as pitiful as that sounds. Nia she knows is a safe bet - she’ll be around, already in full auntie mode and more than ready for Poppy to enter her nesting and shopping phase. Jack and Luke will be going back to Michigan, no doubt, but they’re bound to have some trips back to Jersey. Kelsey is kind of a no-go, because despite the fact that she still considers her one of her best friends, she’s all of a sudden under the impression that Poppy is no fun now that she’s pregnant, and she doesn’t have the energy in her to prove her otherwise. Josh at work had come with her for lunch earlier in the day. He’s alright company, but a little boring, if anything - doesn’t make her laugh straight from her belly, not like Nico, not that she’s comparing them.

Nothing really compares to him, if she’s honest, so it’s a fruitless task to even try.

And so, she’s resigning herself to the little version of him that sits in his poor-signal box on her FaceTime app, crashing and pausing and cutting out sometimes when he speaks.

“I’m so hungry I could eat a horse,” Poppy groans, leaning forward onto her elbow in front of where her phone is rested on the counter, a pout on her lips as she watches Nico situate himself on his hotel bed.

“I thought you were getting food, before? Didn’t you say you were gonna have a late lunch?”

“We did,” she sighs, remembering the disappointment that the first bite of her bagel had elicited and swearing that even the memory of it has her stomach growling.

“We?”

“Yeah, I went with Josh.”

“The PR guy?” Nico looks so cute when he’s frowning, she thinks, his eyebrows pressing together and his doe-brown eyes going round, his screen pausing on a very adorable pout for a few seconds. 

“Yeah.”

“You went on a lunch date with Josh the PR guy?”

“I wouldn’t call it a date, we just had the same lunch hour.” She shrugs, trying not to get distracted at just the sight of him on a phone screen. Nia was right the other day, she really does need to pull herself together, she thinks. “I don’t think anyone in their mind would want to date me right now, I’m distinctly round and up until a week ago was walking around with a gross vomit smell about me.”

“Was it just the two of you?” He asks, doing little to dispel her undateable theory and causing her to frown, too.

“Yeah,” she drags out with the tilt of her head.

“And you went away from The Rock?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Did he pay?”

“Well, yeah, but-,” He probably wouldn’t appreciate her telling him it was Josh’s turn, implying they had shared other lunch breaks, but he cuts her off before she can.

“And you walked back to work together after?”

“We’re in the same building, and it was nice out today.”

“Has he text you since?”

“I-,” She doesn’t actually know. Poppy swipes up from their FaceTime to check her messages, seeing his name near the top. Sent 30 minutes ago, I had fun today, with a smiley face - a blushing smiley face, at that. “Yeah? But you used to pay for my lunch and text me when you got home,”

“Yeah and now you’re carrying my baby.” He’s smiling when she brings the FaceTime back, a soft smile that barely meets his eyes but melts her heart, all the same.

“Can’t argue with that logic.”

“It was a date.” He tells her, and he shifts on the other end of the phone, discomfort evident as she realises that the smile is more resolute than she first thought. “A cheap one, if you’re still hungry.”

“Well he wanted to go to that bagel place a couple streets from work,” she says, ignoring his jab, “You know the one with outdoor seating?” He nods, “He said it’s his favourite spot nearby.”

Maybe it was a date. Walking in the soft sunshine together to his favourite spot. Him buying her a bagel, an iced tea and a little tub of tiramisu for her to eat at her desk that had way too much coffee for her to eat.

Shit.

“You hate that place.” That frown comes back, defensive, almost, and he leans back onto his bent arm in a way that makes his muscles flex, distracting her entirely.

“I know,” she sighs, at the sight of him or at this conversation, she doesn’t know. “They’re so dry, I swear they’re stale, I ended up just picking mine apart, but now I-,”

“Could eat a horse?” He grins, flexing his arm like he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

“Exactly,” she smiles, “And I have nothing in.”

“You went shopping yesterday,” he hums, leaning back and getting comfortable, looking back at her with that sleepy smile that makes her want to cuddle into him. She could so slot into that space that his arm makes - it’s literally Poppy shaped.

“Yeah, but yesterday I had all the intentions of buying things to cook, and now I don’t want to cook.” She walks over to her couch with her phone in hand as she talks, throwing herself down into the cushions with a heavy sigh. “I saw someone with this giant soft pretzel earlier, and I know it isn’t moving yet, but I swear Cheeto started doing backflips at the smell. It’s all I can think about. Soft pretzels and melted cheese, I could actually cry right now just imagining it.”

“Maybe take a shower,” he hums, and he looks like he could fall asleep, any second. “You might have some energy after to make something.”

“Maybe,” she hums, back, soft tone matching his as she watches his eyes flutter. “Still won’t be a soft pretzel, though.”

“Keep me posted on whatever you pick, I’m gonna go before I fall asleep, I’m grabbing dinner with the boys.”

“Show-off.” She pouts, lips twitching when he smiles big enough for his dimples to form. “Text me when you’re back?”

“Sure thing. Make sure you eat something, yeah?”

“I will. See you later, Nico.”

Once her screen goes black with the end of the call, she falls into the back of the couch with a heavy sigh, head craned back to look at the ceiling. 

This is so hard, she thinks of missing a man that isn’t entirely hers, of trying to suppress her feelings before they spread to every fibre of her being. 

And with her patience wearing thin, all she has left is to listen to him - to follow his instruction in the hopes that this is what will make the universe reward her, subliminally giving him what he wants.

She showers, trying not to think about him as she faces up into the spray and lets the hot water rain down on her, lathering her hair in a shampoo she wishes smelled like him and dressing herself after in a hoodie she had stolen a while back, all remnants of his scent long washed away. 

She’s staring at a full refrigerator with a head empty of ideas when there is a knock at her door, and she trudges toward the entrance to her apartment with heavy feet. 

She knows as soon as she opens the door what it is, her nose perked like a sniffer dog as the aroma floods from the paper bag being held out to her.

“I got a delivery for Poppy?”

“Thank you so much,” she smiles, taking the bag from the pre-pubescent looking Postmates delivery guy, and handing him a tip from the little stack of notes she keeps on the table by her door. 

The name on the bag is for a bakery she knows is around 15 minutes away, closer to her old place up in Hoboken, and she practically skips around to her couch to open it up. 

Two soft pretzels and a tub of Cranberry-Bacon Swiss cheese dip that she had forced Nico to try one time a few years back, and hadn’t had since she moved - still warm in the bag and the smell of it causing her mouth to water.

She thinks this might be the sexiest thing he’s ever done.

Remembering a random order for a soft pretzel from years ago. Relaying her schedule over the phone before, how she didn’t like a certain bagel shop that she had probably mentioned one time before, how she had gone shopping the day prior, something that had probably been a passing comment in a text earlier in the week - flooding her with his perfect recall and insistence on delivering a love language from hundreds of miles away. 

I think I’m in love with you, she types out in a fit of giddiness, senses overpowered by the delicious smell from the bag in her lap, her judgement thankfully coming back before she can hit send, because sure they’ve told each other they love each other before, but never like that. 

Instead, she types out something much more reasonable for the occasion to send along with a selfie of her holding the bag with a stupid smile on her face.

Poppy: You’re my favourite baby daddy 😊 

Nico: I’m your only baby daddy 🙄 

Poppy: Potentially my favourite person 

Nico: Potentially?

Poppy: Cheeto’s first

Nico: So I’m second?

Poppy: Potentially 💖 

Her mind goes back to something Nia had said at the game earlier in the week, about how Nico cared for her like it was an obsession.

Maybe she’s obsessed, too.

Nico

“What do you know about Josh from PR?”

Nico knows that he should probably feel at least an ounce of shame for going to the rest of the guys about this - should feel childish for letting his own insecurities cloud his mind like this, but he’s tried talking himself out of it, and it hasn’t worked.

The locker room has kind of always been his safe space to vent - in a room surrounded by his peers, where better to air out his grievances and have his irrational feelings validated than here?

Especially on the road, after a rough night’s sleep in a hotel bed, and in a practice facility that has a distinct chemical smell that is making him a little loopy.

This is truly his last resort, and he’s already regretting it from Jack’s response, alone.

“I know that his name is Josh and he works in PR.”

“Funny,” Nico scoffs as he leans back into the bench of his locker, running a frustrated hand through his sweat-matted hair. 

“Why, what beef do you have with Josh?”

Jack sits a few cubbies over, the distance causing his voice to carry and opening the conversation up to the other stragglers, namely Timo, who doesn’t speak up but Nico can see his attention pique.

“He took Poppy out on a date.” He grumbles.

“Our Poppy?” 

Mine, Nico thinks, but nods in response, anyway, hoping only Jack takes notice but wincing when another voice responds, instead.

“Damn,” Timo teases, “Going after a pregnant woman is ballsy.”

“Do you think he’s a problem?” He knows he shouldn’t rise to Timo’s ribbing, the panicked raise of his brow only eliciting a smirk from his fellow countryman and longtime friend, but he can’t help it.

“The last time I had any dealings with him, he was wearing a tie with turtles on it, so the chances are slim, but what do I know?”

“Poppy does like her guys dorky,” Jack joins in, a taunting glint flashing across his eyes.

“Does she like him?” Timo asks, throwing himself down beside Nico, who shrugs in response.

“She didn’t even know it was a date,” he tries to brush it off a little, to sound cocky, but he doesn’t really pull it off.

“Hardly sounds like a threat to me, Cap,” Luke speaks up from the other side of his brother, always the voice of reason. 

“I’m not threatened.” He gives a nonchalant frown.

“Sure you’re not.” Luke scoffs.

“I’m just looking out for her.”

“Of course you are.”

“Stop being annoying.”

“Stop being a liar.”

“I’m not lying.”

Luke is always so quick to call Nico out that it’s starting to remind him of Poppy, a little - sharp tongue and a slight disregard for where he pokes it, if needed. It almost makes him appreciate it, all the more.

“She’s the mother of my child, it isn’t a crime to care about who she might be going on dates with.”

“Buddy, she’s carrying your baby, the last thing she’s looking for is a serious relationship with someone else right now.”

Nico narrows his eyes at his best friend, waiting for the follow up he knows is coming where Timo says something to chip away at his dwindling resolve - something to keep him awake, tonight.

“She’s probably just looking to get some.”

Something like that.

“Get some?” He scoffs, uneasily, his face curling in disgust, “This is Poppy we’re talking about, she isn’t like that. It was a stale bagel and an iced tea, not some sordid hookup.”

“You said she didn’t know it was a date.” Luke chimes in, his tone bored and his expression the same - halfway done with having to entertain Nico’s incessant talking and no action. 

“She didn’t, he took her out to lunch. But she didn’t seem entirely opposed to the idea it was a date when I pointed it out to her.”

“Well maybe,” Timo drags out as he pushes himself off the bench and stands before him, a playful smirk on his lips, “And hear me out before you go crazy,” Nico rolls his eyes, swallowing hard in anticipation, “She’s just crazy horny.”

“Fuck off,” Nico throws one of his pads at him, bouncing off his shoulder before he catches it with a chuckle.

“No, I’m serious,” he throws it back for Nico to catch, “Pregnant women are freaky, it’s all the hormones, and most of them have their partners to scratch that itch,” Nico wonders where he’s getting all these ridiculous sayings, all of a sudden, “But you two aren’t together, so she has to get her fill from somebody else.”

Nico tries looking at the other boys for validation. Jack is already distracted on his phone, and Luke looks too grossed out to comment.

“I don’t know why I’m even speaking to you about this, I should have asked someone with at least two brain cells to rub together.”

“Fair point, hey, Curtis, come over here a sec!” Timo calls out, swinging his arm over his shoulder as he approaches, “Tell Nico, in graphic detail, just how freaky pregnant women get!”

“I want nothing to do with this conversation,” he grimaces, shrugging out from under Timo’s grip and carrying on over to his cubby. 

“He didn’t deny it!”

And he knows, deep down, that Timo has been on a personal mission to grind his gears the last few months, finding joy in getting Nico all riled up for no good reason other than it makes him laugh. He knows he shouldn’t take him seriously, but all of a sudden, his chest feels tight - and the feeling won’t go away.

He tries not to overthink any of it, but it’s no use.

All the little nagging thoughts he’s had about his relationship with Poppy over the last few months start to surface, and bubble into something dark and ugly.

Sure, they’ve had their baby steps, they’ve had the odd kiss here and there, they have told each other’s families that they’re together, have spent an awful lot of time together for two people who aren’t together, but that’s just it.

They aren’t together.

They haven’t had that conversation, haven’t set any boundaries, and as much as he hasn’t even looked at another woman since New Years Eve, he can’t expect Poppy not to have done the same.

Why wouldn’t she date Josh?

He has a decent job, seems like a nice enough guy despite his poor timing and his weird need to always be in Poppy’s office. He makes her laugh - Nico’s seen it, has felt his ears go hot as her eyes have crinkled at the corners and that sweet, melodic sound has crossed through the barrier of her lips in his presence - and she clearly likes his company enough to grab lunch with him in the first place.

And it’s those lingering worries that put him into a funk.

When Poppy texts him, his replies are short. He misses a call from her after their win in Ottawa, and doesn’t find the time to call her back. He doesn’t stop by her place when he lands after their flight back, going straight back to his apartment and tossing and turning all night wondering how long it will be before she finds someone else to keep her company and googling all the ways in which her hormones are about to come at her full force - finding an article that points out the exact timeline of it all in gut wrenching detail. He doesn’t see her before he’s locked away for their game against the Predators the next day, either - and when they lose after overtime, and a poor shootout, he feels guilt more than anything when he checks his phone after his shower and Poppy is still texting him like nothing could possibly be wrong.

Poppy: I’ve left a key under the mat if you want to drop by after the game 💖 

It had been sent sometime in the third period, over an hour ago at this point, and she’s more than likely asleep, he thinks.

But God, he wants to see her.

So where he’d usually drive straight home, he drives to her place, instead, hoping they can have some sort of conversation that suppresses the uncertainty that is starting to keep him awake at night.

He parks up beside her car on the street, and takes the stairs instead of her death-trap elevator, ignoring the protesting ache building in his thighs as he climbs all six floors in a hurry.

The key is where she said it would be, and the weight of it is nothing in comparison to the meaning of her leaving it for him, the responsibility of handling it causing his hands to shake as he opens the door quietly, in anticipation of her already resting up.

The lights are off, but there’s a lamp on beside the couch in the living room, and commercials are playing on her TV, and when he steps fully into the space, he finally sees her, and he can finally breathe.

She’s curled up on the couch, dressed in pyjama shorts that sit low on her hips and a tank top that rides up along the curve of her bump, and is snuggling into a pillow while the flashing lights from the TV reflect on her skin. He reaches onto the coffee table for the remote and puts it on mute, watching her for a second as soft snores fall from between her lips.

Jesus, he thinks, she’s beautiful.

Every time he looks at her, he finds himself picturing her features on their baby. The colour of her eyes, the roundness of them when they look straight at him, or the crinkling in the corner when she smiles, the slope of her nose, the fullness of her lips.

He wouldn’t be mad if there was nothing of his. If their baby didn’t have his eye or hair colour, his nose, his smile. He’d be happy with a mini-Poppy.

She must feel his presence as he kneels down beside her - probably hears the crack in his knees or the grunt he thought he was withholding on his way down, because her eyes flutter open slowly, focusing on him with a mellowed, dreamy gaze.

“Hey,” she smiles softly at him, voice thick with sleep and eyes still half-scrunched shut. “Tried to wait up for you.”

How could he let anyone get in his head about this? He thinks, as she looks at him with eyes that sparkle and a smile that grips at his heart like a vice. 

Is this what being apart from her is going to keep doing to him? Forcing him to spiral out of his own mind until he sees her, again?

“I was surprised to see you text so late to be honest,” he hums, reaching out to tuck her sleep-mussed hair behind her ear. “You’re usually out by 9 these days."

“Growing your baby is exhausting,” she sighs with her whole body, shifting on the couch to make room for him, and he falls down into the space she makes, positioning his body to her liking as she snuggles straight into him. He feels himself sigh, the content kind, where the aches in his muscles wither into something a little more comfortable, and everywhere she touches feels warm and soothed.

“You could have gone to bed, Poppy, I was going to see you in the morning, anyway.”

“Missed you.” He likes how there’s no preamble about it - the two of them no longer skirting around their feelings as much, not needing to think up some other excuse for wanting to see each other. She missed him enough to leave a key under the mat, enough to stay up despite her body being overworked, enough that waiting less than twelve hours just wouldn’t suffice the desire to see him again.

He has nothing to worry about, he realises. 

“Missed you, too.” He relaxes fully into the couch, an arm slung around her shoulders and the other reaching to rest in its default place on her little bump. “And Cheeto.”

Poppy hums, and he swears he can feel her arch into his touch.

It’s quiet between them for a moment, illuminated by the muted flickering of game highlights flashing across Poppy’s TV screen, and he can’t help but feel like this is where he is meant to be. This is what he’s meant to come home to. Not an empty apartment with leftovers in the fridge and a bed 10 times too big for one person.

Poppy, on the couch, warm and receptive to whatever he can give her, slow, content sighs slipping from between her lips. 

“I’m sorry,” he hears after a beat, he gives an affirmative hum as a response before he even registers what she’s said. She uses the hand on his chest as leverage to push herself up, still leaning on him slightly but able to look him in the eye. “Are you mad at me?”

“For what?” He frowns, his heart jumping under her touch.

“For Josh,” her body leans away from his a little as she rests back with her knees beneath her. “I swear I didn’t realise that he even liked me like that, and then after we spoke last night I started getting in my head about it, I don’t want you to think I’m just out here going on dates with other people.”

“I don’t think that-,”

“I just miss you a lot when you’re not here, lately,” she admits, nervously, most likely not even hearing what he had said. “And I’ve been trying to fill my time with other people so that I don’t think about you as much and that I won’t go crazy when you leave again in a few weeks.”

“Okay,”

“Not that it actually works, I-,” her lips twist as she looks down at her lap, her hands both fidgeting between them, “I just feel like I’m getting super clingy, and with you going home soon, I don’t want you to feel like I’m smothering you or something.”

“I don’t feel like that,” he doesn’t know why he keeps trying to reassure her. She’ll listen when she’s finished talking, herself, he figures, because again, she doesn’t acknowledge him. He feels his lips twisting in amusement as she carries on, revealing probably more of herself than she had originally intended. His chest warms, weirdly, at the idea that they’ve both been apart, wanting nothing more than to be with each other, worrying that they’re overbearing the other. 

