#stop putting characters down just to bring your favourite up

[dazzle02]

Fiona and Lip vs Mickey (They did not hate him or treat him unfairly!!)

People love to claim Fiona and Lip were always super unfair to Mickey and I need to get all this out. I said in my last post that I would make this post at some point, and so I'm doing it now because I need to get it out.

I'll start with Lip.

So during the first 3 seasons Lip was the only one who knew about Ian and Mickey. And he was always pretty supportive about it really. At the end of S3 he made one comment to Ian about how the good thing about falling for Mickey was that you could always do better. Was that necessarily nice? No. But I never actually even took it as Lip truly not liking Mickey for Ian. Just as that thing people often do when their friend/sibling goes through a breakup. Trying to make him feel better, and adding in a little trash talk about the person who hurt them. But also, their relationship hadn't exactly been the most healthy. I love Gallavich, but we can all acknowledge that, right? Mickey had beaten Ian up just a couple episodes before that. Also, Lip very rarely got to see them together pre season 4. And when he did, they were pretending there was nothing going on because Mickey didn't know Lip knew. Lip literally saw Mickey walk off to go have sex with Angie while Ian was right there. And sure, he would've likely been told some of the better stuff about their relationship (if it can even be called that in 1-3?) but for the most part he only got to see the bad, and also the bad was what Ian was gonna talk more about because that was when he needed to get things out. So yeah, Lip may have had a little bit of hesitance towards their relationship at that point in time.

And same in early S4 when he asked Ian if it was really a good idea that Mickey was still at the house. That wasn't anything actually against Mickey as a person, that was about the situation and the fact that he knows how much everything hurt Ian.

Also, he knew about Mickey being gay since S1 and Mickey never even suspected he knew anything until S4 when Lip had to hint at it to try and get him to say whether he'd heard from Ian. Lip knew that wasn't something he was supposed to know, and so he only knew it when he and Ian were alone.

In S4 when Lip was looking for Ian, Mickey was the first person he asked after Debbie and Carl. And he didn't push. He just asked if he'd heard from him, the only thing I'd say could be classed as pushing was his "are you really gonna make me spell it out?" about his and Ian's relationship. And even that he quickly backed off from. Then he said he'd let Mickey know what kind of trouble Ian was in once he found out. (And by telling Mandy what was going on, he did...)

Season 5 is where it gets interesting and where I see the most shit about Lip being unfair to Mickey.

We see Lip and Fiona go to Mickey to ask him to try and talk to Ian about going to see a Doctor, they explain the symptoms of Bipolar they're seeing in Ian. They mention Monica to point out that they know what they're talking about. (We also see that Lip is actually amused by Mickey when he's beating that guy up and yelling up to his wife...) And Mickey ignores them. And that must've been SO frustrating and scary for them. But they don't hold it against him, because they understand!

Then we see Mickey go to Lip and ask about the doctor after the debacle with the suitcases. And Lip is visibly worried, but when Mickey tells him things are okay, he believes him. Or he doesn't quite believe him, but he doesn't push. And this is something I often see people think the opposite of. People often seem to believe that Lip will push Mickey over Ian's Bipolar, that he won't let him handle it himself and just insert himself in and not trust Mickey has things handled. And honestly, after this I wouldn't have blamed him if that was true. But it's just NOT.

Then we really get into it. Episode 5 happens. Ian hasn't come home and Mickey goes to find him and learns he left the club with some other guy and he's pissed. But he can't get to Ian, so he goes after Lip. (Just like in 1x03...) He and his brothers invite Lip to join them in their shooting stolen guns at a window thing, then try and leave him to take the fall. They literally could've destroyed his entire life. And look, Lip was an adult and made the choice to join them. But at the end of the day, Mickey was angry at Ian and tried to take that out on Lip. AND IT IS NEVER MENTIONED AGAIN! Lip never holds it against him. He could've. Maybe even should've. But he doesn't.

Because the very next episode is when Ian has taken Yevgeny and Lip goes to the Milkovich house with Fiona and is totally fine with both Mickey and Iggy and it's like nothing happened. And the car scenes!

Mickey apologises because he realises that he should've listened to Fiona and Lip when they told him that Ian needed help. And Lip responds that yes, he should've. Because he should have. Then proceeds to let him know it can get worse. But then the second car scene, once they have Ian. Lip tells Mickey that he did his best. That he knows he tried, and that that's more than most people would do. With no prompting. Literally the episode before this, Mickey and his brothers had tried to set him up for a crime they'd committed and didn't apologise or anything, and yet Lip is so quick to assure him he did okay. Despite the fact that he likely does have some anger at the fact that he didn't listen to them from the start.

Then when he and Fiona are going to pick Ian up from the hospital, he says he thought Mickey would be there. Lip can see how much Mickey loves Ian. He was surprised he wasn't there.

That deleted scene from after Ian didn't go to Mexico with Mickey next. "People say "You always went a little loco when Mickey was around." THAT LINE WASN'T ANYTHING ABOUT IAN'S BIPOLAR OR THE WAY MICKEY HANDLED IT! It was a "I know how in love with Mickey you are and how much you'd do to be with him." That wasn't a criticism of Mickey. And Lip saying he doesn't think he should've gone wasn't either. It was just that he didn't wanna lose his brother, and that he also knew it likely wouldn't be good for his health. (Which I talked about in my last post...)

In Season 10 when Ian tells Lip he thinks Mickey killed Paula, Lip's response is that of course he should lie to the police and say that Mickey was there all night.

Lip literally tells Ian he thinks he should marry Mickey the next episode, but only when he's ready. That first he needs to figure out why he doesn't want to at that moment. And he was right. Ian was so clearly going through something at that point in time, struggling with his feelings of worthiness and about his Bipolar and legally binding Mickey to that for the rest of his life.

And then along with everyone else Lip does everything in his power to make the wedding happen. Which, yes the wedding is also his brother's. But you don't go that far to make sure your brother gets to marry someone you don't approve of or like.

In S11 there's the "family only" moment, but I get what Lip meant there. It wasn't that he didn't consider Mickey to be family, it was that he felt the conversation should only be the Gallagher siblings. This was their childhood home, it was a discussion between them. He also told Tami to back off. The "What so Mickey's family but Tami isn't" thing also didn't come off as a criticism of Mickey being family to me, more as a "Tami is the mother of my child, marriage isn't the only way to become family." But I get that might just be me.

And they butt heads a lot, I get that. But at the end of the day, Lip does approve of Mickey. I'd even go as far as to say he likes and cares about him.

Now onto Fiona.

Let's start with the fact that she had no idea anything was even going on between them until suddenly Mickey was living in their house. And she never really said anything about it. Just had a little confusion about it.

The real starting point is when she realised Ian was Bipolar. People claim she did a bad job at explaining it to Mickey and made it sound like something that could never be stabilised in any way and that the only answer was hospitalisation. But like, she was terrified too. Her little brother who she loves is in a depressive episode and she's just realised he's likely Bipolar and the only experience she has of it is her mother. Monica. She was absolutely terrified because the last experience she had with Monica at that point in time was her slitting her wrists in the kitchen. Her entire childhood was totally chaotic because Monica wasn't taking her meds. (Plus everything with Frank, and I'll always say he's far worse!! But this isn't about him...) She has never experienced someone actually being able to live a good life with bipolar where they're not just hurting everyone around them. And of course she was getting frustrated, because even though logically she would've understood that Mickey just doesn't know anything about Bipolar, it likely felt like he was invalidating her trauma. ("Depressed? We all get fucking depressed." "He's depressed we'll cheer him up." "I'll hide the knives until he perks up.") Not only would that feel like he was just saying "it can't be that bad, you're overreacting and I can fix this." but also some of these things are likely things she'd thought or said about Monica when she was younger. Trying to cheer her up when she's depressed, trying to downplay it a bit to help herself deal. But she knows from experience that's not how it works. And she's terrified because now it's her little brother.

But she agrees to let Mickey take care of him. She can see how much this means to him, that he's determined and that he's not going to let her get him to a doctor. (Even though legally she could've as he was still underage and she was his legal guardian...)

And people also seem to think that the Gallaghers just abandoned Ian with the Milkoviches while he was depressed and didn't help out or anything, but the scene of her and Ian going for that run together doesn't feel that way at all to me. I've always felt they'd go to see him whenever they could and do what they could to help out. But at the end of the day, he was at the Milkovich house and they couldn't just be there at all times. (Just another criticism I see a lot that I hate...)

As I said in Lip's section, they go to see Mickey to talk to him about getting Ian to see a Doctor, and he refuses.

At the end of the episode when Ian shows up to their pool party Fiona immediately asks where Mickey is. Which means that she not only either extended the invite to Mickey to come too, or just assumed he would, but also cared enough to ask after him when he didn't show.

In episode 2, Mandy asks Mickey if they should call Fiona when Ian's planning to go kill a bunch of homophobes. (This unintentional foreshadowing to Gay Jesus though...) Mickey immediately says no because she'll take him to a Shrink. Again, I get that's scary, but that was what he needed.

Mickey finally calls her when Ian takes Yevgeny and she immediately goes over there and calls Lip too. She also doesn't lay any blame at Mickey's feet. There's no getting annoyed that he didn't listen to them when they warned him. Just need to find Ian.

She smiles when Mickey calls himself Ian's boyfriend in the next episode when they're going to visit him. She's comforting towards him when Ian leaves after the visit by assuring him that he's just sedated and adjusting to meds and that it'll be okay. But doesn't push. Then later tells Gus that she thinks it was really hard for Mickey.

Here's the part where she gets the most criticism though. "I thought Mickey would be here." "I didn't." THIS WAS NOT ANYTHING AGAINST MICKEY! She had seen how hard the visit was for him. She saw his reaction and how freaked out he was. This wasn't her saying "I didn't think he'd come because he doesn't actually care about Ian and he's the worst!" No! It was her saying "I didn't think he'd come because I saw how much it hurt him seeing him like that and haven't heard from him since." Also, she wasn't wrong. He wasn't there. Like, we know why. He was struggling with everything and that is understandable. But why is Fiona just so awful for believing something that turned out to be true?

Then of course Mickey came back and all was good. And Fiona wasn't surprised by that. She never held it against him that he wasn't there to pick Ian up. There was no animosity. He offered to help her out with Carl's Court outfit stuff, she just asked if he could use an iron and then they walked off together to go do that and possibly talk or whatever.

Then Mickey was still just walking about the house like it was his own after Ian was arrested. This was totally normal to Fiona. There was no question whether Mickey would be going with them to see Ian in Military Prison. When they got back she was fine with leaving him with Debbie and Liam as if it was totally normal.

And I spoke about her line in S7 about how Mickey would set a match to Ian's life in my last post. But I'll say it again here. It wasn't about Mickey as a person or his relationship with Ian. It was about the fact that Mickey was literally a fugitive. He'd just escaped Prison and was a fugitive. Ian could not have been in a relationship with him at that time without destroying his entire life. Without losing his job. Without losing his family due to the fact that he would also now be a fugitive and wouldn't be able to have contact with them. Going with Mickey would cost him everything. She was right. He would've set a match to Ian's life. And he kinda did. To me it was never about her thinking Mickey was bad for Ian. She knew how much they love each other and she saw how good for each other they could be. But at that point in time, they couldn't have had a good relationship. The circumstances were too bad. She didn't want that life for Ian. Constantly looking over his shoulder because the Police were looking for him, always on the run, never able to really see his family.

They didn't have many interactions, but a lot of them were during a time where both were terrified for Ian and wanted to handle it in different ways. Both came from places of love. But Fiona's also came from a place of experience, while Mickey's came from a place of inexperience.

[salfishersface]

Fun With Friends || Larry Johnson || Sal Fisher

Synopsis - A game of truth or dare turns into something more with your best friends Sal Fisher and Larry Johnson. {NOT a Sal x Larry fic!}

Warnings - NSFW.

Notes - Characters are aged 18+!

Word Count - 5k.

{Caffeinate Me}

You were sitting in Larry’s bedroom in the basement flat of Addison Apartments with both Larry and Sal. The three of you were smoking, drinking and generally just having a good time. It was four in the morning and there was no sign of anybody going to sleep when Larry piped up, “let’s play truth or dare.”

You rolled your eyes at him playfully. It was such a childish game and yet, you couldn’t help but say yes to him. Sal looked to Larry in confusion and asked, “how do you play?” 

“You’ve never played truth or dare?” Larry asked, watching as Sal shook his head while he tightened the loosening prosthetic to his face. You sighed to yourself at this movement. You wish Sal felt more comfortable around you to remove his prosthetic after all, you’d been friends for years. However you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by bringing up the subject. Larry went on to explain the game to Sal, “it’s simple, really. We each ask each other, ‘truth or dare’ and whichever one they pick, we give them! Y/N, let’s go first, show him how it’s done.” 

“Alright,” you shrugged. “Larry, truth or dare.”

Larry thought for a moment, stroking the small hairs on his chin. “Erm, go on then. Give me a dare.” 

Now it was your turn to think. You thought hard, looking around the room for potential dares when your eyes settled on the whisky bottle in front of you. You leaned over to Sal and whispered in his ear so Larry couldn’t hear. When Sal nodded, you pulled away and looked at Larry with a grin. “We dare you to drink that whisky, without stopping, for ten seconds.” 

“That’s it?” Larry chuckled, grabbing the half-empty bottle of whisky from the floor. 

“I don’t think you can do it,” you said playfully, folding your arms. 

Larry opened the bottle of whisky and gave it a sniff before responding. “Well prepare to eat your words.” Larry smiled before he began to chug the bottle of whisky and you and Sal counted down from ten. This was more so to try and put Larry off, but that man was determined to never break a dare. And just like that, his ten seconds were up. When he pulled away from the whisky bottle, Larry made a face of utter disgust but with equal amounts of playfulness. “Tastes better with lemonade that’s for sure,” he chuckled as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. 

You were half impressed with your friend and nodded slowly. “Well, I didn’t think you’d be able to do it.” 

“So… What happens if you fail a dare?” Sal asks, cocking his head to the side. 

“You shook your head and laughed. “Nothing Sal-”

“You’ll just be known as a chicken forever and we’ll lose all respect for you,” Larry interrupted jokingly. You pushed Larry in the side, causing him to fall off the bed and onto the ground with a drunken giggle. 

“I think I’ll take a truth then,” Sal said, smiling underneath his prosthetic. 

Larry stood up and sat back onto the bed next to you while flashing his friend a toothy grin. “Alright Mr Straight A’s. Did you ever cheat on a test when we were at school?”

You could see Sal’s eyes widen through the holes of his prosthetic. He wanted to lie and say no, but what fun would the game be if he lied when he was supposed to tell the truth. So, he nodded. “Once, yeah. It was on a physics test.”

“Why did you do that? You were great at school!” Larry laughed, pouring himself another glass of whisky and lemonade for the three of you. 

“That can be another truth for you and I’ll tell you,” Sal smirked, winking at his best friend before turning to you. “Okay, Y/N. Truth or dare?” 

“Truth,” you said, not even hesitating. 

The two men looked at each other and Larry nodded, signalling that he had a truth for you. “Do you have a favourite best friend?” He asked, pointing between himself and Sal. 

You chuckled and shook your head. “No. I love you both equally.” 

“Come on Y/N, that’s no fun!” Larry pouted, watching as you took a sip of your drink. 

“Next time, ask me a better question then,” you remarked. “Okay Larry, it’s you again. Truth or dare?”

“I pick dare,” Larry said immediately. 

“Erm,” Sal thought before raising up a finger, signalling he had a dare for Larry. “Try to lick your elbow!” 

“Sally, that’s a shit dare,” you said, smiling widely at him. 

“It’s all I could think of,” Sal said with a shrug, smiling back at you awkwardly. 

But once again, Larry wasn’t one to break a dare and so, he attempted to lick his elbow. He failed miserably. You and Sal burst out laughing. “Ha ha ha, so funny. Larry can’t lick his elbow!” Larry said sarcastically, returning his arm to his side. 

“No, no, it’s not that. It was just the look of pure determination on your face!” You squealed, leaning towards Sal and pulling the same facial expression that Larry had pulled. Sal’s laughter echoed through the room whilst Larry pouted at the pair of you. 

“Alright alright,” Larry said in an attempt to get you to stop mocking him. “Sal it’s your turn, truth or dare?”

“Truth, again.”

“Are you crushing on anyone right now?” Larry asked, watching as Sal lifted up his prosthetic slightly so he could take a large gulp of his drink. 

When he had finished drinking, he placed the glass on the bedside table and nodded shyly. “Big time.” 

“Oh my God!” Larry exclaimed. “Who is it? Why haven’t you told me?!” 

Sal found himself shrugging, “I didn’t think it was important to be honest with you.”

Larry looked confused. This was major news and he wanted to hear more about it but you interrupted, a frown on your face. “If Sal doesn’t want to tell you who his crush is, then leave him alone.”

Larry stuck his tongue out at you before asking, “do you know?” 

“Not a clue,” you said truthfully, shaking your head. 

“Hmm, fine. But one day Sally Face, your secret will become common knowledge to me,” Larry said, his voice joking threat. “Your turn Y/N.” 

“I think I’ll go for dare this time,” you grinned, nodding your head feeling confident. The last two dares had been easy ones, ones you would kill for, so you thought your two best friends would go easy on you. But no, Larry had to be Larry. 

“I dare you to take off your shirt,” Larry said with a sly grin. 

You looked between your friends, shock laced your face. “My shirt?” You asked, tugging at the bottom of your shirt anxiously. Larry nodded, a mischievous grin on his face while Sal gulped down a lump in his throat. There was no way you were actually going to do the dare, right? You sighed and began to slowly remove your shirt, exposing your bra to your two male friends. Both of their eyes widened and Sal was thankful for the prosthetic covering his face because he was undoubtedly bright red. 

“Huh, I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” Larry said, biting his lip as his eyes raked across your chest. 

“Didn’t want to be known as a chicken,” you replied, trying to act calmly as you took a sip of your drink. You sat awkwardly looking down at your chest before glancing at your friends. “What? Neither of you have seen a bra before?” You joked, but they both shook their heads. You were slightly taken back by your friends answers, but just nodded your head and covered your chest with your arms before returning to the game. “Alright Larry, truth or dare?” 

“Truth.”

You didn’t confer with Sal this time. After his little confession of never seeing a bra before, you had the perfect question. “Have you ever had sex with somebody?” 

That wasn’t the sort of truth question Larry was expecting you to ask and he was slightly taken back by it that he ended up choking on his drink. “W-What?” He stuttered, wanting to make sure he had heard you right before confessing that he had indeed, never had sex before. 

“You heard me, have you ever had sex?” You repeated your question again, this time more slowly. 

Sal looked down at his feet awkwardly, tearing his eyes away from your half-exposed body as Larry shook his head and answered. “No. I’ve not. I mean, I’ve kissed girls but never actually had, you know, sex.” You smirked somewhat triumphantly. It felt as if you had gotten revenge for your dare, but little did you know this just meant Larry was about to ramp up the game. 

“Alright Sally Face,” Larry slurred, the alcohol getting to him now. “Truth or dare.”

“Dare,” he said stoically, although he already feared what his dare was going to be. 

“I dare you to take off your prosthetic and show our lovely Y/N here your face,” Larry said.

Your eyes widened at Larry’s dare for Sal and you shook your head. “Sal, you don’t have to do that-” you started, holding your hand out to touch his shoulder gently in a reassuring manner. But Sal was already removing the straps on the back of his head. When his prosthetic fell off onto the floor, Sal didn’t look at either you or Larry. He kept his head down and his eyes on the ground before downing the rest of his drink. That’s when he looked at you, flashing you an awkward and yet somewhat apologetic smile. You leaned in closer to your friend, pressing a soft kiss to his scarred cheek. “You’re beautiful, Sally.”

“Y-You think so?” He asked through a slurred stutter. You pushed some strands of blue hair away from his face and nodded, a soft and gentle smile gracing your lips. 

“That’s cute,” Larry snickered. “I dare you to kiss now.” 

“But I was going to pick truth-”

“I picked for you,” Larry shrugged. 

You sucked in a deep breath and looked at Sal, a silent way of asking him for permission. He nodded to you, indicating that he was okay with it although he was shaking slightly from anticipation. You were so beautiful to him, and even more so with his prosthetic off. He could see every inch of you and he was loving it, and to know that you weren’t scared or repulsed by him just made his heart sing. You shuffled closer to Sal and wrapped your arms around his neck before pressing your soft, wet lips against his chapped ones. Sal didn’t know what to do with his hands, but he settled on placing them on your bare waist gripping ever-so-slightly. Meanwhile, Larry watched the two of you share a sweet, yet clumsy kiss. You stayed like that for a few moments, allowing yourself to get lost in the feeling of his lips on yours before you pulled away. As you did, Sal smiled softly at you, licking his lips. He had been rendered speechless. 

Larry spoke up once again, a mischievous smile on his lips. “Now, I dare you to kiss me.”

You turned your head to look at him, eyes wide. You looked at Sal before looking at Larry once more, nodding sternly. You moved from Sal, shuffling across the bed to Larry’s position. Before you even bent down to kiss him, Larry’s hands were already on your waist pulling you down on top of his body. The kiss with Larry was more forceful than the kiss with Sal, but it was equally as clumsy. Larry became a little more suggestive as his hands moved along your hips, stroking them before sliding up your back to unhook your bra. A gasp of surprise tumbled from your lips as your bra slipped down your arms and off of your chest, leaving you completely bare to your best friends. 

“But what about the game?” You asked, pulling away from Larry’s lips to look between him and Sal. 

“Fuck the game,” came Larry’s response as he kissed you again. His tongue poked into your mouth and swirled around, savouring the taste of whisky and lemonade on your breath. Both Larry and Sal felt themselves harden at the sight of your exposed chest and Larry couldn’t hold himself back. His hands moved from the top of your back to your chest, pawing desperately at your tits. Then, his lips moved to your neck and Larry began to suck and bite at the soft flesh separating him from your jugular vein. You turned your head to the side to give Larry better access to your neck, taking the opportunity to look at Sal. A soft whimper escaped you as your eyes met Sal’s and you had to bite your lip to stop yourself making any more noise. You could feel the wetness growing between your legs at both Larry’s movements and the way Sal was watching you intensely. As Larry continued to kiss up and down your neck, you used your forefinger to beckon Sal towards you. He hesitated but slowly made his way over to your side. You turned the top half of your body to face him, still sitting on top of Larry and grabbed Sal’s shoulders, pulling him towards your lips again. This time, the kiss was much fiercer. A whimper of surprise left Sal’s lips as he welcomed the kiss, your tongue trailed his bottom lip begging for entrance. Larry looked up from your neck to see you making-out with Sal and in response, bit down hard on your neck. 

“Larry!” You shrieked softly between Sal’s lips. Sal’s eyes widened at the sound of your voice, the mixture of pain and pleasure evident in your tone only seemed to turn him on even more. His cock twitched in his jeans, begging to be released. Your lips moved against Sal’s desperately wanting a reaction from your best friend. Larry continued to palm at your chest as he sucked on your neck, flicking your nipples between his fingertips. 

You pushed Larry away and quickly manoeuvred yourself off of his body and grabbed the waistband of his sweats, pulling them down slowly to reveal his grey boxers. His cock strained against the tight fabric and you could see a wet patch starting to form around his tip as the result of the pre-cum. Larry’s breath was shallow as you finally took off his trousers, eyes gazing up and down your body. He felt slightly embarrassed that you were seeing him in his boxers, but he wasn’t complaining. He had thought about this moment countless times. Once Larry was completely naked and gasped at the coolness of the air against his cock, you turned to Sal and smiled sweetly at him. “Your turn.”

Sal gulped and nodded, allowing your fingertips to grace across his crotch as you unzipped and unbuttoned his jeans almost effortlessly.  “Please Y/N,” Sal whispered, his voice barely audible. 

As you began to slide his jeans down his muscular legs, you raised an eyebrow at him and asked, “what?”

“If we’re really doing this, I don’t want to be teased for my first time, please,” he moaned. Sal’s boxers were looser than Larry’s, but you could still see his distinctive hardened length twitching at your touch. You finally tugged off Sal’s jeans and boxers and threw them across the room to meet Larry’s sweats.

You looked between the pair of them and smiled sweetly. “Who wants my mouth first?” 

 The pair looked stunned and looked at each other, silently deciding. After a few seconds, Sal nodded and Larry spoke up. “Me.” You looked at Sal, making sure he was okay with being second, but he just shrugged. As long as he got you, he didn’t care. That was all the confirmation you needed to start moving back towards Larry. You teasingly lowered your mouth around him and looked up with your eyes to see Larry staring down at you. Once your lips touched the head of his cock, Larry couldn’t stop the moans. “Oh fuck,” he hissed, watching intensley as you lowered your head between his legs and wrapped your mouth around his length. Your mouth was so warm and wet around his hard dick that he wanted to cum immediately. Larry couldn’t help but grab your hair and keep your mouth still around him for a moment while he got used to the feeling of your mouth. Once he felt he was ready, he pushed your head further down, causing his cock to hit the back of your throat. You gagged slightly, but took his cock expertly. Sal was watching you the entire time, his hand hovering over his own cock desperate to relieve the itch he was feeling. Larry looked at Sal and grinned as he began to thrust in and out of your mouth. You closed your eyes as you began to suck, swirling your tongue around the tip and licking up the droplets of pre-cum oozing from the head. “Oh God.”

You opened your eyes and looked up to see Larry in a state of complete bliss. His eyes were now screwed shut and his mouth was hanging open for the silent moans to leave his throat. You looked at Sal, mouth still around Larry, and held out one of your hands. Sal looked confused and tilted his head to the side, but found himself moving closer to you. From what you could see, Larry and Sal were quite similar in size but Larry’s cock was much fatter whereas Sal’s was thinner. Your hand wrapped around Sal’s skinny length and you began to pump experimentally as you continued to suck on Larry as if he were nothing but a lollipop. Both of the men were moaning your name in perfect harmony, it almost made you laugh at how easily you had gotten them in this state.  

After a few more moments, Larry gasped. His eyes shot up and he jerked his cock out of your mouth. You looked at him in confusion but he quickly answered your silent question. “I was going to cum.”

“I think I’m nearly there myself,” Sal whispered, biting his lip. 

You removed your hand from Sal’s cock and looked between the pair of them, shaking your head. “Not yet. Neither of you.”

Sal couldn’t help but groan as your small hand moved away from him, a cry of desperation leaving his lips. “Why not?” Sal asked, bucking his hips up in the air. 

“Want you cum inside of me. Both of you,” you said, eyes narrowing. Both Larry and Sal widened their eyes at your words and looked at each other. 

“Y/N… Are you sure?” Larry asked, earning a nod of approval from you. Sal didn’t say anything, just watched on in surprise as you began to take off your pyjama pants and underwear. Was this really happening? This was a dream come true for both of the men in your presence that they almost had to pinch themselves to make sure they weren’t dreaming. 

Once you were completely naked, you looked between your best friends. You weren’t as nervous as you thought you would be but maybe it was the alcohol coursing through your veins. You couldn’t be sure though. You lay down on the bed and spread your legs wide, waiting for one of them to make the first move. Of course it was Larry. He pressed his lips to your lower leg and trailed up your thigh, stopping right before your cunt. You were about to look down to see what he was doing, when you felt cool air against your folds. Larry had blown on you and it had sent a shiver of pleasure up your spine, causing you to open your legs further. Larry grinned devilishly at you before plunging his tongue against your folds. You gasped and cried out, grasping at the sheets below you. Larry was relentless against your cunt, lapping and sucking like a dog starved. You never would have thought that this was his first time eating pussy, but it was. Sal waited patiently, watching and licking his lips as the sight of your legs quivering over Larry’s shoulders. 

“Does that feel good?” Larry asked you as he began to nibble on your clit. You couldn’t form a coherent sentence for the life of you, so you just nodded excitedly. Your hands made their way to his long, brown hair and tugged lightly. This made Larry groan and another wave of pleasure spread through your body at the sensation. 

