#you will not be hearing from me until I've finished the entire first part

[bratbarzal]

OK IF YOU'RE TAKING REQUESTS anything smutty with LIH Luke and Reader!!! I think you said you'd do HCs or NSFW alphabet so whatever you're comfortable with! I love you and I love them ❤️

so some of these I've had saved just as character notes for a while bc I think it's fun even if the smut isn't inherently written into the fic to have an idea of what the intimate part of their relationship would be like - I've tried to expand to bulk it out so it sort of goes on!! I took some inspo from the nsfw alphabet but I didn't use it because I repel structure!!!! It’s not even very very smutty it’s more so just describing intimate parts of their relationship

ALSO you don't have to have read either fic to read this, it's sort of general luke and how I conceptualise him as a character tbh!! Idk if I’ll ever write him beyond LIH so I think this is just Luke to me by now but I hope you enjoy regardless!!

word count: 4k+

general warnings: 18+ MDNI, unprotected p in v, coming inside, coming on, mutual masturbation, oral (m and f receiving), mentions of being tied up and blindfolded, mentions of period sex and I think that’s all

Luke just gives boy moaner vibes. Like he's loud, and he has no concept of just how loud he is because even when he's trying to bite back his noises or be lowkey about it, he's groaning and panting and grunting and you quickly give up trying to get him to shut up because he isn't capable of doing so. And you like hearing him moan as much as you like hearing him speak, which is a lot if you're being honest - you'll let him yap for hours sometimes while you just cuddle up to him or when you're straddling his lap and kissing at his neck and he's going on and on about something that happened in a game or training. Sometimes you think he's so in his head about whatever it is that he's talking about that he forgets you're literally sat on him but then his hands will grip at your hips and get you moving, and he'll slip out the occasional, “Right there,” or “Oh, fuck," when you grind straight against the obvious bulge in his sweatpants.

And he'll talk at you between kisses sometimes, like even your tongue in his mouth won't stop him when he's got something to rant about, but he still occasionally kisses back - lets it drag out a little before he carries on until he's finished - and you just let him because it's always better for him to just say what he clearly needs to say before he gives his full undivided attention.

And he’s bantery even when you’re fucking, even in his dirty talk that he considers foreplay, he’s teasing you - craving that back and forth that you love to give him, saying dorky jokes while he’s literally inside you and you think it’s the dorkiest and sexiest thing he could possibly do - make you belly laugh while he has you pinned down to the bed and your legs are up over his broad shoulders.

But back to the boy moans you don't know how you ever kept your situationship a secret that first summer with just how loud he is - he gives these big satisfied hums whenever you give him the slightest touch - like if you wrap your arms around his shoulders and your fingers tickle at the curls by the nape of his neck, or you're tucking yourself into his side when you all go out on the boat, or one of his brothers are driving and you're nestled up to him in the backseat. He's such a physical touch guy that he can't help the little noises he makes when you give him what he wants, even if it isn't entirely sexual in nature

But when it is, when you're sinking down onto your knees in front of him, and your neck is craned to look straight up and meet his eye while you lower his zipper, he'll literally whine as he watches you take him out of his briefs - watches you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock and shuffle forward a little to get a closer angle on him - his breath will stutter audibly the second your lips come within an inch of his length, the mere distance of you causing it to twitch a little as it hardens even more.

When your thumb swipes at the pre-cum leaking from his tip, and you bring it to your mouth as you look up at him, he’s letting out a heavy, blissed out sigh in pure anticipation of your next touch, and you do your best to tease him just to get as many sounds out as you can before he’s a moaning, gasping mess - and that comes when your lips are around his shaft, when his hips are jolting forward and his tip is hitting the back of your throat, and your nails are scratching at the thick muscle of his thighs in response. His groans then are broken and the pitch is a little higher, and sometimes you’ll take his hands and put them in your hair or on the back of your head, encouraging him to fuck into you a little when you can handle it, which isn’t that often because he’s big and you try to surprise him with it when you can

You’d like to think with stuff like that it’s your own version of having some sort of control over him, but in reality, he holds a quiet dominance over you at all times

It isn’t really forceful and it isn’t really loud, but he just always has the upper hand when it comes to being intimate, and you both like it that way.

Even when you’re on top, and your holding him to the bed by his wrists as you’re riding him, hips moving at your own pace, his cock filling you so deep that it’s almost mind numbing but all you can think to do is keep moving and keep holding him down, and it’s a while before you realise he doesn’t need his hands to control you - he rocks his hips at his own pace, filling you deeper than you were managing on your own, thrusting up into you when you bring yourself down and he lets you bask in the illusion of your own dominance, but he never fully submits, not when it comes to sex, because you can mouth off all you want to him - in public, in private - and people can have their own ideas of who takes the lead in your relationship, but as soon as those doors close, you’re his, and he’s the only one who’ll ever get you like this.

and oh my god, back to this - he’s such a physical touch guy!! he HAS to be touching you whatever way he can, fingers hooked through belt loops, hands laid flat in your back pockets when your facing him, or in your front pockets when your back is to his front, like you’re at a concert and you’re stood at the barrier and he’s just behind with his hands on your hips and keeps leaning down to speak right in your ear and his breath is on your neck. If he’s beside you, his arm is over your shoulder, your hips bumping, your legs touching if you’re sat down, and he loves when you lean into him, head on the side of his chest, or when you wrap your own arms around his middle.

Because when YOU touch HIM he sort of loses it - because love languages are sort of a projection right, of how you want to be loved back? So when you trace your fingers along the veins in his arm, or your hands seek him out when you’re laying out in the sun and it’s too hot to be on top of each other how you probably want (plus last time the two of you fell asleep all cuddled together and you had a distinct tan mark that was the shape of his hand on your ass) or you’re absentmindedly playing with his hair he has this big Cheshire Cat grin on his face all the time because he just loves the idea that you can’t keep your hands to yourself, either.

And he’s big into showing off his strength - because he can look sort of unassuming sometimes, but then he’s hauling you up over his shoulder and carrying you upstairs, hand landing firmly on your ass when no one else can see and you’re still squirming, and he’s wrestling you down into the sheets and burying his head between your legs until your kicks of defiance die into your knees flopping in their jelly-like blissed out state - his tongue lapping at your core and his lips closing around your clit over and over in sloppy kisses. Your hands are in his hair - perfect - and your hips are bucking like crazy, and he’s humming into your folds and you feel the buzz of him all the way up your spine. And when he’s done, when you’ve come apart with a pillow held over your face to muffle your screams, and your body is vibrating, and his chin is slick with your juices, he just looks up at you all proud and smug and you kick at his shoulder until he falls to the floor with a thud - and then you follow him down because why not? It would only make the headboard bang if you stayed on the bed.

He shows his strength in other ways, too. Lifts you to reach the top shelf instead of reaching it for you, hands at your hips and smiling big and bright when you turn around to thank him with a kiss. Piggy backs when you’ve spent all day out on the boat and you’re too tired to walk up the dock to the house, and your sticky front is pressed to his sticky back, and he smells like sunscreen and a little sweaty and you smush your face into the space between his neck and shoulder and breathe him all in.

And then you’re showering together and he’s washing your hair and you just about reach up to wash his, and he presses his head into your hands like a touch starved puppy because he’s sweet like that!!

And he doesn’t initiate anything because he knows you’re tired, but you lean up to kiss him under the spray of the shower, and you guide him to where you’re pressed against the wet tile, and you hook a leg around him until he gets the message, until he’s got hands splayed at the top of your thighs and he’s lifting you against the wall, and he slips in without any prep because you’ve spent all day watching him just walk around all broad chested with his freckled skin glistening under the sun and he’s yours and the mere fact of it makes you so wet, and he’s been watching you in your bikini, been helping apply sunscreen and slipping his fingers under the straps, been sneaking glances at you as the day has gone on - where your hair gets all sticky around the edges of your face, and your lips wrap around the cool rim of the beer bottle he handed you straight out the cooler, and he doesn’t think he’s managed to hide the effect you have on him from anyone but he’s beyond caring too.

Because now his grunts are masked by the shower spray, and he can hear your sweet little moans right in his ear, and neither of you really have to care about hiding anything, and he’s thrusting so deep inside you that you can barely hold on - scratches down his back that aggravate the slight sunburn he has there, and fingers so tightly gripped around the back of your thighs that they’ll probably bruise, and he’s practically begging you, “Can I come inside you?” And you’re practically pleading back, “God, yes!”

He gets sort of a complex after that, for holding you up while he’s fucking you - he has you against the door of your bedroom, thinks it’s really hot that he can’t wait a single second after you’re through the threshold to have you sometimes, and a few more times in the shower. When the two of you are back in Jersey, there isn’t a surface in your apartment you haven’t christened. The kitchen counters, the couch, the rug on the floor in your living room, the little dining table you have that only fits two chairs although that’s all you need. He likes your apartment - likes being able to have you anywhere, any time, and be however loud he likes - your neighbours be damned.

He likes coming home from a game and you’re in bed with a spot reserved for him, when he comes out of the bathroom after freshening up and you’re sleepily lifting the covers for him to join you, and you wrap your limbs around him like a monkey and the two of you just fall asleep with whispered I love you’s because he’ll tell you about his game in the morning.

And he loves having a routine with you - loves getting up and making you a coffee and a toasted bagel while you shower, and you drink and eat with him before you’re rushing out to get to class - and every day, without fail, you rush back inside for “one more kiss” that turns into at least four and he’s walking you backwards, smiling into your persistent mouth, until he can wave you off at the door - and the last thing you get to see every morning is Luke stood in your doorway, hands up against the jamb until the veins pop in his arms, boxers slung low on his hips and a very promising smile that tells you later - later I’ll satisfy that very obvious hunger in your eyes. And he always follows through on that promise. When he doesn’t have a game, you get to come home to game highlights on your tv, loud enough that they carry through to your little kitchen, where you more or less always find him trying to put together something that will “refuel you” enough for all the ways he’s about to ruin you.

And you like that, too - having someone at home who wants to be there when you are, who cares if you’re well fed after a long day at school, after a longer than necessary commute because you wanted to live closer to him, so close that he’s honestly living with you before either of you realise enough to freak out about it. He goes home to his and Jack’s apartment sometimes, but during the season he wants to be as close as he can as often as he can, especially when roadies are taken into account.

And when he’s on the road, and he has a room to himself or a little privacy, he can usually go a few stop before he’s desperate enough to get himself off. He tries to do it straight in the middle of a trip, give himself time to build up to it and then give himself time to build up to a reunion. He has pictures and videos he can use, and they usually do the trick - he’s conscious if he’s away that he’s behind you in times and you might be asleep, but sometimes he needs to talk to you because it isn’t half as fun when you’re not chirping him mid orgasm. He’ll send a cautious text - you awake? - and you’ll usually call him within a minute. “You horny fucker.” You say when you light up the screen, a wry smile - one of his shirts that you deny you ever where when he’s gone stretched across your torso, the neck hole so loose that it’s hanging around your shoulder, and he’s gripping at his base and squeezing a little as he takes you in. “Miss you,” he shrugs like it’s a reasonable response, and the roll of your eyes sends a twinge straight between his legs. “Tell me about your day,” he says, because he doesn’t even need you to talk him through it, and the two of you haven’t caught up yet today. He pumps himself slowly until you can’t really ignore his little grunts anymore, and you’re asking him to flip the camera and he does, trying to ignore the sight of his leaking cock in the little rectangle in the corner, watching your reaction to it instead as he fists the length of it, a subtle flick of your eyes up and down in line with his own movements. “Fuck, Luke,” you whine, “Miss you too.” And he’ll tell you all the things he misses specifically - misses your hand, misses your mouth, misses pressing his nose into your hair in the morning and breathing you in, misses the way you snuggle into him, climb on top of him, kiss at his skin all the way down to the waistline of his briefs and nuzzle against the bulge beneath them, kissing him through the fabric until it’s too much to bear.

And then you’re moaning, and he hasn’t even realise how far gone you look, that little concentrated furrow in your brow, your bottom lip between your teeth, and he’s telling you to flip the camera.

Your hand is wrist deep under your panties, and you’re doing your best to angle the camera and carry on your handiwork, two slender fingers curling into the heat Luke could wax lyrical about all day. Tight and warm, wet and welcoming, he can’t wait to get home and take the reins.

“Tell me how it feels,” he says - and it’s sort of new territory, because he’s never seen you touch yourself before. He’s usually quick enough to do it for you if he’s around, and he doesn’t think you’ve gone this far on a call.

“Good,” you breathe out, and he’s picturing you with your neck craned, your head thrown back in pleasure. “Not as good as you, but good.”

“Yeah,” he’ll breathe back, like a blissed out sigh, because that’s exactly how he feels. Good, but not good enough. “Take ‘em off, let me see,” and his chest lurches a little at how quick you are to follow his orders. You kick off your panties and perch your phone past your legs, so he can see between them and he can see your reaction to the touch, and he sees how your fingers disappear, can hear how wet you are, and his own hand is moving faster, turned on by how you can get yourself off just by the memory of him at this point, without having to watch what he’s doing anymore. He isn’t quite as strong willed. He times his movements with yours, and it isn’t long before you’re both coming, your pretty moans coming through the phone and his strangled and restrained, because for some reason it’s different when he’s on his own and there’s the risk of a teammate hearing through hotel walls.

“Show me,” you say, and he already knows, flipping the camera to his tense stomach, where he’s slick with his own spend. He comes on you more than in you, probably, and you both just sort of like it that way. You like it on your face, knelt in front of him, eyes screwed shut to avoid anything going in them when his cock is spurting out healthy amounts against your skin, and he likes it on your folds, pulling out with just enough time to aim it there, or on your stomach, or your lower back and ass if you’re already on your front. He likes to watch it drip, you like to feel it, and when you’re apart, he guesses you like to see it, too.

And then you’re both a panting mess when you’re done, and he’ll huff out a groan of “one more week” and you’ll have to correct him like, “two, I’ll be on my period when you get back,” and he’s chewing on his bottom lip all nervous cos you haven’t had the conversation yet, but he’ll be like that doesn’t bother me you know, if it doesn’t bother you - and it opens up a whole new world for the two of you when he gets back, and it’s a lot more shower sex, and a lot more dry humping and a lot more slow, sensual movements with him on top and a towel laid out beneath you on your bed and you couldn’t love him any more than you do when he’s taking care of you after - all attentive and sweet and careful.

And you don’t know why it surprised you in the first place because Luke is experimental - he’ll try anything once, as evidenced by the fuck-it list in the summer where you two tried whatever positions you could reasonably get into together at the lake house with others around. He doesn’t mind you tying him up, thinks it’s cute when you cuff him places thinking that his hands are what he needs to feel you, but he isn’t that big on tying you up - thinks his word is enough to get you into submission, but he likes a blindfold - likes teasing you when you can’t see, and driving you crazy with every little touch - likes it when you do the same to him. When all he can feel is your breath, or your hair when it falls into his lap and makes him shudder.

And you pretty much have similar levels of experience so everything that’s new to you is new to him and you’re discovering it all together which he likes - doesn’t like thinking about you figuring out what makes you tick with someone else even if that’s a dickish thought to have.

He likes that he’s the first guy you ever fucked in the back of a car, likes that he’s the only guy you’ve ever snuck around in public with, likes that he’s the only one who’s ever actually overstimulated you - gone round after round until you can barely string a sentence together, like if it’s a couple days without a game and he’s got pent up energy and you’re all stressed from school and he thinks you need an outlet. No one else has ever got him like you have, and no one’s ever got you like him.

And overall I feel like intimacy with Luke goes way beyond sex - he loves being around you, loves laying up and watching movies with you even if you’re more prone to falling asleep on him when you’re back in school after the summer and his season is underway - loves having a hand creeping up the back of your shirt, or the legs of your sleep shorts, and just holding you with big hands, absentmindedly stroking at your soft skin. Loves nights in the summer when your skin is all shimmery from body oil and your legs tangle with his in the sheets and he wakes up a little glittery from where you’ve rubbed all over him. Loves holding your hand, loves playing with your fingers, tickling at your palms, loves when you do it back, and your fingers are scratching from his wrist to the inside of his elbow and back.

He loves taking care of you, loves plonking his hat on your head when you’re looking a little pink in the sun, or drawing little shapes with sunscreen onto your back hoping he can get an L to tan itself into your skin, loves helping you onto the boat, sitting you on his lap, buckling up your life jacket and kissing your nose when it’s done. He loves carrying your groceries up the stairs to your apartment and actually doing your grocery shopping for you when he knows you’ve not got a lot of time on your hands, helping you put it all away and noticing all the snacks you buy for him considering he practically lives there anyway.

He loves texting you, too. Loves double and triple texting you his every thought like you need to be clued in on his inner monologue, and loves when you send the same sort of stuff back. He has personal beef with the guy who sits behind you in class for smacking his gum too loud - calls him Gum Loser because having all these insights into the part of your life that doesn’t involve him makes him feel good.

And you send each other dumb selfies all the time that end up as contact pictures and lock screens. Yours is a close up of his face from below, and he’s doing something stupid with his mouth like puffing the air up into his top lip until his nostrils flare and you like it cos his eyes look super pretty in whatever light he’s under, his lashes fan out and you think it’s cute he looks a little like a fish or something.

And his is you sat across from him, one of the times he tried to teach you chess, your chin is in your palm, your feet resting on the chair and your knees bent up to your chest and you’re so focused on making the right move that you never noticed him taking the picture - and he loves it because you asked him to teach you, and you sat there and listened and learned, and he has a million pictures by now of you in bikinis and pretty dresses and his shirts, or just random selfies you sent him or pictures you asked him to take for your Instagram but he likes catching you off guard the most.

Loves taking pictures of you asleep to tease you with, and you do the same to him. And you take pictures of him doing the most mundane things just because you can - stood with his hands in his pockets in the line at the bookstore, trying to figure out which avocado looks the most ripe and ready at the grocery store, mid argument with one of his friends while he’s playing video games on your couch. And when you get to go to games you’re always sneaking to watch him in warm ups and he’s always trying not to fall or stumble when you’re there because lord knows you’ll chirp him as much as any of the guys will about it.

But Luke can’t go a day anymore without seeing you or speaking to you, and you’re pretty much the same. However you can get him, you’ll take him.

[demonpiratehuntress]

brother's keeper

Portgas D Ace x F!Reader

summary - you meet Luffy's brother in Alabasta, the very pirate that you may just have the biggest crush on. he spends the entire journey hogging your attention, both purposely and unintentionally. part 2 here.

warnings - none

a/n - i cannot plan a fic to save my life...whatever comes from my head is usually different to what i plan...for instance, i did not plan this to be a two part fic, but it just might be...

While you were not surprised that Luffy had failed to mention his brother, you were definitely surprised by who said brother was. A man that you had, and you'd take this secret to your grave, fantasised about on more than one occasion.

Because how was your carefree, slightly insane captain who got by on sheer luck related to such a powerful, intimidating pirate??

You could not meet his gaze.

Ace had made friends with most of the group already - he was surprisingly friendly, which you hadn't expected from someone even Marines feared. But you were too flustered to make eye contact, let alone utter a single word to him.

And this didn't go unnoticed by the Whitebeard Pirates commander.

Maybe it was the fact that he was shirtless. Maybe it was the fact that he had a huge bounty on his head. Or maybe it was just the fact that you wondered if his kiss would be as fiery as his devil fruit power.

"What's wrong, (Name)?" Nami asked you, pulling you away from the boys. She had this knowing smirk on her face that made your face flush.

"Nothing!" Your voice came out an octave higher than you planned. "Why would you think there's something wrong?"

"Okay, then go talk to Ace-"

"No!" You interrupted her, eyes wide with panic. "I can't do that!"

Nami let out an unnecessarily loud laugh, "I can't believe it. Is this really the girl who keeps yelling at the boys on our crew and calling them stupid?"

"Actually, that's you. But this is different!" You protested, covering your face.

Unbeknownst to you, the commander had actually heard the entire conversation. At first, he was a little offended, but as he heard more his lips curled into an amused smirk.

That is, until he saw the death glare your crew's cook was giving him.

A few minutes later, you were washing some of the dishes from lunch - Sanji was occupied with chasing Luffy around the ship because of how he'd been washing them. You were lost in your thoughts, thinking about what to say to Ace if you could gather up enough courage to talk to him, and didn't hear someone come in behind you.

"Need any help?" Ace's voice filled your ears, amusement barely hidden in his tone.

You tensed, your eyes wide. For a moment, you panicked and didn't know how to respond, making him chuckle behind you. He came all the way and leaned on the counter beside you, his eyes scanning your distressed face.

"Have I offended you?" He asked softly, knowing the answer but curious to see what you'd tell him.

"No, not at all," you managed to answer, stopping yourself from speaking any further in fear of making yourself look like an idiot. The last thing you wanted was for him to hear you stutter and stammer like a child learning their first words.

"So is there another reason that you've been avoiding me?" He teased. "I've spoken to everyone on your crew, except for you."

"You're speaking to me now," you offered meekly.

He laughed, the sound washing over you and loosening all your tense muscles, "I suppose I am."

You hesitated for a moment, then lowered your voice, "I didn't expect Luffy to have such a-"

"Charming brother?" He finished, his eyes glinting with the same mischievous light that Luffy's often did. "I got that a lot today."

You laughed at his words, and his lips quirked up into a smile at the sound. He took this as permission to move closer, satiating his puzzling need to be closer to you. He was, for some reason, drawn to the girl on his brother's crew that seemed to be doing everything to avoid him.

"I suppose you could say that," you smiled.

Ace opened his mouth to say something else, when Luffy and Sanji burst in through the door. The blonde had his foot raised to kick the captain, when he saw you and Ace standing there, closer than he'd have liked.

You didn't get much time to speak to Ace after that, which was both a relief and disappointment to you. Vivi guided Nami to dock in a hidden spot when you reached Erumalu, before the crew was unwittingly the target of creatures that looked like a cross between a turtle and a seal.

"Luffy, don't-!" Vivi tried to warn your captain, but it was too late.

You face-palmed, Ace huffing out a laugh next to you. Though you weren't sure if that was because of your reaction or his brother's antics.

The walk through the desert was not a pleasant one, but you managed. Again, you subconsciously avoided walking beside Ace, and he was amused by this. To tease you, he intentionally kept moving to walk with you, holding back laughter each time you tensed or blushed even slightly.

It was cute.

"So how did you meet my brother?" Ace asked you, standing so close to you that you could feel the heat radiating off his body. You tensed a little at the memory, and he quickly apologised, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"No it's okay," you shook your head, "I'm past it. I was actually unwillingly working for Kuro at the time, who was disguised as a butler for Usopp's, uh, friend. Luffy was...actively recruiting," you laughed, "so when he beat Kuro, I joined his crew."

"He must be convincing if he managed to recruit a former pirate hunter," Ace's eyes drifted to the green-haired swordsman.

You hummed in agreement, "Once you see some of the strongest pirates fall by Luffy's hand, you figure you'd rather be on the side of the crazy, unhinged rubber boy than against him."

Ace chuckled at your description, and as you walked he told you stories of Luffy from their childhood. Most of which did not really surprise you.

"Thanks for putting up with him," he finished, smiling warmly at you. "I know he can be a handful."

"Maybe," you looked at Luffy, who was fighting with Usopp over water. "But he's fiercely protective of his friends. And probably the most persistent, loyal person I've ever met. He's a good captain, even if it's not in the traditional sense."

Ace smiled at that, and the two of you parted to help set up camp for the night when the group stopped to rest.

Later that night, however you couldn't sleep. It was icy cold outside, and even being inside the tent didn't do anything to keep you warm. Shivering, you hugged yourself and exited your tent, only to see Ace sitting just outside it.

"Can't sleep?" He looked up at you, his eyes sympathetic.

"Nope," you sat down beside him - something you never thought you'd do until he had made you feel more at ease around him. "It's so cold."

Ace watched you for a moment, silently debating, before opening his arms.

You saw this, and your eyes widened, "What-"

"Hug me," he grinned. "You look like you could use it."

A fierce blush crossed your cheeks, butterflies blooming in your stomach, "I-"

"Oh come on," he chuckled, "Don't get shy on me again. Come here." His hand gently wrapped around your forearm, and he pulled you closer to him, sliding his arm around you.

Your face burned, but you slowly leaned against him, getting more comfortable - and more confident, by his gentle encouragement to relax on him and let him warm you up.

Eventually, you drifted off to sleep, but you don't remember when.

You jerked awake to shouts and cries the next morning, looking around to find the source of the commotion - which was just Vivi telling Luffy not to eat a scorpion. You sighed, sitting up, only to be stopped by Ace's arms. You turned to look at the commander, who was laughing at his brother, and your cheeks heated up again.

"Oh, you're awake!" Ace grinned, turning to look at you. His warm eyes gleamed with affection, making you blush more.

"Morning," you greeted, "And yes, that's how we wake up most mornings. Someone always shouting at your brother."

Ace laughed, finally loosening his grip on you but not letting go completely. His touch was electrifying, and most of you didn't want him to let go. But a small part of you knew that he had to at some point.

The group continued trekking across the desert, but by now you were much more comfortable walking with Ace. The two of you lingered at the back, behind the rest of the bickering Straw Hat crew, fingers just barely brushing against each other's with how close you were.

You couldn't help it, especially because your attraction to Ace had been there before you'd even met him, and found yourself falling for the charming raven-haired commander.

Though you knew that there was no way he could possibly feel that way about you, so you kept that to yourself.

He was so easy to be around, that you'd forgotten about your initial nervousness. Talking to him, being around him, felt as natural as breathing. He was just that kind of person, you realised, and suddenly you were upset you wasted so much time being too nervous to talk to him.

The crew was forced to stop once again when Luffy had practically handed all your things to a bunch of avian bandits, then proceeded to chase after them across the desert.

Ace settled on a nearby rock, watching in amusement as Zoro, Usopp and Sanji complained about your captain's antics. He apologised for his brother's behaviour, before his eyes travelled to where you stood with the other girls. He stared at you for a moment, his own feelings for you stirring.

Would it be wrong to ask out one of his brother's crewmates?

[pomefioredove]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ requiem of a cringe

did something embarrassing last night and was like "I need to go crawl in a hole and die. OR I could write"

type of post: blurbs characters: cater, rook, jack, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral (the term "damsel in distress" is used in vil's part, but it's meant to be teasing and not indicative of the reader's gender), reader is yuu, rook is rook

I. Talks Too Much

It's not that you're trying to be annoying.

Your mouth simply moves faster than your mind, and before you know it, you've been talking for twenty uninterrupted minutes about... well... nothing.

You always notice that uncomfortable, irritated look on their face just after you're done. And then you keep rambling in an attempt to make it less awkward (it never does).

And now you're here, hiding in the hedge maze outside Heartslabyul, thinking about getting lost and never coming out of it.

Of course, if anyone were to find you now, it'd be him.

"Hey, hon~ you busy?"

"Please, not now, Cater," you mutter.

The boy stills, looking a little taken aback by how miserable you sound.

"Are you still upset about that thing at the Unbirthday Party? That was hours ago, babe! I bet no one even remembers,"

You physically cringe. The faces of your uncomfortable tablemates won't seem to leave your memory...

"I remember it," you murmur, burying your face in your hands. "I'm so annoying."

For once, Cater is quiet. A minute goes by, and you think he may have left, until you hear the grass crunching under his knees as he kneels down and pulls you into a hug.

"You are not annoying. And even if you were, it'd only make me like you more," he mutters, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"Understand?"

Your surprise at his change in tone doesn't stop you from hugging back. "Understood,"

You hadn't meant to say all of that.

You just spilled a potion you'd been working on for hours, and amidst your frustrated floor-scrubbing, you had vented about your entire week to your poor lab partner, a person you had been trying to impress all semester.

He had, gracefully, let you finish your rant, and then let you sit in it, just like the harmless potion now coating your knees as you cleaned up the floor.

Then, he awkwardly said: "That... sucks. I guess. I don't know what to say,"

There had probably never, in your whole life, been a person who looked more unhappy to be around you.

Afterwards, you found a nice spot in the woods behind campus to die.

You lie there, hoping nature would reclaim you before next alchemy class, when some purposefully loud rustling in the bushes catches your eye.

"Ah, Trickster! You really should not lie like that- a predator will take that as weakness, non? Are you injured?"

"Only my pride,"

"Talking about it will make you feel better," Rook says. It's more of a demand than a question.

You sigh. "I think I've done enough talking for... ever, actually,"

"Nonsense," he suddenly straddles your waist and pins your wrists to the earth. "I will not move until you tell me the problem, mon cœur."

You're like an animal in a snare. Once Rook has made up his mind, that's it. He will find out.

And so, with a sigh, you let him take the kill- that is, you tell him everything. Your whole, terrible week, the potion incident, the look on your lab partner's face...

When you're done, he's just. Smiling. "I see now. You are embarrassed,"

"Well... yes. You don't think that's embarrassing?"

He beams. "You are simply overflowing with beautiful emotion and passion for la vie! How could I ever find that embarrassing? You and I are not so different,"

In a weird way, that makes sense. Rook is never one to let shame hold him back from expressing his feelings.

He smiles at your pensive expression, and gives you a kiss on the head.

"Mais, next time you are upset, maybe you should come to me first, non?"

II. Clumsy

Forgetful, scatterbrained, oblivious, dimwitted are all words you've become used to hearing.

As well as a few colorful swears.

You have two left feet, even when you're not dancing- you're used to walking into walls, tripping, and dropping things- it just sucks that you have an audience now.

The first years that had gathered around the mess you made- tripping over your own feet and spilling the papers you were meant to deliver to Ace and Deuce all over the floor- are watching with grins and phones out.

You pretend they're not there, even with their taunts and whistles and laughter.

"Hey! Loitering is a waste of time!" someone barks. Literally.

You look up to see Jack moving through the crowd, scolding the other first years for blocking the hall.

When he sees you in the eye of the storm, on your hands and knees picking up your spilled papers, something upset takes his usually-stoic demeanor.

"What's the matter with you?!" he snarls at the boys. "Didn't anyone teach you any manners?! It's rude to stare- and laugh!"

His ears are flattened against his head when he kneels down beside you to help, collecting the papers, and putting them in your hands.

"Come on, we'll be late if you keep 'sittin there,"

Jack pulls you to your feet and gives one final snarl to the other first years before walking you off.

"...Thanks,"

"Eh? Don't mention it," he says. "Leona woulda had my tail if I just walked by..."

You know there's more to it than that, but you don't push. You're just happy he's forgotten to take his hand out of yours.

You can't handle being the center of attention.

For good reason, too- you're awkward, clumsy, and about the least graceful a person can get.

A true Ugly Duckling at a place like NRC. But Vil Schoenheit sees the swan in you. Perhaps that's why he's always been so patient and sweet.

It's a little distracting.

So much is obvious when he waves at you in the hall and, distracted by his smile, you walk right into a wall.

Though you can't see anything but stars after falling on your butt, the stares and snickers of everyone else are hard to miss.

Vil glares them away with a look that could kill twice over, and then stands over you as you lay on the floor.

"Come on," he says, holding out a hand. "I'll check you for concussion."

He brings you to Pomefiore and sits you down, shooing off a few curious underclassmen as he checks your pupils. "Do you feel nauseous?"

"Not really,"

"Then you'll be fine. Just a bump. You really should be more careful, though,"

You've heard that one before. Vil smiles at your dazed expression, and presses a cold compress against your head.

"This will help with the swelling,"

"Thanks," you mutter, still a little out of it. "You're my hero."

His eyebrows raise in true surprise, and then he chuckles. "And that makes you a damsel in distress?"

He doesn't give you a chance to respond before taking away the compress and kissing the red mark on your head.

"Don't think that being so cute is going to distract me. I'll make some time for lessons on poise this weekend,"

III. Unsociable

You'd think that being quiet and staying out of people's ways would get them to leave you alone, but it really just attracts more attention.

And after a grueling period of your tablemates making you the butt of every joke ("wow, I didn't know you could even talk!" "are you quiet because you hate us? come onnn, you can tell me!") you were ready to bury yourself alive.

"I don't ever want to leave," You mumble into the bundle of sheets and blankets on Idia's unmade bed.

"You could stay, y'know," Idia says from his desk, mindlessly scrolling through some gaming forum. "I should blackmail Crowley into letting you stay down here at least half the year."

"Couldn't it be the whole?"

"Nah. You need like, sunlight and stuff,"

"And you don't?!"

Idia snickers. "I'm built different. You know that. I get all my nutrients from blue light... You could at least stay for the weekend, though,"

You roll your eyes.

"...And I'll leak those normies' data. I'm sure I could get into their browser histories and have that emailed to their parents,"

Hm. You genuinely consider it for a moment, but eventually decide to give mercy. You're basically a saint.