“And I know this whole,” she lifts a hand to point her finger frantically between the two of them, “thing between us is moving super slow, and I know that’s my fault, but I feel really good about it. It feels really right to me. But we haven’t really talked about it since we agreed on baby steps, and I don’t know where your head is at around everything, but I don’t even see Josh like that, and I wouldn’t agree to go out with him when we’re-,” 

He wants her to finish that thought so badly.

When we’re what, Poppy?

She sighs - another big kind, where her shoulders rise slowly and drop suddenly. Like she’s gearing herself up to say something she thinks he won’t like.

“I don’t want you to go back to Switzerland and get over me again.”

What?

Where the hell did that come from?

He doesn’t think there was even a second he was ever over her. Not entirely, at least. Distracted, maybe. Ignorant, obviously. But never detached.

“And I realise that’s a stupidly super clingy thing to say, but-,”

“Hey,” his tone is clearer, firmer than the last few times he had spoken, and he reiterates the sincerity in what he’s about to say with a calloused hand to her face, the touch shocking her into reception. Glassy eyes sparkle back at him, like rippling water under moonlight, and he wants nothing more than to dive in, to bathe in the hidden vulnerability until his skin prunes, and he’s the one who bears the burden of it. “There is no getting over you. Not then, not ever.”

“But what about-,”

“Joshua’s been doing the groundwork to ask you out for months, Poppy. Probably for even longer, but I first saw he was into you back before that auction.” Back when he’d colour-coded notes for her and stared after her like she was a mirage and he’d been stranded in the desert for weeks.  

“I told you, I’m not-,” He’s doing the same thing, now, not letting her get her say. But he has a point to make, and she needs to understand the depth of his feelings for her in the only way he knows how to express them.

“I know. You didn’t even see it is what I’m saying. And you notice when one of the guys starts using more emojis in the group chat or when the coffee shop around the corner uses a different kind of milk. Why do you think that is?”

“It tastes different-,”

“Not the milk, Poppy. Why do you think you didn’t notice the guy following you around the office with hearts in his eyes?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’ve been,” she frowns as if she’s actually thinking about this for the first time. “Distracted. I don’t understand what this has to do with-,”

“Why?”

“You know why.” She levels him with a glare.

“Wanna hear you say it,” he smirks, a flicker of his eyes to her lips that twist at the attention.

“No.”

“C’mon,” he drags out, teasingly, reaching out to tuck her hair back behind her ear after it had fallen back over the side of her face, “Wanna hear you tell me how you’re so obsessed with me that you don’t even consider anyone else.”

“This has nothing to do with what we were talking about.” She pouts, crossing her arms over her chest in defiance and trying her best to look offended. She doesn’t deny it, though.

“Doesn’t it?”

“No. We were talking about you. I’m not obsessed with you.” She grumbles the last part like her mouth is fighting the truth. 

“I am.” He shrugs like it’s nothing. “Obsessed with you. Could throw a thousand women in bikinis my way I wouldn’t notice a single one of them.”

“Why’d you have to specify bikinis?” She frowns. “Who’s throwing half naked women at you?”

“That’s what you’re focusing on?”

“You can’t say something so ridiculous and not expect me to comment on it, Nico.”

“Fine, I take back the bikini thing,” he rolls his eyes, affectionately. “What I’m saying, is that me going back home for the summer isn’t going to change the way I feel. It never did in the first place, Poppy, I was just stupid and afraid of my feelings, last year.”

“And you’re not, now? This doesn’t scare you?”

From the second he found out the news, Nico can recall a bunch of times where he has thought that he should be scared. Should be spiralling out of his mind and anxious as hell about the way his life is about to turn upside down - but those kinds of feelings have just surpassed him. He has no doubt they’ll come at some point - the panic, the fear, the trepidation - but with every day that passes in the calm of it all, he feels more prepared to tackle those feelings when they do swarm him. He’s aided by the comfort of knowing that something in his life is a sure thing.

Playing in the NHL, maintaining his role as a captain of a beloved franchise, making it to and succeeding in the playoff finals, winning an international tournament, they’re all dreams. They’re all things he wants and wishes for, but may never get. He may never lift the cup. He may get a season-ending, or even worse, career-ending, injury out of nowhere. He might one day have to give up the C for someone else to lead his guys on the ice. He may fall out of contention for the national team, have to watch from the sidelines as they thrive without him.

But no matter where he ends up in all of that, he knows now who will be there.

Poppy is a certainty. 

Even if they’re not together, if they never cross that line completely, if the baby steps they’re navigating so well stumble so far out of control that a relationship is out of the picture, their futures are intertwined now. 

She will always be a part of him - of his life. Her and the little Cheeto in her belly. 

“No.” He says it with conviction, which his chest puffed as much as he can muster through the exhaustion that overwhelms his body. “You don’t scare me, Poppy Jensen."

She watches him for a bit, trying to gauge the honesty of his sentiment, and he waits with bated breath, his gaze switching smoothly in a triangle between her soft eyes and pursed lips. Once she has deliberated what he’s stated, has assessed the weight of his words until the sincerity of them settles into her bones, she leans forward until she’s resting back into his outstretched arm, head resting on his chest as the thumping of his heart beats against her ear. 

She sighs, big and tired, and her body melts completely into his, the curve of her belly pressed into his side and her arm slung over his torso. 

“Thought you weren’t obsessed,” he whispers teasingly, pointing toward the TV, where a slow-mo replay of him on the ice is taking up the screen. 

She just hums in response, nuzzling sleepily into his side, and he tries to even out his breathing, leaning back and closing his eyes to bask in the moment.

How could he have ever thought this wouldn’t be enough for her? All those months back when he’d spinelessly disregarded the beginnings of something more. When he had thought that this would have been something she would only settle for - the girl who has moulded herself to fit into whatever shape he leaves beside him and makes it seem like it’s everything she wants it to be.

He’s never known calm like it.

On the back of a loss, leading a team that is potentially one game away from losing out on playoff contention entirely, ending a difficult season plagued by injury and turbulence within the organisation. 

He’s physically depleted - his muscles stretched, his bones banged up and bruised - and he should be the same, mentally.

But he gets to come back here, to Poppy, who misses him when he’s gone, who stays up despite her own exhaustion just to see him, who keeps a place warm for him on the couch and curls up into his side until he forgets the rest of it. 

Until he forgets his instinct to second guess either of their feelings, or the need to overthink how her words might measure up to her actions.

Until he forgets the notion Talia had implied that he wouldn’t be enough, wouldn’t make her happy, makes him forget the comments her mother had made about him being absent or distant and unable to support her, or the suggestion from her brother that he wasn’t the right fit.

“You can’t fall asleep.” She speaks slow, like she isn’t far off falling asleep herself, and it isn’t until he hears her voice that he realises just how tight his eyes have welded themselves shut, too lost in the comfort of her embrace to notice that he was about to drift off. 

“Why not?” He huffs, feeling the weight of her head on his chest when he tries to sigh.

“‘Cause I don’t wanna be blamed when you mess your back up on my couch.”

He chuckles, appreciating how her impertinence doesn’t wear off even when she’s half asleep, herself. 

And despite every instinct in his body telling him that he wants to stay like this forever, he shifts his hip to nudge her upright. “Alright,” he groans as his muscles protest at the straightening of his posture, “Let’s get you to bed first then I’ll head out.”

“Carry me?” She holds her arms out as he stands, and he swats them away.

“No."

He helps her up anyway, and keeps a hold of one of her hands as he sets off down the hall toward her bedroom, taking slower steps than usual so that she doesn’t have to stumble after him - knowing she will drag her feet, anyway.

He drops her hand when he crosses the threshold, allowing her to do whatever she needs while she’s in here without him hovering. 

“What the hell is that thing?” Nico rubs at his eyes as if he’s imagining the giant, elongated cushion that takes up more than half of Poppy’s bed, only when he pulls his knuckles away, it’s still there, sprawled out and taking up the entirety of what would be his side in another universe.

“It’s my pregnancy pillow,” Poppy follows him into the room, chuckling as she sidles past him to the bed, “It’s supposed to be really good for resting on when the bump finally comes in more, after a certain point I’m not supposed to sleep on my back. But for now it’s nice to cuddle. Nia got it for me!”

“Of course she did,” he mutters, narrowing his glare at it like the pillow has personally been placed onto this Earth to spite him. He’s been tossing and turning at night wondering if Poppy is okay on her own, yearning to be closer to her, and she’s been here cuddling a pillow?  

He wants it gone.

“It’s comfy, you should give it a go, might help you relax”

“I don’t need to cuddle your giant pillow, thanks,”

“Okay, Captain Grumpy, suit yourself,” she shrugs as she edges past him to her en-suite, and he stalks behind her, watching as she reaches to grab for her toothbrush.

It’s the rattling noise of another in the holder that captures his attention, the red handle of the one she had given him all those months ago still stuck out of the glass, and he feels the tension in his shoulders dissolve somewhat just at the sight of it - waiting there for him to pick back up again like an inevitability. 

He leans against the door as he watches her, head lulling against the jamb as his eyelids grow heavier by the second. He just needs to make sure she gets into bed okay, then he can leave. He can drive back to his apartment, throw himself into his own bed and try not to grind his teeth throughout the night at the fact that a bunch of fabric and fibres is taking his rightful place. 

“You could stay.” He hasn’t even realised she’s watching him, too, hip resting against the sink as she takes the toothbrush from her mouth. “It’s late and you’re clearly spent, and you need to be back here in the morning anyway.”

“Thought you didn’t want me hurting my back on your couch?” He hums, sleepily.

There’s a beat. A heavy silence as she levels him with a look that’s more intense than her pretty eyes allow. “I don’t.” 

Oh.

He can be cool about this, he thinks, despite his exhaustion. He doesn’t want to overreact to the thought of sharing a bed with her, doesn’t want to make her rethink it or scare her away. It’s just the two of them sleeping beside each other. It’s not the craziest thing they’ve ever done.

The ever growing roundness of her belly peaking out the bottom of her tank top is evidence enough of that. 

“Your bed isn’t big enough for the three of us,” he nods back towards the pillow, his lips twisting in mirth.

“Four,” she says around her toothbrush, spitting out the paste into the sink before adding, “Five, if you’re taking Bunny into account, too.”

“Jesus, Poppy,” he snorts, and he doesn’t know why he’s pushing his luck anymore, risking the fact that she might change her mind, but he likes pressing her buttons. Likes the soft way in which she looks up at him, her eyes going round as she waits for him to respond with a slight smudge of white at the corner of her lip that he wants to swipe at with his thumb. “You sure you can fit me in?”

She nods, tilting her head like she has to convince him at all. “We could cuddle?”

He scoffs, more so in disbelief that she actually thinks he needs to be talked into it somehow. “Thought that’s what your pillow is for?” He teases, pushing himself off the doorjamb and sliding past her with a steadying hand on her hip, reaching for his toothbrush and holding it out for her to add the paste. 

“You’re really gonna use up the last of your energy to chirp a pillow?”

“It’s hideous,” he mumbles almost intelligibly around the toothbrush, snickering when Poppy bumps her hip into his. 

“It’s relaxing.” She pouts, leaning once more against the sink instead of vacating the bathroom, watching as he brushes his teeth with a lingering gaze stuck to the movement of his lips. “You did this to me, you should be more concerned about my comfort.”

“I’m very concerned about you,” he coos, finishing up at the sink and wiping his mouth with his wrist before rinsing it off. “Lie awake worrying about you here all alone, turns out you’re snuggled up to a big, strong bunch of fluff every night.”

“Ohh,” she taunts, backing out of the bathroom before calling him out. “You’re jealous.”

“M’not jealous,” he scoffs, following her and watching as she climbs into her all-too-inviting bed. “Just not playing three in the bed with your body pillow.”

He rounds the frame, and before she can protest, he grabs the thing with an unassuming grip, not expecting the weight of it and only able to fling it to the floor by his feet - not as far as he’d like but at least it isn’t on his side of the bed, anymore, he thinks.

“Hey,” she pouts adorably, lips round and too alluring for him to focus on for long. “If I can’t sleep on that, you’re gonna have to let me sleep on you.”

“On me?”

“Yep. Wrapped around you like a vine,” she affirms, “And I don’t wanna hear you whining about dead arms or dead legs, the pillow doesn’t talk back and I’m not above kicking you out in the middle of the night.”

“Can’t see myself complaining about being wrapped around like a vine,” he chuckles, his fingers working deftly to unbutton his pants, chest heating at the way her eyes follow the movement and her lips part. He tries so hard not to let the smug smile that’s threatening to break out fully take over his lips, biting at them to withhold it as he notices her stare go glassy. 

“Good.” She mutters, distracted as he pushes down, the fabric bunching at his ankles before he kicks it off and bends to take off his socks, too. 

He moves to take off his shirt, stopping with his fingers clutched at the back before he asks, “This okay?”

Her throat bobs, and her eyes flicker from the flex of his muscles to meet his gaze, widened and dazed. She presses her lips together and nods, and he can feel the heat of her stare prickle at his skin as he works the t-shirt over his head, shaking his hair back out once it’s off.

Even in the dimmed light, he can see the warmth creeping up her neck, the flush on her chest and the tug of her bottom lip between her teeth.

That article he had found the night before flashes clearly in his head, and reads back to him almost verbatim.

With the loss of fatigue and nausea at the end of the first trimester, expectant mothers may experience an increase in their sex drive. 

Poppy looks like she wants to eat him whole.

It makes him feel like he’s on fire. 

Especially when he considers what happened the last time they were in this bed together.

If she wasn’t fighting so hard to keep her eyes open, he might have called her out on it. 

He reaches to turn off the light before he crawls under the covers and sidles up to her body, laying on his side and watching as she mirrors him, the two of them knocking knees in the middle of the mattress. 

“C’mon then,” he mutters lowly into the space between them, “Do your worst.”

“You don’t actually want me to sleep on you.”

“I don’t care how you sleep as long as you’re actually sleeping.”

“You’ll regret that when I keep you up all night fidgeting in my dreams.” Her body relaxes a little more as they carry on talking, her legs loosening until he starts to feel them press a little more against his own, and he tries to best to make his limbs receptive, adapting to her touch - adapting to her needs, even. 

“You’re still having bad dreams?”

He remembers her talking to his mom about them before - about them making her feel restless, so vivid that she wakes up still feeling exhausted. He remembers his mom talking about the kind of dreams she had when she was carrying him, about animals and aliens and weird, subconscious fears she didn’t even know she had before she was pregnant.

“They’re not all bad,” she hums, “Just strange.”

“What are they about?”

Her eyes flicker up to his, still shining in the darkness of the room, and it makes his throat go dry.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Talking about it might help,” he insists.

She considers it for a second, and he holds his breath while she does, watching her gaze go back and forth between his eyes until it settles on his mouth. “I dream about you.”

“About me?” He frowns, despite the jump of his heart rate, “Like nightmares?”

“No,” she shifts toward him, closing the gap between them just that little bit more, “Not like that, not scary.” She presses her hand to his chest, soft fingertips toying with the gold chain that sits around the base of his neck. “Sad, maybe.”

“Sad dreams?” He asks, and she’s close enough now that he extends an arm out under the covers to rest on her hip, flexing his fingers out to the small of her back.

“You keep leaving me.”

“Oh.”

Great, he thinks, even the dream version of him lets her down.

“It doesn’t mean anything, it’s just a dream. I know you wouldn’t, ‘cause you’re obsessed with me, and all,” Closer again, her hips wiggle and his grip on her tightens ever so slightly. “But it feels real, and I guess I get upset about it.”

“Poppy-,”

“It’s stupid, I know.”

“It’s not stupid,” he frowns, clutching at her with purpose now, using the leverage he has on her hip to push his own closer to her, their legs fully intertwined now. “I mean, it’s stupid in the sense that I would never leave you, but it’s not stupid that the thought of it upsets you. I’d be upset, too.”

“You would?”

“Mohn,” he doesn’t know how they can get closer, but he can only try. His legs are slotted between hers, her thigh draped across his, the swell of her tummy pressed into the curve of his waist, bare skin touching where her tank top has ridden up and it’s warm and soft and intoxicating, almost. Her hands are pressed to his chest and shoulder, short nails tickling at the flesh there when she chooses to gently scrape and scratch at him, and he could so easily inch his face toward hers until their mouths meet. “If I kept dreaming that you were leaving me, I’d be waking up screaming and crying and holding onto you for dear life.”

The smile she gives him is almost shy, and he feels his heart melting into a sticky, gloopy pile in his chest. He’s so far gone for her it isn’t even funny anymore, isn’t something he feels like he can shoulder the jokes of for much longer. It’s all-consuming, and serious, and it washes over him like a tidal wave when she says, “I’d never leave you either.”

He presses the tip of his nose to hers, bumping at it until she angles her head how he needs, and he can press his lips to the swell of hers.

This kiss reminds him of the one she had given him back in her bedroom at her parent’s house.

It’s gentle, unassuming, tame, if anything.

It might be one of his favourites.

Because this kind of intimacy with her means more than the rushed, frantic collisions they had found themselves in before.

As much as he enjoyed those, and if you’d have asked him at any other point in the day, he’d have given an arm and a leg to have experienced them again, these kinds of kisses mean more to him than that. 

They’re precious to him - provide comfort when he’s laying awake most nights in his own bed, and thinking of all the ways in which he wants to take the next steps with her. He thinks about the soft press of their lips together, and the deeper meaning of it being the sturdy foundations of something way bigger.

This is where it starts for them.

It’s about more than that - it’s about the dedication the two of them share to do things right. To take their time with each other to make sure that it will last this time.

And it’s in her lips he always finds the affirmations he needs. It will last this time. 

He lets out a self-satisfied hum when they part, half chuckle, half sigh, and she tilts her head inquisitively before her eyes flutter open. “What?”

“Nothing.” And when she leans back and looks up at him with a pouty frown, he snorts. “Maybe I should be jealous of the pillow if this is what you’ve been getting up to.”

“Shh,” she cranes her neck and presses her face into the warmth of his chest, before mumbling “Pillows don’t talk, remember,” into it and smiling into the vibrations of his fond laughter.

He falls asleep thinking about the way all the curves of her perfectly fit into the curves of him - the puff of her smiling cheeks pressing into his chest, the swell of her belly pressing into his waist, and the wrap of her legs locking him into an embrace he wouldn’t want to leave even if he had a choice about it.