“I think she likes it,” Sal mused, more so to himself than to Larry, but Larry heard and nodded. His hands grasped your hips, hard enough to leave bruises but you didn’t care. You pushed Larry’s head further into your cunt and revelled in the feeling he was giving you. 

“Oh Larry!” You cried out. “I’m going to cum if you keep on going like that.”

“It’s that easy to make you cum?” Larry teased, but you didn’t hear him. Instead, you came. Harder than you ever had before. Your hands on Larry’s hair tightened and you let out a yelp as you squirted over Larry’s face, and that man didn’t waste a drop. He slurped you up like a cold drink on a summer's day. When you came down from your high, Larry was laying on top of you, staring into your eyes. “Oh you look so hot when you cum Y/N. Doesn’t she Sally Face?” 

Sal nodded and let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. Yeah she does.” Sal’s hand was now wrapped tightly around his cock as Larry slicked the tip of his head against your soaked folds, lubricating himself. 

“I already know you’re going to feel so good,” Larry mumbled to you, pressing his lips against yours as he slammed into you. You let out a choked cry and threw your head back against the mattress, eyes meeting Sal’s. 

“Larry, wait!” You whimpered, attempting to stop his hips from moving. You were being stretched and were fuller than you have ever been before that it hurt, but it hurt so good. Larry halted his movements when he saw the tears in your eyes.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” He asked, panic lacing his voice. 

You shook your head and smiled at him. “No I’m okay, just… Just give me a minute to adjust before you carry on.”

Larry nodded in response and Sal came over to your side to begin literally kissing your tears away. “You’re okay,” Sal cooed, his hand stroking your head gently. You wanted to reply, but you couldn’t and that’s when Larry started moving again. 

Larry’s pace was brutal. Fast and snappy, just like him. He had been craving this moment since he learnt what sex was and now that it was finally happening, he was going to give it everything he had. Your hands flew up from the bedsheets to Larry’s back, scratching down his skin and definitely leaving marks. Moans tumbled past your lips as Larry continued his strokes, his eyes never leaving yours with each movement he made. It was romantic, in a weird way. Sal continued to pump at his cock as he watched Larry pound into you, eagerly awaiting his own turn. “Fuck you feel so fucking good,” Larry growled as he dipped his head against your neck and began to bite yet again. 

“Larry, oh God Larry!” You cried out, almost screaming. It was a good job that Larry lived alone and in the basement, because you definitely would have woken people up with the noises you were making. The bed began to creak and you feared for a second that it would break from the sheer intensity of Larry’s thrusts, but it held. The headboard, however, began to slam against the wall which only spurred on your arousal. Sal tilted his head to the side as he watched Larry’s cock emerge from your cunt before disappearing again, a sheer coat of wetness ringed around the base of his cock from your arousal and it was obvious that you were close to cumming again. Larry was close also, but he wanted to hold on for you. He wanted to give you one more orgasm before he finished inside of you, so he pulled his cock from your pussy and slipped two fingers inside of you with ease. He began pumping ruthlessly, your breasts bouncing from the force. 

“You’re making it so hard not to cum right here and now,” Larry grumbled. It was then that he felt you clench around his fingers and he knew that you were cumming. You tried to vocalise it, but you had definitely been fucked dumb and could only nod. “Okay. I’m going to cum now, okay?” Larry said to you in a soothing voice. You looked at him through glossy eyes and opened your mouth to beg for him but all that came out was a loud shout as Larry slammed back inside of you, continuing his ruthless pace. Your walls fluttered around Larry’s cock and within seconds he was spurting hot ropes of cum inside of you, moaning your name repeatedly as his head fell against your neck. His hips slowed down to a halt and after a few seconds, Larry pulled out of you. His hands caressed your face and hair as he pressed his lips to yours in a slow, passionate kiss. Then, he sat up and turned to Sal with a grin on his face. “Your turn.”

You lay on the bed completely breathless as Larry rolled off of you and Sal climbed on to you. “Y/N, you with me?” Sal asked. 

“Yeah,” you breathed out. “I’m with you. Please Sal.”

Sal smiled softly at you before slowly inserting himself inside of you, stretching you in a different way to Larry. His pace was slow and sensual, loving almost. As if pouring all of his emotion into making love to you. Sal’s lips were on yours in an instant and you immediately kissed him back. Your hands wrapped around his neck pulling him as close as possible all while Larry lay on the bed next to you and poured himself another whisky and lemonade. “God I love you. I love you so much,” Sal whispered against your lips. Your eyes widened at his confession, but you couldn’t say you were totally surprised. You let out a gasp as the tip of Sal’s cock stroked your cervix and you fell apart immediately. 

“Sally,” you whimpered breathlessly, hands locking through his blue hair. Sal pulled away from your lips and rested his forehead against yours, eyes staring into your soul as he continued to thrust his hips against you. The pleasure felt too good that tears began pouring from your lower lash line. 

“Shh you’re okay,” Sal cooed, pressing his lips against your forehead. You smiled at him in reply and pressed a hand to his scarred face. 

“You’re so beautiful Sal,” you whispered, causing him to tear up. 

“I’m glad you think so,” he let out a breathy laugh and bit his lip as he sped up his pace slightly. 

“Touch my clit,” you whispered to him. Sal trailed a hand down the front of your body and rested it between your legs, fingertips fumbling across your clit clumsily. Although he didn’t know what he was doing exactly, it felt good. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t stop,” Sal reassured you. “I won’t ever stop.” At those words, you felt your third orgasm approaching. You prompted Sal to move his fingers faster across your bundle of nerves and he did, finally pushing you over the edge. You cried out his name with a sob as you gushed around him, wetting the bed sheet and a bit of his torso. Sal smiled lovingly down at you as he felt your pussy clench around his cock. “Can I cum? Can I cum Y/N, please?” 

“Yes Sally, please cum,” you begged, continuously nodding your head. Sal sped up his pace again, the headboard snapping against the wall once more. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and with a loud growl, he came. You felt his cock twitch inside of you, swear you could feel his creamy load filling you up until you physically couldn’t take anymore. 

Panting, Sal kissed your cheek and your lips before whispering to you. “I love you Y/N.”

You let out a sob at his words and pulled him close to you, not allowing his cock to slide out of you just yet. You could feel him softening inside you, felt his and Larry’s mixture trickle down your thigh. It was definitely a feeling that you could get used to. Eventually, Sal moved and lay down next to you on the bed. He stared at the ceiling before he looked at you. You were already asleep, snoring ever so softly. Sal watched as your chest rose and fell with each breath you took, completely enamoured by you. 

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Larry asked quietly, looking at Sal over your naked body. 

“Hmm?” Sal asked, biting his bottom lip as he turned his head to face his best friend. 

“The person you’re crushing on. It’s Y/N, isn’t it,” Larry questioned, although it was more of a statement than an actual question. He already knew the answer.

“Of course,” Sal mumbled, laying down and throwing an arm over you. He was careful not to wake you with his movements. 

“I… Think I love her too,” Larry confessed, gulping the rest of his drink before laying his head down on the pillow and closing his eyes. Sal didn’t respond, just hummed in acknowledgement. There wasn’t much he could say after all. Neither of them knew where they stood and they wouldn’t until you woke up. Did this mean something? Or was it simply just fun with friends? They would ask you in the morning, but for now, they let you sleep peacefully between them.

[karlachismylife]

Yeah, but what if you're a character in a game they like to play? A pre-existing townie in a life simulator that helps them reconnect with normal life outside deployment? The one they somehow always tend to romance in every savefile, courting you through the clumsy mechanics?

Soap would absolutely spam interactions, interrupting any of the tasks you are trying to do. What do you mean your relatonship progress starts going down after he chose "tell a flirty joke" twenty times in a row? Why are you falling out of the conversation and going to water your plants or play on the computer? Does he have to delete it out of the game for you to stop getting distracted? Hmph. If you were a real person, you would be already swooning at his jokes, that he knows for sure. C'mon, bonnie, don't leave the lot for work! If you accept his proposition to move in, you'll never need to work a day in your pixel life! He also has a fuckton of savefiles, because he wants to try every single thing the game has to offer, but turns out mastering all 158 skills and 73 careers isn't that easy in one go. He still goes after you in each and every savefile. What can he say? You're just the prettiest of them all.

Gaz has the strategy nailed down. He knows your pre-set preferences and makes sure his character caters to them (good thing you seem to be generally into him, all he needs to do is add your favourite colour to his outfit, and it suits hm too!), he can calculate the shortest route to have a romantic meter above your head in one conversation. Juggling the interactions with ease, never making the mistake to bore or upset you. He knows you'll have the best family tree in that game, and he'll make it happen. Also has quite a few savefiles, but only because he enjoys the storytelling aspect and always prepares some elaborate plot, filled with drama. Takes inspiration from the hundreds of episodes of different TV shows he manages to watch, also plays with mods to add as much flavour to the game as possible.

Price tries to court you like he would a real person. Inviting your character out, putting a lot of thought into which conversation theme choose out of what game offers, bringing you gifts. Unfortunately for him, the game isn't registering his actions as actually trying to woo you... so he just takes the gloves off and fucking cheats your relationship status. His in-game self needs a pretty partner to look after the pack of three dogs, named Ghost, Gaz and Soap respectively. He's not above cheating your babies (whether your character carries them or it's the science baby option) to be triplets. Only starts new savefiles when you both grow old and pass away in the previous one, maybe because he can't bring himself to live out your kids' lives (they should be their own little virtual people and decide for themselves), or maybe because he doesn't understand that he actually can keep playing even if his character's dead.

Ghost starts with adding himself to your family and setting your relationship status as spouses. Oh, you have some in-game pathetic weird looking prick as your pre-set partner/husband? Too bad, evicted, deleted from the game, forgotten. If he is in the mood, he won't straight up delete that poor bloke, but will set up a pool with no ladder and drown him in it or lock him in a separate room to starve. Nothing you should see, though, you'll be plenty busy drowning yourself, not in a pool, but in his affection. Doesn't spam interactions, but really enjoys just watching you go about your day and making it so that his character takes care of your needs - if you start to get hungry, he's already slamming the "call to meal" button on the giant ribs plate his in-game self just roasted. Probably has one savefile where he keeps cheating any death back.

Or are you a cute tamagochi pocket friend/pet they enjoy taking care of, because having a real pet is impossible with their lifestyle? An NPC with an everyday quest of collecting produce in a chill farm simulator? A weekly boss they lose fight to as much times as they can afford to, just to see your opening cutscene replay over and over? A companion whose personal quest they have memorized line by line, but never skip dialogue to hear your voice and look at every expression you make?

Whoever you are, what if one day something in your code changes and you suddenly start recognizing them?

[brittle-doughie]

Eyoooooo I Uhh, have a really long au that’s been kinda driving me insane to keep to myself lately but not only is it nowhere near done, I’m pretty sure it’s already way too long to reasonably fit into an ask so, I guess I’m asking if you’d like to read it? Idrk I just want someone to share this idea with so that I don’t lose it completely. It’s a variation of the beast ancients au but things go horribly wrong both really slowly and really quickly.

As payment for a nothing ask, I give you: a character study moment that has absolutely nothing to do with the au in question I just thought it was neat.

You were cornered.

Nowhere left to run.

The last gleam of hope dying as you stumbled your way in. All that greets you is red torchlit stonework.

���Why the hell are there even dead ends in here?!’ You mutter, mostly to yourself, knowing full well there’s not much of a point in being quiet now. But your incredibly valid question must wait as your pursuer, and the one who broke off your leg has found you. Huddled in the corner, clutching a dagger and jam still leaking out of where your leg once was. He hums, an idea having piqued his interest. The loud clatter of his weapon falling against the floor startles you to attention. What you see, is quite strange indeed.

Burning Spice Cookie stands just a few feet away from you, arms outstretched as if waiting for a hug, and a colossally smug smile on his face. Stranger still, is what he says next.

“Come here, hit me, show me that fire in your eyes again, little cookie”

By far, the weirdest thing though, is that you listen to him.

Hobbling back to get a better angle, your remaining leg shudders and struggles to carry you any farther. The dagger in your hand the only thing still keeping you grounded, aware that what is happening is real. And Burning Spice simply waits, far more patiently then you ever expected him capable of. The hopelessness of the situation rattles you once again, and it spurs you forward, dagger flying through the air towards your assailant, and you along with it.

The dagger strikes true, piercing through dough with ease as jam leaks out of the wound you’ve caused, wetting your hands as you try to keep your vice grip on the dagger as your good leg has finally given out on you. Putting your whole weight on the comparatively tiny blade.

And he doesn’t even flinch

Burning Spice plucks you by the nape, holding you up in one hand as the other pulls out the dagger. Your hands fall down with it, barely having the strength to keep focus now.

“A well placed strike given your handicap. I think I’ll keep you all to myself.” He brings his hand up to cup your cheek, even after you flinch away, he remains ever gentle, ever patient. A part of you is pretty sure you’re hallucinating from jam loss at this point. That’s the only explanation for this-

“I wonder what that fire in your eyes will become. Will it be smothered-“ Burning Spice is stopped mid sentence as something cuts him just below his eye. He simply cannot help the fondness and pride he feels for you already. His grinning teeth on full display as if revelling in the wounds you’ve caused.

“Yes, I’ve already decided. You will be my favourite little spitfire.” Your head slumps, dagger clattering to the floor as your grievous wound finally catches up to you. And just as gently, Burning Spice carries you to your new home.

-ephemeralcryptid

Y/N Cookie will be a beautiful new addition to the Spice Swarm.

Golden Cheese was only holding them back, keeping them a constant in the tides of Change. Burning Spice can fix that….

And now? She can only watch as Burning Spice leaves with them deeper into his palace, their weak body in his arms.

She wanted to scream….

Run after them…

Demand he comes back to fight her….

Instead…

Between her dough cracking and coughing up strawberry jam…

She cries….

She cries for her precious treasure back….

A treasure that may not be hers anymore…..

[wigglermansblog]

TF One w/ Fallen! Reader

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A/n : This chapter is a review, I will continue it if it does well. This concept of Fallen! Reader's characteristics are based on my favourite character in CRK, Shadow Milk Cookie .

Reader is Gender Neutral

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The moment Sentinel brings down his sword into Alpha Trion chasis, he unknowingly releases an entity from its imprisonment that is far much greater than the Quintesson.

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Orion Pax, or now known as Optimus Prime is fighting against his former friend D-16 who is now known as Megatron. The High Guards, Starscream, Shockwave and Soundwave enter the fight in order to bring the new prime down to his knees.

It was 4 against 1, it was unfair but this doesn't falter Optimus and he is able to fight back against them without breaking a sweat.

Then, all of a sudden. There is a tremor and a rumbling sound echoes throughout Cybertron causing everyone to panic. Optimus tosses Soundwave to the side, in the corner of his optics he sees a crack forming— in the air...

This sudden change in the air causes everyone to stop.

B-127 look at the sight, "Oh, the sky breaking" the yellow bot pauses before coming into realization and hold his helm. "The sky is breaking?!" he screech.

"What is this? Are my eyes toying with me~?" a voice echoes through the gaps of the crack. The voice gasps, "I don't believe it! The chains that have bound me for millions of years—" it said with a mischievous tone.

The crack becomes larger and a large figure pops their head out.

"—are now....... GONE!" they grin widely. "Hahahahahaha! How wonderful!" they cackled.

Optimus eyes widen at the sight of the newcomer, the matrix of leadership within his chassis begins to pulse as if to warn him about the danger. Megatron rises up from his pedes and looks up at the strange figure.

"Awh, how I miss the smell of fresh air! It feels so DIVINE!" they grin. "Oh? What do we have here?" their (e/c) optics looks down on the small cybertronians before them. "Oh no! It seems I got myself a really large audience!" they said, "Oh I am so so very sorry to keep all of you waiting~!"

"BUT—worry not my little cybers! The wait is OVER! Your favourite one of the fourteen is here!"

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.

.

"(Y/N) PRIME!" they introduced themselves.

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.

.

.

"Who?" B-127 question, tilting his head to the side. A dramatic gasp escape from them. "You don't know who I am? Ouch! right in the spark—!" they said, putting a servo over their spark.

"A Prime...?" Optimus is confused. He never heard about another prime other than the Thirteen, he had gone through every archive but none of it ever speaks about them.

"Hey, um. Not to be rude, but we never heard of you before. I thought there supposed to be Thirteen?"

"Thirteen? THIRTEEN?!" (Y/n) said, with anger and disappointment lace in their voice. "Oh, I see. It seems my fellow primes didn't tell you about MY existence!" they said. "How rude of them! To wipe someone so dazzling 💅✨ and so amazing like ME from face of history 😡!" they pouts.

Then, their eyes fall on Optimus. They pause, "Look what we have here? It seems that the Matrix of Leadership has chosen its next victim!" they said, eyes glaring down at the matrix within Optimus chassis. Optimus felt slightly uncomfortable from their gaze, a gaze that fills with hatred and—

What do they mean by victim?

"Who are you?" Megatron hiss, the bot didn't like what he was witnessing. First it was Sentinel, then Orion and now THEM? Just how many primes does he have to deal with in a single day?

"Who? Me?" (Y/n) perks up at Megatron's question. "Allow me to re-introduce myself! I am one of the Fourteen, (Y/n) Prime—well, was a Prime to be precise—" they said.

"—but~ if you want to know more about me why don't you ask Alpha Trion?" they said, "Oh, Alphy! Where are you~? Why don't you come out here and greet your ol' friend? It is quite rude ya know~!" they said. "I am sure that you are D(ie)YING to meet me!" they grin, before snorting and close their mouth. "Oh, wait! You can't! Cuz you're DEAD!" they exclaimed.

" Well, that's a bummer!" they said, giggling at the death of their 'friend'. "I am SO disappointed! I was about to have so much FUN with you!".

"I always knew that this day would happen! Watching all of them went offline ONE by ONE in such a MISERABLE way as possible— not to mention! In the hands of a prime wannabe— that's already dead right over there! HE HEHE HAHAHAHA!" they cackled.

Elita-1 grit her dentas together, narrowing her optics at the maniac right in front of her. How dare they make fun of the primes!

"Why you—" before Elita-1 could engage, Optimus stops her. "Elita... don't, we don't know what they are capable of" Optimus warns her. "But, they—" she protests but stops when she sees the pleading eyes of Optimus. She takes a step back and looks away.

"Alright, enough with the chit chat! Let the REAL fun begins!" (Y/n) exclaims.

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[ End of Preview]

[jeonggukieverse]

Number One Fan - Teaser

Pairing: Writer Y/N x Yandere Jungkook 

Genre: Yandere/Horror Fic 

Warnings: This is gonna be a pretty dark one, so I’m going to put content warnings and disclaimers each chapter. There aren’t any in this one :)

Word count: 1.5k

Synopsis - After a serious car crash, novelist Y/N is rescued by former nurse Jeon Jungkook, who claims to be her biggest fan. Jungkook brings her to his remote cabin to recover, where his obsession takes a dark turn when he discovers Y/N is killing off his favourite character from her novels. As Y/N devises plans for escape, Jungkook grows increasingly controlling.

- Ryeon <3

Teaser

Your feet were aching. The torn-up flesh on the souls of your bare feet pound on the mossy patches of the forest floor. The foul mixture of half melted snow and mud seeped into your wounds. It hurts. But you don’t care. 

Your lungs feel as though they would shrivel up at any moment. Each inhale feels like fie and acid pooling in your chest. Your poor heart is doing all that it can to keep going. As are you. 

Your skin was damp with sweat. The once warm perspiration that seeped out of you now clung to your clothes, making you cold. You felt as though you had been running for hours.

But you couldn’t stop. You mustn’t stop running. You had to get away from him. 

You only had one chance to escape and this was it. 

You knew that if he caught you, that would be the end of the game. And you will have lost.  

A game. 

That’s what this was. 

That’s what everything in your life was and always had been. 

And you’d always lost. Cause you never paid attention. 

Even now, as your life is in peril, you couldn’t help but think back to a moment in your past. Where distraction had gotten you in trouble. 

You couldn’t have been any older than thirteen. 

You must have been. Because your teacher was Mr. Kim. The teacher whose breath smelled like coffee and Newport cigarettes. A vile combination. 

You remembered so distinctly because in this particular instance, this breath blew into your face as his was about 10 centimeters away from yours.

He was scolding you, pretty severely, because you had been caught jotting down stories while in his math class. 

You were always doing that. Always doing the wrong thing at the wrong times. Always going left when everyone else was going right. And it almost always got you in trouble, but this time was different. This time was worse. 

Mr. Kim was adamant that you had done this one too many times. You remember he had said: 

“Y/N get your nose out of your book. Writing these silly little stories is going to get you nowhere. You need to learn to pay attention, young lady. Since you aren’t taking my warnings seriously, it may be time to escalate the matter”.

Your palms began to clam up, as you knew what this meant.

“I’ll need to contact your mother” 

At that moment everything seemed to move in slow motion. Panic began to set in as you knew a phone call to mother would be a step beyond a death sentence. 

“Take this note to the principal’s office, I shall be in shortly so we can organize a discussion with your mother” 

Your mother was not a nice woman. Not nice at all.

Nothing good would come of this and you knew what fate awaited you in the grim future. 

So, you did the only thing you knew how to do. You ran. You ran as fast as your little legs could carry you. 

Mr. Kim handed you the note and as soon as the door closed, you were off. 

You ran to the only place you knew solace. A woodland area behind your school. 

Your school was built in 1898. The old girl had seen some things. Horrific things. 

Back in the 1900s these woods were used as a hunting grounds. The older students would come out here and hunt deer and rabbits. Now, it was just a place where the older girls would come out here and smoke cigarettes at lunchtimes. The ones that were brave enough, that is. 

There was something dark about these woods. There was nothing about the woodlands that looked outwardly abnormal, there was just too much of it. Like a smile with too many teeth. Not to you though, to you it was freedom. Solace. Peace. 

Maybe you were just drawn to dark things. 

You ran deep into the coppices. Past the brook and beyond the abandoned mill. You perched yourself under the large oak tree. Inhaling and exhaling hard as the running mixed with the panic had your heartrate going a million miles per hour. But now you could rest at lease for a while. 

It’s funny really. Even when your life was in danger your mind wondered away. You guess Mr. Kim had every right to be concerned. 

“Y/N! Why Are you running, baby?!” 

Fuck. His voice sounded so close. Too close. 

His footsteps hammering on the same crushed, now blood-soaked, snow, leaves and moss-covered ground. 

“You know I’m going to catch up with you. Why are you doing this?! I thought you were happy with me!”

Christ. Why was he doing this?

“Look Y/N. I’m sorry if you weren’t comfortable, we can make changes baby just please come back.”

Through the trees you can make out a light ahead of you. Not much further to go. 

“Baby, we don’t have to tie you to the bed anymore! Please, Y/N, you’re still injured! It’s not safe for you to be running when your feet haven’t healed properly”

‘Because of you, you sick fuck’ you screamed inside your head. You wanted to scream at him but all your focus needed to be on running. 

“Just stop now and your punishment won’t be too bad” 

Oh god. He sounded just like her.

The earth and muck beneath your feet had changed to concrete. A road! You’ve don’t it, you reached the road. 

You try to take another step onto the cold wet asphalt but your feet fail you. True to his word, your feet hadn’t heeled yet and the adrenaline keeping your pain at bay had worn off. 

You collapsed on the floor, the dull pain in your ankles paralyzing you. 

You hear his footsteps and his heavy panting behind. In horror, you drag yourself further onto the road. You can’t give up; this can’t be the end. 

“I will say Y/N, I admire your spirit” his slightly exasperated voice still sounded sickly sweet. 

“I’ve always admired that about you. You never give up on anything. But yet you gave up on us. I don’t think that’s very fair, do you, my love?” he walks towards you, at a petrifyingly slow pace.  

This is it. You’ve lost. Certain this was your last moments; you close your eyes. A tear, you hadn’t released had been at bay rolled down your cheek. 

You listed to the birds in the distance and the soft patter of rain and you couldn’t help but think back again. You couldn’t help but think back to how you got here. How it came to be that you would die like this. 

At the hands of Jeon Jungkook. Your number one fan. 

This is gonna be a wild ride! Im so happy to be back writing again~ Hope you all enjoy!

This fic is loosely based on one of my favourite movies: ‘Misery’

Let me know if you want to be added to a tag list 🤍

[lovelytsunoda]

F1 DRIVERS AS CHARACTERS FROM MAGIC MIKE

aka the best shitpost that has ever shitposted from lovelytsunoda on tumblr

JENSON BUTTON as DALLAS

He’s been around the block a few times. The seasoned veteran that holds our group together. Semi-retired, Jenson is now the touring MC and the owner of the club where our favourite boys perform. He’s still got it though, and that’s evident by the women that hang off him like shirtless white dudes are going out of style and they’re desperate to grab the last one. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and just how to please a woman. Looks incredible in a cowboy hat.

LEWIS HAMILTON as MIKE

He's got dreams, visions of a life where he can put his male stripper days behind him. Despite himself, he takes a new young talent under his wing, while he prepares to leave and create a humble new life for himself. Ladies everywhere know his name, and he's always the title performer. The other dancers are jealous of his street cred and wish they could all be him. There will never be another Lewis.

LANDO NORRIS as ADAM

He’s young, he’s eager and he’s attracted by the idea of swimming dollar bills and all the chicks he could possibly want. Lando Norris is green in the gills and needs someone to take him under their wing. Enter Lewis Hamilton. Lewis teaches the kid everything he knows, and eventually The Kid becomes a bigger star than he is.

CARLOS SAINZ JR. as BIG DICK RICHIE

Do I really need to explain this one? Ladies man with two sides: romantic and scandalous. Insecure about the size of his package, as it tends to scare the ladies away. Lover of MILFs. The ideas man of the group, tired of doing the same routines over and over again. No fashion sense at all. when he finally gets laid, you know damn well everybody is going to hear about it (and it might be with a middle aged mom).

CHARLES LECLERC as TITO

He's like a hyperactive puppy with a heart of gold. Brings a certain kind of swagger to the stage, but is easily distracted offstage. Has tried (and failed) to create different products and startups, but thinks whatever hairbrained idea he has come up with next is the one. Wants to go on Shark Tank. I love him your honour.

FERNANDO ALONSO as TARZAN

He's been in the game longer than some of the younger dancers have been alive. Nobody is sure why, but the ladies love him. A sweet and gentle soul who would do anything to go back in time and settle down with the one who got away, Fernando has more depth than expected.

OSCAR PIASTRI as KEN

Thinks they should 'stop giving women what men think they want' and start 'asking women what they want'. Certified sweetheart, the ladies love him. Will give you a lap dance while serenading you with love songs that stopped being popular in 1986. The baby of the group, sometimes it takes a few tries to be taken seriously. And did I mention women love him?

VALTTERI BOTTAS as TOBIAS

He may not be a good stripper, but he's the number one supporter (and the driver, and the DJ). When Jenson fucks off to Monaco, it's Valtteri who takes over as MC. Will totally win an impromptu drag race because he is just that bitch.

YUKI TSUNODA as ANDRE (magic mike xxl)

Certified sweetheart. Will put on his little fedora and suit jacket and make up a song about how wonderful you are. Because sometimes, the shy girls in the audience need a bit of love and attention as well. Even if his music career were to take off, he'd probably still keep stripping because he loves making pretty girls smile.