"I think I just wanna pretend like I don't exist right now,"

Idia nods in understanding and pushes his gaming chair over to the edge of the bed, before crawling in and wrapping himself around you.

"That can be done. Pancakes tomorrow?"

Sure, there were people who talked to you, but you didn't talk back.

You just don't know how, you suppose. Every time you try, you end up saying the wrong thing, or are accidentally rude, or do something embarrassing.

You don't understand the references people make. You don't get social cues or hints. You have the social skills of an oyster.

Four months at Night Raven College, and you didn't have a single friend.

Well- except for him.

"How are you enjoying your tea?" Malleus asks, polite and curt as ever.

You take another sip- it's tangy, sweet, with a hint of bitterness. Some sort of Briar Valley blend that Malleus had imported just for you.

"I really like it,"

He smiles. "I'm pleased,"

One of the things you find so agreeable about Malleus is his simplicity. He often says exactly what he means; albeit, in a sort of 13th century Lord sort of way.

There's less stress with him. You don't have to pretend to be interesting, or outgoing, or cool. You can just be... you.

Because he likes you.

"You know," you say with a faint smile. "You're so nice to me. Sometimes I think that you're the only person I need. I could be happy with just you for the rest of my life."

You had meant that casually, but when you look back up from your cup, Malleus has this... look.

Wide-eyed, his lips pressed firmly together. There's even a dusting of color on his cheeks.

"Oh," you internally panic. Was that too much? Was that weird? Did you make things awkward again? Crap, you should have just acted normal, what's wrong with you?! "S-sorry, I-"

"Do you truly mean that?"

You go quiet, looking back at him with wide eyes. Your heart is pounding against your chest.

"...Yes,"

Malleus hums, his expression becoming more... pensive, and then...

He smiles. "I feel the same. Shall we go for a walk while the night is still young?"

[district4loading]

Lazy Days

Twice Mina x Male Reader

4K Words

Content Warning: Smut, Fluff

Minors DNI

A/N: This is another request I received almost a month ago. I really hate that it took me so long to get to it especially because it isn't even that long. It's probably cause for the past few weeks I've been stressed and I've had bad headaches which really killed my motivation lol.

Anyways enough of my bitching, I really enjoyed writing this one cause Mina's been wrecking me lately so I hope you guys like it.

-

"You let me win, didn't you?"

-

"There's no way" You blink, your entire body running stiff as you watch the small pixelated character you created maybe four hours ago shrivel up and die in one of the worst ways imaginable. In the same instance you glance over to your girlfriend Mina, who's sitting right next to you on the couch. Although she doesn't look at you, you can see the smirk on her face and you begin to process that she just beat you. Again. "You've gotta be cheating!" You accuse, pressing the respawn button on your controller.

"No" She insists cutely with her whiny tone of voice "I'm just better than you" The simple shrug of her shoulders has you a bit salty. 

It's been like this all day. You both had today off, so really and truly there was no better way to spend it than to sit around all day playing video games. Truth be told, you were never a gamer before you met Mina. When she moved in with you, she brought her console too and you slowly went from watching her play occasionally to playing with her and even more than her sometimes.

"Yeah right, one more game" You run a hand through your messy hair.

Mina loves how stubborn you are, she sees it as one of your cutest traits. She just knows that although you say "one more game" you really mean "we'll play until I beat you" and it's even funnier that you refuse to admit that part.

Sure enough you end up playing four rounds instead of the 'one' you spoke of earlier "Don't you think we should be doing something else?" Mina mutters, reluctantly pressing the button for a rematch when you lose again. She glances at the time, noticing that you two have been at this all morning and it was just bleeding into the afternoon.

"Like what?" You bite your lip subconsciously, something you always did when you were trying to focus. 

"I dunno, you hungry? We could order something, watch tv, maybe go out later.." She suggests, but you barely hear any of it because not even a second after she finishes her sentence, you manage to finally beat her in the combat game. 

"Ha! See? You're not better than me, look I just beat you" You stand up and point to the tv. Mina only puts her controller to the side and she smiles at you calmly, nodding. It doesn't really matter to you in the moment that you've played maybe a total of sixteen matches, four of which you actually won. You silently appreciate her for not bringing up that part either. "Okay, what were you saying?" You turn off the console and plop back down on the couch.

"Maybe" She looks like she's actually thinking for a moment, then in the same instance she kind of stops and she gets this look on her face. An almost devilish smirk replaces her pondering pout and you're almost immediately intrigued about what's to come "I should give you a reward for winning"

She only has to scoot closer to you and lean her head in a few inches to catch your lips on hers. You kiss her back, hands on her waist so you can pull her to sit on your lap. "What kind of reward?" You decide to humor her cause why not and she can't hide her giggles when she presses on your shoulder to get you to lay back.

"Just lay down" Mina's voice is so wonderfully soft, almost healing to your ears when she says the three words. You first prop one of the throw pillows up against the armrest and you rest your head against it. Still in your lap, Mina leans down to put her lips back on yours and you can't get enough of them. So smooth and tender as you make out in your cozy living room.

When Mina pulls away, she shuffles backwards a bit and with the space she has, she lays flat on her belly between your legs. It's a big couch so she's able to fit there nice and comfy, arms resting on your thighs as she tugs on the waistband of your shorts and you lift your hips to help her out.

 "You let me win, didn't you?" You figure

"Well, how else was I supposed to get your cock in my mouth?" She teases, pulling the garments off your legs. Your cock springs free from its confinements, semi-hard from the bit of kissing you did earlier. 

"You could've just a-asked—" Your tone of voice changes mid-way when Mina wraps her lips around your head, her moist inner cheeks wonderfully stimulating each nerve. 

She releases you with a subtle pop then she curls her fingers around your shaft, stroking up and down. "Where's the fun in that" The way she giggles feels a little more sinister and it genuinely sends a chill down your spine as you grow harder and harder in her hands. 

Mina leans over, sticking her tongue out to flick it against your tip "God" You bite your lip, forgetting to breathe while you make eye contact. It's like there's a greater force gluing your eyes to her making it impossible for you to look away. When she's got your cock at it's hardest—which doesn't take very long at all—she opens her mouth and takes you inside.

The descent is slow and easy for her for the first few inches. She starts to struggle the further she gets down and you're unable to focus on anything but the warmth of her mouth, the saliva coating your entire shaft and the tight squeeze her mouth gives your cock whenever she gags or swallows. It has your jaw clenching already. 

You grasp your t-shirt in your hands then you pull it over your head, stretching the cheap fabric a bit because you were rushing. "Mina" You sigh, as she gets her lips to touch your base. Tears welled up in her pretty eyes. They threaten to fall as she holds herself there and the absolute clutch of her throat is nearly perfect. 

First she has to remind herself to breathe through her nose before she comes up. Mina stops when she reaches the head then she plunges again, sliding your cock down the slot of her throat easier this time around. She manages to get herself in a rhythm, cheeks hollowed as she sucks you off, tongue dragging up and down the underside of your cock. "You're so good at that" You praise, lips parted as you take in the wonderful view.

Mina's so beautiful, you could spend hours just admiring her face, scanning each beauty mark and every subtle blemish on her porcelain skin. "So pretty" You whisper and she hums softly to let you know that she acknowledges your compliment. There's more you want to say but the words get caught up and stuck in your throat because she's got you speechless right now. As her eyes pierce through yours, you hope that she can understand at least a fragment of the love you feel for her in this moment. "I love you" You groan the confession like it's the first time you're saying it.

She comes back up, licking her lips as she wraps her hand around your base. She strokes you slowly and softly, that same shy giggle escaping her lips and you get high on it. "I love you more" Her tongue darts out to lick up the pre cum that's beginning to dribble down your shaft. Then she rubs the pad of her thumb in circles on your frenulum.

A moan escapes your lips and your body begins to squirm as she attacks the sensitive spot there. You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from whimpering. She fists your cock again, then chases it with her mouth up and down with the twist of her wrists. 

You reach your hand out, running your fingers through her newly dyed ash hair and you brush it to the side when you notice that it was getting in the way. Her hand and her mouth moves together fast and you're not sure how much longer you'll be able to take it for. The way she can have your body almost trembling under her magical touch will always amaze you, no matter how many times she does this.

"M-Mina I'm close—fuck" You warn but she won't slow or stop. In fact, she's squeezing and sucking harder like she needs your load in her mouth as soon as possible. You know she'll swallow it all.

You end up biting into your fist, eyes squinting as your brows knit together right up until you cum. "Shit, I'm gonna.." Your cock pulses out the first few shots which hit the roof of Mina's mouth. She isn't at all phased by it though, in fact, she keeps her movements steady as she milks you for everything you've got, moaning eagerly at the taste. You finish it all off with a sigh and then she finally stops, taking you out of her mouth carefully so nothing spills out. 

Mina opens her mouth, proudly showing you the flood of semen thats pooled up inside where it belongs. Then she closes her lips together and she stops for a moment before she gulps it down. "You're amazing" You pant, watching weakly as she climbs up your body so you're face to face. She smiles before connecting your lips and your hands go to the hem of her top almost immediately and you slip them under just to feel her soft, bare skin on your hands.

She breaks the kiss, then she pulls her top off and her petite breasts are finally free "These too" You pull at the clingy fabric of her leggings, hearing the light noise it makes when it snaps back. 

"You ready for me already babe?" 

"You know I am" a smile grows on her face as she stands up from the couch to shimmy herself out of them, her hips swaying side to side with a naughty purpose. Finally, she steps out of them and kicks them to the side "Wait, leave them on" she stops just as she's about to take her panties off. She's wearing this black lacy underwear that clings to her ass so beautifully, it'd be a crime to remove them when they look so good on her.

Mina only shakes her head, a chuckle escaping her lips as she straddles you again "You're such a weirdo" She mutters, not giving you the chance to respond because she's making out with you again. This kiss lasts a little bit longer because you want to take your time with her perfect lips, sucking and licking on them as it gets sloppier. She begins moaning into your mouth because of the pressure your hard cock provides while it's pushed up against her cunt. "Fuck" She curses, lightly biting your lip as she grinds her hips forwards.

She reaches down, kissing you harder this time as she slides her dampened panties to the side because she doesn't want to spend another second empty. Mina has to hover a bit as she grabs your cock to aim the head with her slick entrance but she's so soaked that it ends up slipping past. You try not to, but you end up snickering and she glares at you before trying again. This time she gets it in, you know that much from the first feel of her tight cunt gripping the head. 

You both exhale deeply as Mina sinks herself down slowly, taking this opportunity to enjoy the stretch of your thick cock. When she's got you stuffed as deep as the position would allow, Mina picks up her hips and begins to rock forwards in slow motions. "So deep in me, it feels so good ah~"

The way Mina moves her body so smooth and fluid has you falling in love with her all over again. You let a harsh slap land on her round ass, hearing the sound of the sharp impact echo loudly in your living room. She yelps loudly, leaning over to hold herself up on your shoulders so she can move faster. Her warm walls hug you tightly, occasionally clenching when she closes the gap between you two. Your cock fits so perfectly inside of her, it's like you were made for each other.

"Mina" You moan once she begins to move her hips in a circular motion. It feels so insane that now you're gripping her ass tightly, probably leaving red hand marks on her pale skin. 

"Like that?" Mina smirks, looking deep into your hooded eyes moaning when your cock brushes past her g-spot. She puts her hands over yours, then guides them both up to her perky tits. You feel her stiff nipples poking your palms as you take the initiative to squeeze and knead the soft flesh thoroughly. "God your cock—it's so" She moans again, throwing her head back so her hair flys out of her face.

This is the perfect visual. Mina's god-like body on top of yours, every dangerous and deadly curve of hers highlighted with the sheet of sweat on her skin. Her eyes closed and her mouth wide open as she moans about how good your dick is, how she can ride it all day long and how it's tearing her apart among another mess of words you can't really make out. You listen good and well to everything she's saying because she absolutely means it, you can tell that much from the utter lust in her tone.

Mina lets herself loose on you like she's been thinking about it all day, thinking about how you'll fill and fuck her with your large cock. You're only able to watch as the subtle indicators begin to show themselves. Like when her moans go up an octave or when her movements become less calculated and more messy and feral. You also notice the way she leans down, capturing your lips once more and you can tell it's a silent plea for you to do something.

So that's exactly what you do. You hold her in place by her hips and you begin to piston your cock into her, your thighs meeting hers to make this thick meaty slapping noise. She nearly screams, unable to focus on kissing you when you're fucking her like this. "Yes! Fuck- Harder!" So much raw force, it's almost punishing. However, your purpose wasn't to "punish" her, it was more so to reward her for everything she did beforehand. 

She understands that.

When Mina buries her head into your neck, you're a hundred percent sure that you've got her right there. She breathes heavily into your skin, moaning and choking on her words with each deep thrust you give her. She hums loud and long "I'm cumming!" and then you begin to feel how tightly her cunt clenches and pulses around your cock as her wetness spills down your shaft. "Fuck- Yes baby!" She begins to shake, her body jerking and bucking in your grip.

With a long sigh, she stops calms down a bit, the aftershocks still causing her body to react occasionally. You give her maybe a second to recover before you slip your cock out of her and flip her so she's on her back. She's so out of it, she doesn't even realize that you've switched positions until you slide your cock back inside of her where it belongs. Mina gasps, feeling your cock reach different parts of her at this angle.

"I can't fucking-" What she's trying to say is that she can't believe that you're fucking her so good. Hard and deep. That's exactly how she likes it as you recall, and you've hardly even given her a moment to recover from the orgasm you just fucked her through. "Cum in me" she looks deep into your eyes when she says it and she's so serious about it.

You lean down, your temple to hers as you nearly fuck her through the couch. You're a little rough on her, you know that because you can hear the springs in the furniture starting to give. It's not really built for this kind of treatment but it's durable and it's been through worse than this.

The more your cock slides in and out of her, dragging all the way back to the tip only to bury itself into her again, the more animalistic you feel. It's the tight grip, her velvety walls and her hoarse voice moaning your name that's got you like this. You want nothing more than to empty your balls inside of Mina, fill her up and keep it lodged so deep that none of it spills out.

You barely even notice when you push her into another orgasm because you're too focused on that distinct feeling growing and burning like a hot ball of fire in the pit of your stomach. "Oh... I'm gonna cum" You grit through your teeth, voice rough just before you nearly growl as you cum again, shooting countless ropes of warm white into her stretched cunt. She gasps, legs shaking as you continue to pound deep and slow into her, making sure you get everything out.

"Yeah, give me everything baby" She coos, fingers interlocking at the back of your neck. 

With a sigh your body finally relaxes and you put all of your weight on her body. When you're finally ready to talk after the long moment of silence you spend in your post-orgasm daze you lift your head and look into Mina's eyes. You know she's expecting your usual "I love you" after sex but instead you decide to mess with her a bit "So... pizza?"

She blinks "What?"

"Earlier you mentioned that we could order something and watch TV, right? I was just suggesting that we get pizza" She gives you an expecting look, like she's not going to give you a straight answer until you tell her what she really wants to hear "and I love you" You add on, leaning down to connect your lips with a grin on your face.

She can't help it when she smiles "Okay pizza then" she agrees.

-

You begin to think that maybe it wasn't the smartest idea to order pizza right before getting in the shower because you're both just stepping out when you hear the doorbell ring. Mina wraps her towel around her body "Well you're gonna have to get it cause I'm naked" She nods to herself as if there wasn't a towel wrapped around your waist also.

"So am I?" You try to argue as she walks into your bedroom. Her calm silence says enough and you figure you should just get the food cause you definitely won't win that fight. When you open the door, the delivery guy looks at you a little weird but you still tip him generously and mutter a small "thank you" at the end of the exchange.

When you get back in your shared apartment, you place the pizza on the coffee table and you turn off the lights before you join her in the bedroom to get into something comfy. 

"I can't believe you're making me watch this" Mina snuggles herself against you, squinting a bit to read the description of the show on the tv screen. You're cuddling and eating on the couch, yes the same couch you just fucked on, it's multi-purpose. You snicker at your own joke before realizing what she's just said.

"So you're genuinely telling me, you didn't enjoy the first season?" You ask, taking a bite of your pizza. It's only got pepperoni on it but it's a classic nonetheless.

Mina shakes her head "No I hated it actually" She corrects you, turning her head with her mouth open. You move your hand away, catching that she's trying to eat your food. She only whines, giving you those adorable eyes.

"There's like seven more slices right there, why do you want to eat mine" You point to it, nodding your head in the direction of the small table before you pick up the remote to play the show. 

It's Squid Game 2 that you're watching as you allow Mina to take a rather large bite of your pizza anyways, despite giving her a hard time about it. "I didn't wanna move" She says as she chews.

"Sure" You scoff, acting like you didn't absolutely love feeding her. Just babying Mina in general is one of your favorite things to do with her. She knows that from the way you swipe off a bit of tomato sauce from the corner of her lip but she fails to bring it up because she too enjoys it.

See there's nothing better than a lazy day in your book. It may have been really unproductive, but sometimes a little bit of a recharge with the person you love the most is the little boost you need to make the most of the following week.

Lazy days are good days

[tiredsmashbros]

SMG34: LIPBITE COMIC WIP UPDATE

oh boy... i know a bunch of folks are hyped for this comic... and boy oh boy are ya'll's prayers going to be heard... kind of... butt for the celebration milestone, and granted majority are from this comic, i thought it was best to give EVERYTHING that i have currently.

starting off STRONG with what you freaks most want: the completed pages. andddd yep that's it that all that i have done LMAO. i've been fixated on my own smg4 oc: tsb, and during the end of my summer was unfortunately fucked over by some personal issues that fortunately got resolved last minute good grief the anxiety prevented me from drawing the gays sigh... aNYWAYS LINEART WIPS!!!!

here are linearts i have completed / in the progress of!! want to aim like i did in the past by finishing up lineart first, and then speed through with color + minor rendering. the reason i have a few colored is to test out what it would look polished and my god... i have improved A LOT. THESE GAY PEOPLE GIVE POWER I AM NOT KIDDING BELIEVE ME IM NOT CRAY- anyways onto wip pages!

jumpscare: tsb stickman sketches. oh yeah. this is how i sketch and i blame sensei eiichiro oda /j. and in case anyone is unable to understand it {i don't blame u LMAO}, smg4 wakes up from the dream and is startled to see mario by his bed. they have a short convo before mario leaves, and we get a job to smg4 in the bathroom trying to put up a brave face. until the moment he leaves he's stunned due to seeing smg3 at his front door. will i elaborate more on specifics or unwritten dialogue? NOPE! gotta keep secrets to make it even more enjoyable at the end!!

currently at 13 sketched pages total, but this is probably gonna be reaching towards 20-ish pages, surpassing part two, but it will depend on how i come up with how to end it. additionally to confirm there will be a PART FOUR / chapter 3, to end this story. my goal is to have it done before i finish my senior year, or at least during the summer after i graduate bc good lord who knows whats gonna happen.

and lastly, before i end this crazy update, SCRAPPED PAGESSS!!!!!

CONTENT WARNING : NSFW SKETCHES !!!! PLEASE LOOK AWAY IF YOU ARE A MINOR OR DON'T LIKE THIS TYPE OF STUFF!!!

oh boy... dont draw comics while sleep-deprived at 6am... idek what i was even aiming with this ngl other than just for fun, but i scrapped it due to not being what i had in mind for the story. if it doesn't serve a purpose or narrative, its bye bye YEAH BYE BYE THIS IS THE CLOSEST NSFW UR GONNA GET FROM ME HAHAHAHAHA- i say that despite writing a nsfw jojo wattpad smh im only confident doing it in words good lord. btw not watermarking these bc i gen don't care since they're legit scrapped {left top part was kept and completed} so idk what to do with these. im just throwing it and walkin away

now to end with this update, i can hear your question, "when will this be done?" and to answer that question: i'm not entirely sure due to my heavy focus on my smg4 oc: tsb, but my best chance is postponing my oc lore a bit and complete this before november UOIYGJDSIUHJKDWSXYUGHJKCS but we shall have too see...

if you want to join the ping list comment on this post LMAO [click]

ignore below if you're not from the tsb birthday partydddjdhdhdjd

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thurs: smg34 is canon in the tsb universe / au. though most of their encounters are platonic or best-friendy-way, they eventually express their feelings to one another and start dating 3/4’s way of the tsb storyline arc. tsb is a supporter of his friend's relationship and admires and takes inspiration from their relationship heavily to input his future love life. yearning to be in a similar position... to learn what is to really love someone... or what it's truly like to be loved...

[reiderwriter]

♡ Girls Just Wanna Have Fun ♡

Week 5 of my Playlist Series ♡

Summary: Spencer isn't used to clubs, but when duty calls, he's made to feel a little bit more welcome by a girl who seems to know him better than a stranger should.

Warnings: Smut 18+ Minors DNI!! Hotchner!Reader (Reader is Hotch's sister), semi-public sex (x2 oops), oral sex (m receiving), fingering, dry humping, hand job, cum play, dirty talk, degradation and name calling (slut only), use of daddy/sir even though this is like solidly season 1 Spencer lmao, corruption kink, loss of virginity (surprisingly the readers)

A/N: Every single intrusive thought I've ever had about s1 Reid tied up in a nice little bow masquerading as a song fic. It is finished, and now I feel flushed. Please expect only fluff from me until my next intrusive thought (maybe half an hour, probably no longer).

Masterlist || Spotify Playlist

Flashing lights and the scent of dried up alcohol stains weren't usually signs of Spencer Reid's presence. He'd managed to get through college - two degrees and three PhDs - without stepping foot into a nightclub. But now that he'd joined the BAU, it seemed to be an unavoidable occurrence. 

“The unsub hunts at this nightclub, I get that, I do. But why am I the one going in? He's targeting women,” he panicked as his older team member helped adjust his clothes to conceal the weapon he carried. 

“Because, pretty boy, it's student night, and you're the only one here who can pass for a 21 year old. I guess late puberty has some benefits.�� Derek smacked his arm playfully, leaving the younger man wincing slightly. 

“But I'm not a woman.” 

“Yes, but you'll be able to walk around and note any suspicious behaviour, and then we can tail suspects you flag,” Hotch explained to him again. 

“Just act natural, kid, it's not like it's your first time in a club.” 

“It is.” His warnings fell on deaf ears though, as they pushed him out of the van and into the crowd of students queueing to enter. 

It didn't take you long to notice him after you arrived at the club.

The sweater vest was enough to make him stand apart slightly, as much as he was trying his best to blend in. A slight tingle of familiarity raced up your spine as his eyes awkwardly met yours, his scan of the room stopping short as he flushed and turned his eyes down. 

Pushing slightly to the crowd, you leaned over the counter next to him and tried to get the bartenders attention. It was loud and busy, but catching attention and keeping it was a skill you'd mastered early, a skill that you were thankful for as you realised the man's eyes were guiltily flicking between your ass and the crowd once again. 

“Are you going to stare, or are you going to introduce yourself,” you giggled, sliding closer to his perch at the bar, as he panicked, standing straighter. 

“I wasn't, um… your dress, there's a rip at the edge of your skirt, I was trying to figure out if it was part of the design because I know some clothes these days have damage built into the design, or if it was in need of some emergency… sewing.” His hands gesticulating awkwardly throughout his explanation, as if anxious to show you the jumble in his brain was entirely pure and innocent, even as the flush on his face said otherwise. 

“And your name is?” 

“I-.... Spencer. My name is Spencer.” 

You stood a little straighter hearing the name, that familiarity warming you more. Spencer. Spencer. Spencer. You turned the name over in your head but took another step closer as the crowd shifted in a wave, feeling the heat coming off his body. 

“Well, Spencer,” your tongue made the decision to act for your brain, the words coming out before you could stop them. “What conclusion did you draw? Do you think the rip was intentional or not?” 

Gently, you grabbed his hand and led it to the fabric. The skirt wasn't scandalously short, but short enough to suit the dark heated atmosphere of the club at least, but as his fingers grazed the back of your thighs, still hesitant in his actions, you found yourself wishing it were just that bit higher, so his hands would have to reach further up. 

With a gaze over your shoulder at the crowd, Spencer found himself at an impass. He'd already noted a few people of interest, loiterers, men getting a bit rough and aggressive in the club, people on the outskirts (like him, he supposed) that could possibly be their unsub. 

He'd been given the all clear to disengage and leave the club as effortlessly as he could  bit something in your initial gaze had pinned him to place at the bar, and refused still to let him see reason. 

“I think it's a design feature. To draw attention to…” he swallowed hard, but you weren't sure if he was just being delicate about his words or if he was reacting to the hand that was now on him, dragging nails up from his abdomen to his chest. 

“Good observation, Spencer.” 

“Your name. You didn't tell me what your name was.” He said, grabbing your hand to stop its progress and breathing deeply as if to clear his head. 

“Y/N. We should dance.” Without giving him time to react, you abandoned your drink on the counter and pulled his arm around your waist, dragging him out to the crush of people in the middle of the dance floor. 

His protests were lost in the pulse of the music, as you kept your back to him and began grinding and swaying against him. His hands tightened on your hips as he gently started moving with you, and you threw your head back to catch his eye again. 

Spencer didn't know what he'd gotten himself into. He knew that very little actually dancing actually went on at a club, that this was just a more polite socially acceptable form of foreplay, but he didn't know that it would have such an effect on him. 

A mess of sweaty, intoxicated people spilling drinks and other fluids, and he thought he'd stay there forever if it kept your hips torturing his cock like that. 

When you glanced up at him, he was a man lost to his senses, lust clouding his eyes, mouth slightly open in a pant, you reached up to his neck and pulled his lips down to meet yours. 

You were surprised when it was his to guess to reach out first, his hand that trailed under your shirt without tours guiding it. You'd picked up a fairly innocent man at the bar and turned him into a pervert in the space of one dance. It felt like the club was watching you, how his hands grazed the skin under your breasts and caused the shiver up your spine, how your back arched to press deeper against his election. 

You may have tempted him into taking this risk, but he was the one gleefully nosediving into his fall from grace. 

“Spencer,” you whispered as he came up for air, lips resting at your ear. “I think we should get some fresh air.” 

Something in that seemed logical. It was colder outside. Maybe it would cool off whatever had lit him up like a pyre on the dance floor. Maybe the fresh air would clear his head. Or maybe just the open space would help him detangle his hands from you, would lead his thoughts away from burying himself deep in you. 

He would gladly take you outside, bid you farewell, and return to his job and his life. It was a solid exit for his first cover - who was going to question the young lovers leaving together. 

You had a feeling that the idea of outside would have Spencer pulling away from you, but you hadn't had your fill of fun just yet. 

So just as you led him onto the dancefloor, you kept a hand over his, around your waist, and you guided him out of the club, down the street a few paces, and into a darkened alleyway. 

“Y/N, we shouldn't be-” he tried to stutter out as you pulled him in for another kiss. His brain was trying to protest, but his hands were already back on your ass, pulling you up and closer to him. 

“What was that?” You said between kisses, his mouth launching an assault against each inch of your skin. 

He gasped for breath and pulled back, realising that he'd lifted and pinned you to the cold brick wall of the alley in his haste to feel you pressed against him. 

“Y/N… I don't want to take advantage of you, I'm not-” 

“I'm taking advantage of you, Spencer,” you said, nipping at his neck slowly raking your hands into his shoulders. “Am I allowed to do that? Can I take all of you, Spencer?” 

His eyes rolled back in his head as he let put a groan of pleasure, your lips sucking at the tender flesh of his nape. 

“I-I'm not a student, and-” 

“I know, but you are such a pretty boy that I decided I wanted to have some fun with you.” 

His resolve broke in half as you uttered your compliments, and his lips met yours in a moan as his hands pushed your skirt up around your waist. 

His finger trailed between your hips and his, using the wall to balance you as he pushed aside your panties and began slowly stroking your sex. 

Your hips pitched forward to press more of his slender fingers against you,  desperate to feel him stretch your cunt open first with one, then two, then however many he decided was good enough for you. 

Leaving one hand on his shoulder, you let one trail down his pants, stepping one foot down to allow you access to his zipper. 

He pauses Again for a second as you manage to get his pants open, your hand pulling his cock free from the constraint of his clothing. Spitting on your hand, you wrap around it firmly and slowly pump up and down, looking him directly in the eye as you watch the pleasure pour over him. 

His forehead rests against yours as he melts into your touch, so desperate, needing to cum so badly that he's willing to let it happen in this dark dirty alley. 

“Spencer, I want to have a lot of fun with you. Will you let me?” 

“Yes, fuck Y/N.” He nods, his hips rocking into your hand with each slow stroke you give him. 

“Spencer,” you say, rocking your hips forward and pushing your panties further to the side once again. “Spencer, please fuck me. Take my virginity, Spencer, please.” 

His mind whirled at the sentence, the pleas dropping from your lips. Virginity. You were a virgin. 

You'd had him cock stiff after three minutes of conversation  had pulled him into an alleyway and lost him in a fog of pleasure, and you were still innocent. Untouched. 

You wanted to have your fun with him. You'd chosen him. 

He couldn't articulate the lust that coated his tongue, so he simply pushed it into your mouth  grabbed his cock from your hands, lined himself up with your drippy cunt and pushed in with a single thrust. 

You gasped and let out a moan, not quite fully pleasurable. Your hands again found his shouldend, his back, but your nails were sharper this time, digging in further, almost piercing skin. 

“Fuck, Spencer, yes,” you said, breathing shakily as you slowly started moving around his cock. 

“Did it hurt?” 

“It doesn't hurt anymore. Now, please Spencer, fuck me and don't hold back. It's more fun that way.” 

He pulled your hips closer, moaning as you tightened around him. Pressing one hand against the wall and keeping another hand gripped so hard around your hip you knew it'd bruise, he began moving. 

He began slow, trying not to lose himself in the feel of your unused, tight hole. But with each small moan, each scratch against his back, he lost a little bit more of that control he was begging for. 

With his hands engaged, his brows furrowed I'm frustration that he couldn't stroke your bundle of nerves, he couldn't force you to cum on his cock as quickly as he wanted to. 

“Y/N, look at me.” You opened your eyes at the words, unaware that they'd closed tight as you emptied all other senses to just feel him. 

“Touch yourself. Right there, that's it,” he watched your fingers rub delicately against your skin, spoke little words of encouragement, and told you to increase your speed and pleasure. 

“That's it. That's it, now it's time for you to cum, Y/N. Cum on my cock, rub your little clit for me and cum around my big cock, Y/N.” 

“Shit… shit, shit, shit, Spencer, oh my god.” Your hands shook, and your hips twitched, and with a cry, you reached that high you'd been craving since you met his eyes earlier. 

He pulled out of you, slowly pulling you off the wall, as he held you up, letting your legs regain their strength. His cock was still hard, still coated in your arousal as he took care of you. 

You caught your breath fast, regained tour strength quicker as you noticed he didn't plan on getting himself off anymore. He let you have your fun with him and was happy to end it all there. 

You weren't. 

“Spencer,” you sang again, wrapping a hand once again around his erection as he tried to straighten out your now slightly more ripped skirt. “Spencer, it's more fun of we both cum. I want you to make a mess of my hand, can you do that for me?” 

You stroked his cock with a firmer grip than before, your arousal lubricating each stroke, his pre-cum mingling with it to aid you further. You suddenly wondered what he would taste like, but knew your legs would be too weak to do everything your heart desired today. 

There was always tomorrow. 

He leaned his weight back on the wall behind you, forcing you back as well as you pumped him quickly so desperate to hear him moan your name as he spilt his seed. 

“Y/N,” he moaned, and you were triumphant. His hips jerked once, then twice, then a third time, and he stilled, heaving breaths as he buried his head in your shoulder. 

He swallowed and regained his breath, and as he pulled away, you pulled your fingers to your lips and lapped up the final drops of cum that he left there. 

Most of it had his the wall, dripped to the floor, but you enjoyed these few drops and smiled brightly at him, pulling a handkerchief that you knew would be in his pocket out and cleaning the two of you up. 

He flushed again as he came back to his senses, especially as you attempted to put his clothed to rights, stepping back to replace his softening cock in his pants.

“Well,” you said after setting yourself to rights, “Thank you for the fun night, Spencer. See you tomorrow.” 

You skipped off quickly before he had a second to even process your words. 

The next day at the local precinct was a blur for Spencer as he tried to drag himself from the drug induced haze of meeting you. He'd stroked himself to completion two more times in bed after he returned to his motel room, reliving the sound of you begging him to take you, the words ‘pretty boy’ on your lips as you spread your legs. 

It'd taken his entire brain, or what was left of it, to not jump out of his skin every time Morgan had teased him with the words that morning.

“Now how did you like your first club experience, pretty boy? Did any college cuties throw themselves at you?” 

He spat up his coffee, choosing that moment to choke, and begging god for this to just be the end of Spencer Reid entirely. 

Because there was no way Morgan would actually believe that that was exactly what had happened. 