Nico had thought it would have been the fidgeting that kept him awake. The first few times he woke in the night to Poppy shuffling in his arms, he had just waited it out until her body relaxed, and would subtly and softly tighten his hold on her until she settled into it - the warmth of him easing her back into slumber and allowing him to fall back, too.

He had gotten used to it after that, his body not rousing fully from sleep most times, instinctively accommodating whichever position she needed to be in until he slipped back under, and he could hardly say it irritated him - the desire to be in this position far outweighing his need for an uninterrupted, full night’s sleep.

But then the noises had started. The hums and the whimpers, the staggered breaths, the whines - and he couldn’t stay asleep thinking she was having another of those dreams.

The one where some alternate, dip-shit version of himself leaves her for whatever stupid reason. 

That brings him into full consciousness, tightening his hold on her with a furrowed brow, hand splayed out across the exposed part of her lower back, where her tank has bunched up to reveal warm skin, and he presses firmly until they’re touching at every which point of their bodies they possibly can.

Maybe in her dreams she’ll feel his presence, feel comforted, and the rational part of her brain will kick in that it isn’t real - that she has nothing to worry or be afraid about if he can seep into her subconscious with every touch.

And then she makes another noise - a mixture of a shudder-like breath and a gasp - and her hips jut forward, and he realises that maybe that isn’t the kind of dream she’s having. When he focuses on the other places they are touching, he knows for sure.

With one of his thighs slotted between hers, pressed right up against the apex where they meet, he swears he can feel a dampness even through her shorts.

Fuck.

Oh God.

He can feel himself half-hard already, he’s been that way since he crawled into bed beside her and they snuggled up so close, but this is impossible to ignore now. It doesn’t help how close they are, feeling himself stiffening into her side.

Arousal swirls like a whirlpool in the pit of his stomach, and it whooshes almost out of control when he feels her jut her hips again, grinding down onto his flesh and whimpering into his chest.

“Poppy,” he breathes, figuring he can’t let her carry on now that he’s awake, himself. It wouldn’t be right, he thinks, and curses the part of himself that argues internally. He pinches at her hip, careful not to aid her in her movements, before he tries again. “Poppy, wake up.”

She whines, shuffling as she regains consciousness, her face pressing into his chest as he just about makes out her grumbling, “Don’t want to.”

“You’ve got to.” He squeezes again, willing himself to ignore how good it feels to hold the fleshy part of her hip in his hands. He leans back a little with his neck, careful not to move any part of his lower body now that she’s awake, and looks down at her as her face contorts in confusion. “C’mon, need you to look at me.”

“Nico,” God help him, it sounds like a moan. And double God help him, because she shuffles with her whole body against him, and presses one of her thighs straight into the hardened length in his briefs. She gasps at the same time he winces, and her eyes shoot up to meet his, glistening in the dark of the night and panicked. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-,”

“S’fine,” he mumbles, desperate for her not to shuffle back away from his touch, and he feels relief flood his system when she keeps his leg slotted between hers, only separating their bodies at the top.

“Do you need to handle that?”

“No, I’ll be good.” It’s probably a lie. If she carries on the way she has been, he’ll no doubt have some sort of internal meltdown. He’ll stay hard just thinking about it for weeks. “Do you?”

“Do I?”

“Yeah, you were uhm-,” he breathes, not knowing why he’s embarrassed to say it when she’s literally pregnant with his child. They’re both adults, who have been there and done that once before - and have spent the last few hours slotted together like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. “Dreaming.”

“I was-,” she frowns, brows scrunching together and lips forming a pout around her next words that don’t quite tumble out before she gasps, her hips shifting like she has realised what rests between them for the first time, “Oh my God.”

“It’s okay,” he reassures her as she begins to shuffle back.

“Oh my God!” She scrambles away from him, the sheets twisting around her body, and he feels an almighty loss when the warmth of her is no longer pressed up against him. It makes him realise just how hard he is, now, his focus entirely on the pulsing pressure gathering between his legs instead of her touch.

“It’s fine, at least you weren’t having a nightmare-,”

“No, I’m just living one, now.” She groans, the end muffled by the fact that she pulls her sheets over her face to hide the heat creeping up her neck. 

“Poppy,” he feels a laugh rumble from the depths of his chest, and his brain works too slow to stop it before it comes out in a low chuckle, Poppy responding immediately by poking her head out with a glare.

“You think it’s funny?”

“No-,”

“Tell that to your face!” She pouts, brows furrowed in an attempt at intimidation that she’s too cute to get away with - cheeks flushed, skin glowing from the soft sweat that arose from them bundling up together for so long. “You’re laughing.”

“Not laughing,” he says through a smile, lips twisting in amusement as she huffs in response, and before she can burrow herself back under the covers, he reaches under them to paw at her hip, “C’mere.”

“No.”

“Come here.” He gives her little choice about it, firming his grasp on her flesh and reaching with his other hand to lift and pull her over, twisting his body so that they press back together and he can hold her on top of him. She puts up little protest, balancing herself with soft hands pressed to his bare chest, and he likes the way her fingers curl just a little, nails scratching just enough to feel it. She does make an effort to keep her hips raised, never pressing them fully down as he holds her above him. “It’s fi-,”

“It’s not fine.” She frowns, her nails digging in a little harder, and Nico can’t help the slight buck of his hips. “It’s not fair, I’m so worked up all the time and nothing helps and you’re not doing anything about it-,”

“Me?” He scoffs in amusement, “You want me to do something?”

“Not if you’re gonna keep laughing about it!” She swats at his chest, and he takes a hand from her hip to grasp at her wrist. “You come in here all warm and snuggly, telling me you’re obsessed with me and taking your shirt off in slow motion-,”

He uses the grip on her wrist to catch her off guard, tugging at it until she stumbles, her other wrist going limp as she falls forward, and he leans his own head up to bump their mouths together on her way down.

Poppy’s lips are parted when they meet his, and he takes immediate advantage, slotting his tongue between them until it presses straight against hers, and she responds with fervour, her body arching straight into the curves of his and hips pushing down until he feels that press of the damp patch on her shorts on his bare thigh.

She moves like putty in his hands as he repositions the two of them, twisting his body until he can lay her on the mattress, pushing down into her with the steady rocking of his hips as she lifts hers to meet his in a slow rhythm. 

She breathes soft moans into his mouth, and her legs part completely to accommodate him, wrapping themselves around him for leverage so that she can grind her core directly onto the stiff length in his briefs.

It’s heaven - the way she manages to rock herself straight onto his cock with every roll of her hips - and with the way her lips part with a gasp, he knows she feels it too.

They’re hardly kissing anymore, panting and moaning into each other’s mouths as the friction builds between them - he’s pawing under the hem of her tank top, sliding to push it further up to expose her belly, and she’s clawing at his back, gripping him closer than he thought possible as their chests press together and he realises for the first time all night that she hasn’t been wearing a bra when he feels the hardened buds poke through her top. The hand sneaking up her skin heads straight in that direction, thumb wiggling between their bodies until it runs over her nipple, the sensation furthering the arch of her back and eliciting a deep whine as she bites teasingly down on his bottom lip. 

“S’that feel good?” He mumbles into her mouth, barely able to get the words out before the pressure of her lips around his closes, her tongue darting out to poke at his. She gives an affirmative hum, and he feels the vibrations of it travel all the way down his throat, filling his chest with a warm buzz. He blames the lightheadedness it causes for his incessant need to tease her, but is thankful it doesn’t entirely ruin the moment when he follows up with, “Better than your dreams?”

“Depends if you make me come this time.” She teases back, the tip of her nose bumping his.

Whatever version of him she’s been dreaming of is a loser. A certified idiot. What kind of man has this girl at his fingertips and doesn’t finish the job? Doesn’t satisfy her the way she deserves?

A schmuck.

“Can feel you soaking through your shorts,” He has a hand on her hip that slides down, over the roundness of her ass and grips at the soft flesh of her thighs until he can push himself straight up against her core, his entire body thrumming at the way she writhes in pleasure. “How long you been like this, huh? All desperate for me?”

“Too long,” she whines, pushing back against him, seeking whatever touch or friction she can get, “Need you to fuck me, Nico.”

“Can’t,” he sighs out a halfhearted denial, to which her lips pout in response. He probably could fight through the almighty ache that has settled into his bones, he definitely wants to, but it might not live up to her expectations - the last thing he ever wants to do is disappoint her. “Not tonight, I’d last 10 seconds,”

“I don’t care.” He can tell she means it, she probably isn’t far off, herself, having gotten halfway there just in her sleep. “C’mon, you’re being mean,”

“I could be meaner,” he smirks, his cheeks pushing into dimples that she immediately presses her lips to. “You know how long I’ve waited to touch you again? When you give me those sweet little kisses,”

“Touch me then,” she breathes not too far off his ear, eliciting shivers that creep down his spine until he arches into her. “Please.”

“You don’t have to beg me, pretty Poppy.” He tells her, his voice low as he works at taking her shorts and panties off one leg at a time, her knees bending in time with the movement of his hands. “Remember what I told you before, I’ll give you whatever you want,” he presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Whatever you need,”

“Need you inside me.”

“Do you have a condom?”

“Now you ask me that?” She scoffs in disbelief, breaking out into a chuckle that quickly dies off when she takes notice of where his hands are going, pushing at the waistband of his briefs until he bears his all to her hungry eyes. Her lips part as he stumbles to kick off the fabric, and her gaze lingers as he takes himself into a firm grip and closes the distance, her lashes fluttering in anticipation. 

He slides his length teasingly against her folds, pressing into the wetness that has gathered there, coating himself in it and hearing her pleasured gasp echo around his skull.

“Is that a no?”

“Nico, I swear to God, if you don’t-,” He cuts her off as he pushes his cock into her, further than he thought it could go at first but she’s so wet that he moves with slight ease, already. She’s eager, too, lifting her hips until they meet his, and he’s as far inside her as he can possibly go, settling there as their breathing syncs and he presses his clammy forehead straight to hers.

She’s the one to start shifting, rocking her hips as they both groan and gasp into the small space between their mouths, and their matched desperation seeps into the frantic movements between them, him fucking into her in a building pace and her meeting it with the arch of her back and the scratch of her nails down his. 

He has to be careful not to collapse on top of her entirely, muscles flexing at either side of her head as he holds himself up, and she’s mindful of winding her legs too tight around him, instead working from below to push up to meet him instead of pulling him down to meet her.

It all catches up to him quicker than he would like, overstimulated by the sticky press of his chest to hers, sweat accumulating between their bodies and he feels it everywhere they touch. The clamminess of his neck under her hand at the top of his back, the sheen on his forehead that he uses to reach up to push his hair back when it starts to restrict his view of her, the curve of her belly when she arches a little too much into him and they slot all the way together. But his worries are quelled by the soft trembling of her thighs around him, and the way her mouth falls agape in unadulterated bliss. 

She’s close, too.

“So good to me,” he presses his lips clumsily to the corner of hers, remembering how she’d liked it the last time when he praised her, “My pretty flower, my good girl,”

“Yours,” she pants out, bumping her nose against his before chasing another kiss, muttering, “I’m yours,” between his lips. 

“Mine.” He affirms, his big, calloused hand cupping the side of her sweaty face, possessively. He loses his rhythm as he loses himself in her, his hips stuttering sloppily as he chases his high, “All mine. I’d give you anything. You gonna come for me?”

She nods, and when Nico gets a good look at her, her eyes are glazed over, dazed and on the verge of falling apart, and he balances himself on one hand to reach between them and press at her clit until she stumbles over the edge, legs tightening in a shaky hold around his waist as she comes around him.

He’s actively trying to commit it all to memory, the sweet sounds that spill from her lips, the delicious dig of her nails into his flesh, the tremors that travel all throughout her body as it wracks with pleasure, the way her muscles contract around his cock as it spills into her, filling her with the stutter of his hips.

He collapses to the side of her, their limbs tangling limply between them, her body twisting with his so that he stays inside, and the room filled with the noise of their panting as they both try to catch their breath.

They lay together in blissful peace for a good couple of minutes, her pointing a finger and tracing mindless doodles into his chest and him raking his fingers gently through her hair. Months, and years before that, of tension leading them both to this point, where Nico feels lighter than a feather laying beside the girl of his dreams.

He blames the dizzying way in which she consumes his thoughts for what comes out of his mouth next - but he just feels so content, so at ease, that the stupid joke stumbles out before his brain can register to stop it.

“Don’t think your pillow can do that.”

She snorts from beside him, her eyes crinkling in genuine amusement, and the way her body shakes with laughter has the rumblings of arousal travel through him again. 

“You’re such an idiot,” she giggles, swinging her leg over him and he twists in sync, making sure he stays inside her as she lifts her lips back towards his - any earlier exhaustion from either of them long forgotten as their mouths slot back together and their hips start to move again, chasing further euphoria.

Nico wakes the next morning with a sense of deja-vu that strikes at him like a bat, a full bladder, an ache that settles over him from top to toe, a buzz on a nightstand, and a sleeping Poppy beside him, tucked up against his body with tangled legs and her face pressed into his chest. 

The sun is peaking through the closed curtains, casting the room aglow, and he watches her rouse from her own sleep at the continuous vibrations from beside her. She groans as she twists out from their entanglement, and he keeps a hand at her hip to make sure she doesn’t move too far, already missing the warmth of her.

She checks her phone before she answers it, rolling back over into his side and settling next to him as she shuffles up so that they’re a bit more level.

He watches her as she speaks, admiring how she glows in the small slither of sunlight that casts directly upon her like an angel - despite the mess of her hair and the sleepy-swelling of her face. He isn’t entirely paying attention to what’s being said, watching her fingertips play with the chain that sits on the base of his neck while she talks, leaning forward to bump his nose at her brow and pressing a fleeting kiss there, content in the domesticity of it all. 

He wants all his mornings to start like this.

“That’s perfect, I’ll see you then, thank you.” She closes her call before hanging up, discarding of her phone behind her and focusing her attention back on Nico’s chest.

“Who was that?” He hums as she shuffles back up against him, his hand slithering over her hip to rest on the small of her back.

“Just my ex,” she shrugs, “I’m gonna leave you here on your own and go meet up with him.”

“Wow,” he chuckles, eyes dancing over her lips as they curl into a self-satisfied smirk, “You’ve been dying to fire that bullet, haven’t you?”

“Mmhm, I’m making the most out of my quick wit while I still have it, Luke told me the other day that women’s brains shrink during pregnancy.”

“We need to start taking Google rights away from people.” 

“That’s what I said!” She smiles like she’s proud of the way they think the same things, “It was the doctor’s office. They had a power cut and they’re gonna be running behind so our appointment has been shifted to later.” Her fingers start to dance teasingly across his chest, her tone carrying a suggestive lilt as she continues to speak, her touch moving down as she suggests, “So we could go back to sleep, or we could-,”

He leans up and kisses her with his hands cupping her cheeks, holding her firm against him as he feels her smile against his lips. “I’ll take option two.”

After a blissful morning in Poppy’s apartment, where the two of them, both literally and figuratively, stayed joint at the hip - in her bed, in her shower, no funny business, she said she just wanted to wash his hair, in her kitchen, drinking his morning coffee out of a mug she painted just for him, on her couch, snuggled up when exhaustion caught back up and they had a quick nap together, bad backs be damned - and an early afternoon spent in the doctor’s office, where they learn that their baby is now growing bones, which Poppy should start to feel move soon, and can smile and frown and squint, Nico glides through his afternoon practice with a smile of his own that won’t shift.

He has a new picture that he elatedly displays on the shelf in his cubby, the boys all getting a good look at the now not-so-Cheeto-like shape of his baby, cooing over all the new developments like proud uncles and chirping Nico for the ever-present dopey look on his face. 

No amount of jokes directed his way will ruin this for him, though. 

This feeling of rapture that hasn’t left since he first opened his eyes in the morning. The way his body buzzes at even the thought of the girl waiting for him to finish practice, to come home to an apartment that she had told him earlier to keep the key to, to kiss at her rounding belly and know that their baby is growing hair and limbs and expressions in there.

To finally say goodbye to the baby steps that he’s been taking for what feels like forever, and dive head first into the crystal clear waters of life with Poppy. Sharing a space, being intimate in every which way with one another, it feels like it’s all he’s ever wanted.

And he wants to bask in this feeling for as long as he can, pushing down the impending date of his flight back home, replying to the emails from his national team coach about the upcoming world championship games and then pretending they don’t exist. 

The idea of being in Switzerland for the summer has always filled him with joy - being home, being with his family, it’s where he needs to be after a season like he’s had - losses and injuries and all the turmoil that comes with them - but the thought of being away from Poppy, of missing any of these scans or moments with her and their baby, it fills him with dread. Her mother’s words from their dinner the week before ring through his head like a bell, loud and impossible to ignore. 

Which is why he finds himself heading for her place when his practice is over - after showering at the rink and dropping home to pick up an overnight bag, he drives over with all intentions of spending the night again. Sitting her down and talking over the potential of him flying back out for appointments and visits.

She greets him with a kiss once he’s gotten to her apartment and found her in her kitchen, rendering him stunned for only a second before he responds to her touch, hands falling to her waist and lips closing around hers.

It only drives his point further home that he can’t go too long without seeing her, now. Not if this is how he’s welcomed back, not if this is going to become a thing. 

He pulls her body flush against his, deepening the kiss like it’s been more than a few hours since he last saw her, savouring the taste of her vanilla lip balm and the way her bump presses into his stomach. 

When they part, he finds himself chasing her, pressing quick pecks at her swollen lips until she’s beaming in response, and he feels like his entire body is on fire. 

“Wow, you really are obsessed with me,” she giggles, pressing her hands to his chest to keep him at bay, looking up at him with the glimmer of the light reflecting in her eyes. “You okay?”

“I think your mom was right.”

He doesn’t even know why he said that, the words tumbling out before he can even think them over, and as he can feel his own forehead crease into a frown, and his own brows push together, he sees Poppy’s do the same.

“That might be the most unsexy thing you’ve ever said to me.” She pouts, balm smudged still around her lips as they form into a confused pout that he already wants to kiss away, “Where did that come from?”

“When she said I won’t be around enough,” he flexes his fingers against her hips, tightening his hold on her, “I was thinking about going back home before and I realised I don’t want to miss out on anything, I want to be around if you need me-,”

“Please don’t let her get in your head,” Poppy worries as her hands travel up, her fingers curling delicately around either side of his neck, “She doesn’t understand what being home means to you, she just says things she knows will sting, you shouldn’t have to fly back and forth just to make her happy-,”

“I want to make you happy.”