[hisui-dreamer]

Characters: Riddle Rosehearts, Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Cater Diamond, Trey Clover, Leona Kingscholar, Jack Howl, Ruggie Bucchi, Azul Ashengrotto, Jade Leech, Floyd Leech, Kalim Al-Asim, Jamil Viper, Vil Schoenheit, Epel Felmier, Rook Hunt, Idia Shroud, Silver, Sebek Zigvolt, Lilia Vanrouge

Notes: pick your fav from above when you read this hehe

Masterlist

imagine transmigrating as yuu in twisted wonderland, waking up in your favourite game with the fictional love of your life standing, breathing, alive right in front of you, not so fictional anymore.

every day is like a new adventure, you try your hardest to get his attention, trying to woo him in any way possible, striking up conversation, joining him in his hobbies, or just simply staring at him in fondness from across the room.

he's flattered, immensely, but it's also slightly overwhelming for him. it's not every day someone you barely know puts so much attention on you. he can't quite understand it, you don't give him a very good reason why you'd have such feelings for him, and of course, he wouldn't know how hearing his voice in the morning would give you the energy to make it through the day, how you emptied your wallets just so you could have his cards, how you longed to feel warmth in his arms in those lonesome moments. you don't expect him to understand your intense admiration for him, but it still pricks your heart when he puts up barriers between the two of you, when he turns down your advances or turns away from you.

still, you persist in your efforts. your feelings for him would never change, but you do try toning your advances down. you keep your fangirling more hidden, putting up polite smiles and nods when you pass by him in hallways, even though your heart would be thumping so loudly you almost couldn't hear him.

slowly, but surely, he starts seeing you as a friend, and maybe even something more. there's something irresistible about someone who always stands by your side, whether or not his actions were right or not, you'd be there to offer him support, cheering him on in whatever his goals were.

he decided you were growing on him, but he still couldn't fully trust you.

but then came the overblot battle. you knew it would happen, you tried to stop things from going out of hand but there's very little a magicless prefect can do to stop teenage boys from provoking each other until someone's untapped trauma gets unleashed. it's different than the games, it's not just tapping characters on a screen to fight, you're standing there next to everyone, next to him, feeling the overblot air weighing down on your body, the overblots attacks are unpredictable and you keep having to dodge at the last minute.

and when you see an attack going towards him, you don't even think about yourself, your body moving on its own to shield him from the incoming blow because you want nothing more than for him to be safe.

you feel the sharp pain in your head, you feel yourself falling, then cradled by strong arms. the pain is mind-splitting, and you barely manage to open your eyes to see if he's injured

his pupils are dilated, worry written all over his face, but he seems unscathed

"you're okay..."

you find some comfort in that fact, and everything fades to black

he can't believe he even doubted you for a second. how could he not realise you were genuinely attracted to him? to the extent that you, defenceless and inexperienced in magic, would shield him from the attack?

when the overblot ends, he takes you to the infirmary as soon as possible. he nurses you, visits you every day, bringing you flowers and such hoping you'd recover soon. he promises himself he'd be truthful this time, he'd treasure you and be there for you just like you were for him.

he never expects the words that come out of your mouth when you wake up.

"...who are you?"

you had forgotten the one person who was the object of your affection.

[puranami]

✿ It's The Little Things - 3 ✿

A/N: @leafyturtle come get y'all Franky and Robin fluff! I'm excited for this one, lotsa faves in here >:3c

Summary: Little relationship things with (currently) anime/manga exclusives ✿

Characters: Franky, Robin, Law, Kid, Killer

Content: SFW, G/N reader, language in Kid's (bc it's Kid lol) bottomless fluff ✿

(Part 1 - Luffy, Zoro, Nami, Usopp, Sanji) (Part 2 - Buggy, Shanks, Mihawk) (Part 4 - Crocodile, Rosinante, Doflamingo)

Franky

✿ Multiply his self-aggrandizing by 100, and that's how he sees you; he is your personal hype man! Every single insecurity, no matter how big or small, will be kissed away, because you are perfect, and you should definitely tell people as such. Wait, you're too shy and don't want to? No worries, Franky's got you, and he'll tell everyone himself. Loudly. No, he won't stop or tone it down; "The world needs to know how super you are!" He loves when you hype him up in turn, and uses it to show you how great self confidence is; and it will rub off on you. He's so proud when you declare how amazing you are, even if it's just to him! "AOW! That's right, babe, you are amazing!" He'll pick you up in those huge, strong arms of his, practically crushing you in a bear hug.

✿ Franky loves to make you any and all gadgets he thinks you'd like, or need. Just as he is constantly upgrading his body, he develops and re-develops things that make your life easier, or that bit cooler! While he likes to surprise you with them, seeing how your eyes light up in wonder as he shows you how it works, he loves it even more when you're involved in the building process; brainstorming ideas, designing, picking out the colour palette, he'll even let you use a blowtorch, just, please be careful, wait what was that twinkle of mischief in your eyes? Okay, no more blowtorch - leave it to the pro! It would kill him if you got hurt on his watch, he's meant to protect you!

✿ He's made up a comfy little alcove in his workshop so you can keep him company while he's working. Soft cushions, blankets, lights so can work on your own hobbies, it's perfect! Even when you were just friends, you were always welcome there, and it's become your little safe space. It's comfy enough to fall asleep there when Franky works late, and he even modified it so that there is room for him to sleep there too. While hanging out, you'll talk about everything, and nothing, what you're both working on, or you'll simply listen to music and enjoy each others presence, and that often leads to loud singing, especially on Franky's part. He'll share his cola with you too, you just bring the snacks - can't work on an empty stomach after all!

Robin

✿ Robin is very calm and reserved, especially compared to the rest of the crew, so her way of showing affection follows the same pattern. She'll put a gentle hand on your arm, and touch your foreheads together, but her favourite thing to do is to grow an arm out of your own, reaching down to hold your hand, all while on the other side of the room, smiling to herself. If your eyes are sharp, you'll catch the delicate blush on her cheeks when you bring your arm up to kiss her hand, or gently hold it to your cheek. She'll also make a pair of arms to wrap around your waist, or shoulders if you're sat down. She'll hold you personally too, but that is saved for your private quarters or the library.

✿ Part of her flirting is making dark comments and jokes; "I know the best way to your heart, dear." - "Through my stomach?" - "Oh no, that's not very efficient! It's anywhere between the 2nd and 4th ribs." She'll say it with such a loving gaze and gentle smile, and if you didn't know Robin better, you'd be worried she was plotting your murder, but that's just how she is, and you love her for it. She will also tell you all the gruesome details she finds in her books and research. Part of you suspects that she's purposefully trying to spook you so she can comfort you, but really she just finds these thing fascinating. Robin will be ecstatic if you can match her gallows humour, or if you have morbid facts of your own you can share with her.

✿ She takes great comfort in the fact that you love her unconditionally, and that you have always accepted her as she is, morbid interests, and former associations included, and she makes sure that you know she loves you all the same, no matter your quirks, flaws, and mistakes, for that is the beauty of love! You are each others port in the unrelenting storm of life.

Law

✿ Law is so used to losing the people he loves most, so for him to open up, it will take a lot of time, patience, and understanding. You can't push him on things, and will have to wait for him to come to you - he needs to feel like he has some control over the situation so he can make better judgement calls, and do something if it all goes wrong. It's nothing personal, he just doesn't want to helplessly watch his world fall apart again; he's older, smarter, and much stronger now, he will keep those he cares about safe. Once he's at that point where he feels like he's ready to be open and honest, he is completely dedicated and doggedly loyal, though he isn't very expressive with it.

✿ He shows his love through acts of service; making sure you are eating and sleeping well, tending any injuries you get in day to day life, moving you if you've fallen asleep in a weird place or position so you don't get any aches and pains, or catch a cold. Law hopes that you can feel the love he has for you in each action. He just wants to know you are healthy and well so he doesn't need to worry about you. Well, he says that, but he still worries, he can't help it. You'll need to use his own tactics against him to make sure he actually sleeps and eats instead of just working. It won't always work, sometimes he's working on things that are far too important, but he will relent otherwise.

✿ PDA is not a thing for him. At all. It's almost like he doesn't want to jinx things with the world seeing he has entrusted his heart with another again. On the Polar Tang, when it's just you and the crew, he'll be a little more open, placing a hand on your head or shoulder, matching your pace as he walks beside you, slightly gentler eyes, and the hint of a smile; so subtle, yet the crew sees right through him, and they like to tease you both. Nothing serious, but it still gets them the worst chores in response. In private, when you are alone is the only time will he allow himself to be vulnerable.

Kid

✿ Given how intense and aggressive he is, you have the patience of a goddamn saint, and guts to back you up. He refuses to lessen himself for anyone; he is who he is, and you can either accept it and embrace him fully, or you can, in his words, "Fuck right off!" It will take a lot to break through the immense barriers he has - he will shout, argue, insult, and to get through, you have to be able to withstand that without crumbling. Shout back! Show him you're not gonna let anyone walk all over you, not even him, earn his respect, then you can build up from there. Once you've wormed your way into that exclusive club of 'We aren't Killer, but Kid still cares about us," he will be ride or die with you, and when he realises he genuinely likes you, or hell, even loves you, he would burn down the world for you if you asked him to.

✿ Out in public, you get no special treatment. It's just safer that way. He can't afford to be looking over his shoulder every other minute to make sure no one is trying to get to him through you. He'll still keep an eye on you of course, but it's indistinguishable from him watching over the rest of the crew. On the Victoria Punk he will be possessive, but not affectionate. Kid will keep you by his side, or drag you onto his lap, just generally manhandling you really, there will be no mistaking who you belong to. Once you're alone he will actually soften up; he knows he's a lot, and he cares deep down, but he's still in charge, he is your captain after all. You should take advantage of this time to get all the affection out of him that you can!

✿ You're one of the few that are actually allowed to hang in his workshop, as long as you don't bother him. He'll entertain some conversation if he's just setting up, or having a break, but once he's in the zone, zip it. He's fine with you watching him work - he's good at what he does and he knows it, but seeing the admiration in your eyes is a nice ego boost. He'll make you things if the mood hits him, particularly bits of jewellery, as it makes it easier to manhandle you from the other side of the room. He's a busy man, he doesn't want to wait for you to look his way and walk over, he wants your attention now!

Killer

✿ Like Kid, Killer has a tendency to manhandle, but it's not nearly as aggressive; he's a big guy with big, strong muscles, and he just enjoys hauling you around like a sack of potatoes. It gives him the opportunity to hold you close, 'accidentally' touch your butt, and your laughter through it all is just so sweet. He greatly enjoys your presence when he's going about his day, and deeply appreciates any assistance you can offer, such as in the kitchen, and certainly when trying to manage his idiot best friend and crew, as he's essentially the de facto caretaker on board. Often you'll end up sat on his shoulders, acting as an extra pair of eyes and hands - no shenanigans go unnoticed!

✿ You have become an expert at reading Killer's moods and expressions through his mask, every slight shift of his body, and the angle of his head has a very specific meaning. It doesn't help that he's a quiet man in general; balancing Kid's incessant ranting and raving with his well thought out, straight to the point statements. He much prefers to listen to you talk, only talking when he has something to add to the mostly one-sided conversation. He loves having these 'chats' with you sat in his lap, head resting against his broad chest. Sometimes his goatee will tickle the top of your head, and he lives for those giggles.

✿ It will take a long time for him to feel comfortable enough to remove his mask, and you can bet he refuses to laugh around you for the longest time. Just be patient with him, and let him do things when he's ready, and don't make a big deal out of it if something slips; he'll be pretty mortified, so just giving him a loving smile and a gentle touch will reassure him that maybe the things he's insecure about, or straight up hates, aren't as big an issue as he believes them to be. Telling him he is perfect is appreciated, but not effective in building him up, since nothing is perfect really, but seeing you love him unconditionally certainly will give him a boost.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sense and Sensibility 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Peter Parker (reader is Kitty from Death Wish)

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: Things in your life are changing and a new face is just one of many startling new realities.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The mail keeps coming. It’s the one consistency left in your life. You go out as you do every day and lift the flap to fish out the contents. That day, however, it’s more than just the flyers and the flimsy bills. You have to shove your hand fully inside to grasp the bulky weight. 

You pause and peer out at the street. You expect the black car to pull up at any moment. At least, you sense something waiting... Or you’re just paranoid. 

You bring it inside. You hear your sisters in the kitchen. Adrienne is cleaning the dishes as Stony sits at the table. Her fingertips anxiously draw circles on the wood. 

You approach and put down the usual envelopes and a few filmy pamphlets. You keep hold of the thick brown envelope. It has your sister’s name on it. You put it in front of her and say her name. She flinches. 

“Is he on his way?” You ask. 

She nods. Odd. That means someone else delivered that. 

“Mail,” you point as her gaze remains on the wall. She sighs and looks down. 

“Take it,” she pushes it across the table. 

You grimace, “it’s for you-” 

“It’s for groceries. Or whatever else we need.” She says dully.  “Take Adrienne to the bakery. Have something sweet.” She stands and gives a sullen look to the picture of your mother on the wall. “I’ll go wait outside.” 

She pushes the chair into the table and turns away. 

“We love you,” you call after her. 

She stops in the doorway, “love you too.” 

She disappears into the hallway and you frown. You grab the envelope and open it, checking the contents. A hunk of bills pad the paper. A lot. 

“Wow,” Adrienne lifts her chin to peek inside. 

“Yeah, wow,” you echo. “Well, how about it? Scones and tea?” 

“It sounds nice. It’s nice to have nice things,” she giggles at her repetition. “I wish...” 

“I wish she could be here too,” you agree. “But ma is better off.” 

She nods with a glum expression. She’s still the baby. Still the one with hope. And you still can’t bear to bring her down. You know this won’t end well. Nothing does. Just look at your father; dead at the hands of another. And your sister; promised to a man even more dangerous than your patriarch. 

“We should bring something back for Stony too. For when she gets back,” Adrienne suggests. 

“That’s sweet of you. I’m going to grab a sweater. You should too. It’s supposed to get chilly.” You gird. 

You go upstairs as your mind wanders outside those walls. You doubt Stony will be back that day to enjoy the treat. Not if it’s up to Barnes and everything in her life and your life is now in his hands. You’re not stupid. You might put a smile and keep the peace, but it doesn’t mean you’re stupid. 

You take out your favourite brown sweater; the one your mother embroidered for you when you were in high school. It pairs well with your thrifted dress. Not that anything you wear is especially flashy. 

You go back to the first floor and step into your brown scuffed mary-janes. Adrienne appears in her trademark striped pullover. You grab your purse and count a few bills out, shoving the rest behind the mantle. As you go back to the front door, she ties her sneakers. She no longer has to hide as your father can’t rant at her for the unladylike footwear. 

You follow her out with keys in hand. Your eyes skim the street. Stony is gone but that shadow isn’t. You turn to lock the door, your mind clinging to the speck near the bushes diagonal from Erlich’s rusty old truck. 

“We should make something special tonight,” Adrienne says. 

“Yeah, that’d be nice,” you smile. You always loved cooking. You would help your mother in the kitchen often and when you made your father one of her recipes, he was a little kinder. As kind as a man like him ever was. 

You rub your cheek instinctively. Sometimes, a lot of times, he was less than kind. He was vicious. Venomous. You’re happy he’s gone but in the same, you’re sad about it. Not because he was good, no, he was never that, only because he was a constant. Losing that sort of permanence is earth-shaking. 

Adrienne takes your hand, “he wouldn’t like this, but ma would.” 

You smile at her, a bittersweet twinge in your eyes, “she would. I think I’m going to try one of their tea lattes. I always was eyeing that strawberry parfait one on the specials sign.” 

“Oh, that sounds delicious.” She swings your arm. You feel like a child again even as those years feel so far behind you. “I need coffee. Double espresso at least.” 

You laugh. She’s still young enough to have bad habits. Yours are just starting to really bug you. 

As you come up to the cafe, another customer approaches from the other side of the pavement. The man opens the door and grins as he waves you in with a hand. You look him in the face, something you don’t often do but the prickle on the nape of your neck draws your eyes up. 

He seems familiar but you can’t place him. Reddish brown hair, parted neatly and combed, a darker shade in his eyes, and a square jaw that frames an otherwise boyish face. He wears a burgundy suit and his lips slant in a grin. 

“Ladies first,” he insists. 

“Thank you,” you say and squeeze Adrienne’s hand. 

You nod and pull her inside. Your hackles are up but your doubt is just as needling. It could be genuine intuition or it could be the effect of a lifetime of fear. No, you know better. At first glance, you know he’s one of those men. Like your father, like Barnes, he is dangerous. 

He steps up behind you to join the line. Amid the crowded cafe, it is only him that you are aware of. There’s just that voice telling you to pay attention. The same one that screamed at you when your sister came home the night before you found out about your father. There’s something amiss here, and again, you can’t figure it out. 

[jhoneybees]

Re: your last post, i would love to see more fics where reader just gets to love on BDE and show him how much he deserves gentleness and affection 🥹 maybe he’s just come home from a tour that didn’t go so well and he’s exhausted and hurting, and we home make his favorite meal and feed it to him and give him a bath and read to him in bed and just remind him that he is so much more to us than just Elvis the entertainer and we love him for the person he is!!

We definitely need more of these comfort fics! Thank you for requesting!🥹

You're welcome

Characters: Late 70s!Elvis X reader

Warnings/triggers: body aches, a bit of baby talk, insecurities

Tags: @atleastpleasetelephone @another-identityofmine @i-r-i-n-a-a @theelvisprincess @thelonelyheart @polksaladava

_____________________________________________

Elvis has always worked so hard when it comes to his career, it’s what brings him joy, he tells you all the time that God put him into his life to entertain people and he never wants to disappoint his fans but sometimes he doesn’t know when to slow down to rest and that gets you worried.

So worried that when he came through the front door, dripping with sweat and grunting a little in pain your heart broke into a million shards.

“Oh honey.” You gasp, running over to wipe the sweat off his face with the towel he has around his neck. Huffing when you watch the mafia walk past him making their way into the jungle room, laughing and carrying on.

“How’s my baby, hm?” he asks, smiling tiredly as his hands go to cup your cheeks, giving you a kiss.

“I should be asking you that, are you feeling okay?” Your eyebrows furrow, clicking your tongue as Elvis struggles to move his weight from one leg to the other. “Oh, Elvis…”

He sighs but then chuckles quietly seeing your worried face. “I’m alright, darling.” showing his pearly whites as your delicate hands go over his calloused ones, looking at him so worryingly.

“No, you’re not alright…let me take care of you, baby, I’ll go tell the guys to go home and I made you your favourite sandwich and-”

“That’s real sweet of ya, baby, real sweet but I’m alright.” He coos, pressing a kiss onto your forehead to stop you from talking before you lose your breath.

You shake your head, moving his hands away from your face. Holding them gently in yours. “I can see you’re really tired, Elvis, you’re groaning in pain…you had a long day.”

He grumbles. Looking from one eye to the other, he looks down at your intertwined hands.“I’m really alright, baby-”

“Let Satnin take care of ya…she’s been worried.”

He lifts his gaze.

Reaching up to peck his cheek, you smile when he mumbles. “...Okay”

__

“Baby?” You call out, putting Elvis’ sandwich down on his bedside table and closing the door. You look around the bedroom to find him not in the room so you make your way into the bathroom and smile when you see him leaning back against the bathroom sink, rubbing his face with his hands in just his little white pants. “Hi, honey.”

“Hi…” he replies quietly, closing his eyes briefly to focus on the feeling of your hand on his cheek.

“Let’s run you a bath, hm?”

“...Mhm.”

You beam, delicately. Walking over to turn the bath on and pour some bubbles in, you grab his hand. “Now, let’s get you out of these undies.”

Then his cheeks start to red when you grab the elastic, stopping your hands from pulling his pants down. “I-I-I-I can get in the bath on my own.”

“Okay.” Watching his face, carefully, you move your hands away and grin when he looks at you shyly.

“Can ya…uh…”

“Turn around?”

He hesitantly nods, blushing.

“Okay.” You giggle and start to walk out of the bathroom, grabbing his robe that’s resting on the bed. After a few moments you go back in, Elvis is sitting in the water and you sit yourself down on the edge of the bath. “Nice and warm?” Dipping your hand in to feel the temperature, you lean down to kiss his cheek as he hums . “Good.”

For the next hour or so, you take your time to wash his hair getting all the sweat and dirt washed out and calmly pour water over his shoulders with a cup to clean his body with soap. You make sure he’s nice and clean. Kiss his cheek as you finish up and reach over for a towel, telling him it’s time to get out of the bath.

“Want me to blow dry your hair?” You ask quietly, turning back around to face Elvis after he puts his robe on. “Or just towel dry?” Looking up at him and lifting your arm to play with hair, he nods silently breathing through his nose as your fingers scratch his scalp a little.

“Towel dry…the blow dryer’s too noisy.”

“Alright, c’mon.” Holding his hand gently, you pick up his towel and pull him into the bedroom. Telling him to sit down on the bed, you climb up in front of him and begin to rub the towel on his head. Laughing quietly to yourself at how he scrunches his nose.

“Squeaky clean!” You say with a big smile after making sure his hair is completely dry, you can’t help melting at how he looks at you with his pretty blue eyes just calmly observing.

“I love you.” You whisper suddenly, talking to him in a motherly voice. Smiling when he says it back and pulls on your shirt wanting you closer, you fix his hair a little. “Okay, okay, lean back up there… get yourself comfortable. I’ll go put this back in the bathroom.”

“Don’t want ya ta leave.” He pouts.

You giggle, pecking his nose. “2 seconds.”

He huffs a little as you walk away but when you come back, he does grabby hands towards you and you laugh at how needy he can get. “Alright, alright, I’m back!”

You tap his leg to get him to go under the blankets and as you join him, giving him a kiss on the lips, your hand reaches over to pick up the plate with his sandwich on it. “Here.” Giggling seeing his eyes light up and excitedly take the food.

“Thank you.” He smiles, happily taking a bite of his sandwich.

You smile back and begin to comb your fingers through his hair.

“You’re welcome, baby.”

[bratbarzal]

On Your Side (NH13) / Chapter Ten

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy Jensen

WC: 22k (one day I'll write like a normal person)

Chapter Warnings: I'll highlight the important stuff first - poppy's part has a pretty heavy scene with mentions of stillbirth/miscarriage/child loss/birthing complications and genetic disorders. poppy is safe, cheeto is safe and it's a backstory thing so if you are triggered by mentions of those topics, it's technically skippable (you can message me and I'll write up an overview without the mentions in there so you're not missing out) and at the end of the first scene of her section, the beginning of it will be marked in red, and the end will have the usual divider. other than that, there are sprinklings of angst in here - mentions of anxiety around flying, self doubt, Poppy and Nico have their little family bubble kind of burst, a bit of hurt/comfort, long distance longing and it's otherwise generally fluffy. some sexual references but not smut. some EXCESSIVE declarations of love. like we get it. you're into each other.

Series Masterlist

Previous Part (Chapter Nine)

A/N: I wrote and rewrote so much of this I've kind of driven myself crazy i’m not sure if this chapter will be everyone’s cup of tea tbh but it’s important to the characters as I close this story up. I'd like to dedicate this to my HATERS (aka the anons I literally asked to trash talk me for motivation it actually did work lmao I love you) I know that quite a few people have found this story since the last chapter so thank you for all your lovely messages, and all the stuff you guys send to me in my inbox, or tag in your reblogs it means the world 2 me!! I honestly have seen so many nice things said about this fic and my writing over the past few weeks it really really makes me so happy I love you guys so much!! I feel like putting out the bonus chapter hopefully eases some of the tension from this one, but like I said, and like you can read in the extra chapter where Cheeto is born, she's safe, don't let my warnings put you off unless those things do trigger you!!

Nico

There are quite a few routines that Nico has fallen into with Poppy over the last couple weeks where they have been much closer. 

There’s mornings with Poppy, more often rushed than not after the two of them refuse to leave whichever bed they’re in, cuddling up under the covers and hitting snooze as many times as they possibly can before they really need to get up. 

There’s the beautiful dance they have mastered in the bathroom, brushing his teeth while Poppy does her skincare routine, jutting out his chin for her to put some moisturiser over the centre of his face and letting her rub it in with soft fingers.

There are routines in the evenings, where Nico usually gets home a lot later than Poppy, her key now on his keyring so he can let himself in whenever he needs to, finds her on the couch waiting for him, and brings her back something to eat, even if she’s eaten already that night.

And lunchtimes might be his favourite, making the most out of the times he’s at the arena, and not on the road, stopping by her office, the two of them going for walks now that the weather’s nice again, and trying all the different spots close by.

Returning to her office and going giddy with affection, pressing wanting kisses to her lips where he’s never had the pleasure of doing it so casually, before.

It’s how they’ve ended up where they are now, Poppy sat on the edge of her desk, legs spread for Nico to stand between as his mouth works eagerly at the skin of her delicate neck, drinking up the soft sounds she makes for him, quiet enough that only he will hear.

“We can’t do this,” she gasps at the feeling of teeth nipping, her ass scooting forward until it’s right on the sharp edge of the wood. “Not here.”

“We’ve ticked off every other spot,” he hums just beneath her jaw, nipping at the skin there teasingly until her body arches into the attention. “Your car,” he moves further down her neck, “My car,” and further, “Every single surface in both our apartments,”

“The dryer was fun,” she reminisces, her fingertips reaching out to clutch at his shirt.

“May as well cross your office off the bucket list.” He shrugs, smirking right against her ear where he mutters the words.

“Someone could walk in.”

“Even better.”

“Nico,” she whines as he remains unrelenting in his pursuits.

“Lucky them, getting to see you all pretty for me like this,” his hands press into either side of her thighs and push at the hem of her skirt until it bunches all the way up, parting her legs even further so he can step in between them. “Wanna touch every inch of you,”

“Thought you were doing that this morning,”

This morning, he breaks out into a dopey grin at even the thought.

All these years, he has thought he was living his dream, making a successful career out of his talent, playing in one of the greatest leagues on the planet - all that before he ever experienced co-existing with Poppy.

Coming home to her after a strenuous trip away, falling asleep with her in his arms, being woken at least 10 times in the night to her repositioning herself in her sleep, eyes drifting open in the morning and looking down to see her cheek smushed into his chest, hair matted into the small space left on his pillow, taking up half of his side of the bed, drooling onto his skin as soft snores still puff out from between her parted lips.

That’s his dream, now - to wake up like that every day for the rest of his life. 

And he had told her as much when she came to, shamefully wiping at the spit on his chest with the collar of his shirt that she was wearing, kissing and kissing at her despite her protests of morning breath and needing to pee. He had followed her into the bathroom, all privacy long thrown out of the window as he brushed his teeth while she relieved herself, and Poppy did the same, and it was at the bathroom counter where he had made his first efforts to stretch out their lazy morning together.

Hoisted up beside the sink, legs wrapped around his waist as he pressed minty kisses into her neck, nipping and sucking at her skin until she tugged at his hair and pulled him up to meet her lips. 

He had told her he could do this everyday, and had meant it. But the two of them had been in such a rush to do something while they had the time, that he hadn’t really dived deeper into the topic of it being an actual possibility.

Of the two of them actually living together. Of him giving her the key to his apartment he had cut for her, and proposing that the two of them get a head start on a nursery before he has to potentially leave for the World Championships in a week.

They then moved from the bathroom to the kitchen, from the kitchen back to bed, and then from bed to a late morning start in work, entirely too distracted for him to pick back up where his thoughts left off.

“Lost count of where I got up to, gonna have to start again.” He smirks into her skin.

“You’re crazy.”

“Your fault.” He mutters with lips pressed to her jaw, “This could technically be our last shot here, Poppy,” he leans back a little to get a good look at her, head thrown back in distracted pleasure like she isn’t the one trying to get him to calm down. “You’ll be on leave by the time we get back, who knows when the next time we’ll both be in your office is,”

“I do.” She chuckles, “In 3 hours when you think you miss me too much to function, again.”

“Hey, I was checking up on you,” he presses a kiss closer to her lips, “Couldn’t have you in here all alone, know how worked up you get after a little while without me, huh?”

“I get worked up?” She scoffs, gesturing to the hands splayed out beside her hips on her desk, “You literally can’t keep your hands to yourself,”

“Can you blame me? Look at you,” he hums, kissing at the space between where her mouth curves up at the corner and her cheeks puff into a smile. “Go crazy thinking about you.”

She places soft hands on either side of his face, taking a grip of his jaw and moving him in front of her. “You can’t sweet talk me into fucking you in my office, baby,” she tells him, unable to stop the fully-fledged smile that forms when he grins back. 