“Morgan, Gideon wants you in the interrogation room, and- wow, Spencer, you should change your shirt. What are you, 5? You can't drink coffee properly?” Elle said, chuckling slightly.

“I choked,” he frowned, but it fell on deaf ears as his teammates walked away quickly to get back to their jobs. 

He wished he could recover so quickly, even now the image of you having your fun with him the night before playing like a movie in his head. 

Looking down, he realised Elle was right, and he really did need to change his shirt. Hotch always had a few spare on hand, even for cases out of the office. He grabbed some tissues, dabbing against the mess of coffee on his shirt, suddenly thankful for lukewarm police precinct coffee, and started making his way towards Hotch. 

“Hey, Hotch-” he made it three steps before your voice cried out. 

“Ronnie!!” You shouted, throwing your hands around your elder brother as he caught you in a hug. 

“Y/N, we're at a police station. If you're going to come see me, you have to at least call me Aaron.” 

“And not take the chance to embarrass you in front of your peers and coworkers? Not a chance, Ronnie. Not a chance.” He chuckled fondly, brushing away his complaints quickly as he turned to introduce you to JJ first, then Elle and then the frozen statue that had replaced Spencer. 

“And, Y/N, this is Dr. Spencer Reid. Spencer, this is my sister, Y/N. She's a student at the university.” 

You held out your hand with a triumphant grin as Spencer stared in wide-eyed horror at the apparition in front of him. 

“Hello, Spencer. It's very nice to finally meet you. My brother has told me a lot about you, and I'm very excited to pick your brains.” 

The air seemed to explode around Spencer as each breath became deliriously hot, filling his lungs with fire. It was moments before he realised that he wasn't actually breathing at all, and the air was actually quite normal. 

Your hand remained out, ready to greet him, and to the surprise of his coworkers, he took it in his for a short shake. 

“Y/N. Hotch's sister, Y/N. Nice to meet you, Y/N Hotchner, Hotch's sister.” 

He could practically hear the audible sound of Elle and JJ smacking a hand against their faces in horror at his stupidly obvious reaction to the woman in front of him. If he wasn't careful, he'd be spouting confessions of desire soon, and knowing that Aaron Hotchner carried two guns on his person even now did nothing to calm his thoughts. 

“Okay, well, Y/N, I'm busy with some interrogations now, but I can drive you back to your apartment in half an hour if you're okay to wait with JJ?” 

“Are you busy, Spencer?” You asked instead, keeping her eyes locked on the man who still weakly shook her hand, unaware of when the right time to stop would be. 

“I was serious when I said I wanted to pick your brain, my brother said you had a PhD in Engineering and I'm struggling through a class right now that I need some guidance in if you can spare five minutes?” 

Spencer stared between Hotch and you, looking for the right answer to please present itself before he imploded right there. 

“Yes. PhD, I have a PhD. Three actually, but whose counting? Me. I just counted them. One of them is in mathematics, actually, so I guess I'm always counting.” He finally dropped your hand, and you gave him a wider smile that dropped his heart to his stomach. “I am free, unless you needed me for something else, Hotch?” 

His gaze was pleading, though he wasn't sure if he was begging for his life, five more minutes alone with you or the power to extricate himself from this situation entirely, but Hotch nodded his acceptance quickly and let you lead Spencer off to the small, empty visitors room at the opposite side of the precinct. 

You shut the door behind you when you walked in, leaning over to close the blinds as well before you turned back to Spencer. 

“Your shirt is wet. You should probably take it off,” you giggled as you trailed a hand up his arm once again. 

His hand grabbed yours before you could do any more damage to his tender nerves than you'd already managed that morning. 

“You knew the entire time? Who I was?” 

“I walked over because you seemed familiar, but I only figured it out when you said your name. My brother does talk about you a lot.”

“Hotch is going to kill me,” he said, slumping down into the chair behind him. “Y/N, your brother was outside the club. He could've seen us leave.” 

You climbed into his lap, and his eyes finally met yours again, his tongue stopping its hopeless tirade as you relaxed into his chest. 

“I have two older brothers, Spencer. Do you know how often they've been able to tell me what to do?” Your hands started down his shirt, making quick work of the buttons as he stared up, enthralled. 

“Not once have they been able to stop me from doing something I wanted.” 

He scoffed quickly, unable to help himself. Your hands gripped either side of his face and lifted his head to meet your gaze again. 

“And right now, Spencer, I really want you.” A roll of your hips was enough to have him hissing and grabbing your hips. You started steadily rocking into him, eyes still locked with his. 

“Y/N, please let's be sensible.” 

“I don't want to be sensible, I want to have fun. I want to suck your dick right here, and let you cum in my mouth. I want to scream your name and let everyone know who is giving me pleasure. Can't I do that, Spencer?” 

“No,” he groaned, his eyes screwed shut as you dry humped him, trying to get yourself off on his lap, his.cock rising with each of your quiet moans. 

“Spencer, please. I want your big, hard cock back inside me. Please, please, please. I'll be a good girl, I promise.” 

His eyes shot open in incredulity as he watched you use his body as you saw fit. 

“Good girls don't lose their virginities in alleyways, Y/N. Good girls don't throw themselves at their brothers' coworkers. Good girls listen when they're told no, and don't try to suck cock in public, like little sluts.” He spat each word at you, bit you enjoyed each insult he hurled your way, enjoyed the way his body recoiled as he finally called you a slut. 

He seemed slightly shocked by his anger himself, but you didn't seem to care. It took you only seconds after to push your lips against his again and have your hands on his cock once again, pulling him out of his pants as his hands explored you just as eagerly. 

“Yeah, Spencer, your little slut. I'm such a little slut for you, please fuck me.” 

He buried a hand in your hair, tipping your head back so his tongue could probe deeper, his other hand already under your shirt and teasing one nipple. You lifted your hips and sunk down onto his cock, neither of you stopping to think again about your actions as you began to rode him. 

“30 minutes, Y/N, by now we have 24 minutes and 17 seconds. Can you manage that, Y/N?” 

“Yes, sir.” You said, feeling his dick twitch as you rode him. “Oh did you like that? You liked me calling you, sir?” His hips pressed up again, his body answering more honestly than his tongue. 

“What else can I call you? Spencer… sir….daddy?” 

He broke away from his place buried in your neck to push the two of you down to the floor, the new angle had you gasping as a hand covered your mouth stifling any screams you could make before you made them. 

“Be quiet and cum on my cock, Y/N,” he whispered and picked up his pace, one hand gagging you while the other pulled painfully at your nipple, pinching it between two hands and using it to lift your entire chest so your body was arched toward him, letting him go deeper. 

“Yes, Daddy,” you whispered again, against his fingers, tempted to wrap your lips around one and suck it into your mouth. 

“Fuck, just call me Spencer, Y/N.” 

But you couldn't respond, suddenly overcome with the numbness of you orgasm washing over you as you bit back a choked cry. 

“That's it, good job, Y/N. You listen so well, good job.” He rubbed soothing circles into your chest as his hips slowed, working you through your orgasm as he withdrew once again. 

This time though, he didn't try to pull away and leave himself hard, but sat himself up, and lifted you once again too, putting slight pressure at the back of your head until you were on your knees and letting your head fall down, down, down as your lips wrapped around his wet cock. 

You took him in your mouth, and tasted the bitter, salty flavor of your illicit activities, lapping every last bit of your joint pleasure up as he pushed your hair up and down his cock. 

It didn't take long for his hips to press up into your mouth slightly harder than before, his hands holding you steady as he came down your throat. He held your head there for a minute two, as you tried your best to breathe and stay there, taking as much of his cum down your throat as you could. He pulled your head off him and you swallowed the rest, smiling brightly at him as you did so. 

“Thank you for the fun, Spencer,” You said again, grabbing your phone and checking the time. 

Standing up, you pulled your clothes back in place, pulling your skirt down and your panties up, smoothing out the tangles in your hair. 

“Let me go get you that spare shirt, Doctor Reid,” you said, opening the door. “I'm very grateful for your help with my class load, sir.” 

His head fell back into his hands as you closed the door, leaving him to wonder just what the hell he'd got himself in for. 

[blackleatherjacketz]

Tell Me

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Notes: I've been stressed, I had a dream, don't judge me for this little drabble...

Warnings: Explicit Smut, 18+ Only!, Daddy Issues, Power Dynamics, Alcohol, Vaginal Fingering (Implied), Teasing, Talking You Through It

Word Count: 585

“Tell me what you want.” Desire melted his chestnut eyes to an inky black as they raked over your figure, that darkness finally reaching the very rims of his irises as he stepped closer to you. He held his breath as his palms carefully cupped your kneecaps as if they were coming into contact with something sacred, as if he’d been waiting ages just to touch you.

“Aaron…” You pleaded softly, still unable to believe that this was finally happening as he took a step further between your parting legs.

His hips were now flush against the kitchen counter as his thumbs tickled the skin of your inner thighs, his scent now flooding your senses. You’d caught hints of it before in mere passing… a hug here, a handshake there; that crisp, clean scent driving you absolutely wild as you often let your mind wander to places far too similar to where it is now. Only you never thought that you’d actually wind up here in person until the two of you finished that bottle of red tonight after work. Those fantasies you’d played out a dozen times were on the brink of coming true.

“Do you really need me to say it?” You felt your cheeks blush a brief yet scalding shade of pink, hoping that he wasn’t really expecting you to ask for it out loud.

“Yes.” That single syllable dripped with the authority he reserved only for his suspects, his whispered baritone cutting to your core as he spread your knees even farther apart. “I need to hear you say it.”

His command made you shiver as his fingertips began kneading the muscles in your thighs, forcing every inch of your skin to tingle with a twinge of prolonged anticipation that’s been building since the day you met. You could see the excitement growing beneath the black cloth of his dress pants as his hands traveled even further north, those well manicured fingertips of his already teasing the hem of your underwear as he ignored the evidence of his own growing arousal.

“Do you want me to touch you here?” His stoic tone faltered a bit as his fingers smoothed over the cloth that covered your swollen warmth, dampening a small spot on your panties.

“Yes,” you whispered back, his touch so electric it nearly sizzled up your spine.

“Then tell me.” He repeated, moving his fingers slowly up and down your length, rubbing over your clit just briefly enough to draw a sharp gasp from your lips. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want… I want you to keep touching me.” You admitted, eyelids fluttering as he spread your juices all the way across your underwear over and over again until they were completely soaked through, darkening their color.

“Like this?” He looked deep into your eyes as he slid two fingers beneath the saturated fabric, a hint of a grin curling at his lips as he touched your bare, sensitive skin. That grin turned into the first smile you’d ever seen on his face, your essence now coating his fingers down to the first knuckle as he spread it down your entrance, between your swollen lips and back up against your bud, tugging on it ever so slightly. “You want me to make you come?”

All you could do was nod as his magic fingers sent bursts of pleasure up through your skin and into your muscles, warming your entire body as your breath quickened.

“Good. Now say it out loud.”

[mommyownsmee]

hello! i've been a silent reader and i actually don't know if you take requests but can you do a post where the sub uses their safeword then proceed to some aftercare. thank you!

- 🐶

[Hii! Do you want to claim the emoji? I do take requests, and this one was beautiful to write. Thank you for your message!]

[TW: USE OF SAFEWORD/ TRAFFIC LIGHT SYSTEM; AFTERCARE]

Holding you

The air between us is thick, charged with the kind of tension that makes my skin tingle, that makes every slow drag of my nails against your skin feel ten times more intense. You’re beneath me, wrists bound with silk, your body already ruined from everything I’ve done to you. You’re a mess—flushed, trembling, so beautifully wrecked.

I tilt my head, watching you with amusement. “You’re shaking, baby,” I murmur, dragging my fingers down your stomach, teasing just above where you need me most. “Are you overwhelmed?”

You whimper, nodding frantically, your breath coming in short, uneven gasps. “Y-yes, Mommy.”

I smirk, pressing my palm flat against your lower belly, pinning you down. “Then tell me,” I purr, voice low and intoxicating, “should I stop?”

Your eyes widen, panic flashing across your face. “No,” you blurt out, desperate, shaking your head. “No, please, don’t stop. I need it—I need you.”

Oh, you sound so sweet when you beg. So desperate, so pliant, like you’ll do anything just to keep me touching you. It makes something dark curl in my chest, something possessive and hungry. I trail my fingers lower, barely ghosting over your soaked cunt, watching the way your hips buck, the way you gasp sharply at even the slightest contact.

“You need me, hmm?” I hum, tilting your chin up so you have to look at me. “Need me to use you? To take exactly what I want, however I want?”

You let out a choked whimper, nodding, your lips parting as if you’re about to speak—then stopping, too wrecked to form words.

“Speak, baby,” I command, tightening my grip on your chin. “Tell me.”

“I— I need you to take me,” you manage, voice barely above a whisper. “Please, Mommy, please use me. I—”

I don’t let you finish. My hand wraps around your throat, just enough pressure to make you feel it, to remind you who’s in control. “Good girl,” I murmur, pressing a kiss against your jaw, trailing lower, biting down softly. “You’ll take what I give you. Nothing more.”

You nod frantically, your entire body taut, every muscle wound tight. You want it, I can feel it in the way you tremble beneath me. I keep pushing, my voice sharper now, my hands rougher, taking you exactly where I want you—until something shifts.

At first, it’s subtle. A hesitation in your breath. A tension in your muscles that feels different. The way your fingers twitch against the restraints, not in pleasure, but in something else.

I slow.

“Baby?” My tone changes immediately—still firm, still in control, but laced with something softer.

I feel it before I hear it. The subtle shift in your breath, the way your body tenses beneath me—not in pleasure, not in anticipation, but in something deeper, something that pulls you away from me instead of toward me. You take a shuddering breath, your eyes squeezing shut. I wait. And then, you whisper it, so soft, so small, but I catch it immediately.

“Red.”

The second the word leaves your lips, the scene shatters. The air shifts. My dominance, my hunger, the relentless need to push you—it all vanishes in an instant.

I stop instantly. No hesitation, no questioning. I let go of you immediately, my hands gentle now, soothing instead of taking. My hands leave your wrists, my weight lifts off of you, giving you space, giving you air. The heat of the moment dissipates in an instant, replaced by something far more important—you.

“Baby?” My voice is softer now, no longer the commanding edge it held just moments before. My fingers ghost over your skin, waiting for a sign, waiting to know how to touch you, if you want me to. Your chest rises and falls too fast, your hands clenching and unclenching against the sheets.

I only watch for a few moments as your chest rises and falls in rapid breaths, your body still tense, still trying to catch up; until I decide to cup your cheek, brushing my thumb over your skin, tilting your face toward mine so you can see me, so you know I’m here.

“Let’s get these off,” I murmur, carefully undoing the silk restraints, while looking at you and massaging your wrists gently as soon as they’re free.

Your lips part like you want to say something, but your breath is shaky, your throat tight. Instead, you just nod, your eyes glassy with unshed tears.

“Look at me, baby,” I whisper, my forehead nearly pressing against yours. “You’re safe. You did so good.”

Your entire body is trembling, still caught between the remnants of intensity and the deep, shuddering relief of stopping. I can feel it in the way your fingers grasp at me, in the way your chest rises and falls too quickly, like you’re trying to ground yourself but can’t quite find your way back yet.

You’re slipping—spiraling into something too much. And I won’t let you fall alone.

“I’ve got you,” I murmur again, rocking you slightly, letting my body be something steady for you to lean against. “You’re safe. Just breathe, baby.”

The moment my hands settle on you, the tension cracks. The sound that escapes you is more than just a sob—it’s a breaking, a release of something heavy and overwhelming, something that had built too fast, too sharp, until it cracked. You bury your face deeper into my neck, and I let you, my arms tightening around you, shielding you from everything except the feeling of me here, solid, unwavering.

I press a soft kiss to your temple, lingering, letting you feel the warmth of it, the safety in it. Your hands fist into my shirt, desperate, your breathing uneven, but the tension in your body isn‘t beginning to ease yet. Slowly, gently, I let one hand slip into your hair, massaging your scalp, coaxing you further away from the edge.

“It’s okay,” I soothe, my fingers tracing slow, grounding patterns on your skin. “You did everything right. I’ve got you.”

I don’t let you fall. I gather you into my arms, pulling you close, tucking you against my chest. My lips press to your temple, my fingers weaving through your hair, stroking, soothing.

“I’m here,” I whisper, cupping your face gently, grounding you. “You’re safe. You’re with me.”

I whisper soft reassurances, keeping my voice low and steady as I gently stroke my hands down your arms, over your back, pressing warm, deliberate touches into your skin. You’re still clinging to me, still pressing into my warmth like you’re afraid I might disappear if you let go.

“Shh, sweetheart,” I murmur, rocking you gently. “I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.”

You cling to me, fingers twisting in my shirt, pressing your face into my neck like you need to anchor yourself in me. I hold you tighter, wrapping around you, protecting you from the weight of whatever had pushed you too far.

I feel the tremors beneath my hands, the way you still struggle to catch your breath. My hand moves in slow, deliberate strokes down your back, up your arms, anything to remind you that I’m here, that you’re safe, that nothing else matters but this moment.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, pressing another kiss to your temple. “You did the right thing. You did so well.”

You nod against me, but it’s shaky, uncertain. I can feel the tension still lingering, the vulnerability weighing heavy in the air. My grip on you tightens, grounding you, holding you steady.

Your lips part, but the words stick in your throat, a choked, broken sound escaping instead. I hush you gently, stroking down your spine.

“Don’t rush,” I whisper. “Just stay with me.”

I shift us slightly, adjusting until I can keep you cuddled in my lap properly, holding you tucked against me as I guide the blankets over us. You’re still shivering, still small and fragile in my arms, and I won’t let go until you’re ready.

“What do you need, baby?” I ask softly, my voice steady, waiting for you to lead the way now.

You swallow hard, your lips parting, but nothing comes out at first. I don’t push. I let you take your time, knowing that even forming words right now is a challenge.

You take a shaky breath, and for a moment, I don’t think you’ll answer. Then, finally, in a voice so small it almost breaks my heart, you whisper, “Water.”

“Of course,” I say immediately, easing you back onto the bed with careful hands. I tuck the blankets around you, making sure you’re warm before slipping away, only for a moment.

I move quickly, but not too quickly—I don’t want you to feel like I’m leaving. When I return, I sit beside you, helping you sit up just enough to sip from the glass, my free hand never leaving your skin. I need you to feel me here, need you to know I’m still here.

You take slow sips, your fingers still shaking slightly. I watch you carefully, searching your eyes, tracking every micro-expression, every flicker of emotion in your eyes. I want to make sure you’re coming back to yourself.

“Better?” I ask, studying you.

You nod weakly, but I see the lingering vulnerability, the way your body is still wound too tight. So I don’t ask—I just hold you. I pull you back into my arms, wrapping myself around you, anchoring you in warmth, in safety. You let out a tiny, broken sigh against my chest, and I feel your body soften, just a little.

“You did so well,” I murmur against your hair, my fingers tracing light, grounding patterns on your arm. “I’m so proud of you for using your safeword.”

Your breath stutters against my neck. I feel the way your body shakes slightly—something unspoken lingering there. Shame.

I won’t let it take hold.

I tilt your chin up, making you look at me, my thumb brushing away the dampness on your cheek. “There is never shame in taking care of yourself,” I say firmly. “That’s what your safeword is for. You did exactly what you were supposed to do.”

You blink up at me, something breaking behind your eyes. They well up again, but this time, it’s not from fear. Not from panic. And then, finally, I see it—relief.

You swallow hard, nodding, your fingers curling into my shirt again, gripping tight like you don’t want to let go. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice raw.

I press a kiss to your forehead, lingering there, letting you feel the warmth, the unwavering presence I will always offer you.

“Always,” I whisper, tightening my arms around you. “I’ve got you, baby. You’re safe. Just rest. I’m not letting go.”

[scorpioriesling]

Hello! Do you think you're going to continue writing part 5 of " invisible strings" with eris? I really loved this series! Thank you

Invisible String - Part 5

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Eris x reader

Warning(s): Please be advised; this part might not be suitable for all audiences. Proceed with caution.

Summary: You'd taken the nanny position for the royal family over a year ago, not expecting what would come of it or how close you'd grow to the child you cared for. Things became tough for Eris when his wife left him and his daughter, and he found it increasingly harder to raise Riley himself. He soon realizes, you've provided a lot more than the typical job description duties for his daughter... and maybe for him, too.

SR’s Note: My apologies, this took forever for me to finish writing for you all (I've had so much on my plate lately). This part IS SHORT, HOWEVER I'm literally already working on the next part and wanted to give you guys at least what I had done so you knew I was indeed working on it! Lol. I added in the advisory so that younger / uncomfortable readers won't read the series without knowing or expecting potential risks in content to come. For those who enjoy or look forward to content as such -- I hope you are excited! Nonetheless, I hope readers will enjoy this series that came to me in a dream one night. (; Much love to all.

Tags: @mellowmusings @talesofadragon @rcarbo1 @mandziaaa @lilah-asteria @a-frog-with-a-laptop @kitsunetori @dannul @velarisdusk @lamarmotta @paintedbyshadows @i-know-i-can @adventure-awaits13 @acourtofbatboydreams (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:

Part 4

The Autumn Court experienced the changing seasons like any other in Prythian. Spring was still spring, there was still snow in the winter -- but, the current state of dreary, grayness that took over the sky and stretched beyond the court's borders was quite the contrast to a usual week in July.

Perhaps, it was a reflection of the inner turmoil seeded in those residing in the Forrest House.

"Y/N," Riley whines. "When will the sun come back?"

You sigh, wondering the same.

"I don't know Riles. I truly don't."

She huffs, her fingers reaching for her the mason jar sitting in the middle of the table. The wilting flower inside has lost the vibrant orange coloring on its petals from last week, now replaced with wilting brown ones.

"My flower is yucky with no sun on it." She frowns. You pat her head as she inspects the plant, your shoulders stiffening when you hear the front door open and close quietly.

"Daddyyyyy," Riley groans. "When is the sun coming out?" She trills, hopping off the dining room chair and making way for the front door. It seems she heard him come in too, as she makes her way toward the foyer.

The two of you had gone the entire week with as little communication as possible -- a whole lot of "yep"s and "mhm"s and nods and short debriefings. Since the whole closet incident from the week prior, you hadn't gotten the courage to talk with him again anyways; he'd been so cross with you, so irritated. Your cheeks heated at the thought, how embarassed you'd felt that night. The shame.

Honestly, the whole thing made you a bit angry.

You take a deep breath as footsteps approach, their hushed, mindless conversation drowned out by your own thoughts clouding your headspace. It's not until Eris is standing right in front of you that you come back to reality.

"Play tea party?"

You glance down, taking in the little one's innocent expression from down below. You give her a soft smile, looking to Eris quickly before returning her gaze.

"I'd be honored, dear -- would you go set it up? I'll come join you in a few minutes. Let me talk to your dad first." Riley nods, skipping down the hallway toward her bedroom. Eris looses a sigh, passing toward the kitchen island and leaning against it before looking to you again.

"So..." He says, folding his arms across his chest. You suck in a breath, prepared to hand it to him -- ask him what the Hell all that disrespect was for, what the deal is with the gowns, what was going on between the two of you, all of it.

But, your eyes catch on the wilting stem in the glass jar still sat on the table. You stall a moment, every angry thought in your head receeding like the tides when you consider what could be a more imortant topic of conversation in this very moment.

"So..." You begin, taking a step toward him. He watches you, his face expressionless, as you continue. "I... I've been thinking. Riley is, almost five, and... well, it is the last week of July..."

He simply nods, as though saying go on without saying it. You can't help but roll your eyes, stepping to stand right across from him in the space between the island and the kitchen counter.

"I think she should be enrolled in school."

His brow twitches at this, the most you've gotten from him all week. It's silent for longer than necessary, almost uncomfortable, so you start again.

"She's asking me things, Eris, that she needs a proper teacher for-"

"No."

You startle, blinking as his face returns to that look of emotionless stone.

"W-what?"

"I said no." He shrugs, staring you straight in the eye like it isn't negotiable.

"...Okay, well, I want you to hear me out." You say, trying to remain calm. "She wants to learn. She's inquisitive, and smart, and she-"

"I know she's smart." He cuts in. You huff, your brow furrowing.

"Eris, you're not even listening to me." You can't help the way your voice pitches, but his brows flatten into a straight line.

"I don't need to hear it, Y/N -- she has you. We can hire a teacher to come here if you want. But no, she isn't going to a public school where Gods know what could happen to her." He says, his low tone rising with each sentence.

You push off the counter, folding your arms across your chest. "She needs the social interaction with other kids her age, Eris. You can't keep her locked up in here-"

"I'm her father," he says angrily, leaning toward you. "I think I know, what she needs."

Once the words leave his mouth, his face softens as though he realizes what he's said and how he has acted. You stand still, your eyes wide as you stare up at him. Never has he acted so defensive, not even with the damned dresses -- but this, this was on a whole different level.

You watch as his expression changes from rage to pure worry, his concerned eyes searching yours in desperation. You can't help but look away, only glancing back when his fingers hesitantly reach for your arm.

"Y/N, I didn't mean-"

"Don't." You yank your shoulder back, sneering up at him. He drops his hand slowly, shaking his head as he fumbles for his words.

"I'm sorry Y/N. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that, I-"

"You're damned right, you shouldn't have." You said, glaring up at him through your brows. The lump in your throat only grew as you began to feel bad, practically kicking him while he was indeed apologizing.

Maybe he deserved it... a little.

You turned on your heel, making way for Riley's room. He could make dinner tonight. After all -- maybe some pretend tea would do you good.

･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:

"I need to leave at first light for another trip with the guard."

It'd been a few days since you'd had it out with Eris, and maybe it was good you did; he'd been much more present, insisting on cooking, proving more when he was home, and being more involved with not just his daughter but you as well when he was home in the evenings... well, as much as you'd let him be. You hadn't entirely forgiven him yet, all things considered, and the incident from a few weeks ago hadn't even been mentioned, so the relationship was, awkward. To say the least.

"How long this time." You said it as plainly as you could, trying to ignore the burn of the firepoker upon your heart at the thought of him leaving again. You wished it didn't hurt so bad, wished it didn't effect you so much each time.

"Only three days. A quick trip to Spring and back." He nods assuringly, setting his pack on the dining table and looking to you. Nodding, you awkwardly run your hand along your arm, feeling a bit exposed under his intense gaze. This late in the evening, you knew he didn't tell Riley he'd be leaving (per usual) -- so she'd wake up tomorrow with that lovely realization.

"Ok." You chew on your bottom lip, and Eris sighs, stepping toward you. He reaches for your hand, but sensing your hesitation, he retracts. A look of sadness crosses his face before his eyes meet yours.

"Those dresses... in the closet." He murmurs. "They were Selene's." His jaw tightens at the name, and you swear you stop breathing. This was not the conversation you planned to have tonight.

"She... her family, they pass them down for tradition." He continues. "On her way out, she didn't really care to take them; I mean, she took just about everything else, but." He huffs a humorless laugh, but continues when you don't say anything.

"Anyway... I kept them because." He sighs, his head dropping before looking to you again. "You're right, Y/N. Riley is a very smart girl. One day, she is going to ask about her birth mother, and, well."

He shrugs. "I'm not going to have anything to show or give her that was hers." His gaze drops.

"The only thing I had left was those silly dresses from her side of the family."

Your heart clenches as though you can feel every ounce of sorrow he is feeling in that moment. You reach out, your hand caressing his cheek softly before you can think.

"Eris, I... I had no idea, really, I'm sorry-"

"Please, Gods don't apologize." His hand covers yours, his fingers wrapping around yours as he holds it against his cheek. "I know how it looks, and how it must have looked when you happened upon it." He sighs, his other hand reaching for your waist.

"It didn't help that I handled the situation poorly, either." He admits, sorrowfully looking into your eyes. You gaze up at him, your mouth twisting to the side. "I can't take it back, but I truly hope you can understand how sorry I am Y/N."

You step closer, closing the gap between the two of you as he pulls you into a firm embrace. His hand runs through the strands of your hair, a gentle reminder that everything might, just might, be okay.

･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:

"Y/N! Another!"

Riley holds out an identical bloom to the one previously in the mason jar to you th efollowing day, her earlier sadness at her father's departure replaced with temporary glee.

"Oh wow! Look -- this one is very vibrant." You wink at her, continuing on the path back to the Forest House.

"Vi...bran...t." She sounds out, examining the stem in her hand. She dumped out the dead flower pre-garden walk, and surely will now want to replace it.

As the two of you approach the front door, you stoop down to grab the few pieces of mail collated there. One envelope of deep mohogany with gold embossing catches your eye -- but, you follow the little girl inside nonetheless and push the door closed.

"We put this in the cup?" She asks, already making way for the sink to gather more water for her jar. You set down the paper pile, giving her all your undivided attention.

"Of course dear," you say, helping her to sit on the counter and fill her jar from the sink. She places the new flower in the glass, beaming at its brilliancy.

"Yay!" She squeals, her little feet kicking with delight. You help her off the edge, carefully transporting the jar to the table where it sat prior.

"We make sure this one has sun," she insists. "So it won't be ugly."

You chuckle, returning to the mail pile and plucking the envelope from the top. Your intrigue only grows when you see it is adressed to Eris, Riley and you.

You don't waste another moment in tearing it open.

Scanning the page, you feel a new kind of excitement -- a flutter of hope in your heart, a surge of excitement through your veins. Every nerve ending is electric within you as your true joy grows, the passionate feeling inside deeper than what you thought you could explain before. You felt, like truly, what you said meant something. Someone cared what you said, and you'd been heard.

"Riley?" You called. Her little footsteps bounded into the room, a look of interest on her face as she took you in and the paper between your fingers.

"Uh huh?"

You grinned, telling her the wonderful knews.

"Your daddy signed you up for school next month, sweetie."

･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:

Part 6

[rafesapologist]

the set up — rafe cameron; part ten

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you've been one of the pogues since childhood, and your loyalty has always lied within your friend group, who is practically your family. when a threat by the name of rafe cameron begins to threaten the pogue's plans, they assign you to gain the trust of the dubious kook and keep an eye on what he's up to. however, now it's been six months since your friends set you up to spy on the kook prince himself, but what you didn't anticipate was to fall head over heels for the boy. your relationship had soon become inviolable shortly after your guys' first exchanges, much to your friends' dismay, and you two became practically inseperable. that was, until rafe discovers the truth.

warnings: angst, sad rafe, idk i might be forgetting something

author's note: this chapter is both long and not entirely proof read so bear with me lol. i also wrote this at like 4 am so please. anyways, i want to start making the chapters a bit longer for you guys since i've been away for so long. enjoy!

"Y/n, what's wrong? What's going on?" You could feel Rafe's tangible consternation right through the phone. Your chest felt like it was caving in, accompanied by the growing, nausea-inducing pit in your stomach formulated from your feelings of guilt. The way his typically baritone voice was strained and quiet, presumably from the unexpected "emergency"phone call you had presented him with.

"I-I got into a huge fight with JJ," you fibbed with the help of the crack in your voice and a sorrowing tone that could only make Rafe crumble right in your hands, "it's a long story, but I need to get out of here. I can't be in this place any longer, Rafe." You fraudulently sobbed.

"Okay, okay.. Just breathe, yeah? I can come and get you in a second I just really have to finish this thing with my dad fir-"

"Rafe, please. I need you now." You pleaded as though your life depended on it, which in a way, it did. You realized that had your attempt to lure Rafe into your arms failed, your friends would be in a heap of danger.

An audible sigh was heard from the other sign of the phone, along with muffled chatter that you assumed was Rafe and Ward talking. The conversation, or what you heard of it, sounded like back-and-forth bickering for the most part, which caused a wave of anxiety to wash over you as you began to pick at your nails. Seconds felt like hours as you waited to hear Rafe's voice again on the other side, but it sounded as though the conversation continued. You stayed on the other side of the line in complete silence, not wanting to interrupt the matter, but the longer it took your nerves ensued.

"I'm on my way." Rafe suddenly responded, taking you off guard after not hearing him address you within a period of time.

"Thank you." You whispered, a small smile of satisfaction present on your face at what you had managed to accomplish. Perhaps Rafe was more infatuated than you imagined, you thought.

*NEW MESSAGE FROM Y/N to KIARA CARRERA: done.*

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Time passed by quickly whilst you waited for Rafe's arrival. You paced the living room back and forth a few times, wondering how you were going to pull off such a stunt despite the pit in your stomach growing and your hands trembling with unease. Your mind became your worst enemy as you thought through everything that could go wrong as you anxiously waited for the time to come, replaying every bad scenario through your head over and over again - until you were practically sick.

Your pessimistic thoughts were cut to a halt by a loud knock at the door, one that sounded more like someone was pounding on the other side. The noise made your body jump as you immediately turned a heel towards the door. You approached hesitantly, trying to kill as much time as possible before you'd open the door, but as time progressed the knocking became quicker and louder thuds that raddled the chateau.