“You do.” She promises, “When you don’t mention my mother, at least.”

He feels a little better at that, at the conviction of her words, the honesty in her eyes, the soft curve of her lips. But the conversation needs to be had, something needs to be set in place to quell the flickering flames of anxiety that fill his chest before it becomes an inferno. 

Before he can open his mouth to carry on, she speaks instead.

“Go sit down, I have a surprise for you.”

And despite the itch in him to say something else on the topic before she completely shuts it down, he follows her command, the excited sparkle in her eyes hypnotising him into compliance. 

He waits on her couch for her to come over, and when she does, she has a small, white box in hand. Rectangle in shape, around 5 inches deep and 8 inches long.

“What’s this?” He asks when she places the box into his hands, the lid blank and closed.

“Cupcakes.”

“What’s the occasion?” When he goes to lift the lid, she places her hand over his, shuffling until she’s kneeling on the couch, ankles tucked beneath her.

“I’ve been sneaky.”

She looks proud of herself, a sweet grin hesitantly stretching her lips as her eyes dart between his, and he can feel his lips mirror hers.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” she hums, “When I had my blood taken before you came in for the scan earlier, I asked Lucy to write down the gender if she could see it clear enough.”

Nico feels his heart stutter.

It’s one of the big things he had feared missing out on, having been told they wouldn’t get a proper view of it until 16 weeks - in another 2 weeks time - at which point he would more than likely be back home. He had resigned himself to finding out over the phone - still exciting, but not the same. “But I thought they couldn’t see it yet?”

“Depends on the position Cheeto wants to be in,” Poppy shrugs, “They do say it isn’t definite, so if it grows or loses an appendage in the next few weeks, blame Lucy, not me.”

“So you know?”

There’s no way she could have hidden it from him, so far. Poppy can’t keep a secret from him to save her life.

“No. Bonnie at the bakery on the corner knows. She hid it in the frosting.”

Nico takes the lid off the box now on his lap, looking into it to see two cupcakes, a thick serving of white frosting and a round, disc-like cake topper with blue and pink writing.

“Baby Hischier?”

He feels warm all over, a static-like tingling spreading across his skin, and he can feel heat creeping up his neck. It all feels so real, so overwhelming. Seeing their baby earlier, the blurred, splotchy shape of it’s head, little features like a nose, lips and eyes starting to form more clearly in the picture. A little baby with his last name.

“It is your baby,” Poppy chuckles, reaching for the box herself and handing one of the cupcakes over to him. 

“No hyphen?” He elaborates, and he can feel his brow twitch of its own accord, catching her eye and making her lips twist, fondly, in the way that makes him already anticipate some smart-ass comeback.

“It’s a cupcake, not a billboard,” she quips, “We could do that, it that’s what you want?”

“I thought that would be what you wanted.” If it is, he’ll do it that way, but God does he all of a sudden hate hyphens. 

“I haven’t really thought about it, to be honest. Hischier just felt right when I wrote it down for Bonnie. I like your name.”

You can have it, he thinks.

“The less claim my family have to our baby, the better. Plus, it’s kind of the tradition, to give the baby it’s father’s surname.”

“Because we’re so traditional,” he chuckles, liking the way he makes her laugh, too.

“That’s true. Maybe we should make up a name, then? Say, fuck the system,”

“Hischier’s fine.” He says, resolutely, a sudden wave of possessiveness washing over him, and he only feels slightly ashamed of it.

“Hischier is great.” She reassures him, enough to make his chest puff with pride, and the smile that tugs at the corners of her mouth is enough to tell him she’s proud of her own teasing - and all too aware of his mini-neanderthal moment. “Can we get on with it, I’ve been glaring at this box all afternoon.”

“I don’t know, I’m all of a sudden nervous about eating a cupcake.”

“Welcome to my first trimester.”

He can feel the beat of his heart in every inch of his body.

He hasn’t really given it much thought, before now, if there’s any specific gender he wants it to be. He’s always thought it corny, when people say I just want a healthy baby, but that truly is all he wants.

He sees the best of both worlds - a mini him, or a mini Poppy. Half of each of them in one bundle of joy.

He’ll be in love with it, either way.

“We’ve just got to do it,” Poppy says, placing the box down on the coffee table and holding her cupcake across from his. “Close your eyes and take a bite after three.”

He nods, before cheers-ing his cupcake against hers, and then closes his eyes, taking a deep breath and waiting for Poppy to start the countdown. 

“One…” He peaks an eye open, watching and unable to stop the grin that spreads into his cheeks, already. “Two…”

She opens an eye, too.

“Close your eyes, Mohn.” He warns her.

“I was checking yours were closed.”

He makes a show of scrunching them shut, assuming she’s doing the same, and she starts the countdown back up again.

On three, he takes a bite and opens his eyes, disregarding whatever colour sits on his own cupcake and immediately watching for Poppy’s reaction.

Her bite had been clumsy, the frosting smearing on her lips, and where he had wanted to see her eyes light up, his gaze is stuck in a magnetised grip to the soft pink colour of the sugary goodness that now surrounds her mouth. 

A girl.

A mini Poppy - pretty eyes, a killer smile that he folds to in an instant, a sharp tongue that fills his life with equal parts sarcasm and light.

He’s so done for.

Before he can help himself, he discards his cupcake onto the coffee table and pounces forward, hoping that she flings hers in the same direction as he takes her face between both hands and pulls her lips into his, licking the frosting straight from them before he kisses her with all the passion he can muster.

It’s messy, he can feel the icing transfer to his own upper lip, tasting the sugar as she giggles into his mouth, and his whole body lights up with the joy of it all, their teeth clashing in a messy abundance of shared glee.

He can’t get enough of this feeling, of the sound of her blissful laughter, and so even when they part, he keeps going back for more, pressing his lips to any part of her face he can reach - her lips, her chin, her nose, her cheeks - and when they’re touching the corner of her mouth, he feels the movement of it as she asks, “Are you happy?”

“So happy.” It’s an understatement, but he’s hard pressed to think of more elaborate wording, so he kisses her again before saying, “Come home with me. To Switzerland. I don’t want to spend another summer missing you, Poppy. I don’t want to be apart from you and our baby girl.”

He doesn’t know why he hasn’t asked before. He knows it’s what he’s wanted this whole time, to be in the place he loves the most with the girls he might love more. 

“Really?”

“I wanna share the other half of my life with you. We can sort out a doctor so we don’t have to fly back and forth or miss any appointments, and it gives my family a chance to spend time with you, I can show you all my favourite places, we can-,”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“You don’t have to sell it to me, Nico, I’m already there.”

“Yeah?” The thumping of his heart is so vigorous he thinks she can probably see it, breaking out of his chest and flying out toward her like a cartoon. 

“I’m hardly gonna say no to a European summer.” She teases with a shrug, licking at the remaining frosting on her lips before she leans in to press them softly against his, again. 

“The fact I’m there is just a bonus?”

“If that’s what you want to believe.”

Next Chapter

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

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Synopsis: Years after you leave Japan, Rin Itoshi finally wins the World Cup. As he promised he would, he comes to find you afterwards. (part one here!)

BLLK Masterlist

Pairing: Rin x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 4.1k

Content Warnings: rin is lowkey nice and therefore ooc because he’s implied to have matured (considering he’s like in his twenties atp), one reference to another fic of mine, almost as cheesy as part one, reader and her bff have to interact w a misogynist, nagi and barou mentions because they are my goats

A/N: @why2277 requested a part two for cherry tree so yk i had to deliver!! hehe this isn’t super romantic or anything because it’s rin and he’s allergic to emotions lowkey but i hope it’s fun anyways 🥹

Additional: check my pinned post to make sure i have requests open; after reading the rules, please feel free to make your own!

From the window of the apartment you were renting for your final year of university, you could see a weeping willow tree. It was lovely and old, its leaves swaying in the slightest wind, and in the sunlight, it was too benevolent to be anything but ethereal. During the warmer months, you used to spread out a blanket in the grass beneath its shade and work on your homework, but now that there was a chill creeping into the air, you could only gaze longingly at it whenever you passed and imagine what it would be like in spring, when the temperature outside was once again tolerable.

Sometimes, on particularly stormy nights, the shapes of the leaves would coalesce into something resembling a man or monster. In those times, you would wish there was a room you could run to, albeit not out of any fear — you weren’t as easy to frighten as you had once been. It was nostalgia, horrible and sickening, which made your stomach turn and your heart palpitate, longing for a particular bed, a familiar embrace, though both were on the other side of the world and had been far out of your reach for years upon years now.

“Jeez,” your best friend said as the two of you elbowed your way into getting seats at the bar. Her university’s break had started earlier than yours, so instead of going directly to your hometown, she had come to visit you first, and of course in celebration of your reunion, you both had decided to visit the most popular bar in the area. “What’s going on? Hey, dude, what’s everyone watching?”

The man she was talking about spun around in surprise, his eyes enormous at her question, like he found it impossible that she was asking such a thing. She scowled at him, waiting for him to answer; when he realized she was being serious, he scoffed.

“It’s the World Cup final,” he said, before adding, under his breath, “Fucking girls.”

“The World Cup?” you said, your interest piqued despite his less than savory addition. “Who’s playing?”

Your best friend gave you a surprised look. “Since when have you cared about soccer?”

The man gave you a measured look, his face still pinched with distaste, and then he shrugged. “Japan and Germany. Craziest shit I’ve seen in a while. Never thought the Japanese team would get so far, but they’re goddamn monsters. Germany’s in the lead for the moment, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Japan turns it around and makes a comeback victory.“

“I see,” you said, craning your neck so you could see the small TV in the corner. Your best friend nudged you in the side, and when you glanced at her out of the corner of your eye, her brow was furrowed in confusion.

“What’s the big deal?” she said. “I didn’t realize you were into sports.”

“I’m not,” you said. “I was just reminded of something when he mentioned the World Cup, that’s all.”

You wondered if he was playing, and if so, whether he, too, remembered that half-awake promise he had made you. You wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. If you were any smarter, any less stubborn, you would’ve forgotten as well.

“Holy fucking shit!” the man shouted as the screen flashed in celebration of a goal.

“What?” your best friend said, enthralled, though her expression soured every time she glanced at the rude man, who the two of you were sadly dependent on for explanations.

“That was such a clean shot,” he said, eyes sparkling. “Rin Itoshi…he’s an amazing player. True, sometimes people forget that, because half of his teammates are the biggest peacocks known to mankind and hog all of the attention with their showboating, but I’d take him over Seishiro Nagi or Shoei Barou any day. Maybe he doesn’t have that flair or power, but he’s technically perfect, and that’s something none of the others can claim — not even that genius playmaker, Isagi!”

You didn’t know enough about soccer or the Japanese team to have an opinion on the rest of his claims, but you did know about Rin Itoshi, so you smiled softly and nodded. “Yeah, Rin’s pretty cool.”

Your best friend, who had finally caught up to what you were talking about, snickered. “That’s not what you used to say. I recall you hating him quite a bit.”

The man fully spun around in his barstool, glaring at you with his arms folded over his chest, his left hand gripping a beer. “On what grounds could one possibly hate Rin Itoshi? Name any player, and I’ll explain why he’s clear of them. Seriously, aren’t females supposed to like Rin? For his looks and all?”

You and your best friend exchanged glances before slowly inching away. There was no point in entertaining the man further; he was just inclined to see the worst in you two no matter what, and you would probably be better off trying to find another bar or just heading to your house for the night.

“Ah, I don’t really know any other players,” you admitted, grabbing your purse and slinging it on your shoulder. “I just happened to live with the Itoshis for a while during my first year of college.”

“What?” the man shrieked, though thankfully the music and chattering was so loud that only a couple of heads turned. “You lived in a house with Rin Itoshi?”

“Uh…” you trailed off, looking around and spotting the door at the same time as your best friend. Without even a signal, both of you took off for the exit at once, leaving the now-sputtering man behind and not slowing down until you were well down the street.

“I hate guys like that,” your best friend gasped out, leaning against the wall of a bagel shop, which was closed due to the late hour. “What a jerk.”

“Honestly,” you agreed. “At least he was kind of helpful, even if he did repeatedly insult our gender and treat us like children.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Rin Itoshi, huh? That’s a name I haven’t heard in a while. Feeling nostalgic?”

“A bit,” you said. “I told you he had a crush on me, didn’t I? Or at least, I think he did. I’m not sure if he realized it himself.”

“Yup, I remember. It explained a lot more of his actions than it really should’ve,” she said. 

“Well, the truth is that the night I asked him about his feelings, he told me he didn’t have a crush on me or anything, but that after he retired from soccer for good, things might be different,” you said. This was something you hadn’t told anyone, not even her. For some reason, there had been a seriousness to the way he spoke, and at the time it had felt like a betrayal to share it with another person. Then, when you had moved back home at the end of the semester and the two of you had stopped speaking entirely, it had faded from the forefront of your mind, locked away alongside the rest of your memories from those strange few months.

“No way,” she said with a chuckle. “Did he think you’d wait for that long? Soccer players don’t retire until they’re in their thirties, right? That’s a long time to expect someone to keep you in their mind.”

“I told him as much, but as you know, I was apparently a huge distraction to his soccer career, so he couldn’t have me ruining that or whatever. Anyways, uh, he promised that once he won the World Cup, he’d come and find me,” you said. “So. I was just reminiscing a bit over that, I guess.”

“Do you think he will?” she said. You shook your head. 

“Of course not,” you said. “He’s famous now. I mean, random men in bars praise him, so he must be a celebrity, right? There’s a lot of girls he could have, and anyways, I myself wouldn’t have even thought of it if that guy hadn’t brought him and the World Cup up. Why would it be any different for Rin?”

“That’s fair,” your best friend said. “Fame changes people.”

“Right,” you said. “It’s just a cool story that I can tell at parties now. Like, did you know that famous footballer Rin Itoshi once told me I was the most annoying person he had ever met? I bet it’ll be a real winner.”

“Fascinating tale,” she said. 

“Thanks,” you said. “Like I said, it’ll be popular with the crowds for sure. Ah, provided that they believe me, of course.”

“That’s true,” she said, snorting in amusement. “It does kinda sound like you’re making it up. You were too busy arguing with him constantly, too, so you never even took any photos with him.”

“I know,” you said. “Oh, well. They can believe me or not. It did happen, so who cares what anyone else thinks?”

“Very mature,” your best friend said with a nod. “Moving on, what should we do next? That bar’s kinda out of the question.”

“Technically, I do still have class tomorrow,” you reminded her. “So maybe sleeping is a good idea?”

“Ugh, I forgot about that,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Sorry. Yeah, let’s get back. We can do more stuff once we’re home and off for the week.”

“Sounds good to me,” you said. “It looks like it’s going to rain soon, anyways, so that’s probably for the best.”

You were right — almost as soon as you entered your apartment, the earlier breezes turned to gales, and one of those storms which was not quite wintry but gray and gloomy regardless churned into existence. You and your best friend were quick to get ready, both surprisingly exhausted, and then she made herself comfortable on your couch while you settled in your bed, pulling the blankets up over your shoulders and staring out of your window, watching the bare branches of the willow thrash about desperately, like they were searching for something that they could never have.

The break was short but relaxing, and before you knew it, you were back at your apartment in school, although you didn’t have your best friend’s company this time. You settled back into your typical routine, and within a few days, your life was once again mundane and usual. Any thoughts of the past or of excitement vanished in the haze of working and studying, and indeed it sometimes felt like you were more of a zombie trudging through life until the winter next became alive instead of dull.

Two weeks after you returned to university, you were walking home in the evening after a study group meeting in the library, humming to yourself and texting one of your friends about a homework assignment, when you became acutely aware of footsteps mirroring your own. You tested it out, first slowing and then speeding up your pace, but no matter what you did, they matched you so eerily that you became genuinely worried.

Swallowing, you sped up again, hoping you could, in some way, outrun this pursuer which you had picked up. When the pat-pat of sneakers on concrete behind you sped up as well, you gasped and then broke into a run. This wasn’t just the beginning of every horror movie but also of many true-crime documentaries. A girl. A dark evening. A mysterious stalker. Were you going to be murdered or something?

“You’re painfully slow,” your would-be assailant said, keeping up with your full sprint and not even sounding winded. “Anyways, why are we running? Did you take up jogging once you left Japan or something?”

You skidded to a stop, turning to see a familiar figure a few steps behind you. When he noticed you had stopped, he did as well, and though he tried to fight it, a tiny smile threatened to bloom on his face when he noticed your awed expression.

He was wearing a pair of loose joggers and an oversized sweatshirt, which wasn’t his typical sense of style but suited him, as everything did; additionally, despite the late hour, there was a pair of sunglasses pushed up into his hair, which shone in the light of the street lamp you both stood under. His hands were shoved in his pockets, though he raised his right to wave at you shyly, the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks pink — whether from the biting cold or something else, you could not tell.

“Rin?” you said. He nodded. “Rin, what are you—?”

You broke off in disbelief, unable to even move. In your wildest dreams, when you pictured reuniting with him, you had imagined something more romantic. Perhaps one of you would pick the other up from the airport, and you’d dash towards him and leap into his arms and he’d spin you about and — well, now that you thought about it more, that was a little unrealistic. Rin had never been that kind of person. The distance between you two had made your heart grow fonder, and time had formed a rosy film over your memories, but Rin as you had truly known him had always been standoffish and awkward.

“We won the World Cup,” he said. “No. I won it.”

“Yes,” you said. “Yes, I — I saw you score.”

His stare was arresting, his eyes the same brilliant shade as a writhing sea, framed by dark lashes which fluttered as nervously as a wasp’s wings. For a second, you thought he must be waiting for you to say something else, but you dismissed the thought in turn. What else would you even say?

After a second, he exhaled, his breath forming crystals in the air. “Yeah. Well, uh, I’m sure you’ve forgotten by now, but I told you, didn’t I? That once I won the World Cup, I’d find you?”

“I didn’t forget,” you said, swallowing. “I thought you might’ve, though.”

“I wouldn’t,” he said. “I’m mad at you, so of course I needed to see you again.”

“Mad at me?” you said.

“Yes,” he said. “I was so sure it would be better once you left, but it got worse. I thought of you even more. It was awful.”

“Didn’t seem to impact your soccer career any,” you pointed out.

“Maybe it did. Maybe I’d be even better if it weren’t for you,” he said. You waited for him to laugh. He didn’t, but there was mirth shimmering in his irises, which was close enough, so you allowed yourself to shake your head in amusement.