“Not even if I take my shirt off?”

The look she casts down his body makes him feel exposed, an electric tingle shooting down his spine - so much that he just wants to press into her to quell it, somewhat.

“Might be worth a shot,” she shrugs, hands shifting until fingertips dance at the sensitive skin on either side of his neck, tickling back into his hair as she grasps at it, just a little. “No promises, though.”

And it’s just as he leans back in to kiss her that a hard knock rattles the door to her office, the two of them shooting apart as if shocked by electric, Poppy shimmying off her desk until she’s standing, pulling her skirt back into place and smoothing down her hair. 

Nico takes a few steps to the side, putting a good few feet between them so their closeness doesn’t rouse suspicion when Poppy invites the intruder into the room. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Josh says with a meek smile as he steps in and closes the door behind him, not at all perturbed by the presence of Nico and Poppy, and seemingly not sorry at all, “Something’s come up and I figured I should run it by you.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” Nico says, doing his best not to sigh or grumble at the fact he has been so rudely disrupted from his new favourite part of the day. 

“Actually,” Josh steps back to block the door, “It concerns you too.”

Nico frowns, glancing back towards Poppy, who’s swiping a thumb at her smudged lips and shrugging a little when she meets his eye.

“What’s up?” She asks.

“So, uhm,” he seems nervous, now, the bravado he had when stopping Nico from leaving disappearing as he swerves around him to put the little folder he is carrying on Poppy’s desk, “It seems like the fans have picked something up from an interview you did after practice today, Nico.”

Shit.

If PR are involved, it has to be something bad.

But he’d just talked about the mood in the locker room, if he remembers right? The morale amongst the team after their loss yesterday in Philly. He hadn’t cursed, hadn’t said anything offensive or troubling.

Maybe he’d pouted a little, been a little frustrated, but that’s to be expected of the position they’re all in, surely?

And why would Josh be running it by Poppy?

“Did I say something bad?”

“No, it’s not anything you said.”

Nico watches as Poppy takes the folder, slides it across her desk and opens it, and from what Nico can see from where he’s stood, it looks like a screenshot of a bunch of tweets.

Whatever they say, it seems like overkill to print them out. Couldn’t he have just pulled up twitter like a normal person?

“Oh.” Poppy frowns, and Nico finds his feet carrying him toward her just at the sight of the expression on her face as she reads down the page.

As he leans over her desk, he sees that they are tweets. The first being a video of the interview he had done after their morning skate today, and the second being a couple of screenshots - each picture zooming further and further into something in the background.

With the paper upside down, Nico can’t quite tell what that something is, but at least it isn’t something he said. 

That’s good, he thinks, right?

The confusion must be evident on his face, because once she’s looked up at him for any sort of reaction, Poppy turns the sheet around on the table, and Nico is able to zero in on exactly what the tweets are getting at, sinking into the seat on his side with bated breath.

In a crystal clear quality he didn’t even know the cameras brought into the locker room could deliver, he sees his copy of Poppy’s latest scan, sat front and centre on the shelf of his locker. 

Fuck.

His eyes skim over the rest of the tweets on the page, an influx of capital letters and exclamation points, the words barely registering in his brain until he gets to the bottom of the page.

Sentiments of ‘Nico is having a baby?’ line up against mentions of Talia, of the two of them still being together, of all the variations of shocked, mind-blown emojis.

His heart starts to hammer in his chest as he reaches for the next page, hoping there’s a tweet from someone with an ounce of sense on there.

But this page is worse. So much worse.

‘He’s with someone else. Served them at my work last week in NYC!’

And attached is a picture from when he and Poppy went to lunch with her parents.

If this whole situation didn’t flood his system with panic, he’d be able to admire just how cute the pictures are - Poppy sat beside him, looking up at him in adoration as he jokes with her father. It’s the kind of thing he doesn’t really get to see or notice when he’s not looking at her - just how infatuated she is with him. It makes his skin tingle and his chest feel warm in the best way. 

Their seats are so close that they’re practically pressed together, his hand disappearing under the table where he remembers it sat on her lap the entire meal, her fingers either tangled with his or tracing little shapes into his palm. 

‘She’s cute.’

‘Where do I know her from?

‘She works for the Devils! Seen her at a few events with the foundation!’

Nico takes a shaky breath as the rest of it unfolds in front of his eyes. 

Poppy’s name, her job, the about us section from the foundation website, her private social media pages with requests to follow, pictures where she’s in the background or smushed into a group shot. She didn’t sign up for this, he thinks, people having such little regard for her privacy online. 

His interview in the locker room had been an hour ago, maybe two, and all they had to go off was a single blurry screenshot of a scan picture. And now they have pictures of her, of the two of them together, of her parents. They know her name, her place of work, and on the very last page, when he reads, ‘She lives in my brother’s building’ he thinks his heart stops.

“You guys aren’t in trouble, or anything,” Josh reassures her, reaching out in Nico’s peripheral and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder that he really wants to shoo away. “I mean, everybody here knew, I wanted you to see everything so you can figure out how you want to handle it. Or if you want to handle it at all.”

“What do you mean?” Nico gulps, speaking mainly to divert Josh’s attention from her, to try gain back some semblance of control on the situation, himself.

“I mean, we don’t really get involved in personal stuff like this, but I could help you come up with something to say between yourselves?”

“Something to say?”

Maybe Nico has been ignorant, this whole time, to the possibility that this sort of thing could happen. It’s not like they’ve been hiding it, not really. They’re out in public a lot together - they go to the convenience store sometimes, they eat out, they grab breakfast at the same spot if neither of them have the energy to make it, themselves, waiting in the queue with Poppy perched beneath his arm and him pressing kisses to the crown of her head.

His relationship with her has never been something that he felt like he had to hide, or had to protect, not in that way, anyway. 

Especially compared to when he was with Talia. When her social media presence became catered to hinting at the two of them. Cut off shots of his arms on tables, wearing clothes he had just been seen in, posing in front of his car, in the family suite at the arena - and that had all been before he found out she had been sharing their private pictures with gossip accounts, too. 

Poppy doesn’t court attention like that. All her pictures with him or of him are hers, and hers alone. Printed out and put on her refrigerator or framed in her apartment. Or there’s maybe one or two that she rotates as her phone background, but he does the same with her so he can’t exactly complain about that.

It’s cute, he thinks, the small ways in which she tries to keep him close. 

He’s just been assuming the two of them would be on the same page about the whole thing, wanting to keep things as they were, just between them, but also not going to extra efforts to hide their relationship, to erase all essence of normality and routine they’ve managed to build.

Especially considering the fact that for so long, even they didn’t know what they were or what they would be.

He still doesn’t know, if he’s being completely honest.

Poppy isn’t a grand gesture kind of girl, he knows that. She likes things simple, likes things easy, and as much as he might want to tell everyone that she’s his girlfriend, they haven’t really had that conversation yet. And he’s trying to let her take the lead on the whole milestone thing. He doesn’t want to push her into something she’s still building herself up to in her head.

So what is he supposed to say?

“If you don’t say anything, they might continue to dig.”

“I don’t think there’s much left for them to find,” Poppy scoffs, speaking for the first time as she flicks back through the pages on her desk. “Maybe my social security number, or my dental records or something.”

Ok, she’s cracking jokes, he thinks, casting a concerned glance her way as she finally meets his eye over her desk. 

She doesn’t look angry that he’s catapulted them into this mess. Doesn’t look hurt or disappointed. She’s chewing on her bottom lip and her eyes are wide looking back at him as if she’s expecting him to say something. 

“Do we have to decide now?” Nico asks, despite knowing the answer.

The last game of the season is tomorrow. Home against the islanders. Leaving things to chance and having all eyes on him will only fuel the fires of online speculation. 

“I’ll leave you two to talk about it, if you want?”

Nico narrows his eyes at the hand that still rests on Poppy’s shoulder, patronisingly patting at the curve of it before she sends him a thankful, forced smile, and he has to bite his tongue when Josh does the same thing to him on his way out.

The silence that lingers following the click of the door to Poppy’s office is tense, elongated enough that Nico starts the feel the throbbing of his pulse in his ears. 

His eyes are cast down, but he can feel Poppy’s cautious gaze on him, can sense as she rises out from behind her desk and circles around to his side, perching herself on the edge, sat beside the damning evidence that has caused this mess.

“What are you thinking?” She asks, softly.

“I’m thinking I messed everything up.” He sighs, leaning into the chair with tension in ever muscle, back stiff, jaw clenched. “I’m so stupid, I forgot it would even be visible, I just like having it there, so I can see her all the time, I didn’t mean for this to happen, Poppy, I swear,”

“Hey, I know,” she consoles him, pushing straight off of her desk and standing in front of him, crouching to his level. “Our bubble was bound to burst eventually, Nico, it’s okay,”

“Maybe we can fix this,” he thinks out loud, “I know a guy, a hacker, he’s really good, he could probably do something,”

“He must be really good if he can turn back time, babe,” Poppy scoffs, and he straightens in the seat, adjusting his positioning and gesturing for her to sit on his lap, as awkward as it might be. “How the hell do you know a hacker, anyway, Mission Impossible?”

“His name’s Myles, he lives over in The Heights,” he hums in response, large hand cupping at her thigh to hold her in place, “Maybe he could get the pictures scrubbed from the internet, or something?”

“Is that what you want?”

“I just want to keep things the way they are,” he sighs, “I want our bubble back. I liked our bubble.”

Poppy smiles, soft and affectionate, and cards her fingers through his hair to push it back, nails scratching soothingly at his scalp. 

“I liked our bubble, too.” 

The two of them sit like that for a minute, thoughts racing between the two of them, but the tension slowly easing, the silence becoming a little more comfortable as they both take a moment to think about what it is they want to do. 

Poppy’s fingers stroke at the back of his neck and his stroke soothingly into her thigh.

“We don’t have to say anything, if you don’t want to,” She’s the first to speak, and Nico’s heart hammers at the sound of her voice, more than usual, at least. “We can just wait it out, it’s the last game of the season, these things just go away after a while, right?”

“I don’t want it to go away, Poppy.” He huffs. “I don’t want to hide you, or pretend you don’t exist, pretend we aren’t having a baby together, pretend we aren’t-,”

His fingers tighten in their grip on her flesh, and he lets out a heavy sigh, trying to refrain from laying his heart on the line in the possibility she might trample on it out of heightened emotion. 

“I can ignore it,” she says, “The stuff online, I don’t really use social media, they can say what they want about me, about us, it doesn’t really matter, right? They don’t know anything.”

“They know where you live, apparently.” He scoffs, and despite the voice in him telling him to reel it in, the voice that, for so long now, has been telling him to hand the reins over and let her guide him down whatever path she wants to be on, the next thing comes out without much thought behind it. “Maybe you should move in with me, my building is a lot safer.”

He had been wanting to ask her, anyway, right?

He has the key in the glove compartment of his car, ready for her to claim. They spend enough time at his place, it’s the same distance as hers from the arena. 

And the timing is almost perfect. He’ll have some time to move her in before he leaves for Europe. Have some time to get her settled before they’re separated, just for a bit. They can keep sharing these routines they’ve built so well, together.

She’ll have an all access pass to all the clothes she so often likes to lounge around in, and he’ll have an all access pass to her, to all the developments with Cheeto, to-

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

What?

In what world is it not a good idea?

“I don’t think we’re ready for that, yet.”

Not ready?

What about them isn’t ready?

“Poppy-,”

“I have a meeting in 5 minutes, I should really fix myself up.”

She pushes herself up from his lap, despite him pawing at her to stay, and rushes back to her own side of her desk, tucking her hair behind her ears as she tries to make herself look busy, avoiding the way in which he chases her gaze.

What the hell just happened?

“We need to talk about this, Mohn,”

“We will,” she reassures him, “Later, I promise. Dinner at Jesper and Nic's, yeah, with the team? I'll meet you at your place.”

His place.

No, he thinks, it should be our place.

His heart hammers in her chest as he watches her, tries to get a gauge on what on earth she’s thinking, why the hell she’s distancing herself after, I liked our bubble, too.

“Poppy,” he tries again, stepping and trying to convey something in his tone that might bring her on side, might make her reconsider. 

“I can’t be late, Nico,” she sighs, “I’ll come straight over after I finish work, okay?”

“Okay,” he sighs, shuffling over to the door with the weight of the world now on his shoulders. 

How the hell had he gone from the morning from heaven, to this?

Exiled from Poppy’s office and shot down like the thought of living with him turned her stomach. 

“Love you,” he offers as a goodbye, a hand on the door handle with his neck craned back to see her one more time, to meet her eyes and try and ingrain the sentiment to her memory.

“Yeah,” she smiles, tight and half-hearted. “Love you, too.”

Nico can’t recall a time where he’s ever been this stressed in his life.

And that seems like an almighty feat considering the year he’s had, so far. All the stuff with the team, with losing their manager half way through the season, with injuries, and fights on the ice, with trying to organise his place in the national team. With Poppy, with her parents, with navigating their relationship, navigating the fact he’s going to become a father soon.

But no, 3 missed calls to his girlfriend-but-not-his-girlfriend-but-she’s-carrying-his-baby-and-he-wants-her-to-be-his-girlfriend’s phone and he’s literally having heart palpitations and breaking out into a cold sweat.

He’s pacing, for God’s sake, shoes tapping against the hard wood of his apartment as he waits for any sign of life.

They’re all going straight to voicemail, and beyond driving all the way back to the Rock and trying to retrace her steps, he doesn’t know what to do.

Despite where they had left things earlier, despite the way she stomped all over his hopes and dreams, she had told him she’d meet him here straight after work, and it’s been almost an hour since she was due to finish.

It’s 30 minutes from the arena, maximum.

He should have stuck around and given her a ride, he thinks. At least them he’d know where she was.

But then she’d feel smothered, a whiny voice rings through his head as he presses to dial her again, the same tone ringing straight through to her machine. She doesn’t want to live with you, she probably doesn’t want to be in a car with you, either.

“C’mon, Poppy, pick up,” he sighs, trying one more time, holding his breath as he presses his phone straight to his ear, wanting to throw it against the wall when the same thing happens, again. 

He can’t calm himself down. He hasn’t been able to all afternoon since he left The Rock, driving home without any music playing, coming up to his apartment and not being able to sit still for the past few hours.

She doesn’t want to live with him. She doesn’t think they’re ready.

Despite the fact that they’ve shared a bed every night, almost - aside for when he’s been on the road - for the past two weeks. Despite the fact that all he’s done since February is try to prove himself to her. 

Prove himself as a partner, first and foremost. There for every appointment, accommodating her every craving, her every need. 

He’s even learning to cook, for Christ’s sake, beyond pasta and breakfast food, and knows her breakfast order by heart. 

He’s tried replaying their entire conversation in his head, tried figuring out which part had soured her entirely to the idea, and all he has been coming up with is blanks.

And now, she’s blanking him. Now she’s saying love you with weak smiles that make his heart ache, and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

He’s pacing so much, stomping so hard, that he almost doesn’t hear the knock at his door, stopping in his tracks just to catch the end of it and shooting over so quick he almost stumbles and crashes to the floor.

Seeing her isn’t enough for the tension to drop from his body, not entirely, not yet - not even when she gives him a guilty smile and immediately goes in for a soft, sweet kiss against his bitten lips. 

“‘M’sorry,” she mutters into his mouth, “My phone died and I left my charger in your car.” She waves her blank phone screen in between them as if to prove her point, and Nico thinks back to getting in his car to come home, earlier, huffing and puffing about all the wires in the centre console and throwing them onto the passenger seat.

He kisses her back, almost in an unspoken apology for getting so worked up, not that she had any idea just how worked up he was getting, and hums, “It’s okay,” in response. “Are you okay?”

Are we okay? He wants to ask, but doesn’t.

She’s here, now. They have to be okay.

“Yeah,” she smiles, and he wants to take it at face value. She’s had a long day at work, she’s probably exhausted. Her smile isn’t half-assed or forced. She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t want to be. “The guy who’s covering my maternity is a board-certified yapper, Nico, God help you when you have to work with him. You’re gonna miss the hell outta me.”

“Won’t have to miss you, Mohn,” he chuckles, despite the fact that it isn’t entirely true. He wouldn’t have to miss her, if she lived with him, but the way she smiles back eases his worries, a little bit. 

There’s the summer to figure things out, he realises.

There’s no rush, and he keeps getting into the habit of thinking there is.

Baby steps.

She takes them with such ease that it really makes him look like an idiot, he thinks. 

“You ready to go? Do you need a drink or anything?”

“I think I’ll last the ten minutes it takes to get there,” she rolls her eyes fondly as she takes his hand in hers, and the two of them make their way down to the parking level.

Nico bites at his tongue the whole way to Jesper and Nicole’s place.

He’s trying his best to take whatever she’s willing to give him, and if ignoring the problem at hand is what she wants to do, then he’ll do it. He won’t ask her if she’s thought any more about things, despite her telling him earlier that they’d pick it back up. He won’t ask if she’s still willing to ignore all the outside noise.

Won’t ask her why she doesn’t think they’re ready to live together.

And he bites his tongue all night, really. 

It becomes easy to do so as the two of them sink into the familiarity of the team dynamic. Loud and boisterous, fun and carefree, like they haven’t got a game left tomorrow. Like they all aren’t going to have to sit and watch the playoffs play out, thinking what if, and why not me?

Like they all aren’t getting separated for the summer, scattered across the globe with the ever so slight chance they won’t be reunited again.

Not in this format, at least.

But Poppy’s hand holds his in her lap. Poppy rests her head on his shoulder as she listens to Timo tell her all about Switzerland, hyping her up for all the cool things they’re all going to get to do together, and her looking up at Nico with a beaming smile and eyes like twinkling stars.

Poppy stays glued to his side for the group picture Nicole insists on taking, sandwiched between Nico and Timo with the biggest, cheesiest grin on her face, and he thinks he’s probably looking at her as the camera flashes - meets Nicole’s eyes when she’s looking back at the photo and knows he isn’t looking into the lens. 

Poppy rests her free hand on her bump, strokes little shapes absentmindedly on it in a way that makes Nico’s heart soar with pride.

Poppy sinks into his side when he’s talking to Nicole’s brother, and who doesn’t flinch when Nico introduces her as, “Poppy, my girlfriend,” in a way that just rolls of the tongue with little to no thought behind it.

And Poppy doesn’t bring it up until they’re sat back down at the large, extended dining table, mostly deserted and the room a lot less rowdy now that a few of the guys have cleared out for an early night.

“I’m your girlfriend, now, huh?”

Shit.

“Sounded nicer than Baby Mama,” he chuckles, the laughter quickly dying down when he sees Poppy’s reaction to his words. It’s that same weak smile she had given in her office, earlier. Resigned and reluctant. “To be honest, I didn’t really know how to ask you about it.”

“Usually starts with will you and is followed by be my girlfriend?” She teases, turning into him a little more as he leans into her, opening herself up more to him than she has all night.

“Don’t you think we’re past that, though?” He smiles softly, thankful for the soft beaming light that returns to her eyes. “Girlfriend feels,”

He doesn’t want to say small.

He doesn’t want to say not enough.

He doesn’t want to say anything that might upset her enough to retreat again, but it’s what he means.

He can’t help it.

It just feels juvenile and insufficient.

She’s so much more than that.

And, because she’s Poppy, and because she can’t help but take the burden of having to say it away from him, she takes his hand in hers, thumb rubbing at the top. “I know what you mean.”

Thank God.

“I called Nia earlier, and she called you my boyfriend, and it sorta freaked me out a little.”

“Freaked you out?” He gulps, nerves settling in the pit of his stomach at the fact that taking the next step with him is freaking her out. 

“Yeah,” she sighs, “Like boyfriend seems,”

And she looks like she’s found herself stuck in the same rut he had been in, moments prior. Knowing what she means, but unable to voice it.

“Limited,” he realises, after a moment of consideration for the way he feels just when he looks at her. “Casual, even.”

“Yes!” She agrees, lips twisting into an approving smile. “That’s exactly it! You’re so much more than my boyfriend, Nico.” 

“So much more,” he hums, leaning in to press his lips straight to hers, trying to memorise how the shape of her smile feels against in the hopes that he can use it if he ever gets that stressed again. Can remember how easy she makes it to wriggle one of these out of her, to make her eyes gleam like they hold all the love in the world in her irises. “Like your husband,” he speaks the words into her mouth like speaking them into existence, drinking up the sound of her laughter when she pushes him away with fingers to his chest.

“Don’t push your luck, baby."

He comes to the conclusion that he was probably moving a little too quick, or a little too reckless earlier that day. He had told himself as much, before the fact, constantly trying to pull himself back and follow Poppy’s lead on things, because she does make life easy in a way he can never comprehend.

How he got from pacing the floors of his apartment in a panicked, sweaty, discombobulated mess mere hours ago to laid beside her in his bed, heart lulled back into a steady, comfortable rhythm, he doesn’t know.

Only the steady rhythm doesn’t make it through the night. Not when she’s clearly mulling something over beside him.

He had thought at first she was thinking so loud he could hear her blink, but when he had looked over, she was turned the other way, and her breaths were coming out in long, slow drawls - similar to those of when she is sleeping, so he had drifted back off.

And then the tossing and turning started. Huffs and puffs and mmphs that she couldn’t seem to control. Facing him, facing away, facing up.

And then she was up, trudging over to the bathroom with slumped shoulders, spending a minute in there before returning to the bed, and plonking herself down in it with little care for how he might be asleep.

Not that he was.

“It’s 3am, Poppy, why aren’t you asleep?”

“Not tired,” she huffs, arms crossing over her chest.

“You’re always tired,” he chuckles, easing his hand into the crook of her elbow and tugging to uncross them. He pulls until she’s sinking closer to him on the mattress, but her body is stiff with tension, and he just wants to ease the load. “Growing my baby is exhausting, remember?” He tries his hand at humour, but she just sighs, shuffling to get comfortable. “Poppy, talk to me.”

“I want to move in with you.” She blurts out, and he feels like he’s going to get whiplash from the flurry of emotions that passes through him.

Relief, gratitude, happiness, confusion.

“That’s what’s keeping you awake?” He asks, like the concept of her sat worrying about that when he’s the one who asked her in the first place is crazy. All this huffing and puffing and interrupted sleep, for what?

“Well, yeah,” she drags out like it’s obvious at all, “Because you asked me and I said no.”

“I remember, I was there,” he chuckles. “Did you change your mind?”

“No.”

“I don’t understand.”

He really doesn’t.

“I didn’t say no because I didn’t want to, Nico,” she almost snaps, her voice tired and her tone direct.

“Poppy,” he levels, “It’s 3am.”

“What are you, talking clock? I know the time! I’ve been staring at it for the past like 4 hours.”

Nico lets out a heavy exhale, sitting up in bed and trying to meet her eyes in the dark. “Why did you say no?”

“I said no because I thought you only asked me because it was something convenient for us to do.” She pouts, “And I want you to want to live with me because you love me, not because your building is more secure.”

“I do love you,” he frowns, like his infatuation with her isn’t the most painstakingly tangible thing in the world. “And I want you to be safe, and to be happy,” 

“Are you in love with me?”

“Is that not what I literally just said?”

“You said you love me,”

“And that’s not the same thing?”

“I don’t know, is it?”

Jesus Christ, he curses to himself, refraining from once again pointing out the time.

Is this a pregnancy thing, he wonders? Losing your mind like this in the middle of the night? Is this what all those dreams have accumulated to? Is this his fault?

“If you’re asking me if all those times I told you that I loved you, did I mean I was in love with you, then yes. I thought that was obvious.”

He’s been in love with her way longer than he feels like he can communicate at such an absurd hour, but he’ll do it if he has to. If tomorrow when they both leave for the arena, he can slip that key he has stashed away onto her keychain and can move on with his day without the stresses of earlier.

“Oh.”

“Was it not obvious?”

“I don’t know.”

“Poppy,”

“What?”

“Do I have to lay it out for you?”

“I mean, only if you want to.”

“It’s 3am.” He reminds her, one last time.

“It’s never too early for declarations of love, Nico.” Her lips twist, and his gut does in response, amusement evident even in the darkened room, eyes glistening with mirth as they meet his.

“I just told you, Mohn, I’ve declared my love over and over.”

“Maybe you should do it again.”

“I’m in love with you, Poppy,”

“With feeling,” she encourages him, shuffling closer until their legs tangle in his favourite way.

“Even when you’re annoying and you won’t let us sleep.”

“Declarations of love can’t include the word annoying, baby.”

Maybe she’s right. How can he be annoyed when she’s calling him pet names and looking at him like that? He’s so in love with her that he’d do anything.

“I’m in love with the way you press your freakishly cold feet between my legs and send my whole body into shock every morning.” He starts, shuffling himself until they’re in his favourite position, facing each other, limbs tangled, her bump pressing into his own stomach, and her hands splayed on his chest. “And when you try to make me breakfast but you for some reason can’t touch a bagel without burning it, and I leave the house every morning smelling like burnt toast.”

“I’m trying my best, there’s a really fine line between them being done and over-done.”

“Whatever you say. I love you when you’re grumpy and hormonal, and you get really specifically annoyed and nothing I do is right but you won’t tell me that so you just huff and puff like a child.”

“I had every right to huff and puff. You asked me to move in with you because your building is safer. That’s not romantic, Nico.” And despite his earlier stress and anxiety, all he can do looking back now is laugh. He’d been so caught up in the mantra of Poppy doesn’t like grand gestures that he hadn’t taken his own words into account. “Is there anything good you love about me?”

“I’ve loved you from the day I met you, Poppy, there’s plenty of good.” And when she raises a brow, urging him to continue, he chuckles, deep and hearty and in a way that wracks through him in delight. “I love how you’re kind, and you’re funny, sometimes I even think of you and laugh,”

She frowns, and Nico can see the argumentative cogs turning in her head. “Well, that’s not-,”

“How you have something to say about everything, even the way I’m baring my soul to you.” He grabs gently at either side of her face, only just smushing her cheeks teasingly before releasing the pressure and holding her in place. “I love how you’ve given a new purpose to my life. How it’s not just me and my job anymore, it’s us and our family, and I never feel like any of this is out of my control. I want you to move in because you’re like home to me, Poppy. I want to wake up every morning I can next to you, I want to finish a long day and end it with you. I want to lay awake half way across the world and think of you in our bed, in our apartment, and know that you’re safe, and nothing can get you here.

“I don’t know how I ever pushed these feelings down for so long, Mohn, because they consume me now. I’ll never get enough of you, of your pretty smile, or that really dorky, snorty laugh you do when you’re tired, or how you always put too much sugar in my coffee and now every time I taste something sweet I think of you.”

The smile she’s giving him might be his favourite, teary eyed and so wide he thinks it must ache in her cheeks. Her lips tremble slightly and her fingertips dig deliciously into his chest. 

“The thought of you being the mother of my child, of her having that dorky laugh, and your pretty sparkly eyes, and me never getting a second of peace between the two of you talking back to me, I feel like the luckiest guy in the entire world. Is that enough feeling for you?”

“Just about.” She whispers, leaning up to press her lips straight to his, cautious not to get too lost in it before he utters his response straight into her mouth.

“Great. Your turn.”

“It’s 3am, Nico,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes, playfully. “I love you too, Jeez, are you ever gonna let me sleep?”

“Are you in love with me?”

“I’m so in love with you, that if I weren’t already pregnant right now,” her voice is deeper as she moves closer to him, lips edging toward his ear until they press at the skin just below on his neck, whispering her next words, teasingly. “I’d so let you put a baby in me.”

Nico’s so relieved he doesn’t have neighbours he could possibly wake up with the laugh that comes out of him. A loud exclamation of joy that shines straight back to him through Poppy, a wide grin and shaking shoulders as she giggles back at him.

“That’s an outrageous thing to say considering we’ve only been together officially for,” he checks his watch over her shoulder, “Like 8 hours.”

“Yeah, well,” she shrugs, offering a wink he’s thankful to catch, “When you know, you know.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Ask me again.”

“Will you move in with me, Poppy?”