"Y/n. Are you hurt? Did he do something to you cause I'll kick that son of a bitch to a pul-"

"No, Rafe, I'm not hurt. Not physically, at least." You shook your head, forcing out your voice in the most pathetic tone you could possible mimic. Rafe frowned in response as he noticed the way your head hung low and eyes stayed glued to the ground.

"What did he say to you?" Rafe softly asked, approaching you with caution and ease as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, causing a familiar sense of butterflies to errupt and flutter around in your stomach.

"He just brought up a bunch of stuff about my family and called me a traitor for spending time with you. For being with you, basically." Your vision became blurry as tears clouded your view, unsure of how they got there, but you mentally applauded yourself for such a performance.

"I'm so sorry, y/n. C'mere." Rafe cooed sympathetically as he pulled you into his arms tightly, possibly the tightest embrace you've felt in your life, but in a sense it felt good to be held like that. Like nothing in the world could hurt you while you were wrapped up in Rafe Cameron's arms, as insane as it sounded to you.

Your body relaxed in his arms, eyes closing as you soaked up every bit of his warmth. You nearly hummed in such delight before stopping yourself, not wanting to feed into Rafe's ego more than you already were just by calling him over for help. But it did feel nice, a feeling that came as a shock to you.

"I wanna get out of here, Rafe. Please." You sniffled, looking up at the brooding figure with those sad puppy-dog eyes that could make any man melt in your hands.

"Of course. Do you want to come back to my place? You can spend the night with me if you don't feel like going home."

You shook your head, "I don't wanna go home, especially not like this. Are you sure it's okay if I stay with you tonight?"

"Yeah, yeah 'course it is. Besides, my dad probably wont be back tonight and Rose and Wheezie are with him so I'll need the company. I'd prefer yours over theirs anyways." Rafe flashed you a small smile, hoping to diminish the frown that clouded your features as he rubbed your forearms gently.

You trailed behind Rafe on the walk to the car, watching as he held the door open and gestured your inside. You gave him a weak simper and a head nod as a symbolism of your gratitude at his sentiment. You'd be a liar if you said it didn't make your heart flutter at how caring and gentle he was being towards you, but you cursed yourself for the fact that it was all because of a lie.

"Y/n?" Rafe asked, snapping you out of your trance while you gazed out of the window.

"Yeah?"

"You aren't upset with me for earlier, are you?" He inquired, biting the inside of his cheek.

"No, why would I be?" You tilted your head, brows furrowed as you made eye contact with the blue-eyed Kook.

"I don't know. I guess I just thought you seemed a little dry when I was dropping you off earlier, s'all." Rafe coughed out, noticing how he scratched the back of his head as he spoke feebly.

"Oh, I see." You blinked, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to come off that way. I've just been a little tired I guess."

"No, don't apologize. It's okay." He turned his head, taking his eyes off the road for a split second to reassure you with a thin-lipped smile. You observed as he clutched the steering wheel, veins ostensibly poking through along his arms and hands in a way that made your thighs clench together tightly. You gulped silently in an attempt to restrain yourself and regain composure - this was Rafe Cameron you were talking about. Yet on the other hand, despite his vainglorious ways and haughty sense-of-self, inhis eyes, a flicker of mischief dances amidst shadows, a daring tale waiting to unfold. He was the embodiment of defiance, a canvas of contradictions where danger and allure converge in captivating disarray. You found yourself ensnared by the gravity of his presence, a force that pulled your world into his magnetic orbit. You could keep reminding yourself to run away from him, but where would you go to hide? He was everywhere, from the depths of your mind, to every turning corner of Figure 8.

You made it back to the Cameron's residence before you knew it, perhaps too caught up in the thought of Rafe to realize what was happening around you. However, once the car came to a halt and your surroundings stopped moving, reality soon greeted you once again.

You hopped out of the car, following behind Rafe like a lost puppy who didn't know where it was. You felt out of place, and a bit on edge. You wondered if your friends were okay, praying that your decoy tactics were doing them good. The other half of your nerves came from the fact that you were doing something that went against your moral code, and challenged your ability to lie to the face of someone you.. Care about?

"Do you want anything to drink? Water, tea, a soda?" Rafe asked, making his way to the kitchen with you in close pursuit.

"I'm good." You passed off his offer with a half-hearted laugh and a weak smile. As you watched him, the ambient light of the fridge casted a soft glow on his silhouette. His movements were casual, effortless, as he navigated the contents in search of a drink. The way he tilted his head slightly, the lines of his profile against the cool light—it’s a fleeting portrait etched into your memory. You found yourself caught in the simplicity of the moment, the way his fingers grazed the chilled bottles, his easy familiarity with the space. There was something mesmerizing about the way he handled the mundane, turning the ordinary into a scene worth cherishing. It was as though time slowed, encapsulating this small interaction, making it feel like an eternity. A smile tugged at your lips as you observed, captivated by his presence. The faint hum of the fridge was a backdrop to the symphony of your thoughts, all centered around this magnetic figure before you. In that unguarded moment, as he stood there unaware, he became the focal point of your world, drawing you deeper into the allure of his ordinary yet enchanting actions.

"Didn't realize I had an audience," he chuckled, catching you watching him with an amused glint in his eye. There was a playful energy in his tone, a sense that he knew he had inadvertently drawn your attention.

Leaning casually against the kitchen counter, he exuded a relaxed confidence. "If watching me rummage through the fridge becomes a regular show, I might have to start selling tickets," he teased, trying to lighten the moment but also displaying a subtle curiosity about what had captured your interest. His ego slowly peaking through, as usual.

"Oh, absolutely riveting," you retorted, a hint of sarcasm lacing your words as you met his amused gaze. "Your fridge exploration was the highlight of my day, truly." Your lips curved into a wry smile, eyes dancing with playful mockery.

Rafe hesitated for a moment, the playful glint in his eyes softening as he met your gaze. "You know, watching you watch me... it's kind of different," he began, his voice a touch softer, a hint of vulnerability slipping through his usual ease.

"I mean, it's not every day someone looks at me like... well, like that," he admitted, the words stumbling out with a hint of uncertainty. His gaze briefly faltered, a struggle evident within him as if battling between speaking his mind and holding back.

But before he could continue, he stopped himself abruptly, a shadow of hesitation crossing his features. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make things weird. Forget I said anything," he deflected, a faint tinge of regret coloring his words as he tried to backtrack, a sudden unease settling over him.

As he hesitated, you caught the shift in his demeanor, a glimpse of something vulnerable beneath his usual confidence. "No, don't," you interjected softly, reaching out to gently touch his hand, your eyes imploring him to continue. "Please, whatever you were going to say... I want to hear it."

In that suspended moment of vulnerability, he gathered the courage to speak what had been on his mind for far too long. "I... I've always felt something different around you," he confessed, his voice softer than a whisper, carrying the weight of unspoken emotions.

"It's not just the way you look at me, but... how you make me feel," he continued, his gaze locking with yours, each word chosen with care, as if he was navigating uncharted territory. "There's this warmth, this comfort that settles in whenever you're near." He paused, the air thick with anticipation, his heart pounding against the cage of his chest. He struggled to find the right words to express the depth of what he felt, a mixture of fear and longing flickering in his eyes.

But as the moment hung between them, poised on the edge of revelation, he stopped himself once more, the weight of his unspoken feelings heavy upon him. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything," he murmured, a flicker of uncertainty clouding his features as he withdrew, fearing he might have crossed a line.

You were stunned, his words piercing through the air, carrying a weight you hadn't expected. Your heart fluttered in response, a mix of surprise and a tinge of something deeper stirring within you.

"I never realized," you breathed out, your voice trembling slightly, trying to make sense of the emotions swirling inside. His confession had caught you off guard, unraveling a part of your own feelings you hadn't fully acknowledged.

"There's always been this... something," you confessed, your words coming out in a rush, a newfound realization taking hold. "A connection, a pull towards you that I couldn't quite define."

Yet, before you could explore this uncharted territory further, you sensed his hesitation, his retreat from the vulnerable moment you had both stepped into. The abruptness left you reeling, an unspoken ache lingering in the charged air between you.

"I didn't mean to make it awkward," you murmured, regret coloring your tone as you witnessed his uncertainty. The unspoken sentiments hung heavy, a silent conversation begging to be continued, the depth of emotions left unexplored.

In the hush of that moment, you found yourselves locked in a silent exchange. His gaze, an ocean of depths, met yours with an unwavering intensity, drawing you in like a force. You perched on the kitchen counter, feeling the cool surface beneath you, as he closed the distance, a dance of proximity that felt almost orchestrated by fate.

Closer, step by deliberate step, until the air crackled with an unspoken tension. Rafe's presence enveloped you, a shield from the outside world, as if the space around you had collapsed into a world of its own. You felt his warmth seep through the inches that separated you, a silent harmony of shared breaths.

In that suspended moment, time seemed to stand still. Your breaths mingled, creating a delicate rhythm of anticipation. His hand moved with a tenderness that spoke volumes, gently enclosing you within the confines of that intimate space.

And as his closeness eclipsed the distance between you, your eyes locked in a silent conversation, saying things that mere words couldn't articulate. The world outside faded into insignificance as the universe shrank to just the two of you, suspended in a timeless embrace of unspoken longing.

Your breath hitched, Rafe's minty-breath fanning over your skin as his lips lingered a few inches from your face. You felt a flutter in your chest as his eyes bore into yours, each glance a revelation, unraveling layers of unspoken emotions. In the depth of his stare, you sensed a vulnerability, a longing that mirrored your own.

Before you had time to think, his lips connected with yours, passionately but with a delicacy that made it seem like if he pushed too far, you would break. You took in his affection, pulling him in by the back of his neck as he hungrily devoured the cherry lip balm off of your glossy lips. Rafe kept the pace slow, but his movements were eager and greedy for more of you. His large hands trailing up your open thighs, stopping at your hips as he gripped them and squeezed at them lightly.

You moaned into his mouth as you longed for more of him, a testimate you figured you'd regret doing later, but in that moment, you needed him, and he knew it.

Rafe responded with a smirk against your lips, letting out a deep, low chuckle from the bottom of his throat that sent tingles down your spine. You arched your body towards his, caving into his touch and practically begging for more. You weren't exactly sure why you were so taken over by such feeling of lust, but you wouldn't dare brush it off.

"God, I love you." Rafe groaned, murmuring his words against your neck yet they came out plain as day. Your eyes, previously shut as you took in the bliss of what you were experiencing, now shot wide open and you stared ahead.

"You.. What?" You stammered on your words as your throat seemingly went dry.

In the wake of his sudden admission, you were left speechless, the air heavy with the unexpected weight of his confession. His words lingered in the space between you, a revelation that seemed to have shifted the very ground beneath your feet.

You looked at him, shock etched in your features, mirrored in the stunned expression on his face. In that suspended moment, an unspoken understanding passed between you, a shared astonishment at the sudden revelation.

Time seemed to halt, the air thick with a mix of emotions, leaving you both stranded in an uncomfortable silence. His confession hung in the air, and you found yourself grappling with a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings, trying to comprehend the sudden turn of events.

The shock of his abrupt admission left you reeling, unsure of how to respond, as if the ground beneath your feet had shifted. The air crackled with a charged tension, a profound moment that had unexpectedly unfolded between you, leaving you both standing at the precipice of an uncertain new chapter.

"Y/n-I... It was the heat of the moment." He was lying right through his teeth.

"Rafe you don't say those things because of 'the heat of the moment'." You stated, face still covered in shock.

"I know, I know," he replied, his voice tinged with a mix of regret and sincerity, attempting to backpedal. "But sometimes... things just spill out, you know?"

You looked at him, your expression a mix of disbelief and uncertainty, the shock still painted across your features. "You don't say those things because of 'the heat of the moment'," you stated firmly, your voice carrying a weight of conviction.

He met your gaze, his eyes searching for a lifeline in the tumultuous sea of emotions. "I guess... I might have gotten carried away," he admitted, a hint of remorse coloring his words. "But that doesn't mean I don't mean it, Y/n."

His attempt to retract his words faltered in the face of your unwavering response, leaving an uncomfortable tension hanging between you, the unspoken truth lingering in the air, too palpable to be ignored.

"I messed up, saying it like that," Rafe sighed, a hint of frustration creeping into his tone as he struggled to express himself. "But the truth is, I've been feeling this way for a while now."

You watched him, the shock slowly morphing into a mix of confusion and a glimmer of curiosity. "Rafe, why now? Why like this?" you questioned, seeking clarity in the whirlwind of emotions that engulfed both of you.

He hesitated, searching for the right words, a turbulent storm brewing in his thoughts. "I didn't plan it, it just happened," he confessed, a sense of urgency in his voice. "But... being around you, it's like discovering something I didn't know I needed. And I don't want to pretend otherwise."

The vulnerability in his admission hung in the air, an unspoken plea for understanding and a hint of desperation to convey what he truly felt. The intensity of the moment lingered, a raw and unfiltered exchange leaving you both exposed, suspended in a realm of unresolved emotions.

The sudden confession left you reeling, a storm of conflicting thoughts raging within. His words echoed in your mind, but beneath the shock, a sense of unease crept in. You couldn't ignore the inconvenient truth—you had approached him under false pretenses, a lie woven into the fabric of your interactions.

As his feelings spilled out, you couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't the right time. Guilt tugged at your conscience, reminding you that your connection with him was built on a shaky foundation. How could you entertain the possibility of reciprocating his feelings when the truth had been veiled behind a facade?

His sincerity clashed with the dishonesty looming over your encounters. The weight of regret settled heavy on your shoulders, wishing for an alternate reality where honesty could pave the way for genuine emotions to blossom.

Amidst the tumult of emotions, you grappled with the turmoil of regret, longing for a different circumstance where the truth could guide the course of your connection with him.

"Rafe.. you don't know what you're saying." You shook your head, voice quiet as your head hung low while guilt proceeded you.

"But I know how I feel, Y/n."

He watched you, a sense of helplessness clouding his features as he realized the weight of his confession. "I get it if this is too much, too soon," he murmured, a mix of sincerity and a hint of pleading in his voice. "I just needed you to know."

There was a pang of regret in his chest, knowing that his impulsive admission might have pushed things too far, too quickly. He hoped for understanding, for a chance to rectify the situation, but the gravity of his words hung heavy in the air, leaving an uncertain tension between you both.

"Rafe, please.. Don't do this." You continued shaking your head at him, your body deterring his words away from you.

Rafe’s expression softened, his eyes reflecting a mix of remorse and a longing to make things right. "I didn't mean to make things complicated," he said, his voice laced with regret as he recognized the distress in your plea.

"I'll back off, I promise," he assured, a sense of resignation coloring his words. "I'll give you space, whatever you need."

He took a step back, giving you a gentle nod as if to affirm his commitment to respecting your wishes. Though the weight of his unspoken feelings lingered, he understood the importance of honoring your request, his regret palpable in the ache of the unspoken words he left hanging in the air.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Rafe. I just - I don't think you know what you're getting yourself into."

Rafe's features softened once more, a glint of understanding in his eyes as he absorbed your words. "I hear you," he replied softly, a tinge of regret lacing his voice. "Maybe I jumped the gun."

He took a step closer, a reassuring gesture without encroaching on your space. "I get it, Y/n. I don't want to complicate things for you," he acknowledged, a sense of empathy coloring his words. "I'll... figure it out."

There was a lingering sadness in his eyes, a realization that the depth of his feelings might have inadvertently disrupted the delicate balance. He offered a faint, understanding smile, silently conveying his acceptance of your decision while grappling with the weight of unspoken sentiments swirling within him.

Your heart ached at the sight of him, the turmoil of emotions swirling within you as you watched Rafe navigate the complexities of the moment. There was a pang of empathy mixed with a tinge of regret, knowing that his heartfelt confession had collided with a reality too intricate to unravel.

His genuine vulnerability struck a chord within you, the sincerity in his eyes a poignant reminder of the depth of his feelings. Despite the complexities, there was an undeniable longing in his gaze, a silent plea for understanding.

Yet, amidst the ache, you held firm, knowing that conceding to the whirlwind of emotions might only deepen the intricate web you both found yourselves entangled in. The ache in your chest was a silent testament to the conflicting desires to both embrace and pull away from the vulnerability that lay bare between you.

With a gentle resolve in your voice, you offered a solution to diffuse the tension hanging in the air. "I'm going to go to bed. I'll sleep in the guest room if you'd like for me to," you softly stated, your gaze fixed on Rafe, awaiting his response.

Rafe met your gaze, a mix of gratitude and regret flickering in his eyes. "I appreciate that," he replied quietly, his voice carrying a hint of resignation. "But you don't have to do that. You can take my room; I'll take the guest."

There was a sense of mutual understanding in his response, a tacit acknowledgment of the unspoken boundaries between you. As you turned to leave, a bittersweet atmosphere lingered, the weight of unresolved emotions hanging in the air, leaving both of you to navigate the uncharted territories of unspoken sentiments.

Your heart urged you to offer more, to say something that could alleviate the heaviness in the room, yet words eluded you. You wished to ease the ache in Rafe's eyes, to erase the tension that had woven its way between you both.

But the weight of the moment held you captive, words caught in the tangled threads of conflicting emotions. You longed to express understanding, to mend the rift caused by the unexpected turn of events, but the complexity of the situation left you grappling with the silence.

With a heavy sigh and a lingering gaze, you retreated, knowing that sometimes the silence spoke louder than any words you could muster, and hoping that time might offer a balm to heal the unspoken wounds that lingered between you and Rafe.

As you made your way to Rafe's room, guilt weighed heavy on your shoulders, each step a reminder of the tangled web of emotions you found yourself entwined in. The faint echo of your own footsteps seemed to resonate with the uncertainty that clouded your mind.

Slipping under the covers, the warmth of the room offered little comfort against the turmoil within. You couldn't shake off the guilt, a relentless companion that followed you into the darkness. The sheets felt colder than usual, a stark contrast to the turmoil raging inside you.

Lying there, your thoughts tangled in a maze of regret, you replayed the events of the evening, questioning the choices that led to this poignant moment. The weight of the situation pressed down on you, leaving you feeling adrift in a sea of conflicting emotions.

Sleep remained elusive, your mind restless, grappling with the repercussions of your actions. The guilt lingered as a constant reminder of the complexities that now defined the fragile dynamics between you and Rafe.

As the night ebbed away, the soft hues of dawn painted the sky, signaling the arrival of a new day. You descended the stairs, a faint unease lingering from the events of the previous evening, unsure of what the morning would bring.

At the foot of the staircase, you were met with Rafe, his presence an unexpected yet anticipated encounter. There was an awkward tension in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the unresolved emotions that hung between you both.

"Morning," Rafe greeted, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty, the weight of the unspoken words from the night before lingering in the air.

"Morning," you replied softly, the air heavy with an unspoken understanding, a palpable sense of discomfort threading through the atmosphere.

There was an unspoken agreement to navigate the morning with cautious steps, each movement tinged with the residue of the unresolved emotions that lingered between you. The air crackled with an unspoken tension, leaving both of you searching for a semblance of normalcy in the midst of the palpable awkwardness.

"I'm gonna head back to the chateau in a few, JJ said he wants to talk to me," you mentioned, trying to break the palpable tension hanging in the air.

Rafe's laughter was dry, a strained sound that echoed in the room, a stark contrast to the ease that once defined your interactions. "Seems like he's got a lot to talk about these days," he remarked, a hint of bitterness seeping into his words.

You sensed the unease in his tone, a reflection of the awkwardness that enveloped the space between you. The weight of the unresolved emotions lingered, casting a shadow over the interaction, leaving the air heavy with unspoken sentiments.

The apology hung in the air, a quiet admission laden with the weight of remorse. "Rafe... I'm sorry, okay?" you uttered softly, the words an attempt to ease the strain that enveloped the space between you.

"Sure," Rafe replied, his tone notably drier, a touch of guardedness in his response. The weight of the situation lingered in the air, his words carrying a subtle hint of distance as he navigated the delicate balance between acceptance and reservation.

The conversation seemed to falter, leaving an uncomfortable silence that underscored the unspoken tension. Despite the attempt at reconciliation, there was a palpable hesitance in his demeanor, a reluctance to fully embrace the offered apology, adding another layer of complexity to the already strained atmosphere.

"I didn't say it because I don't care about you, Rafe," you asserted, hoping to clarify the sincerity behind your actions.

Rafe's response was more confrontational, his confusion apparent in his tone. "Then why?" he questioned, a hint of frustration seeping into his words. "It's just... it feels like nothing's adding up."

There was an edge to his demeanor, a palpable frustration stemming from the unresolved tension between you. The attempt at explanation seemed to only complicate matters further, leaving both of you grappling with the tangled web of emotions that refused to find resolution.

"Because I don't want you to get hurt," you explained, your voice soft yet firm, hoping to convey the underlying concern that had guided your actions.

Rafe's demeanor softened slightly, a flicker of surprise mingled with a trace of understanding in his expression. "Hurt?" he echoed, a hint of confusion still present but tempered by the sincerity in your words.

"Yeah," you continued, trying to articulate the protective instinct that fueled your choices. "Things are... complicated, and I didn't want to add to that."

There was a subtle shift in the atmosphere, an attempt to bridge the gap with honesty and concern, hoping to offer a glimpse into the complexities that had led to your decisions. The air, though still charged with tension, held a trace of empathy as you navigated the fragile balance between candor and reservation.

"Do you think I care if things are a little complicated, Y/n? My whole life has been complicated," Rafe responded, his voice carrying a mixture of resignation and a hint of frustration, a glimpse into the complexities he had grown accustomed to.

His words held a weight, a testament to the tumultuous experiences that had shaped his life. Despite the tension, there was a raw honesty in his admission, revealing the layers of complexities that had become intrinsic to his existence.

"Yeah, but it's me, Rafe. I'm a Pogue from the Cut, do you really want that? Your family probably has this whole plan set out for you to end up with a Kook, anyways," you expressed, a tinge of vulnerability woven into your words. "This, I, am way too complicated for your lifestyle. That's more weight than you could bear."

Your words carried the weight of societal expectations and the stark contrast between your worlds. The lines drawn by society's standards seemed insurmountable, adding layers of complexity to an already intricate situation. You highlighted the disparity between your backgrounds, emphasizing the potential burden it might pose for Rafe, intertwining concern for his well-being with an understanding of the societal barriers dividing you.

"I don't care, Y/n. I don't care what they have to say because I care about you. Why can't you just accept that?" Rafe's voice carried a raw honesty, his words cutting through the barriers of societal expectations.

Your heart skipped a beat at his unwavering declaration. "Because it's not that simple, Rafe," you replied softly, your voice laced with a mix of emotions. "There's so much more at stake than just us. Just trust me on this. Please."

"Y/n, please just listen to me. It doesn't have to be this way. We can make it work, whatever I have to do, I'll do it," Rafe pleaded, his voice tinged with a sense of urgency and determination.

You met his earnest gaze, torn between the desire to believe in his words and the weight of the obstacles you both faced. "Rafe, it's not that simple," you murmured, the turmoil evident in your tone. "There are things beyond our control, things that won't just change because we want them to."

The ache in your chest mirrored the conflict in your mind, the yearning to embrace his offer battling against the harsh realities that seemed to impose barriers between you.

The scene unfolded before you, and you witnessed the subtle tremble in Rafe's lip, a poignant display of the emotions he struggled to contain. Sorrow etched into the depths of his eyes, a vulnerable expression that laid bare the depth of his feelings.

Your heart wrenched at the sight, a surge of empathy flooding through you as you recognized the pain reflected in his gaze. The weight of the situation bore heavily on him, and the turmoil within him was palpable, painting a picture of raw vulnerability and unspoken longing.

Despite the complexities that stood between you both, the silent plea in his eyes tugged at your own emotions, evoking a whirlwind of conflicting sentiments that left you grappling with the ache of shared sorrow and the unyielding barriers that seemed to divide you.

"I need you, Y/n," Rafe's voice was tinged with desperation, a raw plea that echoed in the room, laying bare the depth of his emotions.

"I've got to go, Rafe," you whispered, your voice laden with sorrow, each word a painful admission of the necessity to part ways despite the shared longing.

Walking out of Rafe's house, tears blurred your vision, emotions swirling within as you grappled with the weight of the encounter. As you stepped outside, your friend Kiara awaited in the car, a knowing look in her eyes that spoke volumes without a single word exchanged.

Kiara observed your tear-stained cheeks and pained expression, her eyes reflecting a mix of concern and understanding. Without needing to speak, she unlocked the car doors, a silent invitation for you to seek solace in the comfort of her presence.

With a heavy heart, you slid into the passenger seat beside Kiara, the warmth of her presence offering a sense of solace amidst the whirlwind of emotions. The unspoken understanding between friends enveloped the space, allowing for a moment of silent companionship amid the storm of feelings that surged within.

"I did what you guys asked me," you stated flatly, the weight of your actions hanging heavily in the air, your voice tinged with resignation.

Kiara glanced at you, her expression a mix of concern and apprehension, recognizing the strain in your voice. "Are you okay?" she inquired softly, her tone laced with a gentle concern, understanding the difficulty of the task you'd undertaken for the sake of your friends.

You remained silent for a moment, the weight of the recent events settling heavily on your shoulders. "I will be," you finally replied, the words carrying a hint of uncertainty, as if unsure of the aftermath of your actions and the impact they might have on the intricate balance of your relationships.

The journey to the chateau was enveloped in silence, a heavy curtain of unspoken thoughts that draped the car's interior. Each passing moment seemed to stretch in the weight of the quiet, the air thick with unexpressed emotions that lingered between you and Kiara.

You fought to hold back the tears, a silent war raging within, the ache in your chest a testament to the depth of the emotions that surged beneath the surface. The weight of recent events bore heavily on you, and the silent car ride provided a fleeting refuge where tears threatened to breach the dam of your composure.

Despite your efforts, a lone tear escaped, tracing a path down your cheek, a silent testament to the emotional storm that raged within. You discreetly wiped it away, hoping to shield your vulnerability, the weight of unspoken words and unshed tears weaving an intricate tapestry of inner turmoil.

The car rolled to a halt near the chateau's entrance, the engine's hum fading into the quiet ambiance of the estate. Kiara cast a glance your way, a wordless assurance conveyed through her eyes, a silent understanding that transcended the unspoken.

As you stepped out, the familiar sight of the chateau greeted you, its grandeur contrasting sharply with the weight of emotions carried within. The walk to the entrance felt longer than usual, each step echoing the turmoil within, the unspoken conversation hanging heavily between you and Kiara.

Approaching the door, the details of the chateau seemed to blur, your focus consumed by the emotional tempest raging within. With a deep breath, you turned the doorknob, the heavy wooden door creaking softly as it opened to welcome you inside.

Stepping into the foyer, the chateau enveloped you, the coolness of the air offering a stark contrast to the warmth of the emotional turmoil within.

As your friends turned to greet you, their expectant smiles faltered into a puzzled expression as they registered the turmoil etched on your face. Their eyes mirrored a blend of confusion and concern, a stark contrast to the jovial atmosphere that typically enveloped their gatherings.

A fleeting moment passed, each heartbeat echoing the unspoken as your friends exchanged glances, a silent communication that conveyed their awareness of the unspoken turmoil lingering beneath the surface. The chapter's end was marked by the unspoken tension, leaving an uncertain ambiance that hung between you, hinting at the complexities awaiting their reckoning.

taglist:  @ellesalazar, @champomiel, @vadinaleme, @kys4-20, @gills-lounge, @allsmilesreally7, @sublimepenguinpeach-blog, @sp00ky-spr1te, @bibliophilewednesday, @haroldpotterson, @i-love-rafe, @ellesalazar, @calmoistorm, @abundantxadorations, @fals3-g0d, @gillybear17, @oiiviagrande, @hockeybabe87, @augustlikesdeath, @wpdailyminimeta, @palmwinemami, @loxleys-blog, @ikisscline, @flyestvenustrapap, @ilovesteveharrngton, @ijustwanttoreadlols

[bratbarzal]

On Your Side (NH13) / Chapter Eight

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy Jensen*

*I say it's an OC, it's just a name and third person POV. I use minor character descriptions because I don’t get on with writing vague reader inserts/YN for long-form, story heavy fics, but I will generally try to avoid including race and body type or really any physical descriptors. I’m always open to feedback on my writing, or how to be more inclusive.

WC: 18k (I need help)

Chapter Warnings: jealous!nico makes a tiny cameo lmao, fluff!!! it's everywhere!! like those pranks you see on tv where they put like honey on someone then send them through a door with a bucket of feathers hung precariously over the top. so fluffy. and little sprinkles of fake dating!! the best writing trope there ever was. poppy's family are a living breathing nightmare, so angst there including comments about food/weight/eating and just a lot of ignorance and judgement, and nico is her saving grace. repeatedly. that's all I've got.

Series Masterlist

Previous Part (Chapter Seven)

A/N: you know that meme of sarah paulson laughing at her phone in ahs and she looks like a clown that's me rn after finally finishing this!!! not a single thought in my brain in the 14 days since I posted the last chapter. no gender reveal in here it will be in the next chapter tho!! I didn't really want to time jump too much in one go or include too many milestones because I feel like I'd just be skipping stuff for the sake of it, and I wanted to dedicate a chapter entirely to one aspect of the pregnancy. I literally had one conversation in this pre planned and the rest came to me after DAYS of staring at a blank page lmao but I hope you all enjoy as always would love to hear any thoughts any feelings anything at all 💖

Nico

Coming to the realisation that he is seriously no good at the concept of baby steps takes Nico a grand total of three days. 

To give himself credit, it has been three long days of battling every instinct in his body to hover protectively in Poppy’s peripheral. 

The first day had been the easiest - mainly due to the fact he and Poppy spent it together anyway, her having the day off of work and him only having that morning training session and an afternoon practice after he had dropped her home. 

He had been able to shamelessly dote on her in the safety of his own home - he had ordered her in a late lunch, a giant caesar salad she had no chance of getting the whole way through and some sweet potato fries, and she hadn’t been sick again the whole time they had been together. They had sat with each other on the couch, creating a joint calendar where they could figure out when to book her first scan, and he had sat and watched her as she made the appointment, biting nervously at the skin around her nails until he pulled her hands away from her mouth to break the habit. 

They had marked the date in their phones, Friday 23rd, where they would both be at work but Nico didn’t have a game, and had given it the cryptic title of Blueberry Day in case anyone accidentally came across it, because that is how big Google had told Poppy the baby would be by then.

And it had been then that it dawned on Nico that he was now responsible for a pretty big secret, which made the second day almost unbearable.

The Devils hosted the Avalanche at home, and where he spent his evening dealing with the mammoth task of playing some of the greatest players in the league, and the team that had taken home the cup only two seasons prior, he had spent his entire day with the even bigger workload of keeping his mouth shut around his parents.

His mother, specifically, who had mastered the art of knowing her son like the back of her hand.

Keeping secrets had never been Nico’s strong suit. It’s probably the youngest child in him, he thinks, his siblings having tried every single trick in the book on his parents before he ever had the chance, and he never managed to perfect his poker face - especially when it came to Katja.

His mom, who had once told him she had memorised the depth in which he breathed in his sleep, and so she could always tell he was pretending when he curled himself up in bed with his hand tucked under his pillow, holding his beat up brick of a phone under it while he waited for updates from his friends on the latest football score-lines from across the European leagues, and faking snores when she came to check up on him.

She would always huff out a resigned sigh, would reach under the pillow and take the device from a clutch too tight for him to have been asleep.

“You can text your friends in the morning, Neeky,” She would say as she tucked his phone into her back pocket, levelling him with a knowing look when he peeked an eye open only to roll it at her astute observation skills. “You have school tomorrow, you need to sleep.”

But during the second day, when he had managed to grab brunch with his parents before he was shut away in preparation for the game, as much as he still feared being on the receiving end of that dissecting glare, he had to bite his tongue to keep his priorities in check.

He had promised Poppy he would move at her pace - baby steps and all - which means respecting her boundaries and only telling other people when she is ready to do so.

So when his mother had brought up Poppy, had asked how she was getting on after being sick, and how he was getting on after she had laid into him after his event the week before, he had told the whitest lie that he hadn’t had chance to check up on her yet.

He had rationalised it by telling himself it was the truth. He hadn’t checked up on her yet, that morning. Not until after brunch, when he had arrived at the arena and had made a bee-line straight for her office.

As much as he wanted his mom to know - wanted to share what could be the biggest thing to ever happen to him with the woman who gave him life, and wanted to see her reaction in person before she was to fly home in a few days - putting pressure on Poppy to tell her just because she’s in the country and will be leaving soon hadn’t exactly seemed like the best idea. Pressing her on it and coercing her into something she might not be ready for had felt unfair - especially given how patient she had been with him.