“I guess we’ll never know,” you said.

“Guess not,” he said.

“How did you even do it?” you said. “Find me, I mean.”

“I knew which university you went to,” he said.

“That’s it?” you said. “It’s not like this is a small school.”

“Believe me, I know,” he said. “I’ve been here since last Thursday.”

“Seriously?” you said.

“Seriously,” he affirmed. “I’ve been spending every day on campus looking for you. It took me a while, but I didn’t want to give up until I saw you again.”

“You did all of that and nobody recognized you?” you said.

“One of my teammates hates the media so much that he’s perfected the art of disguising himself in public. I figured that if it works for him, despite him being built like a white-haired telephone pole, it would probably do fine for my purposes,” he said.

“I see,” you said. “I guess that’s what’s the deal with the clothes.”

“Exactly,” he said.

“Well,” you said. “I don’t…I mean, I don’t really know what to say. I never thought I’d actually see you again, so this is kind of a lot. I’m sorry.”

“Did you want to?” he said.

“Huh?” you said.

“Did you want to see me again?” he said, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Did you ever think about me?”

“Let’s walk back to my apartment,” you said instead of answering the question. “I want to show you something.”

“Okay,” he said, walking at your side obligingly, though he kept a careful distance between you both. You did not try to close it, not yet. It didn’t feel right.

“By the way, why did you follow me like a creep?” you said as you changed course towards your apartment complex. “You should’ve just said hi like a normal person instead of scaring me.”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure. I just didn’t want to say anything.”

“Didn’t want to?” you said.

“Couldn’t,” he amended. “I didn’t realize how hard it would be until I saw you again. I had so many things I needed to tell you, and as soon as you were in front of me, I forgot them all.”

“That’s a shame,” you said. “If you remember any, let me know.”

He mulled this over for a moment before clearing his throat. “My brother’s getting married soon.”

“Really? How exciting,” you said. You had never met Sae Itoshi, so the news didn’t strike you one way or another, but you were just glad to hear Rin’s voice again, so you would’ve listened to him talking about anything and been happy about it.

“Yeah, it’s this girl he met while they were both on vacation by the beach in Spain,” he said. “She accidentally tackled him while trying to get her sandwich back from a seagull.”

“That’s a fun story,” you said. “Imagine your kids ask you how you met their mother and you get to tell them that.”

“There’s more to it, surprisingly,” he said. “But anyways, yeah, she’s nice. I don’t mind her that much.”

“Given that she’s going to be a part of your family, it’s good that you get along with her,” you said.

“Mhm,” he said. “Can you come?”

“To the wedding? Er, I don’t think I’m invited,” you said.

“I’m inviting you,” he said, his throat bobbing as he averted his gaze. “I want you to come. With me.”

“Oh,” you said. His eyes widened slightly.

“Am I — are you — um, Y/N. You don’t have a boyfriend or anything, right?” he said.

The two of you had reached the willow tree. You paused, gazing up at it. The branches no longer had their leaves, and it seemed more depressing and spindly instead of lush and inviting, as it did in the summer months. Rin stopped next to you, and you shifted so that there was only a hair’s breadth between your arm and his.

“When it rains really hard, this tree looks like a creature from one of those horror movies you used to watch,” you said. “It doesn’t scare me, not hardly, but I always wish I could run to you anyways. I guess there’s your answer. Every time there was a storm, I thought of you. Every time I saw this tree, I thought of you. Every time someone mentioned owls or soccer or scary films, I thought of you. So, yes. Sometimes, occasionally — or perhaps frequently, depending on how you see it — I did think of you. I did want to see you again.”

“What about the second question?” he said.

“A lot of people have tried,” you said. “Guys have asked me out. Friends have set me up and convinced me to go on blind dates. It never really works out, though. In the back of my mind, I’ve always been waiting for someone else. For a major jerk, in fact. The biggest jerk on the planet. Everyone probably thinks I’m crazy. It’s a ridiculous thing to say aloud, and even more ridiculous to actually do it, but here I am.”

“How long will you keep waiting for him?” he said.

“A while,” you said. “At least until I can meet someone as annoying as he is. I’ve been bored without him, and I don’t take well to boredom.”

Rin’s features were settled in a contemplative mask, his brows drawn together and his head tilted slightly. It was your chance to watch him; you had nothing more to say, so you opted for silence. Things like confessions and feelings weren’t really your style, nor were they his, but you hoped that he would understand what you had meant regardless. Just this once. Even if he never did again, this once, you wanted him to understand you.

“Thank you,” he said, and then: “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” you said.

“For making you wait. For letting you be bored,” he said. “Although it’s not my fault. I could’ve won the World Cup the year you left if it had happened then, and then we would’ve met again way sooner.”

“It’s okay. Listen, Rin, I want to — no, I have to ask you something,” you said, and then you took a deep breath to steady yourself. “Come summer, will I still be able to see you? Can I show you this tree once it has its leaves, or is this the last time?”

The last time. Was this reunion like a fleeting dream? Would it be better or worse when you were split apart from him anew? How much longer could you bear to keep waiting for him? You had no idea, but it seemed impossible, the thought of being apart from him once more.

“If you come home with me, you can always see me,” he said. “There’s another tree there. One that you’ll remember. Is that close enough?”

“What about my job and my life here?” you said, taken aback at the bold offer, which felt a little out of the blue, although maybe it shouldn’t have. “I’ll graduate this year, and then I’ll start working. How can I leave all of that behind?”

“You don’t have to leave it behind forever. Not if you don’t want to,” he said. “I’d never make you do that. But Sae’s — the wedding, it’s in the spring. The cherry tree will have flowers then. I can show it to you. You never saw it like that, I don’t think, but you’ll like it. I’m sure you will.”

A ghostly wind whistled through the willow tree’s branches, and the street lamp illuminating Rin’s face flickered. Part of you had never really believed you’d look upon that face again, no matter how much you had wanted to. His features were different from the last time you had seen him, a little sharper, more weathered, the once-permanent scowl replaced with a blank, neutral expression as he waited for you to respond, but it was still his face before you.

“It’ll be warm there, won’t it?” you said. “I’m always cold here.”

“Yeah,” he said. “It’ll be warm. Are you cold right now?”

You nodded. He made to shrug off his sweatshirt, but you shook your head, catching his arm and then placing it around your shoulders. He cocked his head at you, and then, all at once, recognition flashed in his eyes. Wrapping the other arm around you of his own volition, he pulled you into his chest carefully, unsurely, his heart pounding — you knew because you could hear it, could feel it, the way it beat against his sternum like a battle-cry.

“I miss it,” you said. “I was only there for one semester, but I still miss it.”

It, or him? Maybe both. Definitely both.

“You don’t have to anymore,” he said. You wondered if he meant his home, which in a way was also your home, or if he was talking about himself. “It’s yours. It’ll always be yours. Our roles are reversed now, I guess.”

“Reversed?” you said. You must’ve sounded like an idiot or an echo, dumbly repeating everything he said without comprehension. 

“I’ll be the one waiting,” he said. “And if you want…you can come and find me. I won’t make it hard. I’ll be where I always have been.”

“Do you think you can wait as long as I did?” you said.

“If I have to,” he said. “Will you make me?”

“No,” you said. “No, I won’t. You only have to wait until the spring. Then I’ll be there, and I don’t think — to tell you the truth, I don’t think I’ll be able to leave once I am.”

“Is it wrong if I say good?” he said.

“Maybe,” you said. His body was likely akin to a furnace or something, you thought, for curiously, in his embrace, you no longer felt frigid, though it had only gotten cooler and cooler out. “But even if it is, I won’t be the one to judge you for it.”

“Good,” he muttered breathlessly. “Good.”

You smiled broadly this time, broadly and fully, though he couldn’t see you do it — or maybe it was because of that fact that you could beam like this, as brightly as if you had won the lottery. Then again, you supposed that to you if no one else, you had. After all, somehow, despite all odds, Rin had found you again, and this time, he wouldn’t leave. Never again would he leave, not entirely, and if he did ever go, it would only be to a place where he could wait for you longer.

“Yes,” you said. “Yes, Rin. It’s good.”

[shidouryusm]

𓆩♡𓆪✿༝༚༝༚-> tending to gojo satoru when he's sick and you're lovesick

Satoru x gn!reader

1.5k (Y'all shouldn't even be fazed atp im mentally ill ofc I'll write like crazy)

content- fluff, sick!gojo, banters, mentions of death (but not in any angsty way), too corny for its own good.

a.n -> this is way too self-indulgent. I just plastered a piece of my daily delusions with satoru in words. hope y'all will enjoy this little piece mwuah. I'm so lovesick for this idiot im not even embarrassed. a ginormous kiss to @stsgluver and @planetnini for proofreading and nini fixing all the little things. she is my second pair of eyes :3

Gojo Satoru. The strongest sorcerer of his age. The man bestowed with Six Eyes and Limitless, literally untouchable with a millimeter of radius separating him from the physicality of the world. The absolute one man army — is currently whining with a wet towel wrapped around his forehead, rolling over the bed with a mere fever. 

“Baby, I think I’ve reached my end. We gotta prepare for my funeral” Satoru mumbles groggily, his eyes partly covered with a damp towel. 

“Don’t just say anything, ‘Toru.” you hum, sitting by his side as you massage his head over the towel. He whines with his hands wrapped around your waist, nudging you closer to him. 

Your boyfriend has always been an overdramatic nuisance in regards to everything ; a little too spoiled for his own good and a concealed face from the world that always yearns to be babied by you. Yet you cave, almost 9 out of 10 times, for how unconditionally lovable he is and manages to be everytime.

As of now – when he’s all theatrical with a cold fever, lips jutted in a small pout. Face scrunched up — which is scrunching a bit more…his forehead crinkles and nostrils flare-

“ANCHEWWWWW-”

His upper body jolts off the bed from the intensity, spraying droplets of sneeze in the air, the towel from his forehead dropping down to his lap.  

You crinkle your nose momentarily from the two second snot hurricane that he just spewed everywhere but you continue to rub gentle circles on his broad back. 

His body slumps into the mattress again as you put the towel back on his forehead. Toru shakes his head, “I'm telling you, baby. This is your final moment to write an obituary for me– how your boyfriend was the strongest as he stood resilient against the invisible sickness, and he stepped into the endless journey to the afterworld with the pretty face, hot body-”

“”Toru, do you ever shut up?” 

“No I don't. I thought you knew” he pouts before sniffling audibly due to the cold. 

You roll your eyes, exhaling a sigh. Nearly impossible to fight against him, even when he's knocked down in the bed. Rather, you decide to run your hands through his snowy white hairs, all splayed out on the mattress. He basks in the touch of your soft hands, humming gently. 

“A millions of curses failed to do that and you think a simple virus would? That’s pretty underperforming coming from you, don’t you think, ‘Toru?” you quip amusedly, earning a little scowl from the man.

“Curses are child’s play for me. Your boyfriend isn’t the strongest for no reason.” Satoru grumbles. 

“Yet can’t deal with a cold?”

“Now. I can’t fight biology, can I?” a hint of indignance in his voice.

You chuckle as you pinch his cheek,“Just playing with you, sicko boy.” you ruffle his hair before idly playing with them again, your fingers threading through the strands like some soft cushion.

The moment stills into the air with comfortable silence except from the little sniffles Satoru is occasionally letting out. You take in the beauty of this quietude.

The room lits with the mellowy rays of the sun – the slanted, golden beams cutting through the white blinds as it bounces off the white walls, leaving a  warm brightness around.

The dust particles dance along the reflecting light on one of the corners and little chirps of birds outside melts into the air. There’s an endless blue casted on the sky and a remarkable silence veils you that is nothing but homely to revel in. 

Moments like this are hard to catch like those dusts under the sunlight but living through them feels nothing less than walking into a dream and experiencing every minute humane feelings. 

Every note of inanimate objects mixed with the soft song of nature makes your heart bloom with gratitude for feeling through them, especially with Satoru … despite how beat up with fever he may look right now. 

You look at your sleeping boyfriend, his face morphing into an expression of comfort and content. Lips partly open to breath due to his congested nose. His chest heaves from the breaths and one of his arms strew across your lap, keeping the warmth of your body close to him. 

You marvel at the effortless beauty this man possesses. 

Even with a nasty cold, loose t-shirt, sniffling nose and disheveled hair, he managed to look like the most beautiful boy in the world.

Your beautiful boy. 

Trailing your hands down his cheek, you gently cup them in your hands, your thumb runs over the rosy swell of his cheek, moving up to his eyelids. his snowy eyelashes brush against the pads of your thumb while you tenderly caress them. 

“So beautiful…” you whisper into the air, looking at his sleeping figure with utmost fondness. Completely in awe with your ability to love him to the point of stretching infinity. 

-

Hearing the two words escape your mouth, Satoru couldn’t help but break out of his character. His broad hands wrap around your wrist and he opens eyes with a squint, adjusting to the brightness. A teasing grin breaking out in his face. “Hehe, heard you~” his cerulean eyes brightens on seeing you a little flustered. 

Way to ruin the tranquility of the moment. 

He pulls your wrist close to his mouth, delicately kissing the inside of your palm, “You know, it’s not bad. I could definitely use some of that kindness every once in a while.” Satoru hums. 

“What are you talking about? I didn’t say anything” you feign innocence, not really knowing why you feel the need to deny it. 

“Mmhmm. Sure. I just heard voices in my head” he hums sardonically, his hands still tangled with yours. 

“Yes. you were dreaming. Fever dreams are pretty common in illnesses.” you counter.

Biting back at Satoru’s remarks was second nature to you, regardless of how lame the topic has to be. As if it’s like the very first time you both have met, setting foot into the relationship with little remarks. The spark that never extinguished in your conversations: of the banters that never goes amiss.

One of the constants in the ever changing wave of your relationship with Satoru. The relief from the turmoil the serious jujutsu world throws at you both.

“anything else, dr.google? the way you are forgetting things you did two seconds back, it’s you who needs to get checked. You were making the most googly eyes at me I’ve ever seen” you gasp, smacking his chest lightly, pulling away your hand from his grasp. 

“You’re gonna pass the sickness to me from your mouth, and for the record– I didn’t.” you  scoff in defiance, clutching your hand away from him. 

“Is this how you treat a sick person? I am wounded, baby,” mock hurt dripping from his words before he starts laughing. His laughter contagiously induces a chortle from you too. 

The sound fills the room to the brim as if you guys weren’t cross talking just a minute back. 

“That is so childish, why hide? Just accept you were being lovesick” Satoru adds. The laughter dies down a little and he’s back with his armor of words. 

“You’re so impossible, ‘Toru. how would you know whether I made googly eyes or not? Your eyes were closed.” 

“So you did make googly eyes, for you to be saying that? Such lame comeback. A bit underperforming. coming from you, don’t you think, baby?” he grins, tossing your own words back to you.

You narrow your eyes at him, fighting the urge to bite back your words, knowing the more you will drag it, Satoru will play along. 

“Sometimes I feel the only response is to strangle you. What happened to you feeling sick to the point of death? Isn’t it affecting you right now?” you scorn. playfully so.

“Talking to you is the way to my recovery, baby. Your words bring me back from sickness. feel my heart– it’s so alive” Satoru grins like he replied with the most appealing answer ever. 

He takes your hand, putting it over his chest. The murmurs of his heartbeat right underneath your palm. 

“Well that was repulsive and corny.” you wrinkle your nose. yet, planting your hands right where he kept it.

the feel of his sturdy chest and soft thuds of heart soothes you. He's insufferable but nothing would have you trade such fleeting moments with him.

“Doesn’t matter when I’m hot.” Satoru mutters, his face inches from yours as his nose nudges the side of your cheek. 

He’s not wrong but you’d be damned to accept that right now.

“We both know who’s bringing the hotness in this relationship.” you turn around and flick his forehead, getting up from the bed to bring him his medications. 

“Yes, it’s me. I am literally quite hot right now”

“Whatever floats your boat, babe", you chuckle. The sound of your laughter ebbing into the hallway as you walk out of the door and Satoru couldn’t feel any more healed. 

a.n.2-> if I'm being dead honest to y'all, I intended to make it angsty as fuck by turning the whole thing as a flashback reader has after gojo died 💀💀 but I will spare myself and others for this time.

comments, likes, reblogs are appreciated

tagging : @stsgluver , @kuroosexuall @shotorus + @satoruhour @hannzai + any of my gojo girlies im amnesiac baby i actually forgot yikes

[sweetteainthesummerx]

THE LOVE LASTS SO LONG (16)

In which the burn bursts into flames

series masterlist

This is the finale! imma keep doing blurbs tho, let me know if u have any requests for one shots :)

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

ollieupdates

ollieupdates OLLIE BEARMAN MAIDEN WIN, CANADA GRAND PRIX.

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olliebearheart YES YES YES IN AUBREYS HOME COUNTRY TOO

user1 he works so hard GOOD JOB BEARMAN

user2 well deserved, incredible race

aubreyfanpage1 LOOK AT MOM IN THE LIKES WOOOOO

olliebearman posted

olliebearman FIRST WIN LET'S GO!