“Yes.”

Moving Poppy into his apartment - their apartment - had been easier than Nico could have ever hoped. 

She had parted ways a little too easy with most of her furniture, under the sneaky compromise that keeping his stuff and moving into his building, meant that she was owed more closet space as some form of compensation. 

And Nico had figured that it was only a small sacrifice compared to what she was doing - giving up the last remaining scraps of her independence and leaving behind the beautiful home she had built for herself. The home where their relationship had began to flourish. The apartment where the wheels had been set in motion all those months ago for their baby girl to be brought into existence.

He’s sort of thankful her lease situation isn’t entirely sorted yet, with her moving out but still paying the rent until they can figure out what to do with all the stuff she’s leaving behind. Even he isn’t quite ready to say a proper goodbye.

But that’s a problem for when they get back at the end of summer.

A problem for him, at least, because he knows he won’t want her stressing about any of the technicalities at that point. 

It makes him less anxious to leave her, knowing she’s safe in their shared space, and has the benefits of Lionel being downstairs if she needs someone. 

Knowing that his initial worries for her safety ended up, thankfully, being an overreaction, entirely, after Nicole had posted her picture of the group to her public instagram, and the gossipers online had taken that as all the confirmation they needed and swiftly moved on.

Knowing that Poppy’s fully moved in, and they’ve had the luxury of properly co-existing, back in their perfect little bubble for just over a week before he has to leave.

Just over a week of shared mornings, stretched out to the fullest capacity, sometimes even into the early afternoon, the two of them only leaving bed for food and bathroom breaks. 

Late afternoons, when Poppy gets home from work, and curls up with Nico on the couch, him getting more comfortable cooking for her when she ends up falling asleep melted into the cushions, and wakes when her senses kick in and she can smell food being made without her. 

Evenings sat cross-legged on the floor, mapping out an idea for the nursery that will be going into Nico’s mostly-unused home office. Making the travel plans for Poppy to fly out and meet him once all her work back in Jersey is wrapped up, and his work with the national team is over. 

And nights spend curled up under the sheets, Nico promising to show her all the parts of his world that he’s been telling her about all these years.

It’s a life Nico gets a little too lost in, and before he knows it, before he can grasp just how much he loves what they’ve built here, already, it’s time to say goodbye to Poppy.

He tries to drag it out as much as he can.

He sets an earlier alarm, despite her grumbling protests, just so he can spend another 15 minutes with her in his arms.

He drives them both to the airport for her to drive back, spare hand holding hers over the centre console and squeezing in patterns of three every time they hit a red light. 

And he had followed Poppy’s advice, begrudgingly, arriving at the airport with plenty of time to spare, which meant he could take that little longer saying his goodbyes before he really had to go.

Goodbyes that Poppy made harder than he ever thought they could be.

“And I left my shampoo for you to use,” he mumbles into lips that continue to chase his, back starting to ache a little from leaning over the middle of the car but he couldn’t really care less.

“And if I run your water bill up high enough, would you come home to me to investigate?”

“Well, when you make it sound so tempting,” he kisses her, this time, before muttering, “Poppy, you’ve got to let me go.”

“But I just got you,” she pouts, chasing another kiss, “I don’t think we’ve done enough to catch up for all that time we wasted, I think we need to try out your backseat again, one more time for good measure. I promise you can leave straight after, no funny comments from me about it.”

“As nice as that sounds,” he chuckles, “Airport security scares me, I’m not getting into trouble with those guys because my girl is insatiable.”

“You’re boring,” she frowns.

“It’s 4 weeks.”

“That’s so long,” she huffs, still holding onto the front of his shirt.

“I know,” he kisses her again. "But then we have all summer together,” and again, “and by the time we get back here, we’re gonna be getting ready for baby girl to come,” and one more time for good measure. “Just 4 weeks. Maybe not even that,”

“4 weeks. My man has a medal to win.”

His chest swells at the thought of it, and he smiles, in a way that feels like might never fade. “That reminds me,” he jolts, reaching into his pocket for what he had stashed in there when clearing out his locker back at the arena the other week. He zips down the inner compartment and pulls out something that makes her gasp.

“You kept it?” She reaches out, taking the bracelet into a gentle gasp and looking at it with eyes that shine brighter than the jewels bezelled into it. 

“Of course I did,” he smirks as he takes it back to clasp it around her wrist, looking up into her eyes with a sly smirk spreading across his lips, “it was really fucking expensive.”

She swats hard at his chest, trying so hard to suppress an aching grin from taking over her pretty features. “Promise me you’ll look after yourself?”

“Of course, I have precious cargo,” she smiles, hand cradling the bottom of her growing belly, where his reaches out to join, settling his softened gaze on the roundness of it before looking back up at her. 

“You’re precious too, Mohn.” He whispers, and he can’t help himself, kissing her one final, passionate time before pressing his forehead to hers, closing his eyes and breathing her in as much as he can before he leaves. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you, Nico,” she whispers, words meant just for him, just to settle the growing ache in his bones that won’t be relieved until they’re reunited. 

“I love you too, Poppy.”

Poppy

Poppy has always loved having a space of her own. Ever since moving into her apartment, after having lived with Nia through college and a a little while after, she has relished having a place that is exclusively hers - where she doesn’t have to share responsibilities, doesn’t have to lay down boundaries, or protect what is hers, because everything is hers.

Her comfy Facebook Marketplace couch, that she had found for a steal and her and Nico - mostly Nico - had lugged all the way up to her apartment not long after she had moved in, and holds an abundance of memories, especially lately, that warm Poppy to her very core. Memories of being cuddled up with him, large hands rubbing soothing circles into her belly to try rouse any sort of premature movement in there, while he distracted her entirely from the Harry Potter movies he was supposed to be getting her invested in.

Her big cosy bed, with mountains of pillows Nico constantly grumbles at having to remove when he stays over, cloud-like heaps of blankets that she has to trap him in so that his legs stay under, and she can wrap hers around them before he manages to stick them out in the cold. 

Shelves lined with keepsakes and trinkets - which now includes little framed scan photos, a small pregnancy memory journal sent over by Nico’s mom, where the two of them have been writing little daily messages to their baby girl for her to read one day when she’s older.

And she always thought that when it came to sharing her space, when it came to being in a relationship with someone, progressing to the point of living together, and having a home be theirs and not hers, she’d have wanted it to be somewhere that had been hers, first.

She never thought she would leave her apartment, never thought she’d haul her belongings a few blocks over, give up her couch, her bed, all the random pieces of furniture she had sourced over the years, pack up her trinkets and say goodbye to the last scrap of independence she would ever have with an all-too-ecstatic wave and immerse herself so wholeheartedly into someone else’s home.

But Nico had made it easy. He makes everything easy, Poppy has very quickly realised.

It’s all he has done since they found out she was pregnant. 

Any fears of feeling like an intruder never even had the chance to materialise in her thoughts before he was calling his place theirs, referencing their home like it had always been that way, like she was always destined to be a part of his life, like there’s more to that word for him than walls and belongings. 

He had told her as much all those weeks ago, wrapped up in his sheets in the early hours of the morning, when he had told her that she was like home to him. And she had thought the same - she still thinks the same, but being here without him, she still feels it, despite him being so far away for so long.

She doesn’t feel like a house-sitter, or something temporary.

She feels it in her new routine, in figuring out his appliances, in adjusting his thermostat and shower temperatures to her liking, in replacing some of the books on his shelves he most definitely has never read with her books, her trinkets, her pictures. Their pictures. 

It has become a stark contrast to all those months ago, when she had walked into this space with heavy feet, the weight of the world on her shoulders and the fear of rejection weighing on her heart - when she had taken note of the lack of warmth, or the personality she knew all too well. 

His kitchen shelves are now lined with books of recipes she can’t wait to cook for him when they are co-existing - when summer is over, and their baby is here, and their lives have officially begun. 

She tells him as much when he calls every night, usually when she’s making dinner, and he utters the same sentiments, his features softening into that dopey smile she loves so much when he comments about missing her cooking. He’s usually propped up against the utensil pot, watching intently as she flits around their kitchen, the drawers now memorised so she no longer has to ask him where a tin opener might be, and every time she looks over, he has this far away look in his eyes like he’s watching back a dream.

His call had come a little earlier, today, after she had sent over a voice note she had taken for him at her routine scan. It had been just long enough for him to listen to it before the tell-tale FaceTime ringtone had rung out from her pocket, just as she had been hauling her groceries down the hall to finally make it home after a long day at work.

“Did you send that by accident or is it a distress signal?”

Poppy smiles down at her phone as she makes it through the front door, heading straight for the kitchen and putting the bag of groceries on the counter.

“That’s out daughter’s heartbeat,” she chuckles, admiring the way he leans down onto whatever table he has her propped up on, heart thudding as she realises he’s still out in public, despite it being late where he is, not even able to wait until he gets back to the privacy of his room like normal to call her. “Strongest one this side of the Hudson, so I’ve been told.”

“Oh really?” He rests on his forearms and uses them to support his chin, his smile tired and exhaustion seemingly creeping into his bones. It’s been almost 3 weeks now since they have seen each other, and every night Poppy sees a difference in him - focus increased and motivation teetering. There isn’t long left, though, until she leaves Jersey. Until she heads straight for him and they finally get some time together with no other responsibilities than to be with each other. “You get any pictures?”

“Whoa, kinky,” she smirks when she sees him roll his eyes, heat creeping onto his cheeks, and she huffs out a slight sigh of disappointment when he runs a hand through his hair, and she can see the ear buds carrying her voice to him. She’d only slightly been hoping to embarrass him in public. She deserves the little pleasures, she thinks.

“Of our baby, Poppy,” he huffs, his annoyance entirely forced and the way she charms him evident in the glint in his eyes, even through a phone screen.

“Duh,” she rolls her eyes as her fingers swipe through her phone, looking for the pictures she already had primed to send over to him. 

“If you have any other pictures though, you can send them through. I'll be back in my room in 10 minutes.”

“Nice try,” she scoffs, waiting for the blue line to run the whole way across her screen as the pictures and videos start sending. “That second video, when she turns a little, you can see she has your nose, it’s so cute,” she sighs, dreamily, as she settles the phone back onto the counter, leaning down to watch his reactions as he receives them. She can feel warmth spread through her chest as she takes in the movement of his eyes, flickering across all there is to take in from the latest scan - the tiny developments since the last one, especially considering she had opted for the 3D scan despite how much she thought it might freak her out.

Seeing her baby girl all curled up, tiny hands supposedly waving, little features scrunched up in a mirror image of the man Poppy loves the most in the world - it had really set her emotions off that morning. She had to sit in her car for a good 20 minutes before work, sobbing into a snotty tissue and cursing the time difference for the fact that Nico was probably asleep, not wanting to disturb him just to call and worry him. 

“I think she looks like you,” he mutters, entirely hypnotised by the videos, lips stretched into a soft smile, dimples pushing into his cheeks, emphasising the fresh gash below his eye that she has actively been trying not to look too much at. “She’s so beautiful. Did you get copies?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna put them straight into my carry on so I don’t forget to bring them over. Got a copy for your mom, too.”

“She’ll love the nose thing.”

“It’s a cute nose,” Poppy hums, “A strong one, too, swear she’s like a sniffer dog in there, I’ve been craving mac and cheese all day since she smelled someone else’s lunch yesterday. Had to go buy a grater just so I can make some from scratch.”

“I don’t have a cheese grater?”

“Not that I could find,” Poppy frowns, having searched high and low in every cupboard and drawer when she got home last night, “Although neither of us should be surprised, Nico, you don’t even have a full set of pans,”

“Why would I need a full set? I only ever use one at a time.”

“You’re giving yourself too much credit, baby, we both know you live off of meal prep delivery.” She jokes, and he shakes his head in silent denial. “But don’t worry,” she picks her phone up and switches the camera to show him the pan set she had brought home with her yesterday, “I’m here to improve your life one pot at a time.”

“Is that how you’re spending your evening?” He asks, “Stocking our kitchen with new stuff?”

“That’s the plan for tomorrow, actually,” she smiles, picturing all the shopping she can do as she starts unpacking all the ingredients for her dinner, “My dad said he found a bunch of old baby clothes in their garage, he had a meeting this way today and is gonna bring them over for me to look at tonight.”

“Your baby clothes?”

“Yeah, I’m hoping, you should see the way they dressed OlI when he was a baby, like half of his genetic structure was colour-block Gymboree.”

“I have no idea what that means,” he frowns, adorably, eyes gleaming still with the beginnings of a fond smile.

“Trust me, you don’t want to, he looks like a clown in all his baby photos. Hideous.” She shudders as she focuses her attention back on the phone, catching a glimpse of Nico stifling a yawn and checking the time. He isn't usually out of his room at this time, usually getting settled in for the night, lounging in his bed so he gets to say goodnight to her. She doesn’t really want to keep him if he’s tired. “He should be here soon, so I’ll let you go get your beauty sleep.”

“Yeah, I need all the help I can get,” he chuckles, a finger wagging toward the cut on his cheek with a tired smile. “Text me before you sleep, so I can wake up to it?” She nods. “Love you, Poppy,” The casual manner in which he utters the words does little to quell the excitement they arouse.

“Love you too, Nico.”

Poppy feels lighter than air as she pads around the apartment after their call has ended, unpacking her groceries into the refrigerator, keeping out what she needs so that she can start cooking up her dinner - her grandmother’s mac and cheese, the secrets of her recipe finally bestowed upon her now that she has someone to make it for - her phone hooked up to his speaker system, filling the space with her favourite music in a way that already makes it feel like she has been there forever. 

She cuts up her cauliflower and puts it in a pan to steam before she gets to work making her sauce, grating an almost excessive amount of cheese and giving herself an almighty ache in her arm.

It isn’t too long before she gets a message from Lionel - him now texting her to alert her of any visitors coming up, the familiarity ironing out that last crease of imposter syndrome where she had feared she might have to run is by Nico, his concierge now treating her like a proper resident.

So when the knock at the door comes, she practically skips over, a giant smile pushing at her cheeks as she reaches to open it, only for it to drop at who’s on the other side. 

“Don’t look too excited to see me, Honey,” Poppy’s mom rolls her eyes as she pushes past her, trailing two large holdalls behind her as she steps into Nico’s apartment, dropping them just past the door before she stretches her arms dramatically. 

Poppy cranes her neck out of the open door to look for any sign of her dad, any sign of a buffer or safety net to fall into, because there’s no way in hell she’s going to have to suffer her mom’s presence on her own, right now. 

“Is dad bringing more bags up here, or something?”

“No, he got held up with a working dinner, I said I’d bring this stuff over.”

She watches her mother as she slowly steps further into the apartment, casting a judgemental eye around in a way that immediately gets Poppy’s back up, feeling protective of the space already, hesitant to close the door in an attempt to give the negative energy a way out.

She can’t keep it open forever, though, not when her mom seemingly has no plans to leave.

“Is that grandma’s mac and cheese?” She asks as she enters the kitchen, lifting the lid on the pot of steaming cauliflower.

“Yeah, she finally gave me the recipe for the sauce, and I’ve been craving it all week.”

“You’ll need to take that off the heat, soon, or it will be like mush at the bottom.”

Poppy’s eyes roll by instinct as she lets out a huff, stomping toward where her mother is stood and flicking the switch for the burners. “I know what I’m doing, I literally have a step-by-step,”

“You don’t have to turn everything into an argument, Poppy, I was just saying.” She steps away from the stove, narrowing her eyes at her daughter. “God forbid I try to help you.”

“You’re not trying to help, Mom, you’re hovering,” she scoffs, “Like you literally came over just to judge.”

“You’re so dramatic,” she scoffs, “I’m hardly judging, I’ve said one thing.”

Poppy bites her tongue from retorting, one thing too many, but something starts bubbling inside her, too strong for her to swallow down, this time.

She thinks it might be Nico’s doing, this new instinct to defend herself - defend herself to her mother, at least, because God knows she has no troubles doing it with anyone else. She had always thought she had a handle on her, could control herself, could throw quick jabs back to lessen the blow of scrutiny and shame that’s usually sent her way by her mother, but hearing how Nico had stood up to her dad, she realises she’s just been masking a problem this entire time. She’s never really stood up to her, never really let her know all the ways in which she’s been hurt by her mom’s judgements over the years, too scared to stick around for what might be the final blow, too scared of the impact, or that neither of them may ever recover from it. 

But it has to be better than this - than the constant holding of her breath in anticipation of it coming. It isn’t doing either of them any favours. There’s only so far her sarcasm will get her, now. 

“I swear you hate that I don’t rely on you,” she says, softly - not through trepidation or doubt, but because she doesn’t want this space to be one where voices are raised, where tears are brought to her eyes and lumps to her throat. “I’ve lived on my own for years, cooked for myself every day almost, and it’s like you can’t even fathom for a second I might not need or want your help.”

“I’m not arguing with you over macaroni, Poppy.”

“This isn’t about macaroni, it’s about you having an incessant need to make me feel like crap. It’s like you can’t stand that I can do things on my own.”

“Maybe I can’t.”

Well, there it is.

Poppy hadn’t been expecting it to take her aback quite like this, breath held, shoulders tensed, mouth agape. There’s a shrill, nagging voice that harps, I told you so, in her head, but it does little to help. She hadn’t really wanted to be right.

If she’s entirely honest, she wanted her mom to shut her down, again. To tell her she’s being stupid, to tell her she’s proud of her independence, and is just being catty because that’s who she is. That’s who she’s always been. 

“What?”

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I can’t stand the way you behave. Maybe I loathe it,”

Her hand falls almost by instinct to cradle the curve of her bump, like she’s trying to lessen the impact, to not let the hurt she feels seep all the way to where her baby girl lays in her belly, peaceful and darling and blissfully unaware of the pain that can be inflicted by a mother’s sharp tongue.

“Maybe I wish for once in your life you’d be serious, and think about things before you just dive headfirst into situations you have no business being in. And subjecting a baby to them, nonetheless. God, Poppy, I’ve always known you to be impulsive but this,” her mother’s hand flops almost dismissively her way, hard eyes set straight on her stomach before twirling on the spot and gesturing around them, “And all this, you think you’re being independent? You’re being careless and selfish.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Not raising her voice goes straight out the window, “First of all I’m irresponsible for not living with Nico, and now I’ve moved in with him, I’m careless? Nothing I do will ever be enough for you, will it?”

“It’s not about me,”

“Yeah, right,”

“This is about your baby,”

“Don’t act like you care about my baby,” Poppy scoffs, “She’s not just another thing you can try to control. You don’t always know what’s best, Mom, and I don’t want my daughter feeling the way I feel around you, it isn’t good for any of us, so I’m gonna ask you one more time to stop.”

“Stop what? Trying to help you-,"

“You’re not helping! I don’t know how many more times I can say it! I don’t understand how I can try my best to get everything right and you just pick out all the flaws!” Here come the tears in her eyes, and the lump in her throat, too.

Of course it would have been her mother to burst her happy bubble, yet again.

“Because somebody has to open your eyes to the fact that this isn’t the dream you think it is, Poppy! Pregnancy, being a mother, it isn’t all sunshine and rainbows and handsome boyfriends who move you into their fancy apartments and promise you the world-,”

“Oh, here we go again,” Poppy fires back, “What is it then? I gave you lopsided breasts and thin hair so now you get to ruin my life?”

“Not you-,”

“Right, like you’d ever give golden boy Oliver this kind of grief,”

“Your sister.”

Poppy can feel a rush of blood to the head.

Her what?

She knows deep in her heart her mother would never do crack, but maybe she picked up something else at one of her luncheons. Maybe she accidentally stumbled into one of those botox parties and they injected a little too deep into her forehead. 

No, Poppy thinks, she can see frown lines, still.

“Her name was Primrose. Rosie. She was my first.”

There’s a steady, softer tone to her mom’s voice that Poppy hasn’t heard in years. An undertone of reminiscence and longing. Of love.

Her feet carry her by instinct, rounding past her mother and heading for the couch, patting the space beside her and meeting her mother’s eyes with a somewhat solemn gaze.

“She was from a relationship I had before your father and I got together. I was nineteen, and in college, and I had all these great things lined up for my future. I had this concrete plan, and there was nothing in the world that was gonna take me away from it. Build a career, build something for myself, and then start a family. But then I met a boy.”

It isn’t exactly how things had worked out for Poppy, but the outline seems the same. Career focused, strong minded, independent, and then, bam! Nico.

“His name was Charlie, he was an aspiring chef, working a bunch of jobs to get him through culinary school, he was a real grafter, that’s what your grandpa used to say. He was so charming, made me feel like the whole world revolved around me.” She smiles wistfully as she looks back on that time in her life, a softness to her that Poppy doesn’t quite recognise. One that’s already bringing those tears straight back to her eyes and that lump straight back to her throat. 

Charming, made her feel like the world revolved around her. Yeah, that’s a familiar outline, alright. 

“And you know how your grandparents are, they encouraged it, if anything. Grandma is always drawn in by the dreamers, she used to tell me all the time how good he was for me.”

The lump intensifies, her blood running cold at all the possibilities of where this could go.

“Everything was so perfect, until it wasn’t.”

He better not have hurt her, she thinks. She doesn’t care how old he may be now, or how pregnant is. She’ll find Chef Charlie and beat him black and blue.

“Rosie had Downs Syndrome, we found out around half way through the pregnancy.”

For as long as Poppy has been alive, her mother has worked with the Downs Syndrome Association, hosting galas and fundraising events every year - helping raise money through sponsorships to assist with education, and to support those affected as well as their families. It’s the one thing she’s always loved doing with her - seeing her so passionate and focused. And now she’s cursing herself for never wondering why - always taking that devotion to the cause and paying too much attention to her brother’s mouth in her ear, telling her not to look a gift horse in the mouth, not to question why her mom only ever lit up in that environment.

“That’s why you run the benefit.” It’s not really a question, at this point. A realisation, more than anything, the weight of it settling into her spine.

“It makes me feel closer to her.”

“What happened?”

“Charlie, he had all these plans for what our life was gonna be after he found out I was pregnant. He was going to work his way up in a restaurant, was gonna do everything he could to support us and build something for the three of us that was more than what he had growing up. My parents offered to support, but he was so set on being the provider. He made everything seem so perfect and so easy.”

Easy, like Nico, Poppy thinks. She had the same sentiment about him, earlier.

“Having a kid with special needs didn’t fit into this version of life he wanted to live, so he bowed out the first chance he got. I made it to 32 weeks on my own before she-,”

Of all the things she can say about her mom, Poppy doesn’t think she’s ever seen her choked up like this. It makes her blood run cold.

“After 28 weeks, a miscarriage is considered a stillbirth, you have to physically give birth, there isn’t another way, so they induce labour, and I didn’t want to take any time to think about it so I had them do it as soon as I found out. Your grandparents were on a cruise off the coast of Greece, and Charlie was nowhere to be found. I had to deliver a baby I knew was already gone, on my own, with nobody to hold my hand.”

Poppy takes a hold of it immediately, as if clasping her fingers around her mother’s now will make up for having no one around to do it back then, when she needed it the most.

“She was so beautiful, Poppy. She had this little button nose, she looked so delicate I didn’t want to touch her too much when they let me hold her, she was so tiny and fragile.”

Her scan earlier in the day had been 3D, a multidimensional view of her little girl’s features, little nose, pouty lips, tiny hands. To think about the size of her in context, around the size of a mango or a large tomato, she can’t fathom what it would be like to hold her in her hands. Despite only being 19 weeks along, the thought of it makes her heart thud rampant and uneasily in her chest.

“I had all these ideas of what she could do, and what she would be, and I never let go of those, even when she was diagnosed. I had prepared myself for what life with a special needs child could be, I’d read all the books, I’d gone to a support group at the local community centre, and I’d dreamed up this great life for her. And we just never got to live it. No amount of therapy of counselling can ever erase that version of your life from your head.”

Poppy thinks about all the dreams she has for her little girl, all the ideas she already has of what she might be, might look like, might act like. To never get to see that would break her entirely.

“Your dad helped me through it after. I knew him since we were younger, always knew he was an option, but he was safe, and I always pushed him to the side. But after Rosie, after Charlie, I didn’t really want to be a dreamer anymore, didn’t want to think up these idealistic scenarios that would never come to be. Going down my own path, with Charlie, with all of it, it took me somewhere too dark to ever fathom a way out. And then your father became my light.”

Her parents have never been the lovey-dovey kind of parents, the ones that would make their children yuck with PDA or sentimentality, but they’ve always been solid. Always on the same page, always showing up for each other.

She's always thought her mom was the backbone of the two. Her father is strong, that has never been in question, but her mother has always seemed unwavering in her resilience for life in a way her dad doesn't measure up.

“Getting through my pregnancy with Oli was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but he was so easy. I never really got sick, all his scans were clear, his heartbeat strong, he moved all the time. His delivery was so quick it was like I sneezed him out.” That same wistful smile returns to her lips, and Poppy can feel the but coming a mile off, can sense her defences building back up at the impending jab, at the certain comparison where Oli always comes out on top. “And then you came.”

The you sounds more defeated than pointed. The smile drops, but not entirely, and tears begin to well in her mom’s eyes again.

“You never wanted to be where the doctor wanted you to be, you kept your legs crossed for so long every time we thought we were going in to find out your gender, we’d leave disappointed, and your dad ended up deciding we should just leave it until you were born to find out. Not do the extra tests. Let the cards fall where they may. You didn’t move that often, and I was always anxious something was happening to you.”

Cheeto’s been moving more, lately. Within the last couple of weeks, Poppy has started to feel it. Routinely, in fact, so she can’t imagine what it would be like to go days without it, now. She’d be the same, worrying all the time, thinking something was wrong - and that’s without ever having experienced any problems before. Having a previous loss looming over her head must have driven her mother crazy.

“It wasn’t until you came out after 12 hours, where they had to manually reposition you at one point when you were breached, and just as they decided they might cut me open, you started crowning. After all that trauma, you came out and you were a girl, and your dad was so happy, but I-,” Poppy sort of knows this part. Her father had been praying for a girl, had celebrated as if the Giants had won the Super Bowl. And all she knows of her mom is what she’s told her in the plainest words. She had pretty bad postnatal depression after Poppy was born. She was pretty much nursed by nannies, and Poppy had always just assumed that’s where the rift stemmed from. “I just remember sobbing. Your dad bonded with you straight away, but every time I looked at you, I thought of her. Of Rosie. They tried putting me on medication but it never really took this feeling away that something was off, and, looking back, when I found out I was having another daughter, I think I projected a lot of what I wanted for Rosie onto you. I was always planning to be her caretaker for as long as it took, so I probably tried to control you a little more than I did Oliver. And I understand that’s unfair, but bringing a girl into this world is more difficult. You have this responsibility to prepare her for the weight of it.”

Prepare her, control her, be her caretaker. She supposes they all link. It makes sense, trying to stamp this life she had dreamed up on Poppy because she never got to do it with her sister. She never stood a chance to try forge her own path, not really. Small failures in her mother’s care after that initial loss set the foundations for the rest of Poppy’s life - an ignorance to the pain she was struggling with, and belittling of her grief, resulted in someone clinging so desperately to her own control that she flattened her daughter with it. 

“No one ever prepared me, Poppy. I love your grandparents, but they didn’t set me up to handle what I went through. And despite everything that I tried to warn you of, despite everything I tried to mould you to be, all the ways I tried to protect you, all you ever wanted to do was defy me. All the time. All the way down to those scars on your knees from not wearing the pads on your bike.” Priscilla’s hand gestures to where Poppy’s legs rest between them, a reminiscent scoff falling from her lips. “I tried so hard to shield you from a life you just wanted to dive headfirst into, no helmet or anything. You never listened, you wouldn’t make a plan for your future, you attend a college doing a degree for something that isn’t a guaranteed career path. In fact, you deny having your hand held down a guaranteed path when your father offered you all those jobs. You move into a city on your own, into a high crime neighbourhood, into a job surrounded by boisterous men, and somehow you hold your own.”