Only, when he made it to her office, and had heard the sound of her melodic laughter even through the closed door, and had opened it to see her sat across from Josh from PR, all other rational thought had left his head. He had to clench his free fist and bite his tongue to save from screaming the news from the rooftops - thinking there might be someone jumping the queue of who needed to know first.

“Nico!” She had shot up from her seat at his arrival, and he had thought his mind was playing cruel tricks on him when he had seen her eyes light up, but then the telling twist of her lips followed. She was happy to see him. Thank God. Calm down, he had told himself. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just,” his eyes had darted inconspicuously over to Josh, “I’m cutting it a little bit fine for training and I need to talk to you about the thing.”

“The thing.” Poppy had pressed her lips together in amusement, her own focus going back to the man sat on the other side of her desk. “Sorry, Josh, can I come find you later?”

“Of course, you know where I’ll be, Poppy,” Josh stood, “Good luck today, Nico,” he smiled as he passed him. “Go, Devils!”

Nico had jut his head as an acknowledgement, able to just about stop himself from outwardly cringing and rolling his eyes, muttering out a quick and direct, “Joshua,” as if that was any reasonable kind of response.

“You’re disturbingly bad at being subtle.”

“Yeah, well I was on the spot,” he huffed back, eyes narrowing at the chair that was supposed to be his, but now looked uncomfortable and worn. “How’re you feeling?” He had rounded the corner of her desk, instead, stepping more into her side of it and placing a strawberry smoothie he had picked up for her by her monitor before perching himself on the corner. She had still smelled a little like him, like she had used his shampoo when she had been over the day before and the scent still lingered in her hair, and he watched with bated breath as she chose to stand in front of him instead of sitting back down. 

“I’m fine,” she shrugged, arms crossing over herself as she leant against the wall directly in front of him. 

“Fine?”

It wasn’t that she didn’t look fine. She had probably looked the best he had seen her in a good few weeks - colour in her cheeks, hair down and brushed smooth instead of haphazardly pushed back, a soft gleam back in her eyes - but if his sister and mother had ever taught him anything of serious value about women, it would have been that fine never means fine.

“I’ve been resisting the urge to puke in my trashcan for a good hour at Josh’s cologne,” she had admitted, her lips twisting guiltily as if she hadn’t wanted to say anything even remotely mean.

“He smells that bad?” He hadn’t been able to help but tease, and had chuckled heartily when she leaned over to shove at his shoulder.

“No, it was just strong. I feel like I need to sniff coffee or something to reset my senses.”

“Do you want me to get you some?”

“No,” she leans back against the surface behind her. “I thought you were cutting it a little bit fine for training.”

“I am. Do you have plans for tomorrow night?”

“I do actually,” she had craned her head back, wistfully, but had only kept him sweating for a moment before adding, “I’ve made arrangements with my bathroom floor. Candles, Hozier playing, non-alcoholic rosé, I think if I can convince my brain that spending all my time with my head in the toilet isn’t that bad, the nausea will go away.”

“If anyone can reverse-psychology morning sickness, it would be you.”

The smile she had given him back was astute, head tilting from her position against the wall as she raised a brow at him. “Where do you want me?”

If only she knew the half of where he had wanted her. 

“My mom’s going home on Friday morning,” he had mirrored her stance, crossing his arms over his chest and spreading his legs just a little as he sat atop her desk, angling himself so that she was directly ahead of him. “They’re coming to my place for dinner tomorrow night, and she’s been on at me since last week about seeing you again, so I figured it would be nice if you were there.”

“She’s been on at you?”

“Neeky, you should see if Poppy’s free,” he had tried his best to respectfully imitate her voice, and had ended up sounding somewhere in between a muppet and a chipmunk. “Will Poppy be at your game tonight? Will she be at the game on Thursday? She’d probably extend her trip if you asked her to, I don’t even think she flew out to see me in the first place.”

“It’s because she knows.”

“She knows?” 

“Well, she thinks she knows,” Poppy had rolled her eyes affectionately. “She called me out back when you had the signing last week. I’d told her about how I wasn’t feeling or sleeping too great, and she assumed it was because I was pregnant straight away. She’s kind of the whole reason I ever thought to take a test in the first place, apparently you Hischier babies all wreak the same kinds of havoc in the womb.”

“Oh, God, please tell me she didn’t go into too much detail,” he cringed, his face curling up at the thought of what his mother could have possibly said to her - at the thought of her even jumping to that conclusion in the first place. 

“No, it was really sweet, actually.” Poppy hummed, smiling softly just at the memory, “I was trying not to freak out at even the thought of being pregnant, and she spoke about it like it was the greatest time of her life. Even after I told her I wasn’t, she made me feel like it would be okay if I was,”

“That explains why she laid into me after,” he scoffed in amusement, remembering in vivid detail the lecture she had given him as he drove her back to meet up with his dad after the event. “She bit my ear off the whole way back to her hotel about how I need to appreciate the good people in my life more.”

“Aw,” Poppy cooed, pushing herself off the wall and stepping into the space just in front of him, reaching to pinch his cheek gently and mocking him with, “Did Neeky get a telling off from his mommy?”

He had swatted her hand away despite his cheek curving into her touch, trying to suppress the smile teasing his lips at even the closer proximity. “She saw us talking before the event, noticed we weren’t exactly in the best place and she told me to sort things out before I lose you, basically.”

“Her manifestation skills are crazy off the charts,” Poppy had scoffed, gesturing to her belly and lowering her voice like she was sharing an inside joke, “You’re pretty stuck with me, now.”

“What can I say? She’s good.” He had succumbed to the grin that was tugging at each corner of his mouth, so big that his eyes began to crinkle in the corners, and Poppy’s own gaze had flickered down to it and smiled back instinctively. “So, dinner?”

“That depends,”

“On?”

“Are you cooking?”

Nico had sighed, rolled his eyes dramatically and levelled her with as straight a face as he could muster, ignoring the urge to crack a smile at the way her own lips twitched with mirth. “I’m a good cook, Poppy.”

“Of course you are.” She nodded in agreement. “Hell, if I had a particular affliction for plain chicken and rice every day of the week I’d actually say you’re the best cook in Jersey, and I grew up with a house chef!” 

“I’m good with vegetables, too.”

“Just what every pregnant girl wants to hear.” Nico had wished he didn’t find her sarcasm so endearing, she was making it too hard for him to defend himself.

“Why don’t you come over earlier, then? You can supervise,” he hadn’t paid any mind to how desperate he had seemed, pressing and pressing and relenting to her every whim like it was nothing. He’d long made up his mind that things would just be like that for the foreseeable future. “I’ll even provide the candles and the music you’ll be missing out on.”

“Now you’re speaking my language.”

“Is that a yes? I promise I’ll go easy on the cologne.”

“Yours is fine,” Poppy shook her head, affectionately, lips twisting like she had been caught out at something she had no intentions of admitting, “Okay, yeah, I’ll be there. It sounds nice, actually. I did promise your mom I’d catch up with her, too.”

“Perfect,” and only because he seriously was cutting it fine to get to their final practice skate before their game that evening, he had jumped up from the desk, pressed a fleeting kiss to the crown of her head, and parted with, “I’ll pick you up at 6.”

And despite how insistent he had been with her in her office, it had been the third day that opened Nico's eyes to just how nigh on impossible baby steps would be when it came to how far gone he was for Poppy.

It had started in his kitchen, where they had easily settled once he had picked her up from her apartment after work, and the two of them were prepping vegetables to roast for the pasta sauce. Poppy had been laughing at the way he cried while cutting onions, he had been laughing at the way she frowned when she noticed the wine in the corner he had bought specifically for his parents, and they had conversed with ease the whole time as she cut the peppers and he cut the tomatoes - sharing stories of cooking with their families as children; specifically how Poppy used to spend her weekends with her grandmother, and would follow her around the kitchen like a magnet.

“Are you excited to tell her?” He had asked, leaning against the counter after putting their vegetables in the oven to roast and drying his fingers off with a hand towel. 

“I think so,” she had hummed in response, “More than I am to tell my mom, that’s for sure. I think I’m gonna put it off for as long as I can.”

“You don’t think she’ll be happy for you?”

She could only scoff at that, avoiding his gaze as she fiddled with her own fingers, inspecting her nails and shrugging. “She’ll find some way to make me feel bad about it.”

“Why would you feel bad about it?” His heart had sank at the thought - beyond the initial panic and fear at telling him the news, Poppy had been nothing but excited since. Disregarding the ever-present nausea and the exhaustion, she seemed to be running on the fumes of happiness the past few days, their shared secret eliciting subtle smiles whenever their eyes met at work.

“I know that I shouldn’t,” Poppy settled into the counter to the side of him, her posture slumped and defeated, “But she won’t understand it. She’s really old fashioned with stuff like this, and as proud as I am of what we’re doing, and how we’re dealing with this, she’s gonna turn it into something ugly. Lawyers and custody agreements and all those scary, official, set-in-stone kind of things.

And I realise that technically we should be agreeing on all that stuff if we’re not together, but I don’t want to ruin what we’re doing. The whole baby steps thing doesn’t exactly work when we have to pay people to figure everything out for us, you know?”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” he had tried to keep a reassuring tone, despite the heavy weight that settled on his chest - a sense of impending doom cast over the two of them like a fast approaching dark cloud.

The thought of being on the other side of a nasty custody battle against Priscilla Jensen had made his heart do that hollow kind of thud in his chest. The kind that rattled and stuttered and filled his entire body with unrelenting doubt. The woman had hated him since the first moment she ever laid eyes on him, and that was before the possibility that he could have her grandchild snatched from her clutches in some court order.

Not that he ever would, but it wouldn’t stop the obviously insane thought from crossing her warped mind, and her doing everything in her seemingly unlimited powers to stop it happening.

“Maybe we should just tell her that we are together,” he had said it before even thinking it through, but as soon as the words left his mouth, some of that doubt had eased.

Surely it would lessen the blow, he had thought, if her mom knew that she was in a loving, committed relationship. That this wasn’t some mistake they would both come to regret and resent, or that there would never be an instance in which Nico could ever do anything so spiteful to Poppy as to interfere with her or her family’s rights to their baby.

Poppy’s brows practically met her hairline, shooting up in surprise, her eyes darting to meet his in alarm. “You think that we should pretend we’re a couple? To my mother?”

“It’s not like we wouldn’t pull it off,” he had shrugged, again feeling more comfortable the more the idea fully formulated in his mind, his shoulders straight and his tone fuelled by bravado. “She knows who I am, we’ve been in each other’s lives for years, we’re gonna be in each other’s lives for a long time, we would barely even be pretending, Poppy.” 

He could practically see the cogs turning in her brain, her head tilted, her eyes narrowed and a pensive pout pulling at her lips before she asked, “You’d do that for me?” Like he would be putting himself out. “Knowing what she’s like? Nico, you’re literally throwing yourself to the wolves.”

“I told you before, Poppy, I’d do whatever you need me to do,” he swore, “Even if that means looking your mother in the eye and praying I don’t turn to stone.”

When she grabbed the hand towel from the side and swatted him with it, he caught the fabric with a hearty laugh, his chest swelling with pride as he saw how much effort she was putting in to hold back a grin of her own.

“It’s not the worst idea,” she hummed, “I’ll probably feel less anxious about it if I can share the blame with you.”

“There you go,” he gave her a warm smile, like it was nothing at all for him to be on the receiving end of Priscilla’s wrath. Like the woman didn’t terrify him to his very core. “When should we tell them, then?”

He probably wouldn’t have asked if she hadn’t brought it up, but with his own parents coming over in less than an hour, he had thought he would be able to gather his wits about withholding the truth if he had a timeline for it.

“I don’t know, in a few weeks, maybe? You guys have that stretch where you’re close to home the back end of March, and my brother is coming over for Easter. Maybe if we do it while the whole family is around it might save an argument. Plus, I’ll be around 12 weeks then, I think I’ll feel better telling them when we’ve had those first couple of appointments and we know everything’s okay.”

“Whatever you want to do, I’ll be there, Poppy.” He reached over to clasp his fingers around her hand, which she swiftly turned in his clutch to interlace her own fingers with his. “What about mine? Ideally I’d want to tell my mom in person, but I don’t think she’s coming out for the rest of the season now after Friday.”

“Oh, yeah,” Poppy frowned, her gaze turning guilty as she looked up at him, “Did you want to tell her tonight?”

“Not if that’s too soon for you,”

“If anyone deserves to be the first to know, it’s her, I think,”

“Are you sure?”

And even though it had been the desired outcome, for him to get to tell his parents in person, to see their reactions and gauge their thoughts on it all, he would have held back if that was what Poppy wanted. He would have settled for a FaceTime call if he needed to.

“Yeah,” Poppy smiled, “She called it, I kinda want to see her reaction to be honest.”

“She’s gonna lose her mind.”

“In a good way?”

There was a flash of something vulnerable in Poppy that squeezed relentlessly at his heart - a childlike insecurity wherein she craved any kind of maternal approval, and he felt content in knowing she would at least get some in this instance. 

“Poppy, you don’t even want to know the half of the torture she’s put me through since she met you. The idea of you giving her a grandchild is like the second coming of Jesus or something. She’ll be on cloud nine.”

And despite the cute little snort she did, and the way her lips curved up in the corners, that vulnerability remained. 

“You don’t think she’ll be a little disappointed? Or your dad, even? Like I’m taking your focus away from what’s important?”

Important?

Nico blinked slowly as he tried to comprehend what she was saying, and where it had come from. 

Had he really made her feel like she wasn’t important? Like she hadn’t been his sole source of reprieve and release most days?

“Poppy, you’re important.” He said it with ease, but the weight of the words and how much he meant them pushed on him until he was stepping forward, until his hands gripped at the sides of her upper arms and he just about saved himself from rattling the message into her bones. “My parents know that more than anybody, more than even I do sometimes. There isn’t a single inch of them that would be disappointed in either of us, not for this.”

“Are you sure?”

He raised a hand to tuck her hair behind her ear, thumb swiping from her cheekbone up to her temple, “I’m positive,” he had hummed, “If it helps, we can tell my family the same thing we’ll tell yours-,”

“I don’t want to lie to your parents.”

Nico had always thought the way his parents loved Poppy was endearing - the way his father would ask about her work after he kept tabs on her projects with the Foundation online, the way his mother was always checking up with him about her wellbeing and what she was getting up to even outside of work - they had taken to her like she was their own, and he never had any worries or doubts about her being good enough to impress them. 

But the way Poppy loved them back - Poppy who had such fractious relationships with her own parents, who had never grown up with the reassurance that she would be loved and respected no matter what, or that whatever she ended up doing or achieving in life would always be enough - the way she embraced his mom and dad, had never shied away from their enthusiasm or made him feel embarrassed by their interference in her life, was something so precious he couldn’t even fathom the way it made him feel.

Poppy, who has always cared so much about him and his family, that the thought of being dishonest with them had turned her stomach.

“How about a half truth, then?”

“What do you mean?”

“We love each other, right?” She had nodded without any hesitation, and despite the fact that she had told him before, he feels warmth and relief pool in the pit of his stomach. “And we’re figuring out how this is going to work for us, right?” Another nod, and the gentle flutter of her lashes as she maintained eye contact. “Then I don’t think it’s a lie to tell them we’re together. And it helps with the overlap in case our families cross paths down the line, I don’t have to ask mine to bend the truth.”

“Is that what we’re doing? Bending the truth?”

“I think so,” he breathed, confident in his convictions that they weren’t going to have to lie. 

He loved her, she loved him, they were together in the sense that they had each other’s backs in a situation that had the potential to turn their whole worlds upside down. His parents didn’t need to know that he had hurt her before that, had messed things up so bad that she had no faith in his word that he wanted to be with her - but he knew that could be resolved. He felt it in his bones, knew in every fibre of his being that he could prove himself to her. They just needed time.

Time without interference from anyone else that there was an ever-looming deadline on those decisions.

Baby steps. Their own way.

“You don’t think she’ll catch us out?”

He tried to move swiftly past the way his heart sank at the thought that Poppy would always feel like someone was trying to catch her out or prove her wrong. She didn’t deserve that, and thankfully, he knew she wouldn’t receive that from his parents. Maybe they could help him reverse that damage, restore her faith that there would always be people in his world that would be in her corner.

“She’ll be too relieved at the thought of having another daughter that she won’t even care, Poppy. Especially considering it’s you.”

“Okay,” she had breathed out, like a sigh of relief, “Do we need a plan? A backstory?”

He had broken out in a wide grin at the thought, laughter bubbling up from the depths of his chest and he couldn’t even feel guilty about the way she arched her brow, unimpressed and concerned at the same time. “Poppy, we have a backstory. Don’t overthink it. We’re not lying, remember?”

She had started to smile back, bashful and sweet, and he had to force himself to take a step back so that he didn’t do something stupid and impulsive again. 

And he had spent the hour after that until his parents arrived all but tying his hands behind his back to stop himself from touching her, settling for the occasional bump of hips as they moved around his kitchen and the knock of elbows as they set the table together, repeating the baby steps mantra in his head and growing more and more frustrated with every iteration of it.

Only after his parents had arrived and they all sat around talking once they had eaten did he let himself ease into his instincts, self-indulgently slinging an arm across the back of Poppy’s chair and relishing the pounding of his heart when she’d laugh so hard at something that she would lean back into it.

They were yet to broach the big news, deciding between them to wait a little into the night so that they didn’t have to answer too many questions, and Nico had held his breath every time his mother started onto a new topic, just knowing she would be the one to prompt the conversation somehow.

“You know, Poppy,” she had leaned onto the table, pushing her glass of wine forward as not to spill anything, and had given her the kind of smile Nico associated with the gushing, proud speeches she would blurt out after long bouts apart. Where she would get sentimental and sappy and he would pretend it embarrassed him but really it stirred the kind of gratification he longed for when he was homesick. “I’m so glad we got to sit down and do this, I was worried after the last time I saw you we wouldn’t get the chance before I left.”

“Me too, I really appreciated your help back at the event, I figured I couldn’t let you go home without us seeing each other again, and it’s been really nice to catch up on everything.”

“It really has, I’m happy you could fit us in. I was telling Rino how I threatened you not to hang out with him without me when I’m gone next week.”

“I was hurt you agreed so easy, Poppy.” Nico’s father had chided in faux-outrage, with a fond roll of his eyes.

“You can’t call dibs on Poppy, Mom, especially if you’re pouncing on her when she’s sick.”

“I did no such thing!” Katja had gasped, and Poppy had leaned so far back that her head was resting just beyond the inside of Nico’s elbow, no intentions of sitting up or moving, watching his parents with an affectionate beam that lit up her entire face. “I gave her advice on how to feel better! And look at her now, glowing!”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Poppy scoffed, “I’m probably a couple months from the whole glowing thing.”

He had felt her go rigid against him as soon as she said it, had tried to rub comfortingly at her shoulder to ease the tension as she looked up at him in alarm - hoping he could telepathically communicate to her that everything was going to be okay.

“A couple of months?” Katja questioned, her brow quirking in the same way Nico’s would whenever he was confused, or weighing up different possibilities in his head.

Poppy’s eyes stayed on his, apologetic, questioning, seeking his approval, and all he could do was smile as he looked down at her, letting the lopsided grin that was twitching at the sides of his mouth take over before he gave a quick nod, letting her take the reins on this.

“Uhh,” she turned back to face his parents, smiling nervously as she looked between them before settling on his mother. “You were right, before, about the dream thing.”

Nico watched as his mom’s lips turned up, the all-too-familiar knowing glint in her eye that only ever shone when she was proven right. The smile took over slowly, until her eyes wrinkled in the corners, and her nose scrunched in delight. “You’re pregnant?” 

Poppy could only nod, and Nico felt his heart swell three times bigger as her face transformed with unadulterated joy.

When she had told Nico, she had been afraid. She had been scared of his reaction, and fearful of what the future held, and he felt proud to know that she didn’t feel that way, anymore. Not in that moment, at least. Her features shone with lighthearted elation, and he could feel his own morph to mirror them.

“Oh, Poppy,” his mom had cried out, her own eyes welling up as she shot up from her seat and rounded the table, “That’s so wonderful!”

He watched tenderly as the two of them embraced, Poppy standing and melting into his mother’s arms, Katja rubbing at her back and most likely squeezing her - a feeling he knew all too well.

And when he looked over to his father, he found him already watching him, and met his eyes immediately, the corners of them crinkling and his lips curved into a soft, perceptive smile that communicated a thousand feelings. Pride, congratulations, acceptance, excitement.

Nico had hoped when Poppy got a good look at Rino, she would see the same - see there was never any need to pretend, any need to lie, that the truth sat between them all comfortably in the shape of familial, unconditional love and support.

“Tell me everything,” Katja had parted with her hands on Poppy’s arms, holding her in front of her with eyes full of wonder, “Nico never said you were seeing somebody.”

“Oh, I-,” Poppy had gawked.

“Mom-,” Nico had sighed.

“Kat,” Rino laughed heartily from across the table. “Don’t be silly.”

With Poppy still grasped in her arms, Katja looked between the three of them. Poppy’s guilty smile, her husband’s amused chuckling, the expectant pressing together of her son’s lips.

She had glanced between Poppy and Nico, doing the math in her head before she gasped. “You two?”

He nodded from behind Poppy, watching her body stiffen in anticipation of a bad reaction, his cheeks starting to ache already from the joy pressing into them. 

“You’re having my grandchild?” Her eyes had gone round, glassy in an instant, and Nico couldn’t remember the last time he had been able to share something with her that brought her this much happiness. She had always been proud of him, but this was something else, entirely. “I knew there was something going on!”

“You didn’t know,” Nico scoffed, standing to rescue Poppy from his mother’s excited shakes, pulling her into his own clutches and pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. His hand had inched by default from her hip bone inwards, thumb and fingers cradling the unchanged curve of her belly, but the thought of the tiny seedling sprouting in there set sparks off in his own stomach.

“I’ve known you were hiding something. You’re a terrible liar, Neeky, you were breaking a sweat at brunch yesterday, pretending nothing new was going on,” Katja had pointed, her face morphing into sheer excitement as she shifted toward his father, “And I told you they’d end up together years ago!”

“Mom,” Nico had all but whined, unable to be truly embarrassed when he felt Poppy’s body sink back into his, the tension seeping from her bones as she melted into the moment - any previous anxiety or worries washed away by the fact his mother had come to the conclusion all on her own. There was no need for either of them to fabricate up some story or tell any half truths.

“She did,” Rino stood from across the table, circling around to congratulate the two of them, himself. “The first night we met you, Poppy, she said she had a feeling.”

“You really are good,” Poppy marvelled, her body vibrating with laughter against his. Comfortable, happy, cherished, just how he wanted her to be.

“No, I just know what’s good for my baby boy.” Katja cooed, reaching out to pinch at Nico’s cheeks affectionately before she took Poppy in her arms again, the four of them trading hugs between them like they were in an assembly line, his parents embracing her just like he knew they would, like she was one of their own, expressing their excitement with crinkled eyes and soft kisses to her cheeks.

In the almost 3 weeks that followed that night, baby steps had turned into what Nico could only describe as a misguided, drunken stumble - where he let unsteady limbs carry him in the wrong direction, but still somehow always ended up safe at home.

There had been the shameful Valentines Day incident, where he had built up enough blind courage to ask her over for another dinner date, and had been shut down before he could even properly propose it to her. 

“You doing anything tomorrow?” He asked when he had dropped by her office to offer a quick goodbye before the team flew out to Nashville, watching as her attention barely strayed from her computer, already so deep into her workload so early into her day.

“For Valentines?” She asked across the desk to him, “Oh yeah, I got men lining up down the block to take me out for a dinner I can’t keep down,” she scoffed, oblivious to the flash of something that had washed over him at the thought of her going on a date with someone else.

“Funny,” he gulped.

“Me and the girls usually do Galentines, like a boozy brunch kind of thing, but obviously I’m ruled out this year,” she broke from her typing to gesture at her stomach before going back to it, “Nia found a Paint’n’Sip near her apartment though, so that’s where I’ll be. Sans-sipping, of course.”

Nico had never struggled so much with the English language in one sentence than he had there.

“Galentines?”

Despite the embarrassment that had tickled his spine at asking, the way she smiled when she looked over to him made up for it.

“Valentines for the gals,” she pushed herself from her keyboard, giving her full attention over to him, then, “You boys really miss out on all the fun festivities, you should start a new one! Valen-guy-nes!”

“I’ll be sure to run that by the team on our flight later,” he scoffed.

“C’mon, that’s genius!”

And while he had never ended up asking her for that dinner, he had sent a bunch of flowers straight to her office, and reaped the rewards of his actions when she sent him a picture of two painted mugs beside each other on the Wednesday night, one with pink hearts and unfamiliar writing that said World’s Best Mommy-To-Be beside another, blue hearts with Poppy’s handwriting that read World’s Best Baby Daddy.

The latter end of that same week had been their Stadium Series game, one of the biggest events in the team’s calendar all year, and one he had been looking forward to since it was announced the year before.

The Devils organisation had set up their own celebrations for the guys to mark the monumental occasion, allowing them to bring their loved ones  out to East Rutherford to take part in a family skate. The guys were bringing out their parents, their siblings, their partners, their children. And Nico had wanted more than anything to bring Poppy.

He had followed up on what had now become a routine, dropping by her office that Friday when he arrived at the Rock with a red berry smoothie in hand, perching himself on the corner of her desk and talking through her plans for the day.

She had asked the same of him, knowing his father and sister would be joining him at the stadium, and wanting him to pass on her greetings.

“You could say hi, yourself,” he had said, head tilting as he watched her push back from her desk, her chair rolling to give her enough leverage to properly look up at him instead of half-focusing on her work. 

“We’re not really involved in the stadium stuff, now,” she had frowned, brows furrowing and her own head tilting in response. 

“Would you want to be?”

“Want to be what?”

“Involved.” He crossed his arms over his chest, surveying every iteration of emotion that crossed her face, before adding, “You could come out on the ice with us, for the family skate.”

“Won’t there be cameras there?”

He shrugged, having not put that much thought into that aspect of it. He just wanted his family with him, and she was a part of that now. “If there are, they’re following Jack and Luke, they’re not following me.”

“I think you underestimate how much people pay attention to you, Nico,” she had scoffed, “You get seen carting Bambi on ice around and people will start to ask questions.” She stood from her chair, fidgeting with her fingers as she stepped around him to busy herself with some unnecessary task to avoid the conversation.

“Would that be so bad? For people to ask questions, to know what we are?”

He was thankful for the smile that she gave, one of amusement.

“Nico, we don’t even know what we are.” She scoffed, “And as much as I would love to do it, I also kind of want to protect our peace for as long as we can.”

Protect our peace.

His mind had taken him somewhere he hadn’t wanted to go.

To private pictures being posted online, endless threads of vitriol and lies, and finding her in tears one day at the way her life had been turned upside down.

“Makes sense,” he agreed with a heavy sigh, his chest tightening as his thoughts spiralled. “I’m sorry, that was impulsive, I was just thinking about it and I wanted you to be there.”

He wanted what all the other guys had - to guide her around on wobbly legs and hold onto her for dear life as someone he treasured more than anything. He wanted to share this incredible thing with her, to stand in the centre of a stadium that could facilitate over 80,000 people and know she was the only one who could ever make him feel whole.

“It was sweet,” she reassured, her hand reaching out to rub soothingly at his arm as she stepped back toward him, “And I will be there tomorrow for the game. You just won’t get the pleasure of witnessing me make a fool out of myself on the ice quite yet.”

“Probably for the best,” he let his hand move between them, a curved finger stroking gently at her stomach, always relishing the reminder of what was in there, “I’ll get you out there one day.”

She smiled, big and bright, and his heart skipped a beat in his chest. “We’ll see.” She had said, like a promise, and despite him stumbling in his attempts to take another step in the right direction, he had still felt like he stuck the landing.

The weeks ahead had followed the same pattern.

Nico would suggest something to Poppy that fell just outside the remits of baby steps, she would find a way to shut him down - rejecting him with the kind of grace he wished softened the blow even the slightest, but didn’t - and he would go back to the drawing board on how to warm her up a little more to his attempts at moving the goalposts of their relationship.

And then, finally, Blueberry Day arrived.

Nico has circled the date in every diary he owns. The one on his phone, the little magnetised version attached to his fridge at home, the one he shares with his family in an online drive.

The date of Poppy’s first scan. 

He drops by her office to pick her up at lunch, having showered after his morning skate and freshened up enough not to cause concern when he takes her for something to eat before the appointment. 

They grab lunch together, Poppy’s morning sickness having subsided for the most part, only coming in the odd bout here and there and she no longer has to stress about certain foods aggravating her stomach. She’s now kicking into cravings - or, so she says.

Conveniently, it’s anything sweet - which helps his cause with the smoothie thing. She had directed him to a bakery nearby the clinic, and the two of them sit in the corner, Poppy trying her best to gulp down her water in preparation for the scan and chatting to him around mouthfuls of almond croissants and strawberry jam.

He tries to control his urges as he notices her press her fingers to her mouth when she watches him talk, cleaning them of the sticky sweet substance and batting her eyes at him like it’s nothing. 

3 weeks of taking things slow have done nothing but take a toll on him, every sense heightened when it comes to the girl in front of him - everything she does so endearing and captivating that he can’t remember the last time his heart wasn’t racing.

And when they’re sat in that darkened room together - her shirt raised to reveal the skin of her stomach, her fingers linked through his beside her on the bed, and both their gazes widened and glassy as they watch the slight staticky movements of a tiny peanut like figure on the screen in front of them - he feels like he is about to implode.

It’s a euphoric feeling if anything, unlike any emotion he’s ever felt before. That tiny peanut is theirs. Their blueberry. Their baby. And it’s still so small but is already occupying such a big part of his life.

He wakes up, and he thinks about it - anticipates his morning routine when the baby comes, getting up before Poppy, getting a bottle ready in the kitchen while he makes himself a coffee, getting the first feed out of the way so that she can sleep in. He goes to work and he thinks about it - one day carrying his little mini me around the arena, pointing out all the corners of the building in which he and Poppy became what they are now, what they could be in the future. He goes back to his apartment and he thinks about it - about a floor littered with toys and books, laughter bouncing off the walls, joy emanating from everywhere he turns in a place that had never felt as much like a home.

And his chest aches with optimism and longing.

It aches so much that when they get their little printouts of the scan, monochromatic stills of the ever-growing life in Poppy’s belly, he can’t stop himself from looking at it every chance he gets. 

How he manages to lose it is beyond him - but it arouses a panic like nothing he’s ever known. 

When he’s in the locker room after a game against Montreal, adrenaline still pumping through him to suppress the incoming ache of his body, he reaches into the pocket he knows he had stored the picture, only to come up short. He waits until the room has emptied, the boys trickling out annoyingly slow as his stress levels increase, before he gets on his hands and knees to look for it. 

He had it before practice earlier. He’d swiped tenderly at the curve of it’s little body as a calming practice, the picture grounding any nerves he had for the game later in the day. And after that, he had been too into his routine, and too surrounded by his unknowing teammates, to get it back out again. 

“Are you looking for something?”

He’s on all fours like a dog in the locker room when Poppy finds him, completely forgetting the two of them were going for dinner to talk about the next appointment. He turns to see her leaning against the open door, observing him with a quirked brow and a gaze that is a combination of amusement and accusation.

“I’m-,” He’s still a little out of breath from the game, and from darting around like a mad man in search of the small square of photo paper. He feels out of sorts in so many ways it’s a surprise he hasn’t blown up in some sort of catastrophic meltdown - hair still slick from his post-game shower, which he feels like he dressed too quickly after, the seams of his t-shirt twisting awkwardly around his elbows. “I’m good.”

He doesn’t want to stress her out. 

“You’re good?” Poppy asks, stepping a little further into the room, nose scrunching only slightly as she tries not to breathe too much in through it. Testing the limits of her dwindling morning sickness shouldn’t be subjected to the various smells of the locker room.

“Yup,” he gives a guilty smile, standing up from where he was crouched and dusting himself off. “Couldn’t be better.”

“Really?” She steps closer.

“Uh huh,” he stands firm.

“Not even if you had this back?” She holds the sonogram between two fingers and extends it out to him, and he practically charges over to close the distance to take it back and examine it closely. 

Monochrome. Peanut shape. Poppy’s name in the corner. 

“How did you get this?” He turns it to look at both sides, as if she would have written her name in sharpie on the back. “It isn’t yours?”

“No, mine is safely locked in my car where it can’t be dropped for the whole building to see.” She’s still smiling despite the condemnation, her head tilted and lips twisting with mirth as she takes in his flustered appearance. 

“Who saw it?” He winces in preparation for the answer, praying to whatever God is out there to please not let it be one of the brothers.