Huge thank you to the team and the fans who have been along with me for this crazy ride. Getting to race and do something I love everyday is an honour. Here's to many more wins! 🏆🥂

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aubreyyang so incredibly proud of you! all of your hard work and talent finally paid off, can't wait to see you conquer the f1 world even more in the future ❤️

-- olliebearman ❤️

--user1 IM GASPING FOR AIR RN THIS IS SOFT LAUNCHING EJIREJ

charles_leclerc LETS GO TECHNICALLY STILL A LECLERC WIN LOOK AT MY SON

-- user2 AJREJRG FERRARIS ROYAL FAMILY FR

kimiantonelli well done mate :) party hard

oscarpiastri congrats bro 👊

-- user3 HIM NOT REPLYING TO ANYONE ELSE EXCEPT HIS GIRL BAHAHA

maxverstappen good job, loved sharing a podium with you

f1olliebearman posted

clip one: ollie crosses the line, only seconds before max. The garage is screaming with excitement, and the camera pans to Aubrey and David, the girl clutching the older man's elbow as they are both sobbing with happy tears.

clip two: Ollie, soaked with champagne and sweat runs up to his dad and Aubrey. She lets him hug David first, the older man kissing his face and head, wrapping his arms around his son. Aubrey stands back, still silently crying and laughing. An engineer rubs her back and she laughs. Ollie turns to her, running the small distance and pulling her off her feet into a hug. She's got her arms around his neck, and he's holding her up by her waist. She whispers something in his ear, and he presses his face into her neck. He sets her down, although he keeps her in his embrace. He has to bend a little to keep their position, and she peppers the side of his face with kisses. Someone hands him his water, and she has to push him gently off so he can hydrate. He keeps a finger tucked in the loop of her miniskirt as he thanks the person.

f1olliebearman Aubrey and ollie after the race

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user1 NAHH THEYRE DEF IN LOVE JUST WAITING FOR THE HARD LAUNCH ATP

landogirlyee stop this is the height difference we all deserve

user2 HER LETTING HIM HUG DAVID FIRST??? THE WAY HE LIFTED HER UP?? ‼️

-- loverboysf1 THE WAY HE DIDNT WANT TO LET GO?? BRB GONNA GO KMS ‼️

user3 when is it my turn to be a dainty girl with her large tall bf

-- user4 bro wtf go touch some grass pls 😭

Aubrey shifted, shimmying the bottom of her dress down a little. They were out celebrating his win, and she was taking a breather from all the dancing Alexandra was making her do. Ollie was a little ways off with Lewis and Charles, in a heated discussion about presumably the race. She smiled as she watched him, all pale skin and flushed cheeks. His win, his maiden win, and she was here to witness it. Even if she wasn't in love with him, it was undeniable; Ollie Bearman, the dazzling starlet was the future of the industry.

"Hey, you look lonely." A blonde man joined her where she stood by the bar.

"Oh, I'm okay. Just taking a second." she smiled politely.

"You're an actress, right? I'm Logan. I drive for Williams?" he smiled, and if she wasn't completely taken by Ollie, she would've melted. He looked a bit like her ex, all sandy blonde and muscular and american.

"Yeah. I'm Aubrey." she shook his extended hand, trying to extract it, but he held on.

"I love your work," he grinned, and she weakly backed away.

"Look, you seem really sweet, Logan, but I-"

"Aubrey." A warm, familiar hand landed on her waist, a tether back to reality.

"Hey, winner." she murmured softly at his clenched jaw and dark eyes.

Ollie never got like this, not with her ex, not with the men who catcalled her in the streets. But it was...

Okay, fine, it was kinda hot. Extremely.

Logan's puppy dog eyes widened a fraction with realization.

"Oh. Oh. Oh!" he backed off, patting Ollie's arm, "Sorry, mate."

He departed quickly, and the grimace on Ollie's face stayed.

"Why the long face?" she hummed, stroking his cheek. He held her hand to his face, the moment intimate amidst the bustle of the bar.

"Barely got to see you all night," he drew her closer, "and you look so beautiful."

"That's okay, babe. Enjoy tonight. You have all the time in the world to tell me how pretty I look."

He had an odd look on his face; it was one she wasn't sure how to read.

"Let's go back to hotel." he whispered in her ear.

"What?" she asked, "It's barely midnight!"

"I don't want to be anywhere but with you. And right now, I think we need some privacy."

He led her through the crowd, and smiled politely when people aww'd at the fact he was leaving. Alex kissed her cheek with a knowing look, and Aubrey accepted a quick hug from Charles and Max.

The car ride over in the back of the taxi was silent, tension brewing between them. She was sober enough to stay quiet, but tipsy enough to slide her hand in his larger one.

She felt relieved when his calloused fingers curled around hers.

He led her into the elevator, a heavy, thinking look on his handsome face.

"I wasn't...I didn't want him to flirt with me, y'know." she told him, avoiding eye contact. It was funny, since their hands were still intertwined.

One second she was lifting her head to look at him, the next Ollie had her pinned against the elevator wall.

His nose bumped against hers as he inhaled, and exhaled into her mouth. She didn't know if she was dizzy from the rising height of the elevator or simply him.

He pressed his lips to hers, and she gasped in surprise.

His mouth was warm and smooth, his tongue asking for entrance at the seam of her lips.

He licked into her mouth, and she let out a whine, fingers grasping desperately at his arms.

He pulled back, groaning.

"I'm sorry, we should talk. But you just looked..." he trailed off, swollen lips mouthing at the sensitive skin of her neck, nipping and sucking a little track on her skin.

"Oh-" she started, hands dragging to his chest. She knew she sounded desperate.

"I love you." He blurted out, "I had a stupid crush on you when I was like 14, and I met you and you're the most wonderful person I know. You're so kind, and you make me feel like a person, not just a famous driver. I know that you might not feel the same way I do, but I can treat you right. I promise, I will never hurt you, or let anyone."

His eyes, brown and earnest and oh so familiar made her heart ache. How could he think that she didn't love him just as much, or even more?

"One chance, please. I can make you happy, love. Just let me try." he nearly begged, hands winding around her waist.

"I love you." she murmured back, "I'm sorry it took me so long to realize it. I want to be with you forever, and I know I'm coming off way too strong-"

He cut her off with a watery laugh.

"But you've shown me what love is supposed to be. In its true form, not some half-hearted warped example. And all I can hope is that I can return that love for you. Because I really do. I don't think I've ever loved anyone like you, Ollie. You're it."

He smiled, a real, genuine smile for the first time in the past hour. Seeing him all crinkly-eyed and happy made something burst low and hot in her stomach.

She reached up and dragged him by his collar so she could taste him again, all because now she could.

When she pulled back for air, and he chased her lips. 

She giggled, and he rolled his eyes, nipping at her earlobe.

She pressed herself against him again, threading her fingers through his hair and pulling them together once more. She kissed him, this time slow and soft but both of their smiles were so big that it was more like pressing their teeth together.

"I think we missed our floor."

"That's what you're focused on right now?"

aubberieyaang posted

aubberieyaang my loverboy

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alexandrasaintmleux FINALLY HOLY

leosdad yay my kids are dating

-- bearyfast_04 please dont say it like that

celine_diorr REPLACED BY A WHITE MAN

-- aubberieyaang erm sorry babe YOULL ALWAYS BE MY #1

bearyfast_04 I love you so much

-- aubberieyaang I love you more sweet boy

-- walkdontrun OKAY EWW

-- bearyfast_04 I can get you paddock passes?

-- walkdontrun omg my step dad

bearyfast_04 posted

bearyfast_04 my pretty girl

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chililos55 congrats to you and ur gf!!

-- leosdad this time its actually real

aubberieyaang WOW YOU ARE SO HANDSOME R U SINGLE

-- bearyfast_04 no actually im taken by the prettiest, most talented, hard working kind and loving woman ever

-- celine_diorr dude she just texted me shes crying

-- aubberieyaang NO IM NOT

kimi_possible we get it ur in love

-- bearyfast_04 ur just jealous

-- kimi_possible I have a gf??

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

Taglist: @callsignwidow @iloveyou3000morgan @honethatty12 @taygrls @destinyg237 @ilivbullyingjeongin @eiaaasamantha @1uvsptnik @yla-aira @ririyulife

© sweetteainthesummerx.tumblr. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.

[fritzes]

and away we go! here are my two cents on the australian open draw. as always I try to be as unbiased as possible... but sometimes that isn't very possible. anyways, here it is:

wta:

I gotta say it's really weird not seeing iga in the top spot on the draw. so massive props to aryna. the fact that she's #1 is indicative of how great she's been, especially on hardcourt. she's the clear favorite, and her draw only supports that. her projected quarterfinalist is qinwen, her known pigeon. mirra is also lurking in this quarter, but when she beat aryna at rg aryna was very clearly ill, and she just beat mirra in brisbane. however, the bane of aryna's existence, donna vekic, is in this quarter but she's on the other side and could be beaten by someone like diana or qinwen. a lot of interesting names in this quarter, but I don't think any of them can beat aryna

coco was in great form at the united cup, but she's got her work cut out for her. her record against jess, the projected quarterfinalist, isn't great, and marta and paula being in the quarter is a little concerning. however, there are a bunch of players who could normally be threats that are completely neutralized by coco (I'm thinking karo, leylah, and penko), so that's a lot of seeds that are out of her way. naomi is also in this quarter and obviously has a great record at ao and has shown that she can do some damage at slams. if she's healthy, she can potentially make a run here

aryna vs coco is so interesting right now, and I think they can both get to the semifinal. aryna is #1 and this is truly her tournament, but coco's improvement over just the last few months has been great, and she was beating aryna even before that

I've already been seeing people write off jasmine, and I think that's a mistake. people forget that her first slam breakout was at ao24, not rg24, and she proved at united cup that she's very competent on this surface. that being said, a healthy elena is a pretty bad draw for her. she beat elena at rg and the wta finals, but elena wasn't fully fit and those were slower surfaces. I think this quarter has the weakest field (not to say there aren't good players, but the other three quarters have more). maybe dayana will make a surprise run again, or madi will have one of her random slam runs, but I'd for sure take the top seeds over the field here

and finally, iga's quarter. at the bottom of the draw. I'm still getting used to that, it's weird. it's interesting because if this draw came out a few months ago, I'd say emma navarro is super dangerous and could be a threat, but she's been in legitimately terrible form lately and I could honestly see her losing first round. if this draw came out a few years ago I'd say maria would go far, but she's been so lost for months now. I think ons jabeur could make a surprise run in the top half of this draw, she's been having some good wins lately and we know how capable she is at slams. I also think there's an opportunity for anna here, as well as vika who is known for being great at this tournament

jasmine has steadily been making her matches with iga closer, and this is a surface iga isn't comfortable on, so I think if that match did happen it could be pretty close

interesting r1 matches: sabalenka/stephens, tomljanovic/krueger, gauff/kenin, osaka/garcia, bencic/ostapenko, navarro/stearns, osorio/sakkari, alexandrova/raducanu, siniakova/swiatek

atp:

I swear they're giving jannik meme draws now. adm? bvdz?? holger??? hubi???? matteo????? TALLON GRIEKSPOOR????? strangely enough, the person who is the biggest threat to jannik is somehow stefanos tsitsipas, but he's on the other side of the draw and I highly doubt he will make it too the quarterfinals. besides, the last time he beat jannik really shouldn't have happened because of that line call in monte carlo. other than him, everyone in this quarter is someone jannik can comfortably, convincingly beat. I don't like to jinx players but he's the world #1 and this quarter is his to lose. on the other side, I do think adm can make the quarterfinals but based on that h2h with jannik, I'm not sure if he wants to

I think the second quarter is the most up in the air. taylor and daniil are both strong contenders to go deep in this tournament but with a lot of question marks around them. daniil because of his recent form and because his wife just had a baby, and taylor because of his mentality. we just don't know how he's gonna handle being a top 4 seed. this quarter is pretty stacked, with gmp, ben, lorenzo musetti, rublev, frances, and alexei. there are also some snaky contenders, like nakashima, shapo, arnaldi, and marozsan. to me, this is the hardest quarter to predict

I don't think I need to say anything about the projected semifinal. just look at the us open final scoreline. taylor has improved a lot since then, but he's just not at the level to beat jannik right now

djokovic/alcaraz quarter. I never thought we'd see the day. but there's a lot to get through before either of them can get there. opelka, who novak just lost to, is very close to him in the draw, as is tomas machac who beat him in geneva. grigor and jiri could also potentially make things difficult for him. on carlos' side, he has to deal with jack and korda who, despite his self-proclaimed greatness at wimbledon (and first round flopping), has actually done pretty well at ao. jack has some injury concerns, but when does he not? if we did get the projected quarterfinal and carlos and novak did play, I'd have to favor carlos but I'm honestly not sure? we haven't seen carlos play this season and ao is easily his worst slam, but novak just lost to opelka so. who knows

the last quarter is very frustrating and you know why. frankly I'm not in the mood to analyze it. I will focus on the top part though because there could be a major upset with felix and casper

interesting r1 matches: hurkacz/griekspoor, zhang/rune, tsitsipas/michelsen, shelton/nakashima, arnaldi/musetti, rindreknech/tiafoe, struff/auger-aliassimee

[giveafike]

I love Game, Set, Match! If you ever continue it, since the last time y/n was struggling with her game and Ben helped her out, maybe this time we can have Ben struggling and y/n helping him out

Combining this with another prompt for part 3 of game, set match - another anon said: I dont need u to make game, set, match a whole fan fic, but i would love to see a part 3 with them as mixed doubles partners in like the us open or something!! part 2 was amazing, so exited to see your next work regardless of the plot<3

(here if you haven't read part 2 + here for part 1)

————————————————————————

TLDR: Tennisplayer!fem reader x Ben Shelton couple meeting up after some time for an Opens Tournament after spending time away. They're set to play mixed doubles, Ben's got issues, we're cosplaying bob the builder the way we can fix this!

Word count + info: 6.3k! A bit shorter than the other two, but I promise it's more intimate! Dialogue (lots of flirting and teasing). Mentions of Matteo Berrettini & Ajla Tomljanović.

Character Inspo: Wbk by now: cheeky n playful MC - yk just... fun! I didn't write any specifications, but in my head I was envisioning Tyla so! But put whoever you want to cast ;). She's fallen hard in love here tho

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW, this is sooo cute. There is a lot of suggestive content here 😭 but nothing NSFW, teasing, playful relationship, lwky submissive Ben, hope I make u guys giggle!

Azzie Notes ✚: HI!! Last post for a bit (I'm still writing other things! Just taking a bit longer than expected - do send more reqs tho, I'm running low!) I LOVEEE writing Game, Set, Match - I'm so proud of this baby!

Do send in blurb reqs, I can push em out quicker than these longer stories. In saying that, I do have a couple in the works rn who knows? Maybe we'll have a new baby project on our hands.

Also, for anon asks + messages that aren't directly fanfics, follow #azzie asks for stuff bc I feel bad hoarding up space on the main tags for just anon convos. Should I do more of that? Do we want me to talk? Send qs and stuff if you do, otherwise I'll carry on w the usual fanfics and AUs.

I'd love to write a fanfic (SFW or NSFW) w a name and character description, like I could do SOOO much more, someone pls req, so I can storyboard and draft up stuff!!!

————————————————————————

Game, Set, Match (Part 3) - B.T.S

It had been weeks since you’d seen Ben.

With the WTA and ATP tours in full swing, your schedules pulled you in opposite directions, placing you both in different cities and on different courts. Your phones had been lifelines, but they only gave you fleeting sporadic late-night texts, quick phone calls, and longing video chats to keep you in contact.

But now, the separation was over, and the moment you stepped off the plane, a familiar rush of excitement bubbled up inside you, your heart raced, already knowing Ben was somewhere waiting for you.

You pushed through the terminal tunnel-visioned and suddenly, you saw him. Even in a crowded airport, Ben stood out. Tall, with his unmistakable athletic build, the brim of his hat tilted low, his lips were bitten as he scanned the crowd, his eyes locked on you the second he saw you. The world around you blurred, and Ben made his way toward you with long, determined strides.

Before you could even fully register the relief washing over you, his arms were around you, pulling you into his chest. His familiar scent filled your senses, instantly grounding you. Your arms were thrown over his neck, your face tucked into his neck as you held him tight, wondering how you had managed to last this long without his comforting touch.

“I missed you so damn much, Y/N,” he murmured into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. One hand ran through your hair, the other smoothing your back.

You sighed into him, your hands rubbing his back, curling into the fabric of his shirt as you pressed yourself closer. “I missed you so much more”.

Ben didn’t waste any time. He tilted your chin up, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both soft and intense like he was making up for every missed kiss over the last few weeks. His hand slid up your sides, slipping under your hoodie to rest against your bare skin. His touch sent a wave of warmth through you, and you shivered slightly from how badly you had missed the feel of him.

“You have no idea how hard it’s been without you,” he breathed against your lips, his thumb stroking along the small of your back as he kissed the corner of your mouth and then down the line of your jaw.

You smiled, but your voice came out softer than you intended, already melting against him. “I think I have an idea. I was struggling too.” Your eyes fluttered open and shut with each kiss he planted, your gaze roaming over his face, boring into the kindness in his sweet eyes. You reached up to peck his cheek in slow, lasting kisses.

Ben pulled back chuckling, just enough to look at you, his thumb coming up to brush over your cheek as he drank you in, like he needed to commit every detail of your face to memory. “I’m not letting you out of my sight now. I need you close, with me, all the time,” he whispered, his eyes big and soft with affection. “Not for a second.”

His intensity sent a wave of warmth through your chest, but you still managed a smirk, raising an eyebrow. He looked like a little kid, never wanting to let you go. “Not even for a second, huh? Okay, big guy.”

Ben grinned, his hand slipping back under your hoodie, fingers tracing patterns on your skin as he pulled you in for another kiss, one that promised more than just a reunion.

“We still need to get to the hotel,” you laughed breathlessly, playfully hitting his chest.

“Hotel’s first,” he said with a mischievous grin, dipping his head to brush his lips over your ear. “But after that…” He nipped lightly at your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine. His hands crept higher under your hoodie, grazing the edge of your sports bra. “I’ve got some plans for us once you settle in.”

You laughed, squealing, swatting at him playfully. “Benjamin Shelton! Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“I don’t think I can,” he murmured with a smirk, his lips barely brushing yours as he leaned in. “Not when you’re finally here.”

With a roll of your eyes, you pushed him away, heat rising in your cheeks. As you wheeled your bag toward the exit, Ben caught up, a boyish, gummy smile tugging at his lips as he stole the handle from your hands. His arm slipped around your waist, resting a little lower on your hip, a teasing glint in his eyes that promised he wasn’t quite done yet.

In the taxi, Ben’s clingy neediness only seemed to intensify, and you felt it in the way his hands couldn’t stay still. He pulled you closer, nearly into his lap, making it nearly impossible to sit normally in the seat.

His hands traced delicate patterns on your back, on your sides. His lips hovered near your ear, occasionally brushing against your cheek or neck, you could feel the smirk tugging at his lips, sending tiny shivers down your spine. Every kiss, every touch, felt like a quiet declaration, he missed you, he needed you.

“You seriously have no idea how much I’ve missed you, like, really bad. Like, losing my mind, bad,” Ben whispered, his voice thick with a mix of affection and urgency. His thumb brushed along your ribcage, slow and deliberate, like he was memorising the feel of you all over again.

You couldn’t help but smile, leaning back against him, feeling the warmth of his chest against your back. “Ben, darling, I’m getting an idea, with how handsy you’re being,” you teased, giggling as you glanced up at him. “You’re being so clingy, baby.”