There’s an underlying sense of pride that Poppy can feel now - for all the ways her mom wants to paint these things as faults or inconveniences, she also sees them as strengths.

Maybe a part of her has all a long. A version of herself from before life came at her full force, a version of her clinging to whatever surface she can find to hold on and prevail.

“And you fall in love with one of them, with a boy who isn’t safe. Who knocks on your door out of nowhere one day, and you tell me he’s there to whisk you away, and it takes me straight back to being nineteen again, to having a man who, despite making me feel like it revolved around me, turned my world upside down. So maybe I can’t stand to see you making the same mistakes, knowing what kind of pain it can cause.”

Poppy remembers the day her mom had met Nico for the first time. They had been getting ready for one of the fundraisers for the Downs Syndrome Association - her mom on edge all day, micromanaging everything Poppy did, and she had answered a knock at the door to see Nico on the other side. Her dislike of him had been brewing even before then. It isn’t even Nico she dislikes. It’s everything that he represents, crashing into her life at a time that things were resurfacing. It all makes sense, now. “That’s why you got so hell-bent on setting me up?”

“Nico seems like a good enough man, Poppy,” She doesn’t know the half of it, Poppy thinks. “And I see that he makes you happy, I’m not blind to what the two of you have, or have had for a while now. But his life, his career, it’s not a sure thing. He has a lot of pressure outside of your relationship, and he might not be the best bet for when things go wrong. I just wanted you to have something more stable.”

Poppy lets the words linger for a minute. To dwell on the situation as a whole - a lifetime of anguish between the two of them, and finally she knows the cause. 

She really wishes she could have a drink right about now. It would probably ease the tension a whole lot more, sharing a bottle of wine with her mom to really break bread. 

But the more she thinks, the more she’s sure of her response to all of it.

“I’d bet on him.”

There’s no use in telling her mom she’s sorry for what she went through. She hopes her presence is enough of an indication of that - that she’d never want to even think of her mother dealing with that kind of grief, alone. 25 years of control isn’t going to be resolved with one conversation, she knows that - knows her mom knows it, too. And it doesn’t entirely explain a lot of her other behaviours, either, so it probably isn’t going to be the only heart to heart they have. But all she can now do is explain herself. Tell her side of the story she’s trying to write for herself and hope her mom ends up too invested in the ending to close the book completely.

“I’d bet everything I have that he won’t let me down. And you might think that’s shortsighted, or naive, but I need it to be enough for you. What Nico and I have, it started off impulsive, and a little chaotic, and messy, but I promise you, it’s stable. We’ve both put a lot of work into what we have to make it safe, I really need you to trust me on that.” 

And Poppy isn’t saying it for argument’s sake. She isn’t trying to defend something she isn’t sure on, herself. Nico would never leave her when things get hard, he’s proven as much to her already. He’s taken the baby steps, he’s integrated her entirely into his life, into his family, into his home - and even disregarding all that, it isn’t in his character. He’s loyal, and supportive, and honest. He won’t let her down.

“I may be a little hard-headed, and defiant, and stubborn when it comes to what you want for me, Mom, but I would never be reckless when it comes to what’s best for my baby.”

“I understand what you’re saying, Poppy, but I thought Charlie was the best-,”

“Nico isn’t Charlie.”

She feels a little harsh to say it, but it’s the truth. Her mom can’t hold her own misfortunes over Poppy for the rest of her life, it isn’t fair.

“And as much as you might think I’m not prepared enough to come to that conclusion, that I don’t know until something happens, I know him. And I know myself. I’ve spent years trying to push these feelings that I have down and it’s done nothing but hurt me. If you gave him a chance, you’d have seen it for yourself, he doesn’t give up, not for anything.”

There’s another prolonged silence as her mom mulls on her thoughts, and Poppy can practically see the transition of emotions pass through her. Hesitation, doubt, confusion, deliberation, and then finally, acceptance. 

“Maybe when the two of you get back from your time in Europe, we can put that to the test.”

Poppy can feel her face drop, mouth agape, eyes widened, brows raised, but she can’t find it in her to care how dramatic she might look. Her mother, who would rather have her hands hammered or swallow nails than admit she may have been wrong, is willing to give her a real shot to prove herself to her.

“You’ll really give him a chance?”

“Let’s not be rash. Baby steps, darling,” her mom rolls her eyes playfully.

Poppy can’t quite believe the serendipity of the situation.

It had been in this exact spot, in this exact apartment, that those words had been uttered to her those few months ago. Hands held between her and Nico, and a promising glint in his eyes and certainty to his tone. 

And she feels the same optimism that she had back then.

She feels her face break out into an almost aching grin, tears welling at her eyes as she leans in to hug her mom, feeling the gentle rub of maternal comfort ease into her spine. 

She invites her mom to stay for dinner, the two of them working in tandem to make her grandmother’s mac and cheese, Poppy actually accepting her mother’s helping hand, and they eat together while Poppy catches her up on all the latest with her scans and tests, and all the ever developing symptoms of her pregnancy.

And as she burrows herself into her and Nico’s bed later in the night, body swallowed in sheets that smell of his detergent, surrounded by everything that reminds her of him, she just feels warm all over.

She thinks to herself that maybe this place is magic. Maybe he’s magic, healing a lifelong rift between her and her mother from over 4,000 miles away. 

And there’s no maybe about the fact that she can see forever with him. 

That, she’s sure of.

Poppy has never had any issues when it comes to flying. 

Having being fortunate enough to have vacationed with her family every year up until she turned 16, and her parents stopped inviting her, she’s never been bothered by planes or airports or travel.

In fact, she quite likes the whole process. Packing everything meticulously into little cubes, organising those into co-ordinated cases pulled at either side of her body as she ambles through the terminal, mooching around the shops for little trinkets and stocking up on copious amounts of candy. Lounging around her gate until it’s time to board and settling it in, ears cushioned by thick headphones and a nice mellow playlist to calm the chaos of her day so far, or to set the mood for the flight ahead. She likes watching in-flight movies, even likes the gross in-flight meals, always food she’d never dream in a million years of eating outside of whatever tin can she’s residing in for the next few hours. She doesn’t even mind turbulence.

But she hasn’t travelled such a long distance in a few years.

And she has never done so whilst pregnant.

All the glamour of travelling overseas, along with all the small pleasures she has found over the years, is quickly outweighed by the fact she now has to wear compression socks. Now has to keep drinking water throughout the day, which means she has to keep peeing, keep walking around despite the muscles at the bottom of her back begging her to sit back down.��

And she had thought in the days leading up to her flight that she had been keeping a brave face on her daily calls with Nico, not letting her stress about the whole thing impact his mood, or his focus leading up to semifinals of the world championship, but she’s never been so thankful for someone’s stubborn perception than when she had opened her door the night before her flight to see his sister stood on the other side of it.

“Nina?” She asks, dumbfounded, before slender arms are thrown around her, rubbing gently at her back as she sways a little into the cuddle.

“Hey, travel buddy!”

“What’s going on, what are you doing here?” Poppy asks as she welcomes her in, heart jumping erratically at the sight of her. Nina was supposed to meet her on the other side of her flight, being her ride from the airport to the hotel while Nico would be in training, and she kind of feels like her nerves have manifested her into the apartment like some sort of thirst-induced mirage. 

“Nico was getting all antsy at the thought of you travelling alone, so I’m supposed to say we decided as a family for one of us to come out and travel with you, but the truth is I may or may not have been bribed.”

“What did he bribe you with?”

“Said you’d name your daughter after whoever came.” She smiles victoriously as she makes her way through the apartment with ease, throwing herself onto the couch, just beside where Poppy has two big open cases splayed out on the floor, almost fully packed. “I had to literally pull my mom out of a cab to beat her to the airport.”

“Sounds just like the kind of Hischier family dynamics I was promised, to be fair,” Poppy chuckles, joining her in the living room and perching herself on the floor beside her cases, carrying on with her previous task of organising that she had been preoccupied with before the mysterious knock at the door. “You’re just in time actually, I was about to order some food, I’ve cleared out the refrigerator so you can take your pic of what we get if you want!”

Nia had been around earlier in the afternoon, and had helped Poppy prep the apartment to be left empty for a few months, which included clearing out all the perishable food and hauling it down to the waste disposal  room because the bag wouldn’t fit down the chute, and neither of them wanted to be held responsible for clogging it up for the whole building. She had helped her figure out what to pack, as well as bring over some travel essentials she had picked up from CVS, creating a little kit for Poppy to take on the plane with her.

Face mist, hand sanitiser, an eye mask, ear plugs and intensive lip balm - a lifesaver considering the amount Poppy has been nervously chewing on her bottom lip for the past few days straight. 

And then she had left, in an emotional goodbye where Poppy had waited until Nia was in the elevator to burst into tears, distraught at the thought of not seeing her best friend for the next few months.

It isn’t the first time they’ve ever been apart this long, but Nia has been her rock throughout her pregnancy, and leaving her behind just as all the fun parts of the whole experience are starting to kick in feels sad. But with promises made to call as often as possible, and assurances that Nia will spend the next few months meticulously planning a welcome home-baby shower hybrid, the tears soon cleared up as Poppy distracted herself making sure she wasn’t forgetting anything. 

“Aren’t you craving anything?” Nina asks as she slips down onto the floor beside her, the two of them kneeling next to each other. 

“To be honest, I felt sick before you got here, so I hadn’t really thought about it.” Poppy shrugs. She had been planning to go to bed, try and sleep away her anxiety, but she doesn’t want to seem irresponsible, not to Nina. “There’s a really great Italian place not too far from here that delivers, though. And now that you mention cravings they do these little tubs of tiramisu and if I don’t get one before I leave it’s all I’ll think about for the next four months.”

“I’m sold, we could share if you’re not too hungry.”

“We’ll share pasta, I share dessert with no one.”

“That’s fair,” Nina chuckles as she helps Poppy push herself up, her bump becoming more of a hinderance to her usual habits with every day that passes.

She ambles over to the TV console where her phone had been discarded and works at ordering the two of them dinner through her PostMates app, agreeing to share some lasagne and get a tub of dessert each.

Nina helps her sort her cases until they’re ready to zip up, and agrees to do one final check of her bag she’ll be taking on the plane so she has a fresh set of eyes to suggest anything else she might need.

“You know your hotel room will have pillows, right?” Nina scoffs, pulling one of the pillows from Poppy’s bed out of the carry-on. “Why do you have one in your bag?”

“You’re gonna think I’m crazy.” Poppy sighs, collapsing onto the couch with a heavy sigh.

“You’re having a baby with my little brother, Poppy, that ship has already sailed.” She laughs, turning to look at Poppy with the same look Nico usually gives her, exasperated somewhat but entirely fond. It makes her miss him that much more. The same dark chocolate eyes, same dimpled smile. “Promise I won’t judge, girl talk is a safe space.”

Poppy smiles, fond in her own way.

She hasn’t spent much time alone with Nina. They’ve met a few times before, hung out with Nico, with his parents, with the team - at bars, restaurants, even the arena - and Poppy remembers a couple times where Nina and her had both uttered the same sentiment. It’s nice to have another girl around. 

“I haven’t washed his pillowcase since he left,” she admits, feeling her cheeks flush already, "And I just carry it around the apartment and sniff it sometimes when I miss him.” It only barely smells like him still, but it had gotten her through those first two weeks more than she’d like to admit, shuffling over to his side of the bed to breathe him in every morning like he’d only gone out for training, and would be back before she knew it.

“Yeah, that’s weird.”

“You said no judging,” Poppy pouts.

“I lied.”

“I was gonna take it on the plane with me tomorrow.” Her flight is in the late afternoon, and she has no doubts around the fact that once her butt touches base into her designated seat, she’ll be out like a light. If it weren’t for her constant need to pee, and warnings to have intervals on her feet, she would hope to sleep the whole way through. What’s better than closing her eyes in one country and waking in another? The miles between her and Nico reduced to mere double-digits, she can’t wait for this heaviness on her chest to dissipate into nothing the second she’s breathing the same air as him. “Figured if I’m gonna be uncomfortable for 9 hours straight it might help.”

“So happy that you’re reuniting soon, because I think you’ve lost your mind,”

“Yeah,” Poppy sighs in agreement, because there’s really no use denying it, now. A month without him, longing to be with him, missing him in even the most mundane ways has well and truly sent her off the handle. Nia had told her as much, earlier, too. And Luke when she’d text him asking if he happens to see Nico in passing while he’s overseas to please send her pictures like a crazed stalker. “I thought I’d be better at this whole thing, but I miss him more than I ever have before.”

“That’s cute,” Nina smiles, sympathy glimmering in her dark irises as she tilts her head and watches the way Poppy’s own features shift.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“He has this thing whenever he talks about you, like his eyes get all animated and turn into hearts,” she smirks, “Yours do the same. It’s sweet.”

Poppy feels her mouth stretching, a deep smile tugging at each corner of her lips. “Cheeto kind of does the same thing, shuffles a little in my belly when she hears him.” She’s noticed it the last few days, slight movements whenever Nico calls, whenever his voice rings out from the confines of her phone and warms her entire body. And despite everything she reads online about how it isn’t possible for her baby to hear anything outside of her body yet, she doesn’t care. Maybe it’s a reaction to the way Poppy’s heart sings for him, instead. 

“Baby Nina, you mean?” Poppy rolls her eyes fondly as Nina settles beside her on the couch. “Are you sure she isn’t trying to shield herself from how sickening the two of you are?”

“Possibly,” Poppy’s lips twist, “I can’t believe I’m sat here whining about how much I miss him when it’s been a few weeks, you don’t get to see him for most of the year.”

“It’s different,” Nina places a comforting hand on Poppy’s arm, “You two are building a life together, as much as he’s my brother and I love him, my world doesn’t revolve around him like your world does.” Poppy nods, mulling that fact over in her head. “That came out sounding worse than I meant, I think-,”

“No, not at all,” she reassures her, shifting her arm to take her hand, “You’re right, it’s so weird being at this phase of my pregnancy and trying to wrap my mind around how everything is gonna work and him not being here, it’s a little like a mental block.”

Having her world revolve around him isn’t a bad thing, she doesn’t think. 

Telling the Poppy from a year ago that she’d be at peace with having her world revolve around any man would have had her throwing punches. Telling the girl who valued her independence like her hottest commodity - who barely liked to share her time, let alone her space, her day, her bed, with anybody else - that she would have moved in with her boyfriend, ready to start a family together and planning their final child-free summer over text threads would have been like telling her the moon was made out of cheese.

Ludicrous, but ever so slightly intriguing.

But it’s all so familiar now. All so right.

“One more day, Poppy,” Nina just so happens to echo the sentiment that Poppy has been telling herself all day. All week, all month, ever since that day outside the airport, counting down the days until this one, twisting the bracelet around her wrist nervously as if it’s a tether straight to him. “This time in 24 hours, we’ll be almost there.”

One more day, she repeats in her head, nodding with a smile to Nina and taking a deep breath.

She can do one more day.

Only one more day turns into almost two until Poppy is reunited with Nico.

She thinks she cursed herself, if she’s honest, whispering to her bump just before she had gone to sleep that night that they would be reunited with daddy before either of them knew it.

And then the travel day from hell occurred.

She thinks if she didn’t have Nina, she would have had an almighty breakdown - but every time she looked over and met those warm eyes, the tears in her own dissolved.

It had started with traffic on the way to the airport, a police incident on the skyway tripling the usual 20-minute travel time, and the only thing Poppy could find to be grateful for is that they had got an Uber instead of her driving, knowing her stress would have been tenfold if she was stopping and starting all the time. 

Lucky for her, she always allows for delays in her planning, and they made it to the airport with plenty of time to spare, check-in going without a hitch, thankfully, and still giving them time to peruse for snacks to keep Poppy’s cravings at bay for the 9 hour flight ahead.

Time that, in the end, didn’t matter, because their flight kept getting delayed. 

At first it was an hour, a problem with the initial departure of the inbound plane, and Poppy could deal with that. They were due to land in the early hours of the morning in Prague, anyway, so getting there an hour later didn’t really bother her. She had Nina for company, an abundance of snacks, and access to clean toilets in the airport lounge. She could have been trapped on the tin can, so all things considered an hour was too little of a delay for her to get worked up about.

That hour soon turned into two, which turned into three, and Poppy could feel her resolve dwindling as she watched the clock tick down. The first hour was more of an inconvenience than a problem. The second hour meant she probably wouldn’t make it to the hotel in time to spend some time in the room with Nico before he left, which was disheartening, but not entirely earth shattering. The third hour meant she wouldn’t get to see him at all before he left for the arena. 

Nina was trying her best to keep on top of Poppy’s nerves, but even the power of those glimmering Hischier brown eyes couldn’t outweigh a delayed flight and an irksome lack of communication from the airline. 

The only silver lining to the whole situation is the depth at which two people can bond when forced to just sit and wait together.

She learns more about Nina than Nico could ever tell her - about her career, her passions, her interests. Her love for volleyball, and various other sports, for travel, including her bucket list of countries to visit, and an already-planned itinerary of what she would want to do in each one. The two of them shared stories of their own travels over the years, gushing over secret spots they had both visited in the few spots they shared an interest in. Nina regaled Poppy with childhood stories of Nico, ones even her parents weren’t privy to - and it reinforces a lot of the things Poppy has learned herself about him over the years - of his love for learning, always wanting to educate himself, better himself. His love for trying new things, and how, despite being the youngest sibling, always encouraged his brother and sister to do the same. 

They talk about music, about movies and TV shows, fashion, podcasts, food, their differing experiences in college, and by the time it is finally time to board their flight - after replenishing their stock of snacks - their conversation carries on seamlessly until half the journey has passed, almost. 

Talking to Nina is easy. She’s friendly and charming, in a way Poppy is sure must run in their genes - hopes it does, and is passed down to her daughter like their brown eyes and dimpled smiles - and there isn’t a second of hesitance when it comes to her caring for Poppy like a little sister.

It’s the kind of sibling bond she has never really had before.

Her and Oli didn’t argue that much when they were kids, but their difference in age created an unmovable barrier between the two of them, and so they were never as close as the Hischier siblings appear to be.

It makes Poppy think of her mom, again. Think of Rosie, and the what-if of growing up with a big sister, herself. Would they have bonded over things like clothes and music? Would they have been each other’s shoulders to lean on? Knowing that it was ever a possibility makes her feel a lack that wasn’t there those couple of weeks ago, when she hadn’t ever known of her sister’s existence. 

And she knows it’s strange to hope that building a relationship with Nina might fulfil that - edging herself into whatever gap the Hischier family might leave for her might make up for this gap in her own heart that now she feels will never be filled again - but spending the day with her makes her long for something she never spared a thought to before now.

She looks after Poppy in the way a big sister would, too. Makes sure she’s getting up and walking around intermittently, makes sure whenever the beverage cart comes around, she’s ordering refreshments to make sure Poppy stays hydrated. She keeps a watchful eye on the WC when Poppy starts shifting in her seat, lets her know when the vacant sign lights up above the door so Poppy can amble over and relieve the growing pressure on her bladder from trying to constantly drink. 

And when Nina finally lets herself drift off, Poppy can’t help but stay awake, teary eyed, wondering how she ever got so lucky.

How she was lucky enough to have a partner like Nico, so in tune with her emotions that he sent his sister over to keep her company when she didn’t even know at that point it would be exactly what she needed. How she was lucky enough to have an extended family that cared enough about her to agree to it, to fight over the responsibility, as Nina had implied her and Katja had done. How she was lucky enough to get on so well with Nina, to talk to her almost non-stop for hours on end, to bond over their appreciation of so many things that stretches so far beyond their shared love of Nico. 

She gets so caught up in her appreciation that she eventually drifts off with a dopey smile on her face, the dimmed lights of the cabin soothing her to sleep for the rest of their flight, and she lets the contentment she feels seep into her bones so much that when they’re delayed another hour on the tarmac when they land, she doesn’t let it get to her. When she's stuck behind a group of pensioners who don't know how to operate the scanners at passport control, she withholds her huffs and puffs. When her bags are the last to come out on the luggage carousel, she refrains from complaining.

She’ll see him, soon. She might not get her hour alone in their hotel room. She might not get her kiss goodbye in the hotel lobby. She might not even, at this rate, catch the beginning of the game, despite it being the only thing the two of them have talked about for weeks - the possibility of the team making it to the finals in the world championships, to her getting to see him live out his dreams live in action. Between taking her bags to the hotel and travelling to the arena with Nico’s family, not yet accounting for the inevitability of further traffic on her way, because that's just her luck, she’s probably going to get there part way through the first period, and the optimistic part that remains within her tells her, at least she's getting to see him at all.

But she’s in the same country, now. When she gets out of this god forsaken airport, she’ll be breathing the same air, kind of. And the months, that turned to weeks, that turned to days, have now turned to hours. 

She can definitely do hours.

She can do anything for Nico.

In all the lead up to Poppy flying out to Europe to meet Nico, the two of them had never really accounted for it turning out like this.

If she really thinks back on it, she thinks she was giddy, too caught up in the romance of it all, of the whirlwind nature of everything that unfolded - of flying overseas to be with him, of preparing to spend the summer together, surrounded by his family, in his favourite place on earth, of getting to watch him play again like the weight of the world isn’t on his shoulders.

The ending to the Devil’s season had been tough - and he would never show it, not to Poppy, not when the two of them were spending so much time together, but it had taken a toll on him. She knows Nico doesn’t back down. She had told her mom as much. Nico doesn’t fold to pressure. He builds himself back up, builds those around him back up like the true captain he is, and he never lets the outcome of a game get to him. 

For most of the season, there’s always the next game. Always room to improve, always a chance to claw things back in his favour. But those final few months, with playoff contention just slipping further and further out of his reach, his relationship with his own game had suffered a little.

She would watch him come home with a slump in his shoulders, eased away only by her gentle embrace. Would take notice of the way he would talk about work less, shifting the subject or speaking in phrases without much heart behind them.

And seeing the spring return to his step at the thought of playing in the world championships, of initially captaining his national team, had flooded her with pride, and with hope.

Every time the team progressed, their plans would change.

The first plan had been to meet him at home in Switzerland. She had work to wrap up, keeping her in Jersey, and he was going to get his apartment over there ready to fit the two of them for the inevitable future. And then the team kept progressing. Kept winning. And plans to fly out and stay with just him turned into plans to fly out and stay with the family, his opportunity to get things ready getting shorter and shorter the better they played.

And then rolled round the quarter finals. The semi finals only two days after, the day before she was set to fly out - and no matter what the result of that game was, she would be jetting off to Prague, instead.

And she hadn’t really said it to him, not wanting to jinx anything, but it was like she had known somewhere in her heart that he would make it all the way to the end.

It’s what Nico does. He fights tooth and nail to get to where he wants to be, and she knows, after the season the Devils had, that Nico wanted that gold medal more than anything. 

And when she had been sat on that plane, waiting on the tarmac for the delayed opportunity to disembark, and had decided at that point that there was nothing she wouldn’t or couldn’t do for the man she loved, she hadn’t entirely prepared herself for the possibility that anything could mean consoling him after such a heartbreaking loss.

She would like to think she’s good at comforting him, would like to think she’s mastered it over the years of knowing him. In those first years of their budding friendship, where she might have seen him after a few games, he might have dropped by her desk, or later her office, in the days after a game, she’d do her best to pick him back up. Some dumb jokes, a hug or two, eyes meeting and sticking in what she now remembers as a heated gaze until he would melt, would give a bashful smile and crack a joke back.

And that had progressed to him coming over to her apartment. To collapsing onto her couch with a heavy sigh and trying to blend himself into her routine, to erase the part of himself that hurt and cover it up with the part of himself she made feel better.

He picked up the same sort of habits when the two of them had fully reconciled, seeking solace in just her company, even if they weren’t properly together at that point. Comforted by fleeting touches, the holding of each other’s gaze, and all the soft, affirming words spoken between the two of them. And by the end of the season when they were together, it was by intimacy, the moments shared underneath her sheets that weren’t explicit, the bump of noses, the fluttering of lashes against cheeks, the soft whispers of unspoken worries that were trapped by a duvet pulled over their heads, their doubts not allowed to seep out into the blissful world they’re trying to create together.

But this kind of pain is a crease she fears can’t be ironed out by the simplicity of touch. Of kisses in the dark, of hands on hearts and legs intertwined.

When she hears the soft beep of his key card to his hotel room, listens for the heavy footsteps that carry him down the hall, and looks up to see the man she loves, defeated and remorseful, in front of her, her resolve shatters into a million pieces. 

For all the lows she has held his hand through, nothing compares to this moment. 

That night in the bar at the end of the season last year, where she had rested her head on his chest and heard the clunky beat of his broken heart, doesn’t even come close.

It’s the rattle of a shaky breath he lets out that has her own heart breaking, shooting up from where she had been perched, picking at her fingers nervously on the edge of the hotel bed, and launching herself at him.

She pulls her body straight into his, wrapping her arms around him in the hopes that such a small gesture could ever possibly convey the love she has for him.

She had thought seeing his sorrow blasted across the jumbotron earlier in the arena had hurt. She had thought their initial, rushed reunion after the game, where he had put on a brave face and told her he would meet her back in the room, the pressure of his kiss the only giveaway to his internal anguish, was bad. 

But this is so much worse.

Holding him as he chokes out a sob, the initial flimsy wrap of his arms around her turning into fingers clutching with a white knuckle grip at the shirt on her back, trying to conceal his pain through muscles that tense around her, restricting his shaking frame from giving his emotions away.

She holds him for as long as she feels like he needs to be held, until that tension eases a little, those shaky breaths even out, and his body starts to sway a little.

When their bodies part, she can’t bring herself to entirely leave his orbit, pressing kisses to wherever she can reach as he basks in her affections, eyes fluttering closed like he’s still trying to hide from her.

“I’m so sorry you didn’t get your dream, baby,” she hums into the corner of his mouth, leaning a little to press a gentle kiss to the scar forming deep into his cheek, his neck craning to make it easier for her to reach.

His eyes squeeze tighter, keeping the warmth of his irises from her softened gaze, and she’s too close to see the bob in his throat, but she does see the clench of his jaw, stress still present in every fibre of his being. She wants to be his relief, wants to be the one to make things okay, make things better, but even she knows sometimes that isn’t for the best.

He needs to let these emotions, as heavy as they are, pass through him. He shouldn’t have to cover them up just to make her more comfortable, make their time together more enjoyable. She has the rest of her life to enjoy him, if he’ll let her.

So she clutches at the shirt covering his chest and pulls him back toward the bed, sitting him down and perching herself beside him, a comforting hand on his lap and a shoulder ready for him to cry on, literally.

She doesn’t even have to prompt him, then, to open up - the nature of their relationship thus far prevailing in the way he sniffles, turns to her with knees knocking, and starts to fiddle with her fingers resting on his thigh.

“I feel like this was my last chance to prove something,” he starts, his voice hoarse and his posture folding, “This year has just been so rough, you know?”

Poppy nods, because she does know, even if he hasn’t explicitly said it before now. Nico wears his resilience like armour, but she sees him when he’s bare. When the clunky metal that protects him from everyone else is removed, and his vulnerabilities are exposed, only to her. She sees the heavy sighs, the slumped shoulders, the forced smiles. She sees discomfort, unease, exhaustion.

“We got hit by all those injuries, and we didn’t make the playoffs, and the boys were all so down, and I,” he lets out an elongated exhale, tongue swiping out to wet the corner of his mouth, “I feel like I’m not living up to what’s expected of me, or what I expect of myself.”

She rubs soothingly at his knuckles, biting her tongue to withhold from telling him that’s he’s everything and more, because it isn’t what he’s asking of her. 

“I just needed a win.” He chokes out, and as a tear slips from his watery eyes, Poppy reaches to catch it with her thumb, swiping at his skin. “I just needed to feel like I could achieve something like this before it slips away from me.”

“Where is it slipping away to?” Poppy frowns, letting her touch linger on his cheek. 

“We’re having a baby, Poppy,” he speaks through swollen lips, glassy eyes meeting her gaze in the dark of the room. “When she comes, my dreams are gonna be different. My priorities will be different, I owe it to the two of you to be better. You deserve better.”