“Timo,” she tells him, thankfully deciding to put him out of his misery already instead of dragging it on. “He’s very excited.”

“Fuck,”

“Yeah,”

“Why didn’t he-,”

“He seems to be very into finding new ways to make you suffer, I think. I just bumped into him on his way out, he was really happy with himself.”

He and Timo have been fine ever since their blip back on his birthday, he had thought. Clearly not fine enough.

He’s in for it the next time Nico sees him, he thinks.

“He’s supposed to have my back.” Nico pouts as his thumb swipes at the picture, his lips slowly softening into a smile as the gesture calms him once more. “I’ve done so well not telling anyone, and if he just gave this back to me, you’d never have known he found out.”

“Oh, I’d have known, he can’t hold his waters to save his life,” Poppy scoffs, watching as Nico goes to grab his jacket and get his phone and keys. “Probably for the best he came straight to me or someone else would have noticed him getting giddy and we both know he would have blabbed.” 

“He’s a traitor.”

“He’s your best friend,” Poppy smiles as he frowns, thick eyebrows curving down until a little line forms between them, and she reaches to smooth it out from sheer instinct. “Now we both have someone who knows.”

“My entire family knows, Poppy,”

“Yeah, but do you don’t see them everyday, it’s different,” she shrugs, and when he realises she doesn’t actually mind it, the tension releases from his shoulders. “Plus, I’m actually conspiring to steal your parents so they’re our family now that I have the perfect in.”

“They’d go willingly, I’m not sure that’s stealing.”

“And now that Timo knows about little Cheeto, you have someone you can get excited with. The perfect distraction.”

“Cheeto?”

“Yeah, ‘cause it looks like a little Cheeto in there.” She steps straight in front of him, the picture between them, and she traces a pointed finger around the shape. His eyes follow the movement, their arms bumping, and he looks down just as she looks up at him.

“I’ve been calling it Peanut.”

Her lips twist. “That’s lame,” she nudges at his side, “We’re gonna have to work on your creativity before it comes. I can’t have you naming our baby something boring.”

Her eyes sparkle in amusement, and he likes the way his stomach flips at the mention of our baby.

God, he wants to kiss her - the lingering twist in his gut at her previous rejection be damned.

“I thought Peanut was cute.” He tucks the photo into his pocket and slings an arm around her shoulder as they make their way out, their steps syncing as they walk toward the exit - Poppy making no effort to shrug away.

“Cheeto’s cuter.”

“Fine, Cheeto it is.” He relents immediately, because he had realised something the second he and Poppy saw the little Peanut-Cheeto hybrid forming in her belly. 

He doesn’t need to move the goalposts or make efforts to convince her of anything. Acquiescing to her every whim is the least he can do for the girl who’s building their future. He can revert to his old ways, with the kind of easy conversation and familiarity that lay the foundation of something bigger. Something better.

As long as she keeps giving him moments like this, with soft, devoted smiles and tender glances that say more than a thousand words ever could, he’ll go at whatever pace she wants. 

Poppy

Poppy has convinced herself that there is an ever-evolving part of her brain that is actively praying on her downfall. 

It’s the only logical explanation for why on Earth she would ever keep a man like Nico at arms length, she thinks, because ever since she told him she was pregnant, he has been some sort of godsend, showing up for her in every possible way.

It had started with smoothies in the mornings - he would bring them to her everyday, or have them dropped off if he wasn’t around. Had tumbled then into getting lunch delivered to her office, always fine tuned to when she might be hungry, or what she might be hungry for - even when he was on the road and hadn’t seen her in a couple of days. It was followed by texts to cheer her up when she started to miss him a little, or when she was overwhelmed with emotions for whatever reason - she felt like he just knew her like the back of his hand.

It made it all feel so easy.

And he had been attentive to the newly acquired hormones without even being aware of it. The smallest ticks he has always had, the pushing back of his hair, the crooked smile that presses one side of his cheek up when he knows he’s being funny, every shift of his muscles when his arms fidget as he speaks, have all all managed to settle the bubbling in Poppy’s stomach that had her yearning for physical touch.

He had even been helping her in weird, subliminal ways. 

When his mother had told Poppy that while she was pregnant with Nico, she had movies playing in her head the whole night while she slept, she thought she was being hyperbolic.

But, God, had her dreams been intense. 

And it probably hadn’t helped that first night after she told him - after she had slept in his bed the night before, had used his shampoo in the shower despite him buying her her own, and had even spritzed his cologne on the sleeves of the hoody he had loaned to her - that she retired to her own bed wearing that same hoody and keeping her hair down for once through the night.

She was enabling herself at that point. Encouraging her own mind to dream of him by flooding her senses until it had no other choice. But the dream she had when she had slept over at his place was a lot nicer than the ones from before, and she wanted to try and replicate the circumstances.

He had been enabling her too, though - and sometimes she had thought he knew exactly what he was doing. 

It had started with their game at MetLife stadium - more specifically, those God-forsaken outfits he and the guys wore to arrive in. She had sworn when she’d first seen him in it that he’d chosen it specifically to be dream-fodder. She could foresee many restless nights tossing and turning in her sheets, visions worsening with the vivid mental bank of pictures she saved of him in that tank top, the chain she had gifted him slung from the neck, thick muscles and broad shoulders-

And that had only been from a picture.

She’d gone to the game with Nia, who had flashed her phone to Poppy with a quick quip of, “They look straight out of The Sopranos,” and it had been a tweet of the boys on the carpet.

She had only seen him at that point - the image burned into her retinas as she nodded and hummed along to whatever her best friend had been saying up until the point the team came out onto the ice.

And then he had scored within the first minute, and she had watched a stadium full of people erupt into mostly-celebration for the man who held her heart, who’s baby she was carrying in her belly, and her whole body had buzzed with pride.

She got to watch him thrive on the largest stage he’d ever played on, and she had started to feel weirdly possessive and uncharacteristically regretful.

He had tried to share some part of this with her when he’d asked her to come out for the family skate, and she had turned him down.

And it was with that regret that she decided to meet him after. She brought Nia for protection, flashing her staff pass to get the two of them to the designated family lounge at the stadium, where Nico’s dad and sister were waiting for him, too.

She got to introduce Nia to the two of them, that immediate circle of people being some of the only people in the world to know the true extent of her relationship with Nico, and so when they finally reunited, and he swept her up into his arms, taut muscles wrapping around her still vibrating frame, she let herself melt into him. Let herself bask in his touch for as long as she could withstand, pressing her face into his chest and circling her arms around his torso, holding out to hear the rampant thud of his heartbeat.

And he had been so happy that it felt contagious. Spread onto her like a lingering fever, that she didn’t actually want to shift. It remained for weeks, flooding into her bloodstream when she needed it the most.

When she became emotional out of nowhere, when she became fearful or stressed for no reason, she thought of him - of his unwavering support, of the ease in which he cared for her, cared about her, and she relied on that to get her through most days.

And most nights.

Dreaming of him in that tank top, or out of it.

Dreaming of him in her bed, on her couch, in her kitchen - every corner of her apartment tainted in the best possible way - and it ended up being the only thing keeping her resolve in tact.

In her dreams, she never held back. She never thought too much about things, just let pure intuition and desire take over. Instead of stepping back, instead of pressing that restrictive hand to his chest, she pulled, she gripped, she held on for dear life.

Because as long as she could have him in her dreams, she didn’t have to give in to him in person. She could maintain her insistence on taking things slow, on figuring things out in their own time, without all the intensity and pressure of rushed intimacy. She no longer had to overthink every interaction, able to take his word at face value, and lose herself in the familiarity of their teasing back and forth.

And in reality, when he flashed her one of those dimpled smiles, or let his darkened gaze linger on hers for so long it made her breath stutter, she didn’t feel like she was about to fall.

Not in a bad way, at least.

He just has an innate ability to make things easy for her. 

When she had her first scan, he could have made it hard on her. Could have let his nerves overshadow hers, could have asked a bunch of questions that scared the living crap out of her, but he had let her take the reins. He did the same with his parents - let her bask in their praise and adoration, never made her feel guilty or selfish for the way they kind of made that moment about her instead of him.

And, as they make the drive to her parent’s house over in Alpine, he does the same - distracting her with questions about them and their lives to fill the heavy silence - quelling her anxiety with lighthearted jokes and genuine interest in her family.

He asks her about her brother, who he had met briefly one time before in passing, but who she rarely sees - and she tells him about his family, his wife and their two boys, who are coming over from the West Coast for Easter and who he will meet when they get to the house.

He asks about her nephews, about her bond with them, and she gets to tell him that, despite her rocky relationship with her brother, his wife Kimberley often FaceTimes her with updates on the boys, and she’s managed to maintain some semblance of a connection through a phone screen with them.

He reluctantly asks about her mother, and Poppy ends up being the one to really delve into that minefield. 

Only, this time when she talks about it, there isn’t the same heaviness she had felt when they first proposed telling her - all those weeks ago back in Nico’s kitchen.

There’s trepidation, but there isn’t fear.

“She might not be horrific to be fair. She loves Easter. And Oli’s here with the kids so she can’t be as awful to me as usual if she still wants them to think she’s their gentle unassuming grandma.”

“And you’re gonna be on your best behaviour so she’ll stay in a good mood, right? Play along so she lowers her guard?” he asks, sending her a sidewards glance.

“Ha, you wish!” Poppy chuckles, “I have a whole list of sickly sweet nicknames in my head for you that are gonna drive her up the wall. She hates that lovey-dovey stuff. You can’t take my one source of fun from me, Nico.”

“Poppy, that isn’t gonna help me win her over.”

“That ship sailed a long time ago, baby,” she makes a mocking kissy face at him, and something fizzes in her gut at the flush that swarms up his neck.

“Fine, what about your dad, how do I win him over?” Nico glances quickly over to Poppy, one hand in control of the wheel and the other drumming slightly on his lap in time to the low hum of music playing in the car. “Is he a hockey guy?”

“God no,” she scoffs, her body angled toward his, legs bent so her knees are toward the centre console and she can watch him as he drives, looking out the window for an extended period still making her feel a little sick. “No offence.”

“I want to say none taken,” she likes that she can see the indent of his dimples still from this angle.

“Not a hockey family,” she sighs. “Do you know anything about football?”

“I know a lot about actual football.” Another quick glance over gives her a quick glimpse of the flash of amusement in his dark eyes, warmth and familiarity bubbling in her stomach.

“What does that even mean?”

“Soccer, Poppy.” He corrects, that almost-instinctual sour face he pulls whenever the word doesn’t quite taste right coming from his mouth tugs at his brows. 

“Absolutely not,” she cautions him, straightening in her seat, “He has this stupid story about how Ronaldo once stole his table at his favourite restaurant in Turin, and I don’t want to have to hear it again. I’m not even sure it was actually him, but either way, he hates soccer.”

“Noted.” Nico chuckles.

“Golf?”

“I like it, I’m not the best, though.”

“Do you know enough to hold a conversation?”

“Does that not risk him wanting to play?”

Poppy reaches toward the screen in the middle, tapping away the warning that comes up on the navigation for impending road works, figuring the more delays they can encounter, the merrier - even though they’re probably not even 10 minutes away by now.

Maybe all the roads can just close down? She and Nico can do a swift u-turn and haul ass back to Jersey City. Where’s the harm in just texting her mom the news? She’ll get a lecture either way, she thinks.

“He likes winning, it doesn’t matter if you’re bad.” She shrugs, her head pressing sideways into the headrest as she again focuses on his profile. 

“What about tennis?”

“Ooh, perfect,” she cheers, “He loves Federer!”

“Really?” Nico turns, excitement in his eyes and a genuine smile twisting at his lips. 

“Yeah!” She responds, “I think so!” And when she actually does think about it, she realises she isn’t sure. “He goes to the Open in Queens every year, I can’t actually remember if he roots for anyone.”

“Real helpful, Poppy,” 

“You’re asking me how to impress my parents like I’ve ever even done it,” she scoffs, liking the way he shakes his head as if he’s trying his best not to find her funny. 

It’s helping. He’s helping.

Just like he had when she had been nervous to tell his parents - and that had turned out okay. He’d made her feel comfortable and supported, and even just doing this - driving her home, subjecting himself to the horrors of a Jensen family dinner and heeding none of the warnings she tried to give him - made her feel even the slightest bit better.

“My dad isn’t as hard as my mom, don’t worry about it.”

“I want him to like me.”

“My dad doesn’t really like people. He likes money and things like boats and cars,” she sighs, eyes following the movement of his other hand settling on the wheel, the flex of his fingers as he splays and stretches them out, the whitening of his knuckles as he tightens his grip back up, the glint that reflects from his wrist, “Ooh, and watches! You’re a watch guy!”

“I’d like to think there’s more to me than just being a watch guy,” he scoffs, and when she rolls her eyes in response, the view out of the window catches her eye, and that impending sense of doom fills the car once again. 

She could make the rest of the drive with her eyes closed. Just a few more turns until they make it to the gate, swirl up the winding driveway and arrive in the courtyard of her parents’ home, the grandeur of it all swallowing her up into a deep, vacuous pit of ignorance and facade.

Nico must notice the stiffening of her spine or the clench of her jaw, because she’s shocked back into the moment with the clasp of his hand around hers. 

“It’s gonna be okay, Mohn,” he reassures, but where Poppy would usually find his optimism endearing, this time it makes her feel worse.

He doesn’t know the half of it. 

He’s never had a reason to believe it wouldn’t be okay.

It had been for him.

His parents had been accepting, had welcomed Poppy with open arms and warm embraces, and God, was she thankful for that - but knowing he’s about to enter into this with blissful ignorance encompasses her with a sense of dread.

“Could you promise me something before we get there?” She asks, shuffling completely to face him in the seat, knees knocking against the centre console and her free hand falling atop where their others are intertwined. 

“If you’re gonna ask me to take the seat by your mother at dinner, then no,” he chuckles, and when he glances out the corner of his eye, and notices her demeanour, he squeezes her hand consolingly. “Sorry, go on,”

“I really don’t want you to think less of me when you see where I came from,” she chews nervously at the inside of her cheek as she watches him consider her words - watches the scrunch of his face, the furrow of his brow, the downturn of his lips. “Like, I know you’ve met my mom, and I know you think she’s scary, but you don’t know the full extent of it. I really don’t think this is gonna go too well, and you’re gonna see some pretty ugly stuff in there, and sometimes I don’t like who I am when I’m here so I need you to promise me that whatever happens, you won’t run afterwards.”

“I won’t run, Poppy,” he promises, relaying his sincerity in the soft swipe of his thumb over the back of her hand, and giving it one last squeeze before he adds, “I have a car. I’ll drive.”

And he’s lucky he’s driving, she thinks, because she throws his own hand back at him, frowning purposely and dramatically to mask a smile as he gives a hearty laugh, the vibrations of which settle deep in her bones, outweighing the anxiety that had been riddled in them before.

It’s enough that when they park up, and he helps her out onto the gravel while he gets their overnight bags from the trunk, she isn’t overcome with dread.

When he looks up at the overwhelming size of her family home, and his eyes widen and his jaw drops, she doesn’t fear judgement - not from him, at least. 

And once their bags are discarded by the stairs, and she takes his hand to lead him through the house and out to the sprawling garden she knows her parents and her brother’s family are gathered in, she doesn’t feel the need to turn and bolt back out the door.

Their hands stay clasped together as they greet her family. Her brother’s wife, Kimberley, being the first to come over.

She introduces Nico as her boyfriend, and it rolls off the tongue a lot easier than anticipated, the slight reassuring squeeze his hand gives hers easing any guilt she might start to feel over technically lying straight to her sister-in-law’s face. 

Her brother is next, their boys in tow, and then her father.

Her mother keeps a measured distance, narrowed eyes focused on the point where Nico and Poppy are connected, and when she makes her way over, her greeting is cold.

“You didn’t tell me you’d be bringing company.”

“I told dad,” Poppy shrugs, knowing her father would never have passed the message on if she called him during his daily newspaper time. He barely ever listened to her, his nose buried in the business section, and would just hum and grunt in response. “You remember Nico, right?”

“I don’t recall the two of you being together,” she frowns, again glancing down at their intertwined hands.

And, God bless Nico, Poppy thinks, as the poor, misguided soul tries to relay some kind of heartwarming sentiment to Priscilla, with, “We’ve been seeing each other for a little while now,”

“Seeing each other,” she scoffs, “I see my gardener every day, yet I’m not out here skipping around holding hands like children.”

“Maybe you should hold someone’s hand, a little physical touch and you might lose the stick up your-,”

“You have a beautiful home,” Nico squeezes Poppy’s hand once more, this time more like a warning. “Poppy never told me how magnificent it was.”

“Yeah, well, Poppy only seems to think she should feel shame about her home life. She doesn’t understand the amount of work or effort it takes to maintain something like this.”

“Oh, I-,”

“Leave it, babe,” Poppy sighs, tugging on Nico’s hand as she tells her mother, “We’re gonna get something to drink.”

And as she pulls him to safety, toward a table where pitchers of lemonade and water sit, he rolls his shoulders and lets out a huff.

“Has she ever tried leading with hello?”

“My mother doesn’t do niceties, Nico.”

And as the day winds on, Priscilla Jensen does little to prove that theory wrong.

Poppy thinks she’s going out of her way to make Nico feel like an inconvenience - and while she knows she had been childish in not telling her mom directly about his attendance, she had done so with the knowledge that there was always more than enough to go around in the Jensen house - so when she makes little effort to accommodate his presence, Poppy amps up her own efforts to get on her mother’s last nerve.

When they all sit around the table outside for a light lunch, and there isn’t enough seats for everybody, Poppy takes one for the team and perches herself on the arm of Nico’s chair, one arm slung around his shoulders and the other feeding him bites of the sandwich they’re sharing because his hand had taken up residence on her waist.

Whenever anyone has a story to tell, an anecdote or a recap of recent events, Poppy uses the time to insert little quips about Nico. About his experiences travelling, about his life, or about his successes in his career - giving the family who only care about themselves and their own reputation no other option but to learn about him. When her dad tells stories of his recent trip to Prague, Poppy chimes in with “Nico and the team will be playing out there in October, isn’t that right, babe?” And when Kimberley and Oli speak about taking their kids skiing in the Alps, Poppy suggests that Nico give them recommendations.

When her mother demands her to help with another round of drinks, and has only gathered enough glasses for the guests she had originally accounted for, Poppy makes a point of gathering one more. 

And when the festivities start, she recruits Nico in helping her nephews find all the eggs in the hunt - figuring if she has any chances of charming anyone, it would be the boys. And what would annoy her mom more than her grandchildren worshipping the ground Nico walks on?

Nothing.

As little effort as annoying Priscilla Jensen takes, it ends up exhausting Poppy quicker than she had anticipated, and so she ends up folding into Nico’s side while he tries his best to keep up in conversation with her dad and brother. It’s where she stays for almost an hour, still perched on the arm of his chair despite the seats that have since freed up, until her legs start to get restless.

“I’m just gonna run to the bathroom,” she whispers to him, their noses bumping when he turns his head and whispers pleadingly in response for her to be quick.

She travels through the halls with a pep in her step, having enjoyed her afternoon grinding her mom’s gears, and even though she knows winding her up isn’t going to pay off too well for her in the long run, the short run victories are worth it for the time being - alleviating the bubbling panic in her gut, even if just temporarily. If it wasn’t for her pettiness, all she’d have to think about is her nerves around telling the big news - and she’d soon get swallowed whole by her mom’s little digs.

The panic fizzes up a little when she exits the bathroom to find her mother waiting outside, and her breath catches in her lungs at the shock of her lurking there like the grim reaper.

“Jesus, Mom, you can’t creep up on people like that, especially outside the bathroom, it isn’t appropriate.”

“Oh, lay off the theatrics for a day in your life, Poppy, I didn’t raise you to be this dramatic.”

“Are you sure about that? I can go ask the gardener considering how close the two of you are-,”

“Don’t get clever with me,” she narrows her eyes at her daughter, “You’re not as cute as you think you are, and the more games you play trying to rile me up, the more your little friend will see that. It’s unbecoming to be so childish, dear.”

“It’s also unbecoming to be such a bad host. If the ladies at your luncheons could see you now, they’d throw you out on the streets, Mom.”

“I’m not entertaining your immaturity any longer, you get your fun in while it lasts, I’m sure by the time you go home tomorrow your friend will see you for what you are,”

“He’s my boyfriend-,”

“And please go easy on the chocolate, the egg hunt is for the children, Poppy,” her mom chides, a judgemental roll of her eyes and a bobble-head like shake of her head causing Poppy’s fists to clench by her sides.

“I’m your child, am I not?” She asks, petulantly.

“You’re a grown woman who might want to start thinking about how hard it’s going to be to shift that little pouch you’re getting now that you’re older.” She sneers back, a pointed finger gesturing to her daughter’s torso. “Don’t think I didn’t notice when you were reaching for those glasses in the kitchen, before.”

“Pouch?”

“The extra belly you have going on from no doubt eating a bunch of processed garbage at that circus you call a workplace, honey. I’m telling you, there will come a point that it doesn’t just go away if you skip a couple lunches.”

It’s just like her mother to strike low when she’s losing an argument.

And where Poppy would usually be offended - disgusted, even - at her need to comment on even the slightest changes in her body, or how she can even find ways to slip a subtle dig about her job into a completely unrelated conversation, she bites her tongue. The snappy response fizzles back into her throat as she waits for her mom to continue on her way back to the festivities before she turns on her heels and steps back down the hallway in search of the mirror at the end.

Extra belly?

She lifts her sweater and turns where she stands, and, sure enough, there’s an ever-so-slight roundness to the bottom of her stomach that hadn’t been there last week.

The tension seeps out of her body as she presses her hand there,, cups the shape with curved fingers and strokes at the skin with her thumb.

“Hi, baby,” she whispers, biting back a beaming smile - and before she can lose herself in the moment, and someone else catches her in the hall looking like a crazy person, she drops the fabric back over her torso and sets off in search of Nico.

She finds him back out in the garden, standing beside her dad and looking as uncomfortable as ever, arms folded across his chest as he watches Oliver’s boys fight over a little egg they both found at the same time. 

“So,” she hears him speak after clearing his throat, “Do you like golf?”

“Hey, babe,” she approaches from the side, looping her hand through the crook of his arm and folding into his side. “I need to show you something,” she hums, and turns to her dad, “I’m just gonna borrow him for a second, we’ll be right back,”

“Don’t rush on my account,” he scoffs, and, thankfully for him, she again can’t find it within her to care about how rude he’s being. 

She tugs at Nico’s arm until it uncrosses with his other, and slips her hand into his, intertwining their fingers and pulling until he stumbles to follow. She guides him back through the house, and into the closest bathroom she can find, shutting and locking the door behind the two of them.

“I don’t think locking us away in a bathroom is gonna give your parents the best impression of me, Poppy,” he sighs, letting her push at him with two hands on his firm chest until he’s sitting on the closed toilet seat.

“Like I said earlier, we’re past the point of no return with those two,” she sighs, the disappointment only lasting a second before she remembers why she lured him into the room in the first place. “Look!”

She lifts her sweater, angling her body how she had before and biting her lip as she awaits his reaction. 

“Is this an attempt to seduce me?”

“What? No!” She tries not to succumb to the heat filling her head. “You think I’d shove you on a toilet to seduce you?”

“Depends how desperate you were, I suppose.”

“Is that what works for you? A girl flashing you her stomach?”

The banter is nostalgic and familiar, and she feels more at home in the small guest bathroom with him than in the rest of the house, entirely.

He shrugs with a smirk, and gives one of those trailing, darkened looks down her figure as he says, “Depends on the girl.”

“Shut up,” she scoffs, ignoring his chuckles as she looks down at her belly and caresses it as she had to herself in the mirror, highlighting the swelling with her fingers. “I have a little pouch!”

“Like a kangaroo?”

“No, like the woman growing your offspring inside her.”

He reaches a hand out and presses it beside hers on her stomach, his palm cupping the roundness of it, and Poppy finds herself holding her breath in anticipation.

His touch is gentle, and his dark eyes roam the expanse of her skin, assessing the slight change there, committing it to memory before that lingering smirk melts into a soft smile.

“Hey, Peanut.” he hums, pulling her closer with another hand at her waist, and she steadies herself with her hand on his shoulder. Her fingers curl around the back of his neck, scratching slightly at the base of his skull, and his clutch at the dip of her hip while he runs the tip of a finger over the beginning of a bump. 

“Cheeto,” she corrects him.

“Sorry, Cheeto.” His laugh is breathy and his voice is low, “Getting big in there, huh?”

“As big as a fig,” she beams with pride, heart palpitating when he looks up at her, chocolate eyes gleaming and lips stretched into a smile.

“A fig?”

“Yeah,” she pushes down the memory of the last time he looked up at her from that angle, and makes a fig sized circle with her fingers and holds it to him. He lifts his own fingers to copy it before moving it back down to her belly and resting it there for comparison, features flushed with awe as he pictures what it would look like in there.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

His touch lingers for a good minute as he watches her belly and she watches him, taking slow, measured breaths to quell the rampant beating of her heart. 

Her anxiety starts to dwindle somewhat, and a thought settles within her that no matter what else happens while they’re here, she’ll always have this. 

She’ll always have him.

Poppy has never wanted to hurt someone as much as she wants to hurt her brother right now. 

She could honestly leap over the dining table and throttle him - but then again, she should have been fine tuned to the way he and her father had been talking all day, the two of them never being able to go a full five minutes without talking business.

“What do you mean Rich Horowitz got in before you?”

She wishes with all her might she didn’t come from a family where they had mortal enemies, but here she is, listening to how her brother has fumbled one of the biggest investment opportunities of his life to her dad’s biggest opponent. Losing out on millions of dollars that is now going straight to Rich Horowitz's pockets.

“He sniped me, Dad,” Oli all but whines from his place at the bottom of the table, Kimberley having disappeared a while back to put the kids to bed - something he clearly has no interest in helping with. 

If she thinks he’s put her in a bad mood, when she looks over to her dad, she thinks he’s turning purple.

“And how on Earth did you let that happen?!”

“I didn’t let it happen,” Oli scoffs, “He was eavesdropping like a rat at the country club and I-,”

“Stop talking.” Philip snaps, pointing his knife down the table at his son, “This is your problem, you don’t know when to shut up. Why were you talking private business for the whole world to hear at the club?”

“Because it was a business trip? That’s what we do, get a few holes in and share investment tips-,”

“Maybe next time you can ask to share some brain cells.” He growls as Kimberley returns, meekly sitting beside Oliver and immediately taking a big gulp of her wine. 

Poppy tries to focus on her breathing, tries to focus on the calming presence of Nico beside her, their chairs moved so close together that their thighs touch, and he helps her feel warm all over.

She can do this. Just wait for her dad’s anger to pass and bring up her own life. 

Poppy’s father gives a disapproving huff, and his fork hits his plate with a loud clatter as if the conversation has put him off his food entirely. “What about you, Poppy? Any horrific news that you’d like to share with the table? I know how the two of you like to try to one-up each other.”

See, she tells herself, that hadn’t taken long at all. 

“Oh, uhm,” her chest feels tight, cold even, like she’s been out in the crisp air a little too long and needs a hot drink to settle herself back in, “Actually-,”

“Have you joined the Church of Scientology? Pledged your inheritance away to some fruitless non-profit? Have you gone and got yourself a heinous lower back tattoo?”

“Philip, please,” her mother scoffs, as if the tattoo is the worst option in the list. “Let’s move on, Kimberley, how is James getting on in the first grade?”

“Oh, well, he-,"

And only because the interruption and swift change in subject grates at Poppy, she straightens up in her seat, a hardened glare directed towards her mother, and she blurts out before she can think twice about it, “I’m pregnant.”

The way her mother turns her attention back to her is slow. She blinks, as if she’s registering what was said, and swivels in her seat to narrow her eyes back at Poppy.

“Ha!” Oliver pipes up from further down the table before their mom has a chance to react. “That’s hilarious.”

“No it isn’t.” Priscilla snaps, “It is not funny in the slightest.”

“Why would it be hilarious, Oliver?” She frowns over at her brother, trying to tell her mind to succumb to the way Nico’s hand settles above her knee to calm her, but nothing at this point will work.

“You as a mother? You can barely take care of yourself, you don’t know the first thing about being a parent.”

“Well I figured if you could have a go at it, anyone could.”

The two of them are both airing grievances to a party that isn’t listening, isn’t technically even fighting back, just firing bullets at one another with little regard for where they might ricochet.

“See. You’re a child.”

“And you’re a loser. You have everything in your life handed to you and you still fuck it all up.”

“And what, you’re going to have a baby with him?” He points towards Nico with the edge of his fork, immediately getting her back up. “With some jacked up meathead who slaps plastic around with a stick for a living?”

Nico’s grip tightens on her flesh, and while her heart tells her he’s trying to reassure her, trying to stop her from sinking to his level or taking the bait, her head tells her otherwise. Her mind says he’s offended, he’s hurt, and she can’t go another second without at least trying to defend his honour.

Defend the perfect man who’s been by her side all day - has been by her side since the second he found out. Who brings her smoothies every morning like his father brought his mother when she was pregnant, who looks up all the vitamins she needs and makes sure she’s fully stocked up, who holds her hand and supports her in anything and everything she does.

“Don’t talk about him like that,” she sneers, feeling the pressure of his hand when she starts to stand. “Just because you’re a fuck up and an embarrassment to your family, doesn’t mean you get to point the finger at my life. Nico is a great partner, and he’s going to be an even better dad, because he has a big heart and a sense of fucking direction and dignity, something you wouldn’t know if it came and slapped you in the face-,” 

“Mohn,” Nico tries to ground her, delicate fingers stroking at the arm attached to her now pointed fingers, but it’s no use.

“Which, if you say one more thing about him again, I’ll slap you in the face. You have no right to pass judgement on my life or the people in it.”

“Poppy, stop it!” Her mother slams her own cutlery down onto the table, the glasses shaking and the liquid within them sloshing around at the intensity. “There’s no need to threaten your brother over something that isn’t even real. You should apologise for causing such a scene!”

Poppy doesn’t think that even dignifies a response, so instead of biting back, she reaches into her pocket, pulling out her copy of their scan and sliding it across the table.

There is a slow, prolonged silence that lingers between everyone at the table, and Poppy can see her dad shifting uncomfortable out of the corner of her eye, can feel Nico’s gentle touch on her wrist, but all she can focus on is her mom’s reaction. 

Her lip curls as she eyes the square of paper on the table, and she doesn’t even reach to pick it up for a closer look.

“You are unbelievable.”

There’s a small part of Poppy that withers and dies in an instant at the tone in which that sentence had been uttered. A minuscule scrap of dwindling hope that maybe she would have been happy. Maybe her mom would have overlooked the outdated ideals that she has tried for so long to impose on the rest of the family and just be happy for her daughter.

But she should have known better.

“You aren’t married, Poppy, how many times have I drilled into you how important it is that these kind of things are done right?” She shoulders the blow, the implication that anything about this is wrong incessantly plucking at her nerve. “Could you be any more belligerent? Are you doing this just to spite me?”

“To spite you?” Poppy scoffs, “Yeah, I’m changing the entire course of my life and future because I thought it would be funny to annoy you. My God you’re so narrow minded-,”

“You watch your tone with me when we have guests, Poppy.” Her voice is raised as she scolds her daughter, and it takes Poppy back through the years - being lectured about her grades, about her friends, her clothes, her weight, her career. Nothing she has ever done has appeased her. Even giving her another grandchild, bringing life into the world and trying to prove herself - it’s never enough.

“He’s my guest! He’s mine.” She doesn’t care that it’s petulantly possessive. She’s had enough. She isn’t going to let her mom use Nico of all people as a tool to silence or embarrass her. “And he’s had to stand around all day and listen to you all drop petty little digs while he tries his best to impress you! But you’re all so ignorant and rude, and none of you have even attempted to get to know a single thing about him! I don’t know why I even bothered bringing him here, or sharing what is supposed to be the greatest news of my life with you guys, because all any of you do is judge and shame people, and I won’t let you do that to us.

“We’re having this baby, and we might not be married, we might not ever even get married, but we make each other happy, and we love each other, and I couldn’t care less about how it looks to anybody else.”

She snatches the photo from the table, and turns to her brother with a pointed finger, unable to help herself before she spits, “And hockey pucks are made out of rubber, you fucking idiot.”

Her mother scoffs at the curse, but Poppy can’t find it in her to care as she storms out, ignoring the footsteps that follow as she stomps through the house towards her bedroom. 

“Don’t walk away from me, Poppy,” Priscilla calls out after her, quickening her steps to catch up before the inevitably infamous slamming of her bedroom door occurs. “I won’t have you behaving like this under my roof.”

“That’s fine, Nico and I are going to leave.”