Ben chuckled, not the least bit embarrassed. “Can you blame me?” he murmured, pressing a kiss just below your ear. “I haven’t had you in my arms for weeks. I’ve been dying just to touch you for weeks. My beautiful, gorgeous girl, the woman that I love so much…now all mine in my hands again…”

His voice trailed off while he planted kisses as your breath hitched slightly at his praise, offering him a soft hum as his hands continued their slow exploration, fingertips skimming beneath the hem of your hoodie, teasing the edge of your waistband, roaming back up to toy with your sports bra. “Weeks, huh? You're acting like it’s been years.”

“Might as well have been,” he muttered against your neck, brushing your hair to one side gently, nipping playfully at your skin. “I don’t think I’ve gone this long without touching you since we started dating. I’ve been so desperate to just touch you.”

You giggled softly, your head tilting to the side to give him better access, your fingers resting against his arm. “Maybe I book more WTA tours away if this is the welcome I get.”

Ben’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, and he pulled you even closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Don’t even joke about that.” His lips brushed against your collarbone, his breath hot and deliberate. “You have no idea what you do to me when you’re gone, baby. I’m not letting you go far from me for a long time.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, ownership laced in his words. You turned your head slightly to meet his gaze, your fingers running along the edge of his jaw. You could feel Ben slowly start to get more desperate, his playful feathering kisses turning into something more permanent, sucking and biting softly as if to leave small, subtle marks on your skin.

“Oof, someone's possessive. Guess I’m stuck having to deal with you being all over me then,” you teased, though your voice came out softer, more breathless.

Ben grinned, his eyes deep with affection as he kissed you again, plunging this time, one hand slipping further up your back, underneath your hoodie. “You’re not exactly pushing me away, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, though you leaned into his touch, a soft sigh escaping your lips. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to,” you murmured, your fingers brushing through his hair. “You’re too tempting.”

The taxi jolted slightly as it hit a bump, and you let out a quiet giggle breaking out of your bubble and swatting at his chest lightly, clearing your throat as you sat up. “Ben, the driver’s right there.”

Ben glanced over at the driver, who was politely staring ahead, before shrugging. “Doesn’t bother me.”

You let out a laugh, pushing lightly at his chest again. “Behave,” you said, though there was no real force behind the command. You were enjoying the attention far too much.

Ben hummed softly, his lips still brushing against your skin, hands roaming even more dangerously as he cupped your breasts under your hoodie. “Can’t help it. You’re here, and I’ve been deprived for too long.”

The playful banter continued all the way to the hotel, his hands wandering and gripping and his lips stealing kisses at every opportunity. By the time you arrived, the air between you was thick with the tension of weeks spent apart, and you could barely wait to get to your room. Ben grabbed your suitcase with one hand, the other arm firmly around your waist, guiding you through the hotel lobby with an almost single-minded focus.

As soon as you were in the elevator, the doors barely closed before Ben had you pressed against the wall, his lips crashing into yours, hands gripping your waist as if he couldn’t bear even an inch of distance between you. Your hands pressed against the wall to soften the sudden push, before snaking up to the nape of his neck.

“Ben,” you breathed between kisses, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “We’re almost there, hold on, babe..!”

“I know,” he whispered, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands sliding lower. “But I can’t wait, baby.”

By the time you reached the room, you were both breathless, your bodies pressed tightly together as you stumbled inside. Ben closed the door behind you, immediately pulling you into his arms again, his hands slipping beneath your hoodie, lifting it slightly as his lips found yours in a kiss that was slow and needy.

You smiled against his lips, finally breaking the kiss to pull back just enough to catch your breath. “You’re insatiable..!” you teased, gasping, though your own hands were wandering, tracing the familiar lines of his strong chest and shoulders.

Ben grinned, his hands slipping down to your hips, pulling you closer. “Only when it comes to my girl.”

You let out a soft laugh, resting your forehead against his as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “You’re sweet.”

His lips brushed against yours again, but this time the kiss was gentler, more tender. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs stroking your cheeks as he pulled you even closer. “I love you so much,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart swelled at the words, and you kissed him softly, letting the moment linger. “I love you too, Ben.”

For a few moments, you just stood there, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world falling away. It was about the quiet comfort of being together again, of knowing that even after weeks apart, nothing between you had changed.

Finally, Ben broke the silence, his voice soft but playful. “So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?”

You pulled back slightly to look at him, your fingers brushing through his hair as you smiled. “I was actually going to ask you that. You’ve been here longer than me, did you manage to set up a practice match?”

He smirked, his hands slipping down to your waist again. “I did. We’re playing against Matteo and Ajla.”

Your eyes lit up with excitement, and you raised an eyebrow. “As in Berrettini? Matteo Berrenttini? That’s quite the practice match.”

Ben’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, and you could see the playful glint in his eyes. “Yeah? You sound a little too excited about that.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a smile as you leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “Well, have you seen him?”

Ben’s eyes squinted, his hands slipping lower as he pulled you flush against him. “Oh, so that’s how it is?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, resting your hands on his chest, teasing him. “I’m just saying... he’s a little distracting.”

Ben raised an eyebrow, his voice low and teasing. “Maybe I should give you something to distract you from him.”

You grinned, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “I think my boyfriend is distraction enough,” you murmured, your lips brushing his in a soft, lingering kiss. “But if you want to make sure I’m focused...”

Ben smirked playfully, his lips capturing yours again, and you let out a soft laugh as he lifted you off the ground, his arms wrapped tightly around you as he lifted your legs around his waist. “I think I can manage that.”

As you pulled back, breathless and grinning, you whispered softly, “You know I’m teasing. I love you, Ben. Everything feels right with you.”

Ben’s expression softened, his hands gently stroking your sides. “I love you too,” he whispered, his voice full of affection. “More than you know. Feels like home with you in my arms.”

You planted a few soft kisses on his face before leaning into his ear, murmuring, "I still think you owe me a distraction though, Ben."

He chuckled, kissing your cheek. "That'll you get, darlin’ " he mumbled against you, bringing you to the bedroom. That night passed by in a blur of moments of pure, genuine love and care, making up for lost time and emotion.

The next morning, the air was cool and crisp, and the sun bright as you arrived at the court. It was a perfect day for tennis the autumn breeze a welcome break from the summer heat you had both endured on the tour. You could hear the hum of early risers in the distance, but out here, it felt like the world had shrunk to just you, Ben, Matteo, and Ajla.

The warm-up with Matteo Berrettini and Ajla Tomljanović had started off with an easy-going energy, but as the sets progressed, the friendly competition turned more intense. You and Ben moved together fluidly on the court, your bodies instinctively syncing as you read each other's movements, making quick glances, wordless nods, and smooth exchanges.

There were moments of effortless coordination with Ben's power serves and your swift returns combined to win quick points. It was no surprise to anyone watching how well you complemented each other, not just as a couple but as doubles players too. But despite your solid partnership, you noticed a subtle flaw in Ben’s play, something that had escaped both his attention and the growing tension in the practice game.

Between points, you caught the way Ben’s jaw clenched when a shot didn’t go as planned, or when a well-placed return from Matteo caught him off-guard, making him shake his head. It wasn’t that he lacked the skill, Ben was as powerful and talented as they came, but there was a rush in his movement, a drive to end points too quick and fast, a desire to out-muscle rather than out-think his opponent. He was pushing too hard, chasing shots aggressively when he didn’t need to, leaving himself out of position for the next exchange.

“Ben,” you called softly during a break between serves, approaching him with a playful smile, but your eyes scanned him thoughtfully.

He tilted his head, his sweaty curls brushing his forehead, and he flashed that bright grin that always made your heart skip a beat. “Yes, babe?”

You glanced over at Matteo and Ajla who were catching their breath on the other side of the court, then back at Ben. “You’re doing great,” you said, giving him a playful nudge, “but you’re leaving yourself open. You’re trying to end the point too fast, darling.”

His smile faltered slightly, the competitive edge still buzzing in his eyes, but there was a flicker of realisation too. “What do you mean?”

You took a step closer, placing a hand on his arm, letting your fingers gently trace down his forearm as if to soothe his tension and take the edge off of your suggestions. “You don’t have to go for the big finish every time,” you said softly, your voice tinged with affection. “Trust me to set you up.”

Ben blinked at you, clearly processing what you were saying. His eyes roamed over your face, then down to the feeling of your hand on his bicep, his expression softening as he began to understand. “You think I’m overdoing it?”

You smiled, leaning up to press a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth, studying his eyes before you answered. “Hmm, a little teensy bit, yeah. Just play it a bit smarter. You know I’ve always got your back.” Your hand slipped down to pat his chest lightly, fingers lingering on his heart.

Ben let out a slow breath, his pride unshaken but his focus shifting. “Got it,” he muttered, a crooked smile spreading across his face. “Leave the setup to you, huh? My girl’s handling business?”

“Exactly,” you teased, giving him a quick wink. “I know what I’m setting up for my man.”

That last part clearly struck something in Ben, the pride swelling in his chest as you called him your man. His grin widened, a gleam in his eyes now, not from the competition but from the quiet confidence you had in him.

“Damn right, I am,” he said, stepping closer, his voice dropping lower so only you could hear. ���Guess I’ll have to show you what your man can really do once I’m in.”

You gave him a soft swat on the arm, giggling. “Save it for the court, Benny. Or maybe later, when we’re off it.”

Ben chuckled but pulled you into a quick, possessive kiss, his lips lingering longer than they probably should have, given that you were still mid-match.

“Later then,” he whispered against your mouth, his hands lingering at your hips before he pulled away with a playful gleam in his eye.

“Hey, lovebirds!” Matteo called from across the court, his thick Italian accent laced with amusement. “You two ready, or should we leave you alone?”

Ajla laughed, shaking her head. “Pretty sure we all know how this match ends if they keep that up.”

You shot a playful glare at them, then turned to Ben with a smirk. “Think they’re jealous?”

Ben gave a quick shrug, flashing that cocky grin that drove you wild. “Who wouldn’t be? I mean, look at my beautiful girl.” He winked at you before jogging back into position, and your heart warmed at the ease and pride in his voice when he said it, his girl.

As the next point started, the flow between you and Ben seemed smoother. You both moved like two parts of a well-oiled machine, he focused on power and strategy, and you on finesse and setting him up for those big finishing shots. You watched him settle, taking more time with his positioning, trusting you to create the opportunities for him. And when that perfect moment came, his power unleashed with precision, and you saw the change in his eyes, a new level of control starting to blossom.

Ajla returned a lob shot, and Ben waited, patient, as you volleyed it back, setting him up. The moment the ball left her racket, Ben struck, sending it down the line in a clean, blistering shot that left both Matteo and Ajla flat-footed.

“Vamos!” Ben shouted, his voice full of triumph, his fist clenched, as the ball bounced out of reach. He turned to you with wide, triumphant eyes, rushing over to scoop you up in his arms before you could even blink.

“That’s my man,” you laughed as he spun you around, both of you laughing and riding the high of the win.

Ben pressed a quick kiss to your lips, still holding you in his arms. “Told you we’d make a good team.”

You could hear Matteo clapping slowly in mock defeat behind you, and Ajla was laughing, shaking her head in amusement. “Alright, alright, we’ll give it to you guys this time.”

You beamed at Ben, his arms still tightly around you, your face inches from his. “Always knew you had it in you.”

Ben grinned, his forehead pressing against yours as his voice dropped low. “Only ‘cause I’ve got you by my side.”

You and Ben had barely finished celebrating your win when Matteo and Ajla sauntered over, shaking their heads in defeat but still smiling.

“That was impressive,” Matteo admitted, clapping Ben on the back.

“Though, if you two keep up with the lovefest on the court, you might distract yourselves one of these days.”

Ben smirked, his hand casually resting on your waist as he pulled you closer. “Nah, we’re just that good. Plus, she keeps me in check.” He winked down at you, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his cheeky confidence.

Ajla gave you a knowing smile. “You guys are impossible. But alright, a deal’s a deal. Lunch on us."

You grinned, side-hugging her over the net. “I’ll hold you to that.”

As the four of you walked off the court, lighthearted banter filling the air, your mind was still on the way Ben had adjusted his play. He’d listened to you, adapted, and it had paid off. There was no denying the satisfaction that came with seeing him execute your advice perfectly. But you also knew that some things would need a little more fine-tuning and practice, and for that, a private session was definitely in order.

Later on, after lunch with Matteo and Ajla, you found yourself back in the hotel room as the sun set, both of you a little tired but still buzzing with energy from the match and the good company. Ben was sprawled out on the bed, scrolling through his phone, while you sat on the edge, absently bouncing a tennis ball against the wall in a rhythmic thud.

“Hey,” you said after a moment, glancing over at him. “How about we hit the courts again? Just the two of us. I think we could use some more time out there.”

Ben lifted his head, one eyebrow raised, a teasing twinkle already forming on his lips. “Oh? Didn’t get enough today?”

You smiled, looking back at him. “You’re getting better, Ben, but there are a few things we should work on. You were doing great out there with Matteo and Ajla, but I think we could sharpen up your positioning a little more.”

Ben set his phone down, sitting up now, fully intrigued. “Oh? You’re offering to coach me?”

You gave him a playful nudge. “Yeah. I know you want to be the best, and I can help you with that.”

His eyes brightened with interest, and he was up in an instant, hauling himself up off the bed with a grin. “Alright, coach. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

The tennis court was empty when the two of you arrived, the evening air cool and crisp under the soft glow and hum of the stadium lights. Ben took his spot across from you, bouncing lightly on his feet, his signature cocky grin in place as he spun his racket in his hand.

You and Ben had the ball bouncing back and forth in a comfortable rhythm. You enjoyed these quiet moments together, where it was less about winning and more about the two of you syncing up, even if it meant some fine-tuning in his technique.

“Alright, coach,” Ben said with a grin, settling into a more relaxed stance. His playful tone was the same as ever, but there was something softer in his gaze tonight, he was taking you seriously, eager to work, eager to show off for you. “How are we doing this? What’s the game plan to make me even better?”

You leaned back on your heels, arms crossed as you eyed him. “Footwork first. You keep rushing when you don’t need to. Relax into it, be patient, trust yourself and you’ll find your rhythm.”

Ben nodded, his eyes locked on yours as he mimicked your movements. His focus was intense, but this time it was different from how he worked with his dad. Ben had always been a little impatient with Bryan, more concerned with power and quick sets.

But tonight?

Tonight, he was all yours, giving you his full attention, which stirred something more than pride inside of you. As you demonstrated, he followed suit, his footwork and his motion becoming more controlled with each drill. Every time your hand grazed his arm or adjusted his posture, Ben listened obediently, applying your feedback without his usual back-and-forth banter. That focus on your words, the sincere look in his eyes as he perked up to listen, sent sparks through you.

“Better,” you said after a solid rally, a proud smile creeping onto your face. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

Ben wiped his brow, a hint of pride in his expression. “Guess you’re a pretty good coach, huh?”

You grinned, shaking your head as you walked past him. “I’ve always been good at keeping you in line.”

The game continued, the ball bouncing between you both, the steady rhythm soothing and familiar. You pushed Ben to focus on positioning, drilling him on staying grounded before committing to a shot.

And then, after another smooth exchange where he hit every cue perfectly, the words slipped out without warning.

“There you go! Good boy.”

It hung in the air for a second, and you froze with a shocked expression on your face, realising what you’d just said. Your cheeks burned up instantly as you glanced at Ben. He had paused too, his face lighting up mischievously with a look that told you he was absolutely not going to let this go.

“Good boy?” he repeated, his voice low and teasing. “Is that how we’re doin’ things now?”

You rolled your eyes, pointing your racket at him trying to remain serious, already feeling your face grow warmer. “Benny, don’t start.”

But Ben wasn’t backing down. He sauntered toward you, his grin spreading wider as he closed the distance between you. “Oh, I’m definitely starting. Honestly? I think I like it when you call me that.”

Your heart quickened as he moved closer, his presence as effortless and warm as it was overwhelming. Ben had always been cheeky, but this? This was something else, and the worst part was you liked it. You liked how easily he fell into his role, how willingly he listened, and how obedient he was when it was you guiding him.

“Ben,” you warned, trying to play it cool even though the heat rising in you was impossible to ignore. “We’re still practising.”

“Oh, I know,” he smiled, his voice dropping an octave, making your pulse race. “But you have to admit, I’ve been followin’ your instructions pretty well. Don’t you think?”

Your breath hitched slightly as he moved even closer, his body nearly pressing against yours, the net being your safe haven keeping your space, his eyes glinting with that familiar, playful intensity. “Maybe I should keep bein’ a good boy, hmm?”

It was that line, delivered with a perfectly raised brow, that sent a surge of heat right through you. You hadn’t meant to say it, it just slipped out, a reaction to how well he was following your guidance, but now you couldn’t take it back. And now Ben was fully leaning into the moment, clearly enjoying how flustered he was making you.

You tried to recover, taking a small step back to regain some distance.

“You’re… getting there,” you cleared your throat, attempting to steer things back to tennis, though the words came out shakier than you intended.

Ben wasn’t having it, though. “Getting there? Come on, coach, I thought I was doing great.” He reached out, his hand brushing lightly against your waist, pulling you back just a little closer. You couldn’t help but suck in a breath, your body betraying the calm front you were trying to keep.

“Am I being good now?” he asked, his voice low, filled with amusement but also something heavier, something deeper. His teasing had shifted slightly, still playful but now layered with affection, and it made your head spin.

You swallowed hard, struggling to keep your composure. “Ben, you-”

“I’m listening,” he cut in smoothly, his lips dangerously close to your ear now, his voice lilting in his drawled-out voice, oozing off his tongue like molasses. “Just like you wanted. Don’t I deserve a lil more praise, hm?”

Your stomach flipped, and you couldn’t help the rush of heat, the buzzing feeling that flooded through you. He was teasing, sure, but he was also right. He had been listening, and the way he responded to your guidance, so open, so eager to improve for you, was doing things to your heart you hadn’t anticipated.

“Okay,” you said quietly, trying to hide the tremor in your voice. “You’re doing real good, Ben.”

Ben smirked, pulling back just enough to catch your eye, and the way he looked at you, both playful and sincere, made you feel completely undone. He raised an eyebrow as he caught your eyes with his, holding your gaze, expecting a bit more.

“You're a good boy,” you added softly, almost as if you were under a spell.

His grin widened, and in that moment, it was clear that you had lost this round. Ben had flipped the dynamic entirely, and though you were supposed to be the one in charge, he was now calling the shots, and it was thrilling.