“It’s not one thing or the other, Nico.”

“Isn’t it?” He asks, “I have to put you first-,”

“You already do.” 

“It won’t be enough when she comes, it’s not fair to either of you,”

“Says who?”

“Says everybody. Says Talia, says your mom, says me chasing this stupid medal and leaving you to travel half way across the world on your own while you’re 5 months pregnant only for me to lose-,”

“Stop it,” she commands him, firm, despite the growing ache in the back of her throat, both hands clasped on either side of his jaw and levelling him with a stern look. “You don’t have to give me any more of yourself to be enough, Nico. I wasn’t on my own, I had Nina, because you have this little section of your beautiful brain,” she taps on the side of his head to point it out, “That, despite being worked to the bone for almost 9 months straight without a real break, and despite all the chaos of us figuring everything out, and you chasing after your dreams, which are not stupid, by the way, saw straight through me trying to pretend I wasn’t completely losing my mind these past few days and sent your sister out just to make sure I wasn’t alone-,”

“You wouldn’t have been alone if I were th-,”

Poppy places her hand over his mouth, the rest of his sentence mumbled into her palm as she narrows her eyes at him. “I said stop, didn’t I?”

He nods, his shoulders sagging and his eyebrows doing all they can to express the emotion that she’s covering him from speaking through his lips.

He’s far too good for her, she thinks.

So good that she has struggled to put it into words, basking selfishly in his affections, bathing in their love so long that the water has gone cold by the time it’s his turn to sit in it.

She has felt it for as long as she can remember, this crippling adoration for him, this warm devotion that cushions the blow of everything else life tries to throw her way - but she hasn’t said it. Not clear enough, anyway, for him to not doubt it’s there.

Not in the way he had, all those weeks ago back in his bed - their bed - at 3am. He had poured his heart out to her, and she had drank it all up with nothing left to spare.

“You do all these things for me, you send your sister half way across the world just to circle straight back, you call my dad and my brother out, you shame my family into loving me more so that they can live up to the ways that you do it, and you don’t even understand how much of yourself you already give to me. I could sit here all night and not run out of ways to tell you how you make things better. Every part of my world that you touch, you make it good, you make me good. And a lot of that comes from who you are outside of our relationship.

“So I’d never want you to think you have to give any of the other stuff up to be enough for me. I fell in love with the parts of you that you give to the foundation, to the community and all the causes we help. I love the parts of you that you save just for the ice. I love the parts of you that you leave at the Rock, in the locker room with the guys, or in the parking lot when you stop and sign stuff for the fans waiting in the cold. And whatever parts of you are left to come home to me, or that you dedicate to me when you’re not home, God, Nico, I don’t think I’ll ever even be able to measure how loved you make me feel. I can’t wait for our daughter to feel that.”

His eyes are watering, and tears drop until they run their course down his cheeks, stopped by her fingers still clasped over his mouth, fingers she removes to hold his head again, the scratch of his grown out beard tickling at her palms, to hammer her point home.

“I know that this hurts right now. I know how hard you worked for this, how bad you wanted it, and it’s okay to have wanted it so bad that it kills you that you didn’t get it, but don’t let it take away what you mean to me. This isn’t your last chance to prove yourself, Nico, not to me, not to our baby, I promise you.”

Poppy knows how it feels to want to have achieved certain things before their little girl arrives. She’s worked herself up enough about it since finding out she was pregnant, but being a parent isn’t about who she was before. She’d realised that when she had sat down with her mom, when her dad had started making more of an effort. When the two of them had made promises to try, and it had glued together small parts of her heart that she thought could never be fixed.

All they can do is be the best version of themselves in the moment. When their daughter comes, it’s about who they are then, not what medals they won, or what trophies they lifted, or milestones they hit. They can still do those things with her there, and those moments will be all the sweeter for experiencing them with their daughter.

“Can I speak yet?” He whispers, dark eyes more intense than she thinks she’s ever seen them, staring right into the depths of her soul.

“No,” she replies, in the same hushed tone, “One more thing.”

She shoots over to where she had discarded her carry on, earlier, digging through to the bottom where a small leather box sits - where it has sat since the day Nico left Jersey all those weeks ago, and she had felt an impulse too strong to ignore to get him something after he had given her bracelet back.

When she goes back to stand before him, he parts his legs, and pats his thigh until she perches herself on it, careful not to drop all of her weight until a hand curls around her waist and holds her in place. 

“It’s a signet ring,” she smiles softly as she takes it out of the box, tugging his right hand closer and sliding it onto the finger beside his pinky. “They’re supposed to be a sign of family. Usually they’re engraved, but I thought we could figure that out later and go do it together.”

“You have one, too?” He asks, admiring the way it glints as he takes it in, the band thick and heavy below his knuckle, the perfect fit. 

“I will when my hands aren’t like blown up surgical gloves.”

And through teary eyes, for the first time all night since they have been reunited, a laugh bubbles up from the pit of his stomach, hearty and deep, eyes crinkling in the corners and cheeks dimpling into that beautiful smile she loves more than anything else in the world.

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one getting you a ring?”

God, she thinks, how could he ever possibly think he isn’t enough?

Melting her heart with such a question, accompanied with an ever-so-innocent glint in his eye.

She’s still holding onto his finger, twirling the ring around on it until it starts to tickle, starts to seemingly twitch with the need to hold her back.

“Only if you want to,” she shrugs, lips twisting as he raises his hand to cup her cheek, fingers swiping her hair behind her ear and the cool metal of the jewellery pressing to her warm skin.

“I do.” He promises before he kisses her, meaningful and deep, a whole month of longing wrapped up into the searing press of their lips.

Poppy wakes the next morning to soft, continuous buzzing and a wash of light spread almost heavenly over the room. The space beside her is empty, but warm, the sheets crumpled as if only just vacated, and it’s as she starts to gain consciousness and make sense of her surroundings that she realises what the noise is.

“No, no, no, no, no!” She exclaims as she kicks the tangles sheets from her bare legs, them balling up in a messy pile as she shoots up off the bed and stumbles toward the bathroom. “Do you hate me or something?!”

“What are you talking about?” Nico chuckles deeply, the morning rasp to his voice not quite enough to distract her from the device he’s holding in his hand - the hand she had only just last night brandished with a ring, for God’s sake.

“I literally professed my undying love for you not even 12 hours ago, Nico, and this is how you repay me?”

“Maybe I’m testing the limits of the undying part,” he shrugs, amusement flickering across his stupidly beautiful eyes - and the part of Poppy that’s over the moon to see him smiling, is quickly shot down by the part of her that’s been waiting to get her hands on that bearded jaw for weeks.

“You’re testing my patience, is what you’re doing,” she scoffs, reaching to snatch the clippers from his grip. “I didn’t even get to have a turn!”

“What am I, a carnival ride?” He laughs heartily as he pulls them just out of her reach, her body stepping into his so that he can land his free hand on her hip and keep her close. “It had to go, Poppy, I looked like a caveman. Coach said we all have to clean up a little for today.”

“Your coach is a traitor,” she pouts, allowing him to crowd her back until the base of her spine bumps against the counter. “You’re my caveman. My gorgeous, sexy, caveman baby daddy who I’ve only got to see through a screen for four whole weeks, you can’t do this to me with no warning.”

“You wanna finish it off?” He asks, head tilting as he smirks down at her.

“It’s only fair I do,” she sighs, placing her hands on the counter and hoisting herself up onto it with a huff, parting her legs so that he can step between them. “Maybe I can salvage something,” she mutters, running delicate fingers over what remains, an untouched moustache and some growth left on his chin. “Can I give you a goatee?”

“Do your worst, Mohn, I’m at your mercy to defile.”

“You’re gonna regret that.”

“I’ll never regret anything where you’re concerned.”

Next Chapter

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

[heizouz]

whoever requested the sub lyney thing i am so in love w u ALSO UR WRITING IS AMAZING litch rally all i can think abt rn

lyney is def like. a cocky sub tho like he’s a little feisty idk !!???! like he starts off all confident and then he just. falls apart over time… idk he lives in my brain i swear

nsfw sub!lyney + gn!reader, reader is kind of mean (not really at all), brat lyney turned cockwhore, cock can be referred to as a strap :]

THANK YOUUUU TYSM UR TOO SWEET!!! i can't tell if i strayed a bit off the request here but i hope it's okay nonetheless🤞🏻it's my favourite thing to put boys in their places so this was so fun to write, tysm for the req anon!!! <3

lyney is definitely the type of sub to test his partner's patience and bring them to their breaking point instead of being obedient because, what's the fun in that?

he always acts so confident, both in and out of the bedroom—putting on a show for anyone who has the pleasure of being around him. you know he's not always like that; you'd seen the ways he'd beg for you to let him cum, seen how he'd fall apart from things such as soft grinding or needy kisses.

that's why you just let him carry out his act.

lyney was naturally clingy, but the way his touches seemed to linger for a second too long, or fall lower than they were supposed to, you could tell he was trying to rile you up. he'd been at it all day; fingers dancing over your chest moments after you'd woken up, teasing remarks to make you flush in front of your friends, hands gripping hard on your hips when you stood, and squeezing your thighs when you sat. you put up with all of it though, letting the cockiness go to his head so you could watch him crumble underneath you once you finally got him alone.

lyney had to force back a grin when you'd stormed into the house later that day, not a word from your lips as he smirked and happily followed you around as if taunting you till you made it to the bedroom. he'd giggled when you'd practically thrown him on the bed, tongue pressing against your cheek at the smug expression painted over the magician's face.

you weren't mad per say; lyney was just naturally feisty and way too cocky, so all of his taunts and tricks were nothing by now. but he got a thrill off of seeing your reactions and watching you snap.

so what can you say really? he was asking for it.

"good fucking boy." you growl, your hips pistoning slow and harsh into him. lyney's moaning, crying out against the sheets as you hold him down, knocking the breath from him with every thrust. "see? 's not that hard to be a doll and listen, is it?"

lyney's constant stream of moans echo around the room, unable to answer you whether you wanted him to or not. he's too fucked out, cries spilling from his pretty parted lips with every drag of your cock. he's too weak to grab the sheets, fingers clawing at the material. he's so perfect like this—nothing like the usual overconfident, charming character everyone sees him to be; all completely at your mercy and squirming underneath you.

your fingers tighten in his messy hair, his once pretty braid now loose and falling out, and you lift his head from the sheets. lyney whines, high and needy, volume so much louder now he was no longer pressed against the bed. your hips don't slow, rather they pick up a little in pace and lyney has to hold himself up with his arms to stop himself from collapsing on to the sheets.

"what's happened, doll? can't talk?" lyney can feel your smirk just from your tone alone. you fold your body over his back, thrusting deep into him and he whimpers, "have i fucked you dumb?"

letting you wrap your hand around his throat, you make him tilt his head back as much as he can to look at you. his eyes glaze over with nothing but needy tears, pants falling from his constantly parted lips with every drag of your cock and how you handle him so easily into such positions. lyney doesn't answer you, but if the moans dropping from his tongue with every hard thrust told you anything, it was that you had fucked him dumb.

lyney's brain is practically empty, pretty dumb whimpers leaving his throat and he can't form any words; especially when you pull out just so the tip of your cock stays inside before dragging him back onto you with such ease. especially when the fingers around his throat find his open mouth and stuff his needy throat full, shutting him up even though his moans bleed past your digits. and especially after he finishes, head blanking and eyes rolling back into his head as you continue to fuck him through his orgasm, letting him know that this is what he deserves.

[pythonees]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ FLOWER POWER — xavier thorpe

REQUESTED: anon

WARNINGS: 18+, aged up characters, fairy reader, sex pollen (dub-con), frottage, fingering (f), unprotected piv sex, requited-unrequited love, hurt/comfort, miscommunication, crying

A/N: anon you are speaking my language! this is my favourite trope omfg. some flower knowledge required if you wanna know exactly what the flower looks like tough it's not necessary

Your favourite place to be is the greenhouse, full of so much colour and life you could barely picture yourself anywhere but there. The love you had for plants and wildlife stems from your fairy genetics, able to control plants and compel animals to your will.

There were some days that you would spend your time in there way into the night, only noticing how much time has passed when a random couple would come by and disturb your fun with their giggling and less than pg noises. Then you'd have to sneak out without disturbing them and making an already awkward situation worse.

On others you would be accompanied by your friend and longtime crush Xavier, who would come to see how things were going and to make sure you got to meals on time. He'd always have to drag you out, forcing you to take a break from your plants and to instead take care of yourself. It was one of the many things you liked about him, they way he took care of you.

Most of the flowers wouldn't get past a seedling, withering up and dying the second the roots started to grow, the combination of flowers too different to grow despite you putting all your magic into it. Those days Xavier knew he'd have to bring food to you, listening in confusion as you rambled to yourself about what went wrong. But that day was not today. Today was a lucky day.

The flower you had created looks... funny. It's small with a few blooms, looking like a mix between a corpse flower and a tulip, but hanging upside down like a lily of the valley. The spadix sticking out from the flower is long and corkscrewed, a pinky purple colour that looks almost like jelly. The spathe goes from green to a deep black not typically seen in naturally occurring flowers. It's enticing to look at, with an odd smell that you can't quite place from where you're standing.

You walk around the flower, looking over it to see Xavier finally sitting down at one of the desks, drawing away. It's hard to stop yourself from watching him when he's in his element, face scrunched up cutely as he concentrates on every stroke of his pencil.

Xavier has been drawing every single flower you make, helping you fill out the journal you made with his art. You however have been staring at it for a few minutes, not knowing where to start in figuring out if it does anything. It's always hard to tell just what type of plant you've made from just a glance. Splicing together flowers is one thing, but infusing your very emotion based magic into the seedlings means that the end result is very... unpredictable.

You don't really remember the mood you were in when you created this, it had been a busy week of tests that had gone by in a study induced haze that you thankfully don't remember. The good news is that even if it's poisonous it won't kill you, it'll just make you violently ill for the next few days. You've only had that happen twice, thankfully, and when you're alone.

You've never had Xavier in the green house with you when you're trying to figure out if a new plant does anything, but you had been sick for a few days and hadn't been able to check on it, and he had missed hanging out with you. So you let him tag along. Now you're not so sure about your decision.

You carefully put yourself between the flower and Xavier, grabbing the bucket full of worms to start some tests. You use a stick to scoop one out, holding the wriggling worm up to one of the flowers to see if it reacts. After a few seconds of nothing happening, you gently nudge the worm against the petal. It starts to move, but not in the way your expecting a carnivorous plant to.

All of the hanging flowers lift up to face you, the inside of the flower a fleshy looking pink. The flowers start to shake just slightly, and you lean closer to try and get a closer look. That's when a haze of white pollen shoots out from the flower, hitting you right in the face. In your surprise you inhale sharply, sucking in a lungful of the mysterious pollen that stings your eyes and burns your throat. You drop the stick in a rush to wave away the plume of pollen, stumbling away from the plant.

Your name is called from behind you, but you're too busy rubbing your sleeve against your closed eyes, trying to get it off. You feel hands grip your shoulders and spin you around, pushing your sleeve away to dab gently around your face with his own sleeve. All you can smell is the familiar scent of sandalwood, weak but enticing and somehow able to overwhelm your senses until all you want is to get closer to wherever it's coming from.

When Xavier stops cleaning your face you slowly open your eyes, finding your gaze hazy and your head fuzzy. Xavier takes a deep breath through his nose, sniffing at the pollen that transferred from your face and onto his sleeve.

"Whatever that shit was smells good," he says, going back in for another sniff. You find yourself leaning in towards him, wanting, no, needing to be closer to him. You move so fast you stumble over your feet, Xavier barely grabbing your upper arms in time to keep you upright, "Woah there, you alright?"

You nod your head lazily, taking the last step needed to press your face into his chest. You wrap your arms tightly around his waist as you rub your face against him. Xavier huffs out a laugh, wrapping his arms around you to rerun the impromptu hug.

"You could have just told me you wanted a hug you know," Xavier laughs, and you can feel it against your face from where your pressed into him.

You tighten you grip, turning your face just enough so that you can mumble out, "You smell really good."

"Thank you? It's the same cologne I always use," Xavier laughs, a hand absently rubbing up and down your back. It leaves a hot trail on your skin that instantly spreads, until it seems to burn. Your skin is tingling and you can feel the tell tale wetness of arousal in you panties and that's when you know you've fucked up letting Xavier come in here with you. You know what type of flower you made.

You open your mouth to warn him about what you know is going on, when he dips down to sniff at your neck, nose pressed to your skin, "you smell good too, like vanilla and lavender."

With him standing so close and nosing at your neck, you can't hold back to quiet moan at feeling that tiny bit of skin to skin contact. It makes the burning you feel under your skin start to feel good, thighs pressed tightly together for some sort of friction.

Tucking your arms in between you, you slide them up until you can cup his face, pulling him away from where he's been smelling at your neck so that he can face you.

"What's wrong—" you cut him off with a kiss, desperate and needy as you moan against his lips. He kisses back almost immediately, the hand that was rubbing up and down your back going up to cup the back of your neck. His big hands feel great against your skin, more contact to stop the seemingly insatiable burn.

His tongue swipes tentatively against you lip, and your eagerly licking your way into his mouth before you can even think about it. Xavier's hands tighten at the back of your neck, holding you in place as he forcefully slows the kiss down. You whine impatiently, but let him do as he wants as you let your hands drop from his face and to his chest.

The buttons of his white shirt are annoyingly small for your rushing fringes, roughly pulling at the fabric as you undo the buttons. You get about half way down before Xavier seems to realize what it is your doing, hand quickly gripping your wrists to keep you in place as he pulls away from the kiss.

"Wanna touch you," you whine before he can say anything, leaning foreword again. You've got his arms trapped between your bodies, making sure to press your chest up against his for good measure. He swallows roughly, and you watch the bob of his adams apple as he stares down at you, pupils blown wide, "Please, Xavier. Wanna get my hands all over you."

"Shit, yeah, okay." Xavier lets go of your hands, and the second you're free they're back to their previous task, pulling and tugging at his shirt until it's hanging open. His tie is yanked open and off, thrown to the side without a care in the world. You splay your hands out, running them up and down his chest as you watch them with awe. Every bit of skin you feel against you makes the burning go away, makes the haze of your brain laser focused to Xavier and his skin and getting it all over you as soon as possible.

You trail your hands up his chest to loop them around his neck, tugging him in for another kiss. This time it's Xavier's hands that are roaming, gliding up and down your sides, stopping to fiddle with the hem of your shirt before repeating the pattern over and over.

"Please," you whisper against his lips, going right back to kissing him with a burning need that rivals the burning of your skin. Instead of taking your shirt off like you thought he was, he lets his hands roam further down, giving your ass a quick squeeze as he goes by before he's hiking one of your legs up, wrapping it around his waist. You quickly do the same with the other, moaning as he lifts you up against his body.

You're quickly turned around and deposited on a nearby empty table, Xavier leaning over you as he deepens the kiss. You keep your legs wrapped tight around his waist, using it for leverage to roll your hips up into his. You both moan, Xavier's hips stuttering against yours at the sensation.

When he pulls away you let out another needy whine, trying to pull him back to you. He does come back to press a quick peck to your lips, but then pulls away again. His hands go to the top of your blouse, fingering at the top button.

"Can I?" He asks, a flustered smile overtaking his face when you nod enthusiastically. Your tie is removed first, with a lot more care than his was, placing it on the table next to you guys. He takes his time undoing the buttons of your shirt, eyes roaming over each new inch of revealed skin like you're a work of art. It has your heart pounding, eyes wide as you watch him watch your body become more and more revealed.

When the last button is undone he slowly pushes your shirt open, exposing you to him. One hand braces him on the table while the other settles low on your stomach, slowly roaming up your body, over a bra covered breast and along your neck before he's cupping your cheek, leaning down to press a quick, searing kiss to your lips.

"God you look beautiful," he says, staring down at you in awe. You wriggle under him, holding your arms out for him. He laughs with a shake of his head, but leans down to meet you in a kiss. You roll your hips again, swallowing the moan Xavier let's out eagerly. When your hips keeps rolling up against his he meets you thrust for thrust, the constant pressure against you clit making you see stars.

Xavier's hand leaves you face to place roaming kisses down your body, stopping at you skirt to flip it up to reveal the grinding of your bodies. You know there must be wet spot on your panties from how soaked they feel, and by the way Xavier stares do at them with wide, hungry eyes.

"Wanna touch you, can I?" Xavier says, fingers running along the band of your panties. You nod eagerly, unwrapping your legs from around his waist so that he can take them of. He's not as slow about taking the panties off as he was with opening your shirt, wide eyes never leaving your exposed cunt as he drags them off and drops them on the floor, leaving you in just hiked up skirt.

His hands smooth up your legs and over plush thighs before he's using his hands to force your legs up and open, staring down at your glistening wetness. You place your feet up on the table as you let your legs fall open, like you're a fine art display for him to enjoy. He slowly runs a finger up through your folds, and it sends a heavenly shock of arousal through your body. He gently rubs his finger against your clit, making tiny, agonizingly slow circles.

"Xavier!" You whine, rolling your hips up against his hand, "please."

"So needy," he laughs, but does as you asks, sliding his finger down through your folds and slipping a finger into you. There's no resistance, walls soaked with arousal as your body greedily sucks his finger in. He gives a few experimental thrusts before he's adding a second, the satisfying stretch of his thick fingers making your eyes roll back.

You buck down against his fingers, urging him to go faster. The burning is easing up even more with his fingers inside you, and you're desperate to make it stop so you can think again instead of being controlled by your pussy and the pollen.

"More, need more," you whine, fucking yourself onto his fingers. You feel a third slip in with the others, and you let out a satisfied moan at the feeling of being filled.

Xavier doesn't even have to move his hand, keeping them still as you roll your hips, watching as you desperately chase your high. But it doesn't come, even though you can feel it constantly at the back of you head, lingering.

You lift your foot off of the table to toe at his jeans, pushing at them until he gets the hint to take them the hell off. He gives your cunt a few more thrusts before he's pulling his fingers out of you, undoing he belt before dropping his pants and boxers in on go, letting them pool around his ankles.

His cock is beautifully thick as it sits between his legs, tip flushed and shiny with pre. He wraps the hand still covered in your arousal around his cock, giving himself a few thrusts before he rubbing the tip up through your folds. That touch alone brought you close to the brink, a long moan escaping you as the head of his cock brushes up against your clit.

You're in limbo as he continues to tease you, tip just barely pushing into your waiting hole before he's pulling out and gliding it up to your clit again. Slowly you lay back on the table, the surface ice cold against your over heated skin.

"Xavier please fuck me. Please, please please." You beg, tears forming in the corner of your eyes as you desperately roll up into him just as his tip teases at your hole again.

The little bit he slips in has you both moaning loud and long, Xavier resting both hands on the table as he lets his head hand between his shoulders. His cock continues to slowly slide into you in a way that makes you think it's never going to end, just filling and filling until you swear you can feel him in your stomach. But then he bottoms out, hips pressed flush against yours as he pants above you.

Your walls flutter around him, gripping and trying to pull him in deeper. Xavier groans above you, hips jerking slightly at the sensation. He stays there in you for a moment, still as a rock as he slowly starts to catch his breath. When his breathing is back to normal and he's no longer on the brink of spilling into you, he slowly pulls out, hands gripping the edge of the table by your head tightly.

His thrusts are slow and deep as he splits you open over and over. At first it's great, just being able to feel him in you to soothe the burn. But just like everything else, it's not enough, you want, no, you need more. You can't roll your hips with how close your bodies are pressed together and you choke back a sob of disappointment as you wrap your arms around him.

"More," you whimper, still trying and failing to roll your hips in the tight space between your bodies. You can feel your eyes watering again, staring up at Xavier as he pushes up from your body to stare down at your face, "Please Xavi, need more. Please please please—"

"Hey, shhhh. I'm gonna take care of you, okay pretty girl? Gonna make you feel me in you for days." Xavier whispers right in your ear, voice husky and deep from arousal. The table scrapes across the floor as his hips snap forewords, slamming into you hard enough to have you wailing, head thrown back in pleasure.

Xavier mouths at your exposed neck, hips jackhammering into you at a brutal pace. The wet sound of you dripping pussy fills the room, and through the slowly lifting haze of your arousal, you wonder if there's a student close enough to hear the obscene sounds coming from the greenhouse. But you don't care, mewling in pleasure as Xavier bites at your neck, soothing the abused spot over with his tongue.

Slipping your fingers into his hair, you hold him against your neck as he sucks hickey after hickey into your skin. The overwhelming sensations going on has your walls fluttering around him, choking on a moan as you come harder and quicker than you have in your whole life. Your legs are shaking, head thrown back as you feel the pollen induced haze finally start to lift, the burning heat dissipating.

Xavier gently slides out of you, ignoring your whine of disappointment as he takes himself in hand, furiously jerking himself off as he stares down at you with half lidded eyes. You slowly push yourself up on shaking arms, wrapping an arm around his neck to pull him into a kiss. Your other hand drops down to wrap around the one still jerking himself off, and the brief touch against his sticky erection is all it takes before he's spilling between you, hot cum coating your stomach and breasts.

You're both panting, the sweat on your bodies rapidly cooling in the night air. You shiver, breaking the kiss to wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle into his chest, chasing the warmth of his body.

"Not that I'm complaining," Xavier says, out of breath as a hand soothes up and down your back, "but where did that come from?"

"Flower," you mumble sleepily, a small smile on your face as you tighten your arms around him. Xavier's entire body goes tense in your arms, and the hands that were soothing up and down your back are now gripping your wrists, forcing you to let go of him as he holds them between your bodies, taking a step back.

"Flower, what do you mean..?" He looks back over his shoulder, staring at the new plant you created before his head whips back around, staring at you with wide, horrified eyes, "The pollen. That's the only reason why you— why this happened?"

He lets go of your wrists as if they're burning, quickly pulling his pants and boxers up. His hands fumble with the belt, and you slowly push yourself off of the table and onto unsteady legs.

"Xavier," you call, but he just shakes his head, turning away from you as he buttons up his shirt. He's walking towards the door at the same time, abandoning his things so that he can just get out. Get away from you.

Your wings flutter out, flying you across the room and in front of him faster than your unsteady legs could. He ducks his head when you get in front of him, turning away from your half naked form, "Move."

"No, Xavier. Not until you listen to me," he doesn't try to move again, but he keeps his face stubbornly hidden behind his hair. When your sure he won't try to bolt you take a steadying breath, reaching out to hold his hand in two of yours. His hand stays limp in your grip, but he doesn't pull away.

"This is all I've ever wanted," Xavier scoffs, trying to pull his hand free so he can leave again, but you're quicker, holding onto him tightly so he can't leave, "It is! Not like this, with one of my weird experiments blowing up in my face, but like, after a few dates. I always pictured our first kiss to be after some cute date, on one of those late night walks you like to force me on. Or maybe in your shed where you always look the most comfortable, face all scrunched up when your concentrating and I just can't help but kiss you. I just— this doesn't have to change anything if you don't want it to, but I'm not lying when I say that this was a dream come true."

Your left flying in front of him in silence, waiting desperately for the words to sink in. It takes so long you start to feel your throat close up, thinking the worst, but then he's slowly lifting his head to look up at you, and you can't help but gasp. His eyes are red and haunted, tears streaming down his face and dripping off his chin.

"I didn't..?" Xavier trails over, getting choked up as a fresh set of tears roll down his face, "I didn't take advantage— you actually want me?"

Your heart drops to your stomach, and you quickly let go of his hand to cup his face, wiping the tears away as gently as possible, "No, no no no. I love you, okay? So much. I might have been a bit out of it but I wanted you. Still want you, okay? You did nothing wrong."

He stares up at you, still crying, but instead of that fearful look in his eyes they're filled with hope, a small smile taking over his face. His hands are shaky as the land on your bare waist, barely even touching you at all, "You love me?"