“You’re doing little to disprove the fact that you’re immature, reacting like this,”

“You think I’m reacting poorly?” She stops in her tracks in the hallway, turning to face her mother with a heated glare. “Why do I always have to prove something to you in the first place? You couldn’t just support me, just this once? Be happy for me? You don’t think I need my mom right now to tell me that everything is going to be okay?”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“And you’re being heartless and cruel.” She hates that she’s about to cry. Resents the tears that well on her lash line or the lump that forms at the back of her throat. “You know how long Nico and I have known each other, how close we are, how could you possibly say that what we’re doing is wrong?”

“You went on a date with someone else 2 months ago, Poppy! I’m not as stupid as you think I am, you can’t hide your mistakes and lie to me like some teenager anymore!”

“I’m not lying-,”

“You’re being irresponsible, and you can’t seriously stand there and try to convince me otherwise. Having a baby with a man you’ve barely even been dating for five minutes, who you don’t live with, who travels here, there and everywhere for work and can’t support you-,”

“You don’t know him.” Poppy snarls, “You’ve made absolutely no effort to get to know him. Not today, and not in the years that you’ve known he was in my life, so you don’t get to tell me what kind of man he is, or what kind of partner he’s going to be for me in this. And I don’t need to convince you of anything. If you can’t be happy for us, then you won’t be involved.”

And with that, she marches into her bedroom and slams the door behind her.

Her heart pounds against her ribcage, her breathing heavy as she paces the floor by her bed.

She had always known it would end up like this - in some almighty, entirely unnecessary bust up - but there could never have been enough preparing herself for just how much it hurts.

Her mother had berated her, her brother had bullied and belittled her, and her dad had sat there in a detached silence that probably was worse than saying anything in the first place. None of them were ever going to have her back, or ever going to be in her corner, and she should have known better - should have known from an entire lifetime of the same thing happening for all the other decisions she ever made for herself.

There had been a fight around her choice of college, her choice of career, her choice of living arrangements. Why would this have been any different?

So, as she finds herself stuck in the constant loop of condemnation and judgement, she starts to feel it manifest itself in her surroundings. In the walls of her bedroom she was never allowed to decorate, in the closet full of clothes she was never allowed to choose for herself, in the house full of people who pretended to care but didn’t, not really.

Except for Nico, who finds her repacking her overnight bag and stuffing it with a bunch of other things she doesn’t want to have to return for.

He watches silently as she whizzes around, perches himself on the edge of her bed, beside the bag, and waits for her to tire herself out a little before he asks, “Is there any chance that you’re adopted?”

She scoffs, stopping in front of him and running a frustrated hand through her hair in an attempt to calm herself down. “Nice try. Flattery won’t really help right now, Nico.” 

He reaches out to take her hand, tugging until she steps closer, and he parts his legs to accommodate for her body. “Are you okay?”

“We need to leave. I can’t sleep in a house with them all here, their rotten energy is gonna seep through the walls and suffocate me. I can’t expose Cheeto to that.”

“Poppy,” he chuckles, breathily, a soft and reassuring smile remaining on his lips as he looks up at her, “I don’t want you getting worked up over nothing-,”

“It isn’t nothing.” She frowns. “What my brother said about you, it was disrespectful and rude, I don’t like that he talked about you like that, he’s such a dick,” she groans, heat rising up her neck in morbid embarrassment at her family’s behaviour. “Calling you a meathead? And he says I’m the childish one?”

“I’ve been called much worse, Mohn, trust me.”

“Yeah, well, none of it is true.” She steps a little closer, her knee knocking against his thigh, “He wishes he had even an iota of your emotional intelligence, but his head is stuck so far up his own ass that his disgusting hair sticks out of his nostrils.” Nico smiles wider, and she reaches to cup his cheeks, hoping to pass her sincerity through the touch. “I think the world of you, Nico, you know that, right? There isn’t another man on the planet I’d rather have this baby with.”

“Of course I know that,” he tilts his head in her hands, smiling teasingly as he reminds her, “I’m yours, remember? I don’t care what anybody else thinks, it’s you and me, yeah?”

She nods, heart warming at the earnestness in his gaze. 

“The unmarried mommy and the meathead. We should get t-shirts made.”

She swats at his shoulder, snorting out a giggling laugh that clouds the corners of her eyes. “That’s not funny.”

“It is.” He affirms with another nod, placing his hands on either sides of her hips to hold her in front of him. “He was wrong about you too, you know. You were ready to drop gloves for both of us.” His palm caresses the slight swelling of her baby - the beginnings of her pouch, “You’re protective of the people you love, and you’re loyal, and you care. Our baby couldn’t be more lucky to have you as their mommy.”

Before the tears that line her eyes can fall, she scrunches them shut - and with darkened vision and a will to clear her mind of the million racing thoughts, she leans forward and kisses him.

It isn’t the passionate, all-consuming kiss like they had shared before. It isn’t steamy, isn’t sloppy or rushed. It’s gentle. It’s familiar. It’s brief, but intimate and impactful all the same, and he juts his chin until his lips press firmly into the touch of hers.

And when they part of equal volition, her eyes flutter open slowly to his doing the same.

“I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair,” she breathes into the small space between them, “I shouldn’t just plant one on you when I told you that we shouldn’t-,”

“It’s okay,” he interrupts, voice slightly hoarse. “You can plant one on me any time.”

She breaks into a slow smile, one that ends up so big and so bright that her jaw aches slightly, and she wraps her arms around his shoulders, collapsing into a hug where she squeezes around him. He holds her back, hands rubbing up and down her sides until he can feel her relax and melt into his touch.

“Are you sure you want to leave?” He whispers into the side of her head. “In the middle of an argument?”

“It isn’t gonna get resolved, there’s no point waiting around,” she sighs, pulling back a little so that she can see him again. “Plus, we’re gonna need to go looking for a Drive-Thru or something, I’m starving.”

“What are you hungry for?”

“I’ll know when I see it.”

“Poppy,” he chuckles, standing as soon as she steps back and reaching for the bag she had packed. “You’re gonna pass out as soon as we get to the bottom of the driveway.”

“Am not,” she pouts, the two of them making their way towards her bedroom door. “I’m so amped up right now, I could take on a bear. I won’t be sleeping all night.”

Poppy wakes with the shutting off of the car, the soft hum of the engine beneath her ceasing the vibrations that had lulled her to sleep in the first place, and she blinks away her confusion to look at Nico across the centre console.

He’s leaning against his seat, angling his body to face her directly, and he smiles softly as her eyes focus on his.

“We drove past that bear you wanted to fight about half an hour ago.”

“You should have woke me,” she croaks, breaking eye contact to look past him out the driver’s side window. “This isn’t a Drive-Thru.”

“No, I thought you might have worked up a bigger appetite in the big Jensen family smackdown.”

“Hilarious,” she yawns, arching her back to stretch it out as she leans toward the windshield, getting a better look at where they are. “Is this Rosie’s?”

Rosie’s diner had always been a hotspot for the two of them whenever he drove her home from The Rock, slotted just by Lincoln Park, and perfect for a post-game catch up late into the night, Poppy and Nico had spent one too many evenings ignoring the passing of time in a corner booth, a basket of fries between them and a thousand secrets shared.

She hasn’t been back here in a while.

“You’ve been eating sweet stuff all day, figured you’d be alright with pancakes.”

“You’re good at that, huh?” She smiles, “Knowing what I want?”

“I’m great at it.” He brags, unclipping his seat belt. “Wait here, I’m gonna check if the kitchen’s open.”

And he’s gone before she has a chance to question him. Why wouldn’t it be open? It’s a late night diner.

The car is too warm for her to care though - a cosy kind of heat, that almost has her lulling her head back into slumber before the car door is yanked back open beside her.

“So I kind of wanted to surprise you,” Nico says, slight urgency in his tone as he reaches over her lap to unclip her belt, “But I realised just now that I don’t want you to feel like I was blindsiding you with this.”

“With what?” She shuffles until her legs hang out of the car, looking up at him.

“I know that you kind of expected things not to go well with your family, but I also know you, and that you probably hoped there would at least be one of them that was happy for you.”

“Your family was happy for me,” she shrugs, trying to ignore the pang of longing. It has to be enough, she thinks, otherwise the hurt she’s feeling will just snowball into something worse. 

“Well you deserve more. And I happen to know a few more people in your family who might give you the reaction you’re looking for,”

“My cousin?”

“Where would I have found your cousin?”

“That’s my only other family?”

“No it isn’t,” he chuckles, extending a hand to help her out of the car and tucking her into his side when she’s stood on the sidewalk. He nudges the door closed behind her and locks it with the key in his pocket, guiding her towards Rosie’s with an arm around her shoulder. “Cheeto has a whole bunch of uncles who you’re not gonna be able to hide that little pouch from for much longer.”

“The guys are here?” She gasps, her face lighting up as she angles it to look up at him and stops in her tracks. “We’re gonna tell them?”

“Only if you want to.”

She nods, smiling so big she’s about to bare teeth, and he takes her hand to pull her toward the entrance.

“There she is!” Jack exclaims when the two of them make it into the diner, standing from his spot in one of the booths and extending his arms out in a boisterous greeting.

Nico has somehow managed to round up a good chunk of the guys, the diner otherwise empty as they take up two booths, with a few of them standing between. There’s Jack and Luke, Timo, Johnny, Dawson, Holtzy, Jesper, Nemo, Jonas and Bass, and Poppy doesn’t even feel intimidated by the rowdy bunch as she and Nico make their way over. 

She feels comfortable, like she should have felt around her actual family, at ease and somewhat excited.

“Thank God, Luke was getting hangry, we told him he had to wait until you guys got here to order.”

“Luke, it’s past 10pm, how can you be hungry at this time?” Poppy questions, standing beside Nico once they get over to the booths. She at least had a valid excuse - growing human life within her and being neglected by her own mother’s portion sizes at family dinner.

“This is prime snack time, Poppy, I usually have a grilled cheese before bed.”

“You’re not supposed to eat cheese before you sleep, Luke, it gives you nightmares.”

“Wow, okay, mom, did you call us out here just to impart your almighty cheese wisdom?”

“Cut it out,” Timo reaches over to smack Luke lightly upside the head, sending Poppy a proud, encouraging smile as she just chuckles in response. 

“I called you all out,” Nico puffs his chest a little, taking a deep breath as if preparing himself, “We have something we want to tell you guys.”

“Can you tell us after we order? I’m starving,” and when Luke ducks out of the way from Timo’s extended arm, Jack reaches across the table and swats him, himself. “Oh, come on, we all know they’re just gonna tell us they’re finally together! They can do that once I’ve got a burger or something.”

“That isn’t what we want to tell you,” Nico rolls his eyes affectionately, pulling Poppy into his side for comfort, where her lips twist in amusement at the scene before her.

“You’re not together?” Jack frowns, looking between them. 

“We’re figuring it out-,” Poppy shrugs, at the same time Nico responds.

“We’re working on it.” 

“Jesus,” Luke mutters, shielding himself from the onslaught of hands that reach out to smack his head. “Why are you all hitting me? They’re the ones who called us out here in the dead of night to tell us something we’ve all known for months. Next thing Dougie will be calling a press conference to tell the world he’s ginger. I don’t see anyone smacking either of them upside the head.”

“Well we can’t hit Schao ‘cause he’s our captain,” Jack explains.

“And you can’t hit me ‘cause I’m-,”

“A girl, yeah whatever,” Luke huffs.

“Actually, you can’t hit me ‘cause I’m pregnant.” She gives a smug smile, reaching into her pocket for the now-worn scan picture.

“And I’d hit you back.” Nico scowls playfully, watching their jaws drop in turn like a Mexican wave.

The guys all shoot up from their seats in unison, scrambling out of the booths to swarm the two of them, crowding around to get a look at the picture, a chorus of questions shouting out that fill the diner with a rambunctious echo.

The only thing Poppy can make out is Jack’s cries of Baby Schao, Timo’s bragging of I knew first and John and Nate’s childish singing of Poppy and Nico sitting in a tree. 

She feels her heart swell to four times its regular size.

She feels giddy, and proud, and loved.

“Alright,” Nico calls from beside her, bringing the rowdy bunch of men to silence, “Let her sit, then you can bombard her with your questions.”

She slides in a booth between the two brothers, and Nico slides in across from her between Timo and Jesper. The rest of the guys lean over from the booths at either side, leaving a couple of them standing in the aisle beside the table.

And as she looks over at Nico through teary eyes from her space across the booth, a smile so big it aches carved into her cheeks, their calves tangling under the table, the sonogram of their baby resting between them on the top, and surrounded by their found-family, she feels a kind of happiness she doesn’t think she ever has before.

He had assured her earlier that she could plant one on him any time, and she thinks that she might just have to start taking him up on that. 

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)

[faithlia]

TASTE ME ₊⊹

english isn't my first language!

A horror movie night with your new boyfriend turns into an entire session of unnoticed touching, passionate kissing and a little more...

warnings: fluff, suggestive, smut, oral sex (matt receiving), long plot, light mentions of horror...

hope you enjoyˎˊ˗

── .✦

Sleeping at your boyfriend's house for the first time made you nervous. Matt was an amazing and respectful boyfriend, you couldn't be less worried, but what really made you nervous were the endless possibilities that you could make happen.

You and Matt had only been dating for a month, and this was all so new. He was always so kind and tender with you, even if occasionally he tried to tease you more than he should have.

That was the big obstacle, the flea behind your ear, you really wanted to give in to those provocations. Maybe it wasn't right to say, but you would definitely have asked him to fuck you on the first date...

What? You can't resist his blue eyes and that damned naughty smile.

When he invited you to spend the night with him – since Chris and Nick would be out of the house –, you couldn't refuse. The way he sounded so confused on the phone made you smile, loving how he was getting his words mixed up.

Now, as you finish putting on your sweatpants after your shower, you hear Matt say from the other side of the door: "Hey, the pizza is here!" You smile, fixing your hair and walk out the door, smelling the delicious smell of pizza. When you enter the room, you see Matt chewing on a slice, sitting in your chair, relaxed. He can't help but sneak a glance at your chest, watching your nipples against the fabric of your shirt. Luckily for him, you don't even notice. You take a slice and sit comfortably on the bed.

"Oh, no, no." Matt hisses, nudging your leg with his foot. "What's wrong?" you ask, confused.

"Get up, I don't want crumbs on my blanket." he answers, trying to sound audible through his full mouth.

"Matt, you climb into your bed with your shoes on."

"I know, but I just cleaned my room." he really didn't care about crumbs, Matt just liked to tease and irritate. He tried to look serious and you just rolled your eyes.

"Then grab me a chair." you said, finishing your meal. Some crumbs did fall on the floor, but they were on the floor.

Matt shook his head and you frowned.

"Look at the mess you made." He pointed his finger at your feet.

"I'm not sitting on the floor!" you exclaimed, standing up to grab another slice from the table next to Matt. He wiped his hands on his napkin, taking a quick sip of his soda and then said, "Sit here." referring to his lap. He raised his eyebrows, biting his lip.

You blushed, but that was nothing new; he loved to make dirty jokes with you. You shrugged, sitting on one of his thighs and Matt immediately put his arm around your waist, feeling proud.

"You're an idiot."

"What movie are we going to watch?" he asks, ignoring your complaint as he watches you eat.

Yeah, all that closeness was weird but, come on, you couldn't help it, not even Matt. It was that weird feeling that came from the bottom of your stomach until it stopped in your throat like an unlikely sigh. You felt your heart beat faster and faster when those simple things with him happened. And you liked it when he was teasing and, mainly, when he acted like that naughty guy. It was all so amazing.

"Hmm", you try to chew and swallow the pizza before saying: "Can we watch The Conjuring 2?" you look at him with pleading eyes.

"That movie is so fucking old, let's watch Terrifer-"

"Ugh, no. I hate gore." you interrupt him, shifting on Matt's lap and this creates a voluptuous feeling in him.

"I-I can't watch supernatural horror alone. I've already watched the first The Conjuring movie with my friends, but, it's just... I fell asleep when they were watching part two..." Matt laughs out loud when you finish eating, looking for napkins to clean your fingers and mouth. He watches you shamelessly take his soda and drink the whole thing, but he doesn't say anything, after all, he had forgotten to get a glass for you too.

"Are you saying that I'm supposed to protect you?" Matt starts to turn the chair slightly, making you snuggle closer to him.

"I'm saying that if any spirit or demon shows up here, I'm going to offer you as tribute." You laugh at your own comment.

"What did you say?" Matt pretends to be angry and starts touching your sensitive spots, making you laugh out loud. You scream loudly when he advances the tickling and quickly gets off his lap, falling straight onto the bed.

He comes on top of your body and you can't stop laughing, shouting several no's as you feel his hands on your skin. However, after a few seconds, he stops tickling you to kiss you softly.

Matt is holding your arms beside your head. "You taste like pizza." you whisper breathlessly against his lips, delighting in the pressure of his body against yours.

"Oh, really?" he doesn't hold back the comment and bites your lower lip. You curse at him but Matt reprimands you with more kisses, a low growl in your mouth when you run your feet over his calves.

The make-out session leaves you slightly aroused and Matt couldn't be closer to having a hard-on and bending you against the bed. However, before the intrusive thoughts get the better of him, you break the kiss. "Can we watch the movie?" you ask with the expression of an abandoned puppy.

Matt gets off of you with a neutral expression, he agrees that he can and tells you to put a movie on the TV. He takes the pizza box to the kitchen, and in the meantime you go to the bathroom to wash your hands, thinking you've ruined the moment.

But you wouldn't want to be fucked by fingers with traces of cheese, would you?

You turn off the lights in the room, lying comfortably on the bed with the soft covers warming you and the fluffy pillow cradling you. You grab the TV remote and quickly turn it to Max, accessing the streaming search bar and finding the movie, waiting for Matt to show up.

A few seconds later, Matt closes the door behind him and walks slowly to the bed. He lies down next to you, holding your body against his – his hands are cold so you assume he's washed them. He grunts with his eyes closed as he snuggles under the warm blanket. His face is very close to your breasts, but you don't mind and put the movie on.

The first scenes start, and you're paying too much attention to even notice that Matt isn't watching the movie – his eyes are closed and his lips are half-open, but he's not sleeping; he's just resting and imagining all the things he'd like to do to you.

He knew you were a virgin, and even though it sometimes seemed like you wanted to go further with the kissing and touching, he felt reclusive about touching you more, not wanting to pressure you. You spent too much time rubbing against each other for Matt not to have at least squeezed your breasts through your shirt or rubbed his cock against your pussy, but you always seemed reluctant to continue and would slowly pull away.

Even though Matt wasn't that kind of guy, you were afraid of giving in completely and ending up getting hurt right from the start. It's silly, but Matt is so hot and perfect that it occasionally scares you. Even though you had gotten over the awkward phase in, what? two weeks after meeting him, and had been his friend for 6 months of pure stalling and teasing, now being his girlfriend was a completely different thing. You were hornier than any pervert in existence, and resisting Matt was a cruel punishment.

Being a naughty virgin was your fate, but you did your best to make sure Matt didn't recognize that side of you. Once again, if it weren't for your anxious conscience and your creative ability to create disastrous false palpitations, you would have asked Matt to take your virginity, not on the first date, but perhaps on the first day you met him. Who could blame you?

Your hands discreetly went to his hair, giving him a passionate caress. "Baby, aren't you going to see the movie?" you ask very quietly and Matt mumbles something indecipherable, still with his eyes closed. He shifts trying to find a comfortable position, running his hand over your belly and intertwining his legs with yours.

A few minutes pass and you feel his touches become more constant. Under those circumstances, the movie seemed boring with every movement he made, leaving you anxious. Without any shame, Matt found a perfect place to stick his face - between your breasts. You clicked your tongue, laughing. "What's wrong?" he asks innocently, intensifying his grip on your waist.

"Nothing," you reply, pressing your own hand against his, silently asking him not to stop, but Matt had other plans; he drags his curiosity to your hip, playing with his fingers on your lower belly, which gives you goosebumps. But suddenly, in the movie, when the scene of Lorraine being surprised by Valak occurs, you jump out of your skin. "Holy shit", you curse in a hiss. Matt shifts to look at you. He is obviously oblivious to the movie, starting to place chaste kisses on your neck, which doesn't bother you.

Slowly, he raises his face to kiss your mouth – which you accept willingly, closing your eyes, deepening the kiss. Maybe, you weren't really paying attention to the movie, but rather using it as a distraction. Either way, fuck it.

"Matt.." you try to get his attention, but it's useless, especially now that he has his hand on your breast, pinching your nipple, instigating you more and more. "Wait.. wait.." you whisper, gently pushing his shoulders away.

He pulls away, still with one hand on your chest. You look for the control and pause the movie where no character is in the scene. He bites his lip, with the feeling of his hard cock shrinking his pants and goes back to kissing you hurriedly.

You let out a few moans when Matt stops playing with your nipple to grope your ass and leave a hot slap. You whimper at the burning, letting out a drawn-out moan. "Sorry, princess." Matt stops the kiss to say it on your mouth. "Did it hurt?" he asks, clearly teasing you.

You nod and he positions himself between your legs, slapping your ass once more, which makes you stand up against his hips, feeling the bulge in his pants. Without ceremony, Matt does something you would have done a long time ago if it weren't for your shyness – he takes your hand to his cock, pressing it hard, eliciting a loud moan from yourself.

"Mmhm, fuck, you're so hard." you point out the obvious, mesmerized by the moment. Matt smiles into your mouth, moaning in agreement. All your inclinations become hasty and you can't resist letting your excitement speak louder when you ask, eagerly: "C-can I see?"

That was music to Matt's ears.

"Sure." he says, his voice hoarse. Given that situation, it was unlikely not to be a little nervous – I mean, you're about to see his dick, your boyfriend's dick. Before Matt can change position, you say: "Wait, shit. Holy shit, what the fuck."

Matt laughs at you for your excessive use of profanity. "What?" he asks, petting your leg.

"I've never seen a dick before..."

"I know, baby–"

"I mean, I've seen some." Matt looks confused, and your eyes widen. "But not really!" you exclaim hurriedly. Matt opens his mouth several times until you continue babbling, "Fuck, I really want to suck you, but I'm afraid of doing something wrong, you know."

"Mmmm. I get it." He leans closer to you, burying his face in the crook of your neck; you don't stop to rub his back with your long nails. "Sorry. I don't want to discourage you."

"You're not," he says soothingly. "I don't want to pressure you into anything– "

Before Matt can say any more comforting words, you pull him into a kiss – moving your tongue against his. With some difficulty, you try to cling to his body and he pulls you easily so that you are sitting on top. You sigh anxiously, reaching into his pants without warning. You feel the thickness of his cock against your hand, jerking him from top to bottom until your boyfriend puts his hand on top of yours. "Not like that, baby." He sounds gentle, pushing his movements from bottom to top, teaching you. "Like this?" you ask lightly, squeezing a little harder, making him hiss.

"Just don't squeeze too hard." you instinctively stop your movements to apologize, but he just tells you it's okay, urging you on.

The sounds Matt is making sends mind-blowing vibrations to your covered pussy – you're so wet and you can feel the moisture spreading across your groin. You pull away from Matt's mouth so you can look at your hand wrapped around his thick cock. Your mouth is watering and Matt notices your excitement, soon lightly forcing your head against his tip, which you gladly accept.

You feel the softness of his cock against your tongue, sucking delicately, respecting your own inexperience. Matt feels an incredible sense of pleasure as you prepare to suck him, he holds your hair, causing you a terribly pleasurable pressure. You fear your foolishness, wanting more of that weight in your mouth and putting the entire length inside, until the tip touches your throat.

You clearly choke, coughing. Matt tries to calm you down, although he wanted you to do it again, he is patient. He couldn't deny that the image of you so vulnerable like that made him more stimulated. Fucking your pussy felt as good as fucking your capricious mouth.

"Sorry." you say, with red and swollen lips, waiting for him to announce what you should do. Matt hisses, he bites his lips in reverie, wanting more than anything to cum in your beautiful mouth. "Okay! You're doing so good, fuck."

It was nothing new to you what to do during a blowjob. For a moment, the nervousness escaped your body. You dared to spit on the tip, touching him the way Matt had taught you. You leaned into a more pleasurable position, with your ass up, leaving Matt bewildered, and once again put his penis inside your warm mouth.

At certain moments, without meaning to, you let your teeth brush against the length, being reprimanded by a light tug on your hair. You continue your movements, choking and perfecting yourself in making your boyfriend cum. Your mouth doesn't limit itself to making obscene sounds and Matt moans, feeling the throbs of his orgasm rising. He doesn't stop himself from stretching his arm to run his long fingers against your clitoris, making you whimper at the unexpected touch. He moves forward, sloppy, because of the position.

You continue sucking, until Matt can no longer hold back; he forcefully pulls your head away. "Look at the mess you made." he smiles and you have a deja-vu of him saying those same words to you a few minutes ago. Matt masturbates for a few more seconds until he spurts jets of cum into your mouth, moaning louder than you could imagine.

You swallow without thinking and he pulls you to kiss your mouth, tasting himself.

"Are you sure you've never sucked a dick before?" he asks and you shake your head, driven by a surprising need to give it to him.

You don't restrain Matt when he starts taking off your clothes, kissing your entire body and making sure to lick and eat out your pussy very well.

At the end of the night, when you're both sleeping clinging to each other, the question that remains is: did the demon that was in the corner of the room all this time need to see that whole scene?

Happy belated Halloween 🎃

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Amon's daughter who hasn't ever been allowed to bend other than in secret and subtle blood bending finally being allowed to do it... But it turns out she doesn't know how to water bend - only blood bend - and even trying almost make her go into a panic attack, until her father's old enemy (Korra) helps her overcome her fears and anxiety. Enemies to lovers, maybe?

Gifted with Impurity

|| Avatar Korra x fem!reader

|| Warnings: mentions of blood bending, descriptions of an anxiety attack, enemies to lovers, subconscious manipulation

|| Summary: reader is the daughter of Amon. Your father only ever allowed you to use blood bending, after your father's defeat you seek the help of Avatar Korra to get back what you have lost.

Requests open!

~~~

It's been a week since Avatar Korra defeated your father, to say you were at a loss of what to do now would be an understatement. The Equalists followers that remained had tried pressuring you into being their next leader. The next Amon. You couldn't bring yourself to do that; you didn't share the same values your father did. In your opinion, bending was a gift that should be shared with the world. Not taken away. You yourself were gifted with the ability to bend. Though, because of the way your father trained you, you were only ever able to subtly use blood bending to get people to submit to him. You hated doing that, you wanted to use your water bending but you were never allowed and in turn lost the ability to do so. Which lead you to where you stood now.

Air Temple Island.

You hoped that maybe the Avatar could show you how to water bend, though you were almost 99% sure you'd just be turned away the moment she laid eyes on you. You and Korra have fought before, with her defeating you. The only reason you had even fought was because your father had used you as a distraction so he could escape. Pushing the past aside, you took a breath and knocked heavily on the front door in hopes that someone would actually hear it. There was a long pause before Tenzin opened the door and stared down at you with a look you couldn't quite understand. He went to close the door but you quickly stopped it before he could, giving him a pleading look.

"Wait! Please! Just hear me out!" You practically begged the Air bending Master. Hands clasped together at your chest, which made him sigh deeply in response.

"Very well." He stepped aside and let you into the Temple, bringing you to an empty seating area. He sat down and when you didn't he gestured for you to sit across, so hesitantly you did. He doesn't say a word as he watches you, waiting for you to speak first.

"I know what my father has done-" You paused when he raised an eyebrow at you and sighed," -what I have taken part of... I'm not proud of any of it. I don't share the same beliefs as he did. I believe bending is a gift. Which is why I have come to request help from Avatar Korra. I- um..." You bit down on your bottom lip slightly, fidgeting with your fingers in your lap. Blood bending was illegal. You couldn't exactly talk about it, especially not to someone like Tenzin. He seemed to understand what you were implying; even without having to say it, as he gave you a nod to continue. So you did.

"Water bending was something I was never allowed to do. Because of that I've lost the ability. I was hoping Avatar Korra could help me find it again." You finish your explanation.

There was a long silence before Tenzin finally responds. "That decision will lay entirely in the hands of the Avatar. Should she decide you unfit to train, I heavily suggest you listen and step back."

"I understand." You nodded and gave Tenzin a slight bow, hands rested on your knees as you sat with your legs crossed.

Tenzin stood and left the room, leaving you to assume he's gone to find Korra. A few long moments pass before the door slides open, revealing Avatar Korra who's eyes widen at the sight of you. You quickly stood and held your hands gently out in front of you, ready to get into a defensive position in case she attacked.

"Please, I'm not here to fight-"

"Oh really? Yeah and I'm not the Avatar." She scoffed and rolled her eyes at you, arms folded across her chest as she gave you an intense glare. You swallowed thickly, remembering your last fight with her and how easily she overwhelmed you with her attacks. You prayed you wouldn't have to fight her again.

"I promise. I am not my Father. The only reason we fought before was because he forced me to be a distraction." You explained, hoping she would be understanding. Silence fills the room and you brace for the worse, but she surprises you.

"You get one chance. If you mess up, I won't hesitate to feed you to Naga." She pointed her finger at you as her eyes narrowed. Whatever a Naga was, you didn't know. But you weren't exactly eager to find out so you quickly nodded your head.

You were greatly relieved she gave you a chance.

~~~

The next day marked the start of your water bending training with Avatar Korra. To say you were nervous... that was laying it on lightly. You weren't sure there was actually a word that could describe how you were feeling. This wasn't right. You shouldn't be doing this. It was a gift of impurity. A sin that washed over your body...

Your father's words echoed through your mind as you stood in a classic water bending position, Korra watching from next to you. Your chest began to rise and fall quickly, the world around you feeling small. Cramped. Tight. Impure.

"I-I- can't-" You stuttered out, Korra quickly turned her attention to you rather than watching your hands, as she had been waiting to see you start bending. Concern took over her features and her hand went to your shoulder.

"Hey, hey. Just breathe." She tells you, the softness in her tone caught you off guard. A drastic change from the harshness from before.

"This isn't- I shouldn't-" Your thoughts scrambled together, making it impossible for you to form any coherent sentences. Your throat felt tight, breathing seeming like a command you couldn't complete. As you stood feeling frozen to the ground beneath you.

That's all it took for Korra to suddenly understand why you were so freaked out. Even if you saw bending as a gift, your father's values still laced in your subconscious mind. Twisting your own beliefs into a mirror of his. Her hand gripped your shoulder a little tighter, hoping the feeling of something physical. Something real. Could ground you. "It's okay. You're okay. Amon has no control over you. You can bend. I believe in you."

Her words circled through your mind, fighting off the words of your Father. The grip she had on your shoulder being enough for you to find your centre. Maybe not completely, but you could breathe again. Breathing was a start. You focused on that and the sound of Korra's voice until you no longer felt frozen to the ground. In one fast, sudden motion you had pulled the Avatar into a tight hug. Surprising her.

"Woah- okay- we're hugging now-" Korra said, giving your back a pat. She didn't know what else to do since it had caught her off guard.

You clung to her for a moment. Taking in the closeness of the two of you. The way her arms stretched out awkwardly at her sides, only one of her hands touching your back in an attempt at a soothing gesture. After a moment longer you let go and looked at her. You didn't notice, but there was a soft blush on her cheeks as she looked at you now. You did however recognize the awkwardness in her expression as it dawns on you how impulsive your hug had been. Even you didn't expect to do that.

A heavy crimson floods your cheeks and you look away, hand going to your neck as you scratch it slightly. Feeling the awkward tension between the two of you.

"So! Water bending! It's really simple, just connect with the flow and soon enough you'll have the water doing what you want." A hand rested to Korra's hip whilst the other gave you a finger gun, she was trying to ease the awkwardness. You could tell. It didn't really work though you appreciated her efforts.

"Right..." You glanced down at the barrel of water next to the two of you and then looked at Korra," Maybe a physical demonstration?"

"Totally! No problem." Korra nodded, the awkwardness still lingering as she got in a water bending stance and eased the water out of the barrel to flow around her body. Her hand moved towards the sky and the water followed suit. You realized then how easy it would be for her to attack you right now. You swallowed, trying to push that thought aside so you didn't spiral again. Though as you watched how effortlessly she manipulated the water, you couldn't help thinking about it.

She smirked and did flick a splash of it in your direction, as a teasing manner. You lifted an arm to shield your face. You couldn't help but laugh at how unserious she was now. Considering you've only ever seen her in battles, you never would have thought there was a playful side to her. You smiled at the brunette.

"Was that necessary?"

"Oh, absolutely." Korra smiled back, letting the water fall back into the barrel as her arms fold across her chest. Looking rather smug and proud of herself. You rolled your eyes," Go on."