And in the comfortable quiet of the evening court, with the world fading around you, Ben leaned in and kissed you softly. It wasn’t rushed or heated, just a simple connection, an acknowledgement of the easy rhythm you’d both fallen into.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes sparkled with that same teasing glint.

"Thought you were in charge here, darlin'," he mumbled softly, his twang teasing as he stepped closer, his dark brown eyes gleaming in the dim light of the court. There was something about the way he said it, that lazy confidence mixed with an undercurrent of playfulness, that sent heat straight through you.

You bit your lip, fighting back the urge to give him a sharp retort. But the way he was looking at you, all calm and patient like he had all the time in the world to enjoy how flustered you were, made your pulse quicken, made you squirm under him. The man knew exactly what he was doing.

And then, without another word, Ben leaned in and placed his hand to rest gently at the back of your neck, his fingers slipping through your hair, and you couldn’t help but melt into his touch as you both stared into each other's eyes.

His thumb brushed over your cheek, his lips just barely curving up into a cheeky smile. “Still wanna keep goin', or you ready to call it?”

Your breath hitched, but you managed to keep your cool, meeting his gaze with a sly smile. “You’re getting cocky, Benny."

His grin widened, and his voice dropped, nice and smooth. "Can't help it when you’re lookin’ at me like that."

You rolled your eyes, playfully shoving him, though the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you. “Fine, we’ll call it. But don’t think this means I’m going easy on you next time.”

"Guess I'll have to look forward to that, then," he said, his voice lingering just enough to make you smile.

As you both gathered your things and left the court, the night air cool against your heated skin, there was a sense of ease between you. He reached over, lacing his fingers with yours as you walked, and even though the teasing had subsided, the intimacy of the moment lingered.

A few days later, the stakes were higher, the atmosphere much more intense. You and Ben had practised with Ajla and Matteo in the lead-up to this match, but the reality of the Open, the weight of it, the pressure, was different.

As you stood side by side with Ben, gazing out at the packed stadium, the noise of the crowd buzzing in your ears, you could feel the energy crackling around you. This wasn’t just any match, this was what you’d been working toward.

The first set was fast-paced and intense, Matteo’s brutal serves and Ajla’s precision giving you little room to breathe. You and Ben barely kept up though while moving in sync, feeding off each other’s energy as you fought to stay in control.

When the set finally ended, narrowly in your favour, you both collapsed onto the bench, your breaths coming hard and fast. Ben leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring out at the court with that familiar, intense focus with a gel pack in his mouth you’d seen so many times before.

His brown eyes were dark, locked onto the lines of the court like he was reading every inch of it. He wasn’t the playful, adoring Ben right now. This was the side of him you admired most, the one who studied the game like it was an art form, completely absorbed in every detail, every strategy.

The sharp angles of his face were even more pronounced as he heaved, sweat glistening along his jawline as his gaze stayed locked forward. It was that quiet intensity, the way he seemed to block out everything but the game, that made him so magnetic out here. He was in his element, and it was captivating.

You wiped the sweat from your forehead, still catching your breath as you watched him. He didn’t speak at first, keeping that unwavering focus on the court, his breathing steadying. You knew better than to interrupt when he got like this when that competitive side of him came out, Ben was locked in.

But after a moment, you leaned over, your shoulder brushing his, and gave him a soft nudge. “Hey.”

His eyes flicked to yours, and just like that, the tension melted a little. He smiled, soft and small, and you could see a flicker of the playful Ben you knew so well underneath all that intensity.

“You’re playing smart, Ben. Matteo’s a powerhouse, but you’ve been nailing those returns. Keep pushing him wide, make him work for it.”

He exhaled, nodding as your words sank in. "Yeah, you’re right." His voice low and a bit raspy from the heat of the match.

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his hand brush against yours on the bench. “We’ve got this, okay? Just stay in the rhythm. I’m right here with you.”

He turned to look at you fully, and there it was, that gaze, the one that made your heart race every time. Dark brown eyes locked on yours, filled with trust and something deeper. “I know," he said softly, his voice carrying the weight of the moment. "Ain’t no one else I’d rather be out here with.”

Before you could respond, the whistle blew, signalling the start of the second set. Ben stood first, turning to offer you his hand, and you took it without hesitation. There was a strength in his grip that steadied you, and as you walked back onto the court together, you felt that connection between you grow stronger.

The second set was even tougher and rallies longer, each point feeling like a battle. Matteo’s serves were punishing, and Ajla was relentless, but you and Ben had found your groove. He followed your lead, trusting your instincts, and every return, every volley, felt sharper than before.

And when Ben sent a sharp forehand just past Matteo’s reach to seal the match, the roar of the crowd was deafening.

You spun around, immediately finding Ben, and before you could say a word, he was there, lifting you off your feet in a tight hug, spinning you once before setting you down gently. His eyes, still sparkling with that competitive edge, softened as he looked at you, pride radiating from every inch of him.

“You did it!” you squealed, breathless from both the match and the rush of it all.

“We did it, babe” he replied, his accent thicker now, the exhaustion and adrenaline mixing in his voice. His sweet eyes held yours for a beat longer before he leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.

The crowd’s cheers only seemed to fade as you kissed him back, your hands resting against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. It wasn’t about the victory, not really. It was about everything that had led up to this. The trust, the hard work, the way you two moved together.

When he finally pulled back, his voice was teasing. “Guess that means you’re the gonna be coaching me after all this, huh?”

You laughed, your heart swelling with affection as you pushed at his chest lightly. “Don’t hold onto that just yet, Benny.”

He grinned, that familiar playful glint back in his eyes as he laced his fingers with yours. “Too late for that.”

As you both walked off the court, hand in hand, the crowd still roaring around you, you knew that whatever came next, whether it was another match or another late-night training session, you’d face it together. And that was the real win.

[sincerelyverena]

I’d like to request a Felix Catton smut where the reader and Felix are in the library ir study room in saltburn and she is sitting on his lap while he reads a book and she looks through a magazine. But as she leans in she accidentally humps into him making him let out a small moan. Then she innocently knowing the effect it has on him she slowly starts jumping into him as his hands run to her waist. Then they end of fucking in the library .

i luv all of these requests for fi (which I'm slowly starting to get thru lmao), thank u sm for the req anon! mwah!

⟡⁺ WRITER'S BLOCK

. . . FELIX CATTON X FEM!READER ‘tryna put her mind into the inside of my zipper.’

inbox is always open to requests!

in whichꕀ

✦ ﹒you drive felix crazy in every which way, even when you're not aware of it. especially when you're not aware.

tagsꕀ

✦ ﹒smut ﹐established relationship ﹐dry-humping ﹐felix is a pillow princess ﹐hashtag bring back dry humping1!!1 ﹐what is it w yall and fucking in a library ﹐reader might b a little zesty but who isnt atp its 2007 everyones gay

You loved lazy afternoons with Felix more than anything in the world.

The air is silent. It was not uncomfortable silence by any stretch of the imagination; it was peaceful. The library you occupied that afternoon was dimly lit, and the smell of books and cigarette smoke tingled in your nostrils with every breath. You and Felix found an otherwise quiet corner in the back of the library, residing on one of the numerous leather-bound sofas nearby.

“So fuckin’ boring,” Felix grumbled to himself. He balanced the hide-bound book on the top of the curve of your thigh, the pad of his large fingers flipping through the thin pages rather lazily. He had leant back into the surface of the lounge, cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

On the other hand, you were stable on the top of Felix’s lap. Legs strewn over the muscular surface of his thighs and calves. He was warm, like always. Uncomparable to a fireplace, he alight a flame inside you like nobody else could. Especially as Felix’s hand grasped the line of your waist, thumb caressing circles into your skin. 

You have a magazine placed on your lap. Flipping through the latest Playboy issue Felix had picked up the other weekend. Sara Jean Underwood was sprawled over the flimsy pages caught underneath your forefingers. You needed ideas for lingerie, and the women within the volume weren’t too bad to look at either.

Thoughtfully, you dog-eared a page of one of the models in an intimate position. “You were the one that chose to study during break.” You pointed out without raising your eyes, sensing how tense your boyfriend was underneath you.

“Well, someone here has to,” Felix remarked, rather smartly. He abandoned the book in his hands momentarily to place his head into the crook of your neck. You could feel the warmth of the curve of his cheek against your own, his breath fanning the loose strands of your hair.

The two of you fell back into that comfortable, intimate silence. Cut through by the sound of pages flipping. You leant forward, shifting your hips to adjust your position on top of Felix. You hadn’t realised what you had done until you heard a soft groan and a sudden hardness pressed against the curve of your ass.

You ducked your head, shielding the smile that threatened to quirk upon your lips. Inclining backward, your back hit his chest. Knowing damn well what was going through his head. “You okay?”

A grunt escaped Felix with your words. His fingers clutched the surface of his book a little tighter, his hand rose to steady his cigarette. “Yea, why wouldn’t I be? Are you okay, darlin?”

“I’m fine, Fi.”

“You sure?”

You ignored the heat unfurling in your gut. “Mhm.”

Felix returned to the book between his palms, yet you were unable to focus on the magazine sprawled across your lap. You were more focused on the bulge that strained against the fabric of Felix’s pants, which you sat on at that current moment.

So you were unable to help yourself. You bent back forward, hips shifted. You acted subtly about it, feeling the tilt of your ass grind against your boyfriend’s clothed cock. You drew your bottom lip between your teeth, stifling the moan that threatened to escape.

“[Y/N].” Felix breathed. The noise was throaty and strained. His fingers abandoned the book that balanced on your knee, moving to the curve of your waist.

“Felix?” You managed to muster, feigning some sort of innocence as you glanced over your shoulder. There was a foreign heat in Felix’s eyes, as he met your own dimmed hues. You virtually jolted with excitement.

Felix’s hand slipped a little further downward, toward the hem of your jeans. The pad of his fingers teased the button, popping it to loosen the fabric around your hips. “You’re such a fuckin’ tease, you know that, yeah?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Playing dumb was your specialty, but you were unable to hold back the sly smirk that crossed the frame of your lips.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, princess.” He insisted at once, fingers moving to loosen the zip downward. Felix’s other palm slid down the fabric of your flared jeans, buckling his hips to encourage the material to roll down your thighs.

You stifled another moan, watching as the garment pooled at your ankles.

Felix didn’t hesitate to slip two fingers underneath the lace of the tight thong you had decided to wear, a hungry look circulating in his eyes. You could feel the tip of his fingers dipping between your slick folds. “So damn wet for me.”

A thud sounded out throughout the library as the book that was once in Felix’s palms hit the ground. You flipped yourself over so you were facing him, thighs pressed on either side of his legs. His erection pressed more insistently, and you couldn’t help but allow yourself to unbutton the hem of Felix’s jeans.

“Yeah, yeah.” You drawled out, somewhat too stubborn to admit the hold he had upon you. You were too busy rolling down the denim, fingers latched onto the band of his boxers. “Maybe focus on getting these off instead.”

Felix only smirked to himself.

Within a few seconds, you had freed him from the confinements of his undergarments. Eyes locked upon his length, your core virtually twitched from excitement. You rose a single hand, fisting his girth once. Then twice. Fingers rolled down the rigid skin, causing Felix to incline his head backwards to groan.

“C’mon, hurry up and lemme get inside of you.” Felix pressed. You could see the sexual frustration in his eyes as he pulled his cigarette back toward his lips, the smell of weed high in the air. Filling your lungs.

“Fine. Fine.”

You rolled your eyes at his impatience momentarily before you lined his girth up with the slickness of your entrance, rolling the fabric of your undergarments down. Before you allowed him to sink into you, stretching you up like the two of you had done time and time again. Walls clenching, you absentmindedly moaned at the feeling of him filling you up. And so did Felix, whose elatedness filled the entirety of his eyes.

You were quick to shift against him. Moving. Felix leant back against the leather of the couch, watching with heated eyes as you bounced up and down on his girth. He inclined his head back, soft moans escaping his lips.

A hand was pressed against the rigid muscle of his chest. “You’re acting like you haven’t had pussy in months.”

“Twenty-four hours is a long time to wait, darlin.” Felix drawled.

You bounced back on him to shut him up.

It was only a matter of time until you felt that familiar warmth tingle deep within your gut, gradually building up with each thrust of your hips and with each moan that left your hips. You were insanely close, and so was he.

Felix had his head burrowed into the crook of your neck, hands gripping almost desperately around your waist. With a couple more professionally placed movements, you felt his cock twitch inside of you before a pussyful of seed began to fill you up from the inside out. 

“God, you’re such a good fuck, arench’a?” Felix praised you through ragged breaths, which only quickened as you sped up your pace. Helping him to ride out his orgasm. 

The heat of his come was enough for you to climax yourself, and with a shuddery yelp, the metaphorical dam inside of you snapped. You tilted your back, moaning loud enough for the entirety of Saltburn to hear. Walls clamping, hips twitching. You ground yourself desperately upon Felix’s cock, prolonging the waves of pleasure you experienced as long as possible.

Eventually, the both of you had settled into something similar to serenity.

Your breaths began to slack, resting your head against the tilt of Felix’s chest. His hands rose to cradle you against him. He was still inside of you. It served as a comfort more than something for pleasure as the two of you slowed down.

“You didn’t do that much studying after all.”

“Oh, shuddup.”

WORD COUNT: 1.5K MASTERLIST REQ ME!

[nkyslover]

` ` OOPS! I'M DOOMED...

whoops, looks like you caught yourself in quite the situation! when your homeroom teacher pairs you up with satoru gojo, your one and only; academic rival, for a project, your conflicted. as satoru himself would say, "sorry honey, the world doesn't work like rainbows and sunshines."

mara's notes! — back with another lame fic, i genuinely might have writers block or something because my ideas are non existing atp😭 send help yall PLEASE and i hope u guys enjoy it!!

"satoru gojo and y/n y/l/n, you both will be together for the project time."

you couldn't stop your eyes from widening as you froze in your seat.

satoru gojo!?

what the hell did your homeroom teacher think she was doing? pairing two people who absolutely despised each other, together for a project!?

your sure she knew. how could she not? you two are the only ones who compete in competitions that involve alot of debating, in another word, arguing?

or how you both would start to argue about how to pronounce different vowels in japanese, and how he'd ask you questions you didn't have the answer to when you'd be doing a presentation?

it was pure hatred.

"class will be dismissed in 5 minutes, until then, please pair up with your partner and discuss." your teacher smiled, before diverting her question to her book, scribbling notes on it. chairs started to move, and you start to frown. how are you gonna survive?

she stops, glancing up. "also, there will be a total of 6 times you will have to meet up. its a must, and you must complete these 6 meet ups to make sure you haven't missed anything."

your done for.

"get back here!"

god he was fast.

but that was all you could hear. okay, you may or may not be sprinting or running for your life away from the tall white haired boy who was chasing after you.

"leave me alone!" you cried, shoes hitting the ground as you turn the corner, huffing and puffing as you hope he leaves you be.

"why are you running!?" he yelled, turning the corner after you and following you down the hallway of the big academy. you manage to not bump into anybody as you dodge the crowd. "because your chasing me!" you screamed, as other students gave you both knowing looks. it was probably normal, then again.

"fuck— stop running! really, i'm not gonna stop until you stop!"

you turn another corner into a more secluded hallway, and then you trip, foot slipping as you yelp loudly, bag falling out of your hand as you fall forward, if it wasn't for a pair of arms slipping around your waist, you definitely would have face planted!

but then again, that's how you ended up in an empty study room in the library. satoru gojo had dragged you there, and he was too strong to even protest against anyways. poor you!

"i want to go home." you mutter, dropping your pen on the page full of notes that you just written. "after this, we have 5 more meetings to make so just keep writing or we won't get anything done now."

you frown.

"stop looking at me like that." he lifts his head, eyes meeting yours as he narrows his eyes as a silent threat, you don't hesitate to pick up your pen and keep your head down. "bully." you mindlessly mutter under my breath.

he's gonna act like that didn't tug a small smile at his mouth, yeah.

a few days later, you think your more than halfway through your project. wait, you think? maybe it's because you've been telling satoru off for being lazy when he's the one telling you off, and oh, we can't forget! you may or may not have caught him staring at you. you blink, and suddenly his eyes are on the book, which is odd. are you going insane? maybe it's the air of his dorm room.

okay, you might have been spending time in his dorm. he might have been feeding you snacks, and you both might have been bonding.

that sounds like a crime.

you also have his number now! he sends weird messages, did i mention?

gojo: sugs told me u have a date???

gojo: btw u need to cancel it bc we need to study some extra contents on the project

you: wait what??? but we've finished the project

gojo: i told u we need to study

gojo: get ur ass in my room before i drag u

you: i can't cancel the date it's a date gojo

gojo: too bad too sad, im waiting

matter of fact, he did have to drag you. and you actually didn't mean to blank the guy you had a date with but it wasn't your fault. somehow his contact disappeared from your phone. you didn't have a lock on your phone, but at the same time you didn't suspect anybody.

that makes you more unlucky.

now, your labelled as "satoru gojo's girlfriend" but how the hell did this even happen? maybe you didn't even realise when you started to fall in love with him, gaze meeting with his, hands accidentally touching when you'd walk together, and the butterflies in the pit of your stomach when he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear when it got in your face.

whatever, young love, as they say!

[lovemyromance]

everytime an gwynriel starts off a post with "unbiased canon text" i grab my popcorn and my red pen because fuck you mean "unbiased"? Their first point is "gwyn and Azriel are mates!" and I just sigh SO loudly, i probably wake sarah up from her 4 year hibernation

HER HIBERNATION LOL

No SJM fr, wake up, it's been 84 years.

Honestly, I try to steer clear of them as a whole. I'm just ignoring and letting the GAs run amok till she drops the book. It's the last chance they'll have to be so loud and so wrong, let them do it proudly while they can.

When you invent a ship out of thin air, you gotta be prepared to be extremely wrong on, well, pretty much everything. We saw it when CC3 came out and there were no priestesses, no Valkyries except Queen Nesta herself, Gwyn's "job" as a translator/scribe in the theories got taken over by a magical bean, Azriel's shadows danced to Bryce's ipod etc. I think there was a pegasus actually, but it had ZERO connection to the ACOTAR world so, it didn't really help their case.

Anyway, there's going to be a point in time after the Elriel book comes out that all the GAs/ELs will see old posts of theirs and sit there like "Wow, I can't believe I actually thought Gwyn would conquer Dusk Court and she and Azriel were mates! I can't believe I dug through this random TOG book to try to prove that when they don't even talk in the new ACOTAR book!"

It's only a matter of time, atp.