"So much," you say without even a moments hesitation. Your thumbs are still gently rubbing over his cheeks, even as his tears have dried. The smile you get is blinding, his grip tightening on you as he pulls you closer for a kiss that makes your toes curl.

When he pulls back he looks happier than he's ever looked in a long time, hand reaching up to cup your cheek. You lean into it, a probably dopey smile on your face as you stare down at him.

"Love you too. Didn't think I could have this. Have you," Xavier confesses, pulling your flying body closer to his. He presses a quick kiss the the top of you breasts that your bra doesn't cover, right over your pounding heart.

"You have me, for as long as you want." You reply, carding your fingers through his hair. You stay like that for a while, his face pressed into your chest as he breathes you in while you soothe your hands over whatever part of him you can reach.

"Want you forever," he mumbles into you skin, and you can't help the wide grin that takes over your face. You cup his cheeks, tilting his head up so he can face you. You press kisses all over his face, smothering him with all your love before you give in to his huffing and press your lips together.

"Forever sounds perfect."

©︎ pythonees — do not, under any circumstance, repost, plagiarize, modify or translate my work.

[smokersbaby]

Op men when their s/o asks to choke them

Characters: Law, Crocodile, Smoker (can do more on request) CW: NSFW content, chocking, creampie (no breeding kink included), rough sex (Crocodile part), size kink, minor errors. Notes: got inspired by last night with my s/o, these are my favourite three characters in OP, I hope you enjoy this! I am Italian so I'm sorry if phrases don't sound so fluent, I'm trying my best to improve my writing 💕

Trafalgar Law

You were taking him so well, his pace going faster and faster and his hips bouncing on you. His hands were holding yours over your head and his eyes were set on you, as to tell how much he wanted to bury himself inside of you. His moans were becoming loud as if he was almost there, you could also tell it by the stiffness of his muscles tensing above you. Seeing him like that was making you lose your mind, you could feel your peak coming right like his, clenching your walls against his hard cock. But you wanted more, something inside you wanted him to grab you by the neck while fucking you so well, like you were all his. At the moment it was really difficult to put words together since you were lost in pleasure, the only thing escaping from your mouth were moans. "L-Law..." you tried to say, he was watching directly at you and supposed you wanted him to stop so he lowered his pace. "No, please continue" you immediately said, in the meantime you let his hands go from the grip over your head. You grabbed gently his wrist bringing his hand over your neck. He understood in less than a second what you wanted, so he tightened his grip on your neck a little bit, just to let you know you were all his. His pace returned to be fast and powerful, your eyes watering for this kind of pleasure that made you want more and more of his thrusts. Law was feeling in control and this sensation made him lose his mind. You were so close to your climax and he could feel it too, so he closed his hand on your neck more knowing how much you liked it like this. That thing sent you over the edge, you reached your peak and so he did in the same moment, feeling your insides milking his stiff cock inside of you. He loosened his grip and kissed you softly on the lips a moment after, changing his attitude from tough to sweet in a second. He laid up hugging you waiting for you to fall asleep in his arms, needless to say, he was smiling for having discovered this new kink of yours.

Sir Crocodile

The sound of your ass hitting against his skin was filling the room, you were bouncing on him with your hips, taking all of his large cock inside of you. It was kind of unusual for such a man to lay down and watch you fuck yourself with his cock, for once you were the one in charge. You could move with ease in this position, choosing to take him deep further inside or not, teasing him. This thing was making Crocodile upset, he didn't like this kind of game. You were smirking at him, taking just the tip of his dick to see him irritating. Maybe you were playing too much with him because all of a sudden he decided to turn the tables coming on top of you. You didn't expect him to react in such a way, but somehow you wanted to feel him make you his in any way possible. He was laying on top of your back, sticking his aching cock between your thighs in your wet cunt from behind. A loud groan came from his mouth the moment he entered you, finally able to decide the rhythm of the thrusts. You were between the mattress and his body and feeling his weight all over you made you want him to choke you at that moment. You tilted your head slightly to the side since it was pounded into the mattress. You could barely see his face from that position but you didn't need to see him for asking such a thing. "Choke me," you said firmly, Crocodile wasn't waiting for more, he put his large hand on your neck squeezing it and thrusting his cock deeper in you the moment he grabbed you. You were so full of him, at that moment you thought that if this was his reaction you were going to ask him to choke you every single time. You couldn't help but smile being fucked so roughly and deep by your man.

Smoker

"F-fuck, you're so tight…" Smoker said breathing heavily above you. His large cock was stretching your insides as if it were your very first time, which it wasn't. He was so big compared to you, his muscles covered by a thin layer of sweat due to fucking you so passionately. You were under him, chest to chest and hugging him trying to grab his back with your hands but it was kinda difficult because of his size. Even though you had just begun, he was almost at his limit, maybe because of how your cunt was wrapping his cock or because he was madly in love with you. His thrusts were so deep and slow, his pace was killing you and you wanted more even though you were almost crying in pleasure. Smoker's mouth was kissing your neck making you moan, suddenly he bit it gently, and that thing made your thoughts come out of your mouth. "Please choke me…" you said whispering in his ear. He stopped for a moment, this kind of request sounded completely new to him, even though he was a really big man he was soft on the inside. Smoker looked at you in the eyes to understand if that was what you wanted, he seemed confused so you decided to help him bring his large hand over your neck. His cheeks blushed a bit seeing you smile under his soft grip. He understood you were comfortable in it so he tightened his grip a little bit making you moan and starting again to thrust his cock inside of you. "You like it like that baby?" he whispered, you didn't need to answer because your moans were speaking for you. His rhythm was getting faster and you could feel him at his limit, also the lack of air was taking you almost there. Smoker leaned down on your mouth to kiss you while still grabbing you by your neck, his tongue was craving yours and the hotness of that kiss brought you both to your climax. Your nails dug into his back while you were creaming on his cock as he did the same in you with his cum. A second after he lay on you almost squishing you into the mattress, but you loved how you could feel him so close like that. "I didn't expect you could like such a thing, but I think I may like it too," he said kissing you on your forehead.

[andrea-lyn]

Roswell New Mexico - Master Fic Rec Post

See under the cut for thirty-four total recs, predominantly Malex. There's also 10 additional in the "Recs Less Travelled" project here.

a few drinks and some conversation by @christchex

Michael Guerin makes a friend who isn’t his sibling, an ex, or a sibling’s ex.

Astriferous Sea by hrhbrittany, Sismyn

Alex has always been the baby among the sirens in the Dead Sea. Michael is performing beard services for his sister. Communication is a little wishy-washy.

This AU came out of nowhere and smacked me right with the ‘I’ve always wanted this and I just never knew’. It has sirens and rescues and bad guys and false relationships and real marriages and rings and drama and romance. It honestly reminds me (in the best way) of an exciting romance novel and I’m so jazzed there’s still one part left to it.

The Bachelor by Sweetgirl2019

After the events of high school, Michael, Isobel & Max moved to California while Liz, Maria & Kyle stayed in Roswell and Alex went to war overseas. Once his enlistment period ends, Alex gets thrown into something that brings him and Michael back together again.

So I think this might be my favourite to see updated right now. It should be a run-of-the-mill fluffy AU, yet the author threw this incredible curveball by using the alien background in a canon divergence to turn The Bachelor into both a romantic dramedy for the boys, but also keeping the looming threat of people finding out about aliens in the background. Also, I think this is top tier pining that you will actively feel in your own chest, that’s how good it is. 

blink back to let me know by haloud - Roswell New Mexico

Alex doesn’t have important conversations over the phone when he can avoid them. It feels too much like going in blind. But in some ways, the phone makes it easier–it’s easier to break when no one’s looking.

It’s Mylex and the 5th in a series, and every part is worth reading, but I definitely re-read parts 4 and 5 a lot. It’s so well written and the dynamic is mwah and I love how Kyle fits into this. One of my favourite pieces in this is how Kyle reacts to his father in relation to Michael & Caulfield and it’s an amazing read.

built this house on memories by @villanellve

He wakes up eight years in the future, and everything is strange, but Alex is there.

YOU GUYS. If you were to write a list of tropes I adore, this would be way up there at the top because of how much I love it. I am a sucker for a character having to be removed from their situation to learn (whether it’s an alternate universe or the future or the past), but this one is so achingly painful and perfect and hopeful. I love the callout that the situation is almost too hard for Alex, I love the resolution at the end on Michael’s part, and you could just soak in the happiness and comfort of their future lives if you let yourself.

Can’t Get No by one_flying_ace

“They’re on round two already,” he says, tilting his head towards the truck again, “or maybe three.” Guerin grimaces, and that’s fair; it’s his brother, after all. “You know how they’re feeling. Could I handle it, if you stopped-” being in control, he doesn’t say, but Guerin shudders. “I’m good, Alex. Just keep the hell away.” (Or: alien sex rocks don’t make them do it, but they sure do help.)

Sex pollen/sex-or-die fics are pretty much a requirement, but this is my absolute favourite and I have re-read it more times than I can tell you (let’s put it at six or seven?) The restraint that Michael has in this is amazing, but the mental images of it are incredible as well. I loved Max and Liz’s secondary presence as well and how each character was tonally perfect down to the little things (like Max not noticing Michael’s sex marks). What a good. What a hot. What amazing.

Constant as the Northern Star by celzmccelz

Michael stares at Kyle. “But I’m a guy! How can I be pregnant?” Kyle looks embarrassed. “Well, you appear to have a fully functioning set of female reproductive organs—or, I mean, like, the kind of reproductive organs that are associated with a double X-chromosome in humans, so I’d assume that you probably became pregnant when semen was introduced into your reproductive tract—” “Jesus Christ, Kyle!” says Michael. He could have happily lived the rest of his life without ever hearing Kyle Valenti say the words “semen” and “reproductive tract.” Kyle’s eyes widen. “Have you been having unprotected sex?” “Oh my God, I am not having this conversation with you!”

Yes, going in, there are some warnings to be cognizant of. It’s mpreg, there’s a lot of medical stuff to go through, but I think this is my absolute favourite of the mpregs I’ve read and it actually comes down to Michael’s support system outside of Alex, namely in Kyle. There’s no sudden BFF bracelets being given, but that morality that makes Kyle Valenti who he is, that’s right there. Also, given that this is an mpreg fic, it delves into family and plot in a way that I haven’t often seen. Plus, you get the ‘getting back together’ Malex that I so deeply crave.

Contigo me encontré by beautifulcheat (Katalyst), ladynox

The Lockhart House was once a home, although it was never a happy one. Steeped in tragedy, it still stands today, in the heart of Old Town Roswell, attracting ghost hunters and those seeking to catch a peak of something from beyond the veil.

Contrary to popular myth, it wasn’t currently haunted (except by one paranormally talented docent). It was Michael’s favorite job and the best part of his summer home from UNM. Or at least was until Alex Manes was hired to man the gift shop, complicating an otherwise fun and easy job.

everywhere on earth you go - @evepolastried

Across the room, he can still see how Michael Guerin is looking at him. And that’s something different, something new, something so very familiar. The thrill of nerves, of guilt, of want. Alex smiles, and he starts to sing. (OR: Alex Manes grabs his guitar and gets the hell out of Roswell in 2008, and he leaves behind a letter. Here’s what happens ten years later)

I love this. This one has something incredible, and it’s something I called out, but it has this amazing work with pace. There’s a frantic moment at the bar and it’s chaos, and you feel it. It’s rushed and wild and crazy, but then everything slows down and it gets perfect. There’s Michael, there’s Alex, there’s music, and it’s such a great ride.

Family Matters by @bestillmyslashyheart

Isobel is telepathic. Most of the time she ignores it. She used to pick up on other’s people’s emotions but she’s long since learned to tune that out. Until one night she can’t. Someone, somewhere is in such a state that it’s spilling over and she’s left to deal with the brunt of it. Or, Michael keeps things close to the vest until he can’t. The night after Alex leaves him at the drive-in, everything he’s feeling bubbles up inside until it spills over onto Isobel. Suddenly he’s left with no other choice but to open up.

This is an early fandom piece, but I still think it’s held up to an immensely amazing rate. Not only that, but I love how it delves into powers, Michael and Isobel’s relationship, and the incredible idea of spillover, which I still actively wish would become canon because of this fic. I think it’s so IC, especially with Michael’s active wish not to talk about it that he screws himself over in his sleep and seriously, it’s such a good read for both Isobel & Michael stuff, but also Michael & Alex.

the first who ever did - nostaljinks

Five times Michael saves Alex + 1 time Alex saves Michael back.

I feel like there aren’t enough words that I can heap onto this of praise. This fic is well-written, well-plotted, well-thought out, well-everything. It’s a beautiful emotional roller coaster and will make you ACHE, but in a great way. It also is the right amount of long that you want more, but you also get it, and it’s just as quality as the rest. ABSOLUTE must read.

fish bowl by @sabrinachill

Alex makes a series of phone calls and bad choices that lead him directly here — an Airstream on the edge of a junkyard with a distractingly attractive mechanic showing him how the dining table converts into a bed that he can sleep on for just $75 a week. It is, of course, completely absurd. But there’s something cozy about the fuzzy yellow blanket on the bed/table and the sparkling sunlight streaming through the mostly-clean windows, in the smell of leather and motor oil and aftershave and summer storms, in the hopeful half-smile on Michael’s face. That’s his name — Michael. Alex’s potential new roommate and landlord. (AKA An AU About Quarantined Roommates Who Fall in Love)

I highly recommend anything by @sabrinachill, but this fic is a really clear argument about why. It’s an AU that involves quarantine, and you might think ‘oh, I’ve read that before’, but then it will take you down the unexpected road that you didn’t expect to go down, but as soon as you take that twist, you instantly realize how much better it is that way. Hats off to the clever plotting not just in Fish Bowl, but other fics! 

Funny How Things Never Change - @waroftheposes​

“What can I do for you?” Michael asks, turning to face Alex. Alex can tell the moment that Michael’s mind registers who he’s addressing, because the polite smile drops from his face and the hat falls from his hand. He stands there, eyes wide and unbelieving, looking at Alex. Alex takes a deep breath, willing his racing heart to settle. “Well,” he begins and is his voice shaking? “For starters you can get your stubborn ass over here and give me a divorce.” – (A Sweet Home Alabama AU)

Yooooo, guess who was bereft when she thought she lost this link. It was absolutely me. This AU makes me happy in so many ways, especially the storms in the desert motif that keeps coming back around, and also that it’s messy. I like that it’s not cut and dry, that it goes right up until the wedding, and that it takes some real talk for them to get back together. I love fics where they all get to be human and this one is just so good. 

I Know Nothing Stays The Same by aewriting

“Alex doesn’t believe in miracles until one happens to him. His father has a hammer in one hand and Alex’s throat in the other. As Alex’s consciousness fades, he’s dimly aware of movement. His father’s about to swing the hammer, and this is how Alex will die.” When an unexplainable force puts a stop to Jesse’s attack in the shed, Alex and Michael are forced to go on the run. Leaving Roswell is an easy decision, but navigating the consequences of that choice months and even years later proves to be much more complicated.

I think this one became a must read very early on, but then it’s continued to deliver. There’s been a few stories that delve into the characters getting therapy, but there’s a whole chapter here where it genuinely feels cathartic as we go through the process with Alex. This fic also is an excellent and long version of an AU I think that we’ve all wondered, about what would happen if they ran away, and it’s so well written and so real that I know I will be re-reading this a ton. Like many of the others, why I love it is because it’s not perfection, but it’s the kind of real where I want to wrap myself up in it. 

i won’t go, i can’t do it on my own by @queersirius

alex tries to let go by giving back the pieces of michael he’s kept

Millie has a bunch of AMAZING AUs (guys, the 10 Things I Hate About You is something I never thought I’d get, especially from a favourite author), but i think this one is actually my favourite, especially when it comes to the ship piece that Alex has. Again, when I talk about ‘fics that make me want to be better’, this one was one. The writing is engaging, the characterization is fabulous, and the emotions are so honest and real. Then there’s this line, like a gut punch:  “Because it’s the last thing I have of you,” he admits. “The last piece of you I have to let go of.” which I love because it’s still Alex’s journey, an honest attempt to offer closure (if closure is wanted). 

in some other life - @spaceskam​

michael tries to build a time machine, but ends up in a different reality all together

There are a lot of these that have been written and they are all quality, but I love this one especially because of how we get into Alex in the other universe, get the glimpse of this unknown Michael, but also the scene that strikes this one out for me is that Alex doesn’t want to let him go. I love that Alex gets to be selfish, that he begs for him to stay, and that we don’t get the automatic happy ending in that, but there’s still the hope for it. Also, Alex the Angel, unf. 

intimate encounters of the third kind by @alexmanes

Three years after Antar and its people take Earth under their wings, Roswell becomes the epicenter for human-alien relations between both planets. It doesn’t take very long for Alex Manes to find himself embroiled in a scandal that threatens this intergalactic partnership, all thanks to a beautiful man named Michael Guerin who is not nearly as human as he claims to be.

Okay, so, if you like No Love Like Your Love, the truth is that you have this fic to thank. This was my first introduction in RNM fandom as to what a really amazing fic could be that incorporated the royalty elements into the pairing. Once 1x12 aired and we met Michael’s mother, it was pretty much a done deal that I wanted to do something that played with that, but this is the actual inspiration. It’s well plotted, it has a great ensemble cast, and plays with the kind of care that it takes to know your plot inside and out, but also to leave breadcrumbs that guide the reader along. It’s very methodical in the sense that nothing is by accident and it has you on the edge of your seat.

It’s a long road back to you by @magsthemagical

Michael finds out that Alex is dating Forrest and he’s okay with it, until he’s not. Maria suggests a double date to show they can all hang out as friends. But they can’t… not really. [OR the one where Michael & Alex realize that they belong together and so they say goodbye to their respective relationships and start anew]

Honest truth time - in terms of ‘ships, while I always love people to ship and let ship, my personal preference for both Michael and Alex is one another, so both Maria/Michael and Forrest/Alex aren’t things that I usually seek out when trawling Ao3. This fic is so good to all parties involved. No one is a villain and I appreciate that they get to talk about things like Alex’s reticence to do certain things in public, but also being aware that Alex deserves to have something new as much as Michael.

Last Stop: This Town by @ubiestcaelum

Someone asked what it would have been like if Michael had gone home with the Evan’s and I couldn’t let it go.

Am I cheating because I requested this? idk, maybe, because another one I requested will end up here too. I am addicted to the idea of Michael getting the support system he needs, but THIS FIC takes it to the most impossibly amazing level and fleshes out the Evans parents in such an incredible way. I love that it’s not super sunshine and rainbows, but it’s an honest telling of raising kids (and maybe too many kids versus what you expected). I know this is only in progress (several today will be), but even as it is, it’s worth reading multiple times, because I know I have.

let me count the ways by @queersirius

liz ortecho isn’t allowed to date until her snarky, determined-not-to-date brother, alex ortecho, does. luckily, one of her suitors has a plan. well, max goes to isobel for a plan, which involves getting their brother, michael, to woo alex. or, the 10 things i hate about you AU

Obviously this needs to be here as I desperately pleaded for it to exist, but it’s so beyond what it might be as a mini tumblr ficlet and has become a whole world. It’s not just a great Malex story, it’s an amazing story for all the characters and really fleshes out a world, but weaves in the RNM characters perfectly, but also gives me a dynamic I want more of, in Alex being an Ortecho. It’s not quite finished yet, but Millie has never steered us wrong and I can’t wait for more.

Loathly by @aewriting

When King Manes and his sons are caught illegally hunting on Antarian lands, King Noah gives King Manes a choice - correctly answer a riddle or accept death. A year-long search for the correct answer ensues, leading the youngest son of the king, Alex, to strike a bargain with a mysterious woman who claims to know the answer. This is an AU of the Arthurian legend “Sir Gawain and the Dame Ragnell.”

Love at First Sass - @daffietjuh

Taking a class of 30 high school kids on a school trip to an Air Force base was about as exhausting as it sounds, luckily, the Captain giving them the tour is perfectly capable of handling a group of rowdy teenagers. Michael may be slightly in love Okay, so first of all, if you haven’t read any of the author’s other work, you should. The AUs are fantastic and the hockey one is still one of my favourites ever, but this one also just was exactly what I needed. It was sexy and flirty and fun, but also fit their personalities perfectly!

Everything in the Michael Sanders AU, by prouvaireafterdark which is a fantastic series that gives us what we all wanted, which is Walt Sanders giving Michael the home he deserved (and getting one right back).

My love is a life taker by @jocarthage

By the time he turned 15, Captain Alex Manes had been to every war zone and unofficial conflict the United States of America was involved in. It wasn’t regular practice, or even heard of, for a Colonel to bring his son along on combat missions; the exception was if the child had been identified as Time Aware, able to travel in time along their own timeline using stolen alien technology. So here Alex Manes was, 28, and ducking bombs, killing who he’s told to. On his way back from a mission, Alex slips into another timestream. It should be impossible. But he can hear a child crying and he heads towards the sound. This is the story of how Alex saved Michael and Michael saved Alex, with lots of time travel shenanigans and angst.

This story is incredible for so many reasons and one of them I continue to praise is the balance. It’s an Alex driven story, but you can break his life down into friends, mission, family, and Michael, and often those elements combine, but there’s never any update that doesn’t give you enough (imo). It’s excellent writing with engaging OCs and wonderful plot, and the most incredible love story.

not in this world (or the next) by @hannah-writes

It isn’t until he realises he can’t find the keys for his fucking truck anywhere and that there’s mail on the table addressed to Mr M Evans that Noah called him ‘Evans’, too. He fumbles inside the wallet that he’d managed to locate and pulls out a New Mexico licence with his picture on it; he doesn’t have a black eye and a split lip in this one, his hair’s tamed and he doesn’t look like he’s gone three days without showering. His date of birth is stamped, clear and correct, but then where his name should read ‘Michael Guerin’, it reads “Michael Evans’ and the address registered on the license is that of Max and Isobel’s childhood home. Noah had also said ‘your mom’s’. Not ‘Mrs Evans’. It feels like a bucket of ice water’s dumped over his head as he finally accepts that something is very, very wrong. (aka, the fic spawned from a tumblr prompt about Michael waking up in a parallel reality.)

This one, guys. This is an absolute beast of angst and love and a really well plotted story, but also is really amazing for how it creates Mikey, but also creates motive behind what drives both Michael and Mikey in ways that are the same, but also different. Genuinely, this fic is a great read because you get so much attention to the characters while also driving along the relationships, and who they are. 

nursery sharks by christchex

Six firsts in the Sanders household and a second.

Otherwise Engaged by JustAsSweet

Alex Manes was perfectly happy with his job at Colden Records but when his visa is rejected and deportation looms, marrying his assistant Michael Evans is his only option. And when they make a trip to Alaska to see Michael’s family, everything becomes a lot more complicated.

AKA: The Proposal AU that no one asked for but I wrote anyway.

Shadow Work - @myrmidryad

After his discharge from the Air Force, Alex Manes is working as a shade - a professional ghost hunter - when Michael Guerin tracks him down. Alex left Roswell thirteen years ago and never went back, but overnight Michael’s family has vanished and the supernatural activity in Roswell has exploded, and he wants Alex’s help. Featuring: ghosts, more ghosts, metaphorical ghosts, and a lot of sex without talking about feelings. Also missing family members, government conspiracies, and gratuitous worldbuilding.

No, YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND. I can’t rec this enough. Literally, this is a novel-type rec. If this were a book on a shelf, I would be shouting that you need to go read it, because it is literally good enough to be a published work on a best-selling list. It’s so fucking good. Every time you think it can’t get better, it does. It has nuance and plot and world-building and it is So. Fucking. Good. I could sit here and sing praises all day and it still wouldn’t be enough. Please give yourself a holiday treat and read it.

The World Forgetting, By The World Forgot by Anonymous

Michael and Alex erase each other from their memories. It does not go according to plan. [Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Roswell style]

I mean, I could rec anything by Anonymous and it would be worth your read. They’re so good and so in character,  but this one is my favourite. It’s angsty as fuck, don’t get me wrong, but it plays with the movie plot in such a Roswell-specific way that makes sense that I honestly never even compared or contrasted it to the movie past the first few beats. The pain is visceral, and the memory loss segment is incredible, but also delivers on a positive ending. 

To Trust Love by @laughsalot3412 

The prisoner’s voice sounded like home. He could have been raised in Roswell, the way his accent stretched his vowels. He definitely hadn’t been. Alex would have remembered eyes like those. (AU where Alex Manes goes on an undercover rescue mission in Caulfield Prison and forms a bond with one of the prisoners in the process.)

I don’t have enough words in the English language to praise this one. Honestly, I don’t. For one, the pace and the length is perfect. That we got the parts as quickly as we did was honestly such a treat, but then every part was just as high quality as the last. There are chapters in this one that made me go, “holy shit, this would’ve been a novel I read”, and then there are little emotional impacts where the tone shifts, but it works so well. It’s SO HOT, and the AU is so perfect, and also helped inspire the one that I wrote last night with the “genie”. 

Unwind Me - delgay

“Think you can manage that? Sitting next to me, without picking a fight?” Michael challenged. “Can you?” Alex returned. “No idea,” Michael admitted with a sideways grin that never failed to make Alex’s stomach turn over, “But I’m eager to find out.” Alex is avoiding everyone, but he can’t seem to escape Michael.

This whole fic is intensely amazing, but it got on my rec list for the absolutely electric scene with the dancing that was absolutely beyond incredible. You also get Michael courting Alex, which is something he utterly deserves and I love the way Michael goes about it. 

we feel so american by thepredatorywasp

“Papa’s on the spaceship again?” River asks, his bright green eyes welling with tears and his face growing red. “Comin’ back?” “Of course he is,” Alex says, smoothing down the son’s hair and adjusting the Mickey ears atop his head. “Always.” There is no easy way to explain to your three year-old that not only is he an alien, but his Papa is an alien and that apparently, Michael loves leaning hard into irony because he has gone on Space Mountain approximately ten times over the course of four days.

LOOK. I LOVE A SWEET KID FIC. The next rec will prove this, but this one will melt your fucking heart. I love it because it’s not perfect and easy. There’s difficulties, there are issues, but it’s Michael and Alex and their baby boy in Disney and if you do not come away feeling warmer from this, then I just don’t know. 

We’re Waking Up Slow by myrmyriad

“I think need a little time to process all of this. Um. Storm’s getting closer and I don’t really wanna get snowed in here, so…let’s just talk later, okay?” What if the storm that blew in during S01E10 came in a lot faster and heavier, and Alex was snowed in at the junkyard?

Again, fic that makes me wish that I could write as well as this. This one makes you feel it all. You’ll feel the cold, the wet, the storm, the pain, the hope, the healing. You feel the connection between Michael and Alex, and you’ll be left wishing at the end that this had been how canon went, but also that it’s justifiably not that far off from how it could have, had they taken a different tack, because of how well it’s written. 

What’s Up, Pregnant? by Marie_L

Michael Guerin is broke, practically homeless, and a knocked up secret alien. What now?

Speaking of kid fics, this mpreg is one that I really like, because if nothing else, it introduced the concept of mpreg using pods to me in the fandom, and I kind of went, “YES, of course”. I love that it’s got everyone rallying, but I mostly love the psychic connection between Michael and his baby, and the softness of loving sugar and Alex. 

With Love Overflowing by Nestra

"We both agree that this is not the place we belong, right? Please say yes."

Michael tossed his hat on the coffee table and dropped onto the couch. "If you mean that your dad's been dead since CrashCon and some kind of crazy shit is going on, then yeah, I agree."

(This one was for me for Secret Santa, it is just THAT GOOD that I want everyone in the world to read it)

x marks the spot (where we fell apart) by catching_paper_moons, preciousthings

“Don’t write it off,” Alex says, and Liz is so relieved someone is coming to her defense, even if it’s someone who already knew beforehand. “Liz and Kyle have ideas, and there are people in this room with literal superpowers. It’s pretty much our only option.” “Our only option?” Isobel scoffs. “What are we, Ocean’s Eleven?”