She encourages you to try bending the water. Taking a shaky breath, you ground yourself. Hands in front of you as you gently lift your left hand, trying to pull the water upwards. A small swish. No other reaction or sign of movement. You grit your teeth and try harder until a bead of sweat drips down the side of your face. Your hand moving up faster now out of frustration, the water reacting to your emotions. It shoots out of the barrel at fast speeds and right for Korra. She blinks in surprise and quickly unfolds her arms, bending the water against your own movements and forcing it to hover in place. Inches from her body. She sighs deeply and looks at you.

"The hell was that?" Korra asked, her full guard up now as she looks at you. You tense.

"I'm sorry- I forgot how reactive it was to emotions..." You admit, a blush coating your cheeks as you look down in embarrassment.

Korra shakes her head and drops the water back in the barrel. Looking at you in a studying way, you assumed she was checking to see if you were lying. If that was really some hidden attack plan you had come up with.

"Just be more careful next time. Alright?"

You relax when you hear 'next time'. That meant she was still going to train you. Even after that little mixup.

~~~

A few weeks go by. Korra's been training with you every other day, helping you master water bending. In turn the two of you have grown close to each other. Close enough that you've developed a crush on one another, both too nervous to say anything about it.

One particular day, Bolin catches you watching Korra train with a love sick grin plastered across your face. He gives you a knowing look and comes to stand beside you. Hand resting to your shoulder, which startles you as you hadn't even seen him approach. Bolin gives you an apologetic look.

"You should talk to her." He says, you tense. Were your feelings for Korra that obvious? The correct answer was yes. Everyone but Korra could tell.

"What if I just make a fool out of myself?"

Bolin laughs and smiles at you. "Y/N, Korra likes you, too. She hasn't stopped talking about you all week."

"Are you sure? What if-"

"Dude! You gotta stop overthinking it. She's obsessed with you, you gotta trust me." Bolin interrupts you and you sigh, hesitating before nodding your head.

"Alright. Yeah. If it goes wrong I'm blaming you, Bolin." You smirk at him before walking over to Korra. Watching as she trains. The way her muscles flex... you shake your head. Focus.

Korra stops her movements and looks at you with a wide smile as she waves," Hey! Y/N! Wanna spar?"

"Actually, there was something else I was hoping we could do." You fold your arms loosely in front of your stomach, Korra tilts her head at you in confusion.

"Yeah. Totally, what is it?"

You feel your cheeks flush. Were you really about to ask out the Avatar? You look back at Bolin who smiles and gives you two encouraging thumbs up. You sigh and look at Korra again," do you want to go on a date? We could go see a mover or something..."

"A date?" Korra blinks in surprise, then her smile widens as a blush forms on her cheeks," I'd love to!"

Her enthusiasm catches you off guard and you suppress a giggle," really?"

"Yeah! What idiot wouldn't want to go on a date with you?" She gives you a playful nudge and the laugh you tried stifling escapes your lips. Korra did always have a habit of making you laugh. You appreciated that about her.

"Alright. Then it's a date."

~~~

Lmk if y'all would be interested in a part 2! This is my first time writing for Korra so I hope y'all like it! Feel free to send other Legend of Korra requests my way too, just check out my masterlist blog first!

[rasp-my-berry]

a summer glowup pt. 2 // klitz x chubby reader

ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+

unfortunately i got really high and forgot to add in the part where they make their relationship off and got straight to the smut. additionally, it has been a significant amount of time since my last work and i wold like to apologize ahead of time if you pick up on stylistic changes in my writing. i am very out of practice and only just got in the mood to finish this work,, so quality definitely isn't what it used to be. i also haven’t completely gotten used to tumblrs format so i’m sorry this is so ugly

i also have failed to proofread as always since my keyboard thinks its funny to mess w me rn. ill most likely come back and make some tweaks eventually. i always do lol

the rest of that first day was... weird to say the least. people who wouldn't usually give you the time of day, as if you were a regular stain on the wall, suddenly had some interest in you. was it because you spent the summer out of state? because you came back with an entirely new wardrobe? because you were suddenly confident, suddenly had interesting things to say?

that's ridiculous. you refused to believe it. besides, you didn't care what they thought. all you cared about was the trio of boys and your best friend. they were the only people you wanted to spend time with. and who could blame you? you'd only known them for all of highschool up until now.

by the end of the day, you were exhausted from all the attention you had been receiving. you wondered if this was how new students and anyone regularly receiving that much attention felt. it was awful.

but finally, the end of the school day. you could leave and go home, do whatever you want- oh, right!! klitz wanted to hang out after school! suddenly you felt nervous again. not that you knew why. you'd already kissed the guy, so he knows how you feel. what's the big deal? there is no big deal.

until, of course, you saw him approaching, with eli and matt in tow. eli had a smug grin on his face and matt was snickering at something you couldn't hear. klitz looked like a wreck. sweaty, shaky, and pale. scratch that last one. he's always been that pale. poor boy hardly ever sees any sun. you'd have to change that. get some healthy color in him.

"hi guys!!" you smiled, waving as you walked over.

eli smiled and waved at you, walking over faster than the other two. he was always like this. an overexcitable puppy, you liked to call him. you were surprised he didn't pee a little bit when he first saw you earlier today. he always seemed like the type to pee when he gets excited.

"hey y/n." klitz greeted nervously, his voice shaky. he was definitely nervous for whatever you had in store for him.

you grabbed his hand and pulled him closer, using your other hand to hold his arm and keep him at your side. "hey klitzy boo~"

matt greeted you and took his spot in the small circle you four were forming. "so, what're we doing tonight?" he asked.

"oh, sorry. klitz and i are gonna be... uh.. occupied tonight-" you started before eli cut you off.

"UGHHHHHHHH!" he groaned in exasperation. "you mean to tell me, we don't get to see you for a whole summer and you're gonna spend your first night back with klitz??? i always knew you wanted to ride him like a freak, but i never thought i'd see the day you would abandon us to do it!"

you had to laugh. you had to give it to him. eli's definitely funny. a giggle passed your lips and klitz started trembling. you just sounded so angelic.

"i PROMISE we'll hang out tomorrow! i just have some lost time to make up for with klitz." you defended. "besides, i bet you guys don't even know he kissed me this morning. that kinda changes things a little bit."

"HE KISSED YOU?" matt shouted.

"WHAT DOES THAT CHANGE??" eli's shouts overlapped matt's.

you laughed. "you know what i mean, right klitz? can you explain it to them?"

he sighed, hating to have to explain this to his friends. "yea, i kissed her earlier. and it doesn't change everything but it might just mean that... yknow... we won't be spending every day together.. y/n and i are gonna want private time too."

"WHY NOT?" eli started. "yknow i wouldn't mind watching you two do a little.." he started wiggling his fingers together from both hands, trying to make a sexual gesture??

your jaw dropped and you had to contain your laughter. "oh, stop it! only way you'll be seeing that is if we decide to tease you and send a video." you rolled your eyes.

eli visibly slouched, your words distressing him. he turned to klitz, grabbing his shoulders roughly. "klitzy.... klitzy, klitzy, klitzy..."

"what, eli?" klitz hesitated, scared of what eli could possibly have in store.

"OH BABIE PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE," eli dropped to his knees, tugging on klitz's pant leg and literally sobbing at this point. tears streamed down his cheeks like a waterfall and snot was collecting on his upper lip. disgusting. " YOU GOTTA FUCK HER, BRO! FOR ME!! FOR MEEEE!! RIDE IT, SUCK IT, LICK IT, SPIT ON IT FOR MEEEEEEE!!!"

people were beginning to stare, and klitz hated having people look at him. he would say anything to get eli to stop this tantrum. "yea, whatever, dude. i'll do her raw and hard just like you would want to..."

"promise?" eli squeaked, holding out his pinky finger.

klitz sighed, putting his pinky out as well and linking it with eli's. "i promise."

you couldn't help the giggle that escaped you. you wouldn't necessarily be upset if klitz followed through with that promise...

"well, we really should get going. we wouldn't want to be late for.... yea!!" you smiled, tugging klitz's arm and trying to get him away from the boys. "we'll talk to you guys tomorrow!! fill you in on all the details, don't even worry. it'll be like you guys were there!! promise!"

matt rolled his eyes. "what if we don't WANT-"

"THANK YOU!" eli sobbed, still on his knees. he turned to matt and began hugging his legs, crying into his knees.

taking a deep breath, you hugged klitz's arm, pulling him in the direction of your house. it wasn't a long walk, and not an unfamiliar one, either. ever since you had become friends with the tripod, everybody regularly got at everybody's houses. it wasn't uncommon for you to wake up to your mom telling you the boys were waiting downstairs. it was a little silly, actually.

"so, my parents actually won't be home tonight..." you started. "they wanted to visit my grandparents, so we've got the house to ourselves! we can do whatever you want."

"whatever i want?" he gulped, that nervous feeling rising up again.

you nodded your head. "yup!" and popped the 'p' as you spoke.

he hummed in thought. "well, we could watch that movie you were telling me about last time... or do our homework."

"homework?" you raised a brow. "i am not doing that shit. i'll get to it tomorrow."

he laughed. "ok, ok. how do you feel about the movie then?"

"i like that idea!! we've got some snacks at home so we can have fun getting a whole spread out!" you smiled.

once the two of you got inside, you let klitz raid the pantry and fridge while you ran around trying to find the dvd for the movie you mentioned to him not too long ago. once you finally found it, you sang victoriously. "finally!"

running back to the living room, you paused at the base of the stairs, watching klitz for a moment. he was sitting in front of a coffee table, setting up the snacks very carefully. he sat back for a second before leaning back and turning a bag of chips just a few centimeters over. he sat back and made a motion with his hands as if to say "stay."

you didn't want to startle him, let alone make him think you're making fun, but you giggled. "oops- sorry. it doesn't have to be perfect y'know. we're probably gonna mess it up anyways."

his eyes widened at that. at first he took it the wrong way, seeing only a sexual meaning in that statement. then he realized you were right. reaching for snacks and pulling them out of the bags would only result in a messed up sequence of what he originally laid out. he felt so silly for being so easily flustered.

"you're right. i just wanted it to look nice." he stuttered.

you smiled, taking a spot on the floor to put the dvd in. "well, i appreciate the effort klitzy poo."

he smiled and sat back on the couch, clearing his throat out of nervous habit. once the dvd was in, you grabbed the remote and took a spot next to klitz, instantly snuggling up in his side. he tensed up at that, fear and nervous thoughts instantly swarming his mind.

what if he smells bad? what if you can hear how fast his heart is beating? what if you can tell how nervous he is by listening to his breathing pattern? are you as nervous as he is? it doesn't seem like it. why can't he be as relaxed as you???

the movie started and you smiled, snuggling deeper into him. "you're gonna love this!! you like romcoms right?"

"o-oh! yeah! they're popular for a reason." he laughed nervously, and you giggled at how nervous he was.

a part of you liked knowing that you made him this nervous. another part wished he could just relax around you. you knew you would never judge him or anything like that. maybe he didn't know that.

about half an hour into the movie, HALF AN HOUR, there was a sex scene. at this point, klitz had finally relaxed and rested a hand on your hip, occasionally massaging the area subconsciously, as if it was something he'd done a thousand times (which he had. when you went shopping with the boys and it was crowded, he had a habit of holding and pulling you close to him so he doesn't lose you.)

klitz was already tense as it was, but you felt the feminine urge to tease him. with your free hand, you rested it on his thigh, running your thumb over it smoothly, slowly.

you could feel his thigh tense up under your touch and heard his breath get caught in his throat. he was holding his breath, watching you carefully. were you aware of the effect you had on him? could you tell? his hands were shaking and covered in a layer of sweat.

your hand slowly started massaging his thigh, moving up, up, up. you waited for a reaction. but he was focusing so hard on the movie and trying to block out what you were doing to him. he was gonna snap if this went on any longer.

your hand finally got high enough to where he couldn't take it.

he whined and stood up instantly, is if trying to get away before he embarrassed himself. "w... we should do something!!"

"like what, klitzy?" you asked, batting your lashes. "have anything in mind?"

his breath hitched and he could feel a heat pooling in his groin. he sighed. he knew exactly what he wanted to do to you, he just didn't have the confidence to get himself there. fuck it. yolo... or whatever. "let's get freaky."

did he seriously just say that. he could've said literally anything else. he was slapping himself repeatedly in his head, cursing himself for being so damn stupid.

"okay!" you smiled, sitting up.

fuck. he didn't think that would work. you're so pretty. he just wants to worship you, make you feel good in every way possible. "wait, wait, wait- actually???"

you sighed, standing and slowly walking over to him. "klitz, i think you fail to realize just how long i've been waiting for this moment. do you have any idea how long i've been infatuated with you?"

you rested your hands on his chest, slowly sliding them down, down, down to his belt buckle. you gave it a tug and sank to your knees. he could hardly breathe, hardly think. this was actually happening. this wasn't a dream, or some fantasy he was coming up with again.

"w-wait!!" he stopped you. "not like this. i wanted to please you."

your face burned in embarrassment and you shamelessly got butterflies from that statement alone. "oh!" you giggled nervously. but if he wanted to take charge, you would let him. "what do you want me to do?" you asked, standing again.

"just sit back on the couch. make yourself comfortable." he said, lightly nudging you back.

once you were seated he walked over, dropping to his knees before you. he stared into your eyes for a moment, just taking you in. you smiled at him, suddenly a little nervous. you didn't know what to expect from him. you were rigid, sitting up straight and staring down at him.

he offered you a smile back, before looking down. he grabbed your leg, kissing your knee through the pants you were wearing. you suddenly wished you had changed into something else when you had gotten home.

he kissed the top of your bare foot, running a hand along your leg under your pant leg.

he could feel how smooth your skin was, how warm it was. he could smell your perfume. the smell lasted forever, it always had, but this time it was intoxicating. he reached up, slowly following his hands with his lips, kissing a trail from your ankle to your knee. once he reached your thighs, he paused. he looked up at you, double checking that this was what you wanted.

you nodded your head. "keep going." you mumbled, afraid your voice would fail you.

he finally unbuttoned your pants, unzipped them, and tugged them off of you carefully. he stared at the panties you were wearing for a few seconds. he'd seen those before. they were your favorite.

you used to tease him by bending over when you wore skirts and turn around and say 'oops' when you saw he was behind you. just another one of those things he wished for so long you could've done in a different setting. but teasing each other had always been the nature of your friendship.

his breath shuddered, and it left goosebumps on your thighs. his hands were on your knees, gently pushing them apart to make room for his head. you didn't fight him, but god were you nervous.

he kissed your inner thigh, taking a deep breath as he did so. he continued to kiss inward, trailing from your knee all the way up until he was right in front of your clothed pussy. he kissed right at the hem of your panties.

you suppressed a whine. "oh, get on with it already, don't tease me."

he laughed nervously before finally pulling off your underwear. he grabbed a hold of your soft hips and pulled you closer. you were now barely sitting on the couch, your weight being supported by your arms. the closer he got to your arousal, the deeper your breaths became. klitz spread your legs farther, wanting a better view of you.

he could smell you, practically taste you. he'd never admit just how horny that made him. he loved the smell, the look of it all. his cock twitched in his pants, and he had to stop himself from groaning aloud.

he started by kissing you, right above your clit. you shuddered at the feeling, scooting a little farther out. "please, klitz, just- just-"

you would've specified what you wanted but his lips latching on to your clit kind of made you lose your train of thought. you couldn't help it. you moaned instantly.  he hummed against you, dragging his tongue against your clit. reaching up, he sank two fingers into you, gently curling them upward directly onto your sweet spot.

your hands immediately found their way to his head, pulling him closer, cursing aloud all the while. "fuck- right there-"

your moans were enough to stimulate him. he loved the sounds you were making. anytime you moaned, he couldn't help but moan as well. you just sounded so hot, so needy. and knowing he was making you feel so good only urged him to do more, to do better.

you had no idea where he learned to do this. as far as you knew, he was as inexperienced as you were, not that it really mattered anyway. you were just startled.

almost desperate for breath, he pulled away. his glasses were fogged, and his hair was a little messed up.. practically the most arousing vision ever. he pressed his thumb to your clit, the two fingers inside you working their magic while you squirmed on the couch. you wrapped your legs around him, crossing your ankles where they met over his spine. you wanted to keep him as close as possible.

your arms were trembling now, beginning to buckle under your weight just a bit. you whined, the pleasure overwhelming you. you were getting close. you could feel a neediness build up in you, and you could hardly contain yourself.

"harder, faster, faster, fuck-" you panted, throwing your head back.

his free hand came up, kneading the plush of your thigh before trailing further up, under your shirt. he tenderly ran his hands over the soft skin of your stomach before finally finding your right breast. your moans deepened.

"i'm gonna cum-" you warned, your body bending to prepare for the wave of pleasure. he went right back with his mouth, removing his fingers so he could fully taste your pleasure.

he moaned against your clit, pushing you right over the edge. right as your moans turned to a scream, and you pushed his head farther into your pussy, he came as well, effectively ruining his pants.

he moaned against your clit, deeper, longer this time. the electric feel of his voice against your clit sent a shock of your spine, a small whimper leaving your lips. you panted, shocked by the overwhelming pleasure. your ears were ringing and you couldn't quite focus your eyes on anything. "klitz... i.. christ, that's the best i've ever had.."

you couldn't catch your breath for a solid minute, finally sitting up and running a hand through your hair. you noticed the spot on his pants and your hand flew to your mouth. "oh my god-"

he was still catching his breath. he pushed his still somewhat foggy glasses up, and eyes you curiously. "what is it?"

"did you..?" you paused.

he looked down and back up to you, his eyes now fearful. "i'm sorry! i know, it's, like, super pathetic and weird of me-"

"shut up, i think it's hot." you rushed. "did me feeling that good.. make you feel good?"

he nodded his head slowly.

"sick." you paused. "but are you gonna fuck me or are we leaving it at this?"

"whatever you want?" he looked up at you expectantly.

you smiled, batting your lashes at him. "i want you to ruin me. i want your dick balls deep inside me, klitzy."

his eyes widened, his jaw dropped, and his brows raised immediately. he didn't think you were capable of being so vulgar. especially in real life, compared to your texts. he gulped hard. fuck. he took a deep breath before leaning forward, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips. he supported his weight on your bare knees, massaging and caressing the skin there.

you sighed dreamily, melting under his touch. your eyes fluttered shut and you smiled. "you don't have to treat me as if i'm fine china." you giggled.

"you're just about as precious to me." he murmured as he stood to sit beside you on the couch.

you nearly swooned aloud, the words alone giving you butterflies. you grabbed a hold of his hands, his soft, gorgeous hands, and pulled him closer to you.

you stared at each other for a moment, awkward and nervous silence settling between the two of you. you raised a hand up to his cheek, cupping it gently. he melted into your touch, sighing deeply. you leaned forward and pressed a short kiss to his lips.

he barely got the chance to kiss back before you pulled away and pressed your hand to his chest, running it along the whole of his torso, stopping at the hem of his shirt. you glance back up at him for a split second, noticing the way he's watching your hands so intensely. a smile pulls at the corners of your lips and you finally lift the shirt up and over his head, throwing it a short distance away.

once again, you ran your hands up and down his chest, feeling his heart beating rapidly beneath your fingertips. your smile widened, and you went further, further down to his belt buckle, undoing it with ease. his breath caught in his throat, nervous once again. you pull his pants down, leaving him in his boxers. you don't say anything, just scoot closer.

you hover over him, your hands on either side of his head, and press another kiss to his lips. "can i keep going?"

"please." he sighs.

you giggle a bit and finally go back to pulling off the final layer. you don't say anything but your eyes widen visibly. it's silent between the both of you for a moment, the movie filling in for your lack of words.

"is something wro-" he starts, before you cut him off.

"KLITORIS??" you shout. "WHY HAVE YOU BEEN HIDING THIS FROM ME FOR SO LONG???"

"huh-"

you scream into your hands. there's a panic in your whole body, excited to just devour his cock whole. "klitz, if i had known you had such a juicy, scrumptious, fat cock, i- UGHHHHH-"

you quickly composed yourself, taking a deep breath. when you looked back to klitz, you noticed just how red his face was. you smiled again and he began stuttering.

"um so anyways-"

"i'm gonna ride you." you said with a straight face. "and you're gonna hold me like this."

he gasped, a nervous chuckle following quickly after. "oh-! okay.."

scooting forward and putting your legs on either side of his hips, you grabbed his hands, placing them on your plush hips. his hands were trembling, and you asked again if this was what he wanted, to which he vigorously nodded his head.

you smiled, still looking down at him. his shoulders rested just above the arm rest of the couch, you were almost at perfect eye level with him. "are you gonna take your shirt off?" he asked. "you don't have to, but-"

you practically ripped your shirt off before he could even finish. he was in absolute awe of you. the illumination from the tv made you look almost angelic, looking down on him like this. you were glowing, ethereal. an angel.

his eyes trailed your body from top to bottom, admiring every inch. the way your tits sat, and your soft stomach, your amazing hips, and your thighs that had him weak in the knees. your gorgeous, wet pussy, just moments away from him. his cock twitched and it reminded him of what was about to happen.

"you ready?" you asked.

he nodded his head again, and you didn't need another second to think before slowly lowering yourself on his erection. you let out a shaky breath, looking down and watching to see how much you were taking in. klitz bit his lip, nearly moaning aloud. you were so wet, so warm. so perfect. his hands gripped your hips tighter than you expected. your breath shuddered slightly, your hands finding their place on his shoulders for support. you sank down as far as you could, finally releasing your breath once you stopped. it had hurt, just as expected, but not as bad as you anticipated. raising yourself up again, you started to build a rhythm as best you could.

your breath was unsteady, as were your legs. klitz could hardly bare it. any of it. he wanted to just grab you harder, move you to a rhythm he much more preferred. just absolutely destroy you. he whined suddenly, his fingers on your hips twitching slightly, their grip never loosening.

after a moment or so, klitz finally snapped, his grip somehow tightening. he lifted you and pulled you back down just how he wanted you to. his hips thrusted up into yours, meeting you halfway and creating harder thrusts. he moaned aloud, his breath shuddering slightly. he could barely take it. you were perfect. he felt as though you were made just for him. a perfect fit. you gasped at his sudden action, although pleasantly surprised nonetheless. but he didnt stop there, of course. he continued manipulating your movements at a rhythm he much preferred to the one you were moving to.

his moans flooded the room, louder than the movie you had put on. he was so glad he had finally plucked the courage to say something. he knew things wouldnt be the same after this, and he was perfectly okay with that. this is exactly what he's been dreaming of for years anyways.

he kept pushing and pulling, at first just quicker, but as time passed, you felt him pull you down onto him much rougher than before. you could feel his tip reaching deeper than you thought possible. you moans soon turned into slurred speech, begging him to go quicker, begging to cum.

he didnt want this to end so soon, though. still, he was kind to you, and did as asked. he helped you move quicker again, and began thrusting his hips upward, meeting you in the middle and bringing a roughness to the speed that was needed to push you over the edge.

he watched your body, the way it reacted to his movements, the way it rippled with every thrust. he thought you had never been more beautiful, your makeup smudged and smeared around your eyes from sweat and tears formed from pleasure. sweat glistened on your skin, but still.. gorgeous.

soon enough, he heard your moan get louder, and louder, louder. then he felt your body relax, your walls tightening around him, pulsing with your orgasm. it felt.. divine. klitz was in ecstasy, and he hadn't even cum yet. just watching you come undone made him feel just as good as you did in that moment. he moaned, his brows furrowed and jaw slacked open. you looked absolutely angelic when you were feeling the pinnacle of pleasure. he didn't stop there, though. he grabbed your hips and in a second you were on your stomach, ass up and all. you were nearly exhausted and completely drenched. not just sweat, but the liquid arousal between your legs. he wanted to devour you again, but first, he wanted to cum.

he lined his hips up once more, pressing the tip against your cunt. a shaky breath escaped him as he pressed further, slowly sinking deeper and deeper. once he was in as far as he could go, he released a deep moan at the same time as you. he pulled out and started working up his rhythm again. his moans grew louder and louder. you were still sensitive from your orgasm, and you could feel another rapidly approaching. you hoped klitz was as close as you so you could cum at the same time. his breath was sharp and shallow, but his movements never fell out of rhythm. you turned your head, trying to get a good view of his face. you wanted to see his face twisted in pleasure as he cums. breathy moans turned to whining as his orgasm came closer and closer. he could feel it building up inside him.

he looked down at you, taking in your figure once more. he didn't fail to notice your perfect ass, and the way it rippled in time with his thrusts. god, he thought, she really is out of my league. he couldn't stop himself. his dream girl was right in front of him and holy shit his dick is really inside her. finally, he couldn't take it anymore. he grunted, trying to catch his breath.

"god, y/n, i'm gonna cum!" he started moving faster, fucking you even deeper and harder.

you were getting close, too, the pleasure overwhelming you. tears welled in your eyes and you let out a sob as your orgasm came crashing down on you. klitz came too, your orgasm only bringing him more pleasure, just the right amount to push him over the edge. he pulled out just in time for the thick ropes of cum to shoot across your back. the both of you slumped over and took a minute to catch your breath. tears continued to stream down your face as you recovered from your intense orgasm.

once you could finally speak again, you spoke up. "fuck, klitz... i'm gonna want a lot more days like this, if you don't mind."

"anything for you." he sighed dreamily. he pulled himself up and turned to the tv as he scooched his way over to you. reaching for the remote, he pulled you closer to him. "we won't be finishing this, will we?"

humming a simple response as you shook your head, you snuggled deeper into his embrace with closed eyes. in his arms, you didn't struggle to relax. he was warm and his heartbeat was soothing. suddenly, your eyes shot open.

"we can't tell eli."

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Shall I Count the Ways: L (FINAL)

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Spencer Reid x F!Reader

Summary: You and Spencer are best friends. You’re in love with him and he’s in love with you, but neither of you know it nor decide to tell the other about their feelings. All the love is there, just hidden in the things you say and the things you do with one another.

A/N: IT'S OFFICIALLY OVER. THANK YOU TO ALL WHO CONTINUED TO READ THIS SERIES AND IM SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO ACTUALLY FINISH IT!

Series Masterlist

50. "I love you."

You practically lived at Spencer's apartment. You spent so much of your time at his place than yours. He emptied out part of his dresser and a portion of his closet to make room for some of your things. He encouraged you to bring more of your belongings, but you declined. You didn't want to take up more of his space than you already had.

"But I like you taking up space," he had said softly, with that soft smile of his.

You wanted to confess your love to him right then and there.

You technically have already, through your words and actions, but you never actually said those three words yet. You and Spencer have officially been together for six months and haven't said "I love you" to each other yet.

You feel as though because of Spencer's own insecurities and anxieties, he held back saying them. For you, you just didn't want to put any pressure on Spencer to say it back. But you love him, there is no doubt about that. You know in your heart, your mind, hell, your entire being that you absolutely love this man. You have for so long and you can't imagine not loving him.

You know he loves you too. You know by how he holds you, how he looks at you, how he talks to you. He doesn't say it outright, but you know he does.

Still. Hearing him say it would be nice. But there's that underlying fear, on both sides.

So now, six months into being with Spencer, you've come to accept that it may be a while until you hear him say those words.

Until he does on one random Tuesday evening.

_________________

Spencer was away on a case. He was called by Emily as soon as his last class of the day ended. They needed all hands on deck. He gave you a quick call on his way to his office, to let you know what was going on. He grabbed his go-bag that he always keeps at the school and proceeded to head to Quantico.

He'd been gone for four days. Every night before going to sleep, he'd call you and listen to you relay your day to him. You'd keep talking until either of you fell asleep. The last thing either of you heard were each other's voices.

The last day, Spencer texted you that he'd be coming home late and that you shouldn't wait up for him.

Well, you're stubborn, you so made sure to drink some coffee while you waited for Spencer to arrive back.

You were sitting in Spencer's living room, posting some of the new antiques you received onto your website when you heard a familiar jingle of keys. You set your laptop aside and stood up right as the door swung open.

Spencer's tired eyes brightened in surprise, "I told you not to stay up."

"It's fine. I drank some coffee so I can be awake to greet you," you peck his lips and take his bag from him. You go to bring it to his room, but he catches your wrist.

"Hold on. C'mere," he pulls you to him, causing you to drop his bag at your feet.

You giggle, wrapping your arms around him, "What is it, Spencer?"

His eyes roam your face, taking in every detail before landing on your eyes, "I love you."

It was now your turn to look surprised, "Spencer-"

"I'm sorry it took me so long to say it. First I take forever to confess my feelings for you and now to confess my love. I'm sorry you've had to wait so long for me, but know that I've always loved you and will continue to love you."

You can't help but chuckle in disbelief, "Where is this grand confession coming from, hm? Did something happen? Did someone say something?"

Spencer looks shyly at you, "No. Nothing like that. It's-It's just I was thinking about how excited I was to come back here and to find you here. I felt so much love for you just thinking about seeing you again after these past few days. Then I realized I never even said 'I love you' yet. We've been together for six months, three days, and," he pauses to look at his watch, then finishes, "-twenty-one minutes."

"I love you too, Spencer. I wanted to tell you much sooner, but I didn't want to pressure you in saying it back. You've been going through so much, I didn't want to add any more stress-"

Spencer shakes his head, "No, you could never add any stress to my life. You take it all away just by being here."

You smile brightly at him, "I love you so much, Spencer," you whisper.

"I love you too," he murmurs before closing in the distance and pressing his lips to yours.

You and Spencer have gone through hell and back, but you two have always loved each other. You've said and shown it in various ways and you know that there is absolutely nothing the world can throw at you that will break you two apart.

[xannytranny]

Challengers AU

Summary: You felt like you were on top of the world. Suddenly, it felt like your world flipped upside down. Torn between love for your sport and choosing the love of your life, you don't know what's up or down. AKA, a Challengers-esque AU but with basketball instead of tennis. 

Part 1

Pairings: You x OC; eventual You x Paige x Caitlin

Warnings: None (?), swearing, slightly toxic dynamics (?)

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Second Person POV

Life was great. Your team won last year's NCAA championship, and against all odds, you guys were headed into this year's Sweet Sixteen. 

Life was great. You're going into your senior year, your last year of playing with your favorite people. You've gotten close to all the girls on the team, and they've essentially become your sisters. You're favorite, above all, was your girlfriend, Mackenzie. 

Life was great, and it was about to get even better. You and Mackenzie were talking to several WBNA, and both of you were slated to be within the top five picks. You guys may end up across the country from each other, but you'd make it work because this was your dream.

Life was great. So why the hell did it feel like a lie every time you said it?

--------------------------------

First Person POV

I hop around lightly, bopping my head to the music blaring from my earbuds. I shake out my arms, pulling them across my chest to stretch. I sat on the locker room bench, dropping my head and closing my eyes to focus on breathing. I could feel a presence sitting next to me, but I ignored them until I finished my exercises. 

I open my eyes and pull out my earbuds, looking toward the new presence. When I see it's Mackenzie, I smile slightly, "Hey you."

"You alright?" She asks, nudging our knees together. 

I soften, nodding, "Just nervous, I guess." I shrug. 

Mackenzie scoffs, "Unlike me, this isn't your first Team US selection." Her tone sounds joking, but it still has that underlying bitterness I've come to associate with our conversations. I ignore it and shrug.

"Selection doesn't mean anything if you can't bring home a win," I tell her, frowning. 

"Would you relax? This is only for gold medals and participation trophies." She snaps at me. 

I roll my eyes, standing. "Can you just leave? I need to focus."

Mackenzie scoffs and turns to leave, mumbling under her breath. I ignore her, which seems to be a theme these days, and return to stretching. I stay like that until Coach comes to collect us. I don't acknowledge Mackenzie as we begin walking toward the tunnel, my mind only on the game that's about to happen. 

I jog out of the tunnel when I hear my name called. I wave to the crowds in the stands, then run down the line, slapping hands with my teammates. I join the line, greeting the rest of my teammates. Once the introductions are finished, I get into position for tip-off. 

Tying my hair back and getting low, I watch intently as the ref tosses the ball into the air. I grin as the ball is batted in my direction, catching it and taking off toward the basket. 

---------------------------------

 Third Person POV

Caitlin and Paige sat side by side, watching the game. When they heard you were selected for the team, they knew they had to get tickets. You were everything they wanted to be as a basketball player, not to mention you were fucking hot. 

"Dude fucking look at her go," Paige nudged Caitlin, pointing toward where you just made a tough layup. 

Caitlin nudged her back, "I see her," She mumbled, not taking her eyes off you. 

In fact, neither one of them had taken their eyes off you since you came out of the tunnel. You were magnetic, electric, and just plain fun to watch. The entire stadium seemed to roar for you, and you basked in the attention readily, sending winks and kisses into the crowd. 

Only one thought was going through their mind as they watched you: I have to have her.

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Alright, so this is the intro to the fic I posted about yesterday. Let me know what you guys are thinking.