#And couldn’t insert it into the fic cause it was sort of out of no where

[sizzleissues]

Idk thinking about it maybe Adrien is not just totally blind to other peoples feelings for him but it’s again a product of the low self-esteem wherein he doesn’t think anyone would ever love him sincerely. His fans ‘love him’ but they love the image crafted by his father. His mother loved him but she was taken away from him. His father probably loves him but he definitely likes to give and take it away at a whim. So surely that ‘I love you’ was platonic, I am nothing to love and she definitely meant that in a friend way, because who even am I?

I think he’d easily twist every confession into something that fits the narrative he tells himself, and that he’d never want to make someone uncomfortable by misreading their intentions so he just doesn’t read them at all. Like marinette acts weird around me a lot, she does stuff I’ve seen people with crushes do but surely thats just the way marinette is and it isn’t my business to push myself on her in case she’s just awkward because I’m a drag of a person blah blah blah.

Idk if I articulated that well but do you get the idea?? Even if you want someone to love you that way, if you do not know/like yourself you will reject the possibility someone does like you that way.

And Ladybug is delightfully unattainable so he can place her as the person whom he can imagine loving him because there’s no way LB would actually love him. Sure she’s his partner, their love is totally platonic and so he’s safe to love that way. The other side of his low-self esteem, the side that craves validation is shown here. As a civilian he cannot believe love can be given to him without price or cost and it’s probably something else, he’s mistaken. But the moment the love square reverses, he can’t see her attempts at wooing him as sincere. They’re a test or a joke, or an affect of the miraculous. Nope, she definitely doesn’t mean it. And adrienette only happens because he gathers a little self-esteem and he knows marinette likes him, it all comes to together for him finally, there’s too much evidence now and he likes himself enough to take a shot.

LIKE COME ON

Anyway I think that is interesting

[hana-no-seiiki]

星を探す瞳が好き

(MOSTLY IMPLIED) SOFT YANDERE! RIN ITOSHI x IDOL! READER

(ft. Sae x Reader’s Twin)

warnings: short reader, reader is older than rin, otherwise reader’s looks and info aren’t specified. all my knowledge comes from fics and wiki searching so i apologize if he’s ooc (even for a yandere)

might make a sae x reader / a fic but in the twin’s pov in the future if the brainrot persists

It had been a while since you’ve seen your twin brother’s boyfriend’s younger brother (that was a mouthful).

And you . . .

Well you barely even reached his shoulders.

And he’s two years your junior.

Throughout the dinner you four attended at home, you couldn’t help but glare at the handsome young man the entire time. Which in turn caused the meal to be hella awkward

Your brother and Sae didn’t really engage in PDA, at least verbally. Both preferred actions rather than professing their affections through words (You couldn’t count the amount of times Sae had made out with your brother after their matches on field).

And well, Rin is Rin.

So you were implicitly put in charge of creating conversation.

But Rin’s growth spurt just made you feel so jealous you couldn’t think of anything to say aside from ‘Damn you!’ or ‘Why????’.

Your annoyance was so obvious that even Rin himself noticed it. The dude with zero friends and social experience.

“You alright?” He asked, assisting you with the dishes.

“Huh? Yeah.” You averted your eyes, rubbing the sponge a little too hard on the poor plate.

“Did I . . . do something wrong?”

“What? No! It’s just — “ You put down the ceramic. Still avoiding eye contact with the younger Itoshi. “I’m . . . a little jealous of your genes that’s all.”

“My genes?”

“You grew up so quickly. I have to bend my neck to oblivion just to look at you directly.”

“But your height is part of your charm?”

“Huh?”

“It’s cute.” He took the plate and rinsed it. You could feel him staring at you intently. “Besides isn’t being shorter better for dancing?”

“Not when you’re as short as I am.” You continued doing the dishes with a sigh, pausing after properly digesting his words. “Hang on. Back up a moment will ya. You know I dance?”

“I . . . I watched all of your performances.”

“Ehhh . . . “ You nodded a few times . . . and then realized what his words meant. Finally rotating your head to face him, you yelled, “E H H H ? ! ? “

“I thought football was all you thought about!”

Now that you looked at him and can see his face, you noticed a slight flinching due to your volume. However it was quickly replaced with the smallest of smiles. “It used to be. My teammates listen to your songs a lot during practice and it just sort of stuck with me.”

“Point is. I like that part about you. I’m sure many of your fans do too.”

Before you two finish by drying everything with a towel, you spray a bit of water on Rin with your hands causing a bit of war. A really wet one.

It was about to get even wetter when you threatened to use a bowl of water but Rin beat you by caging your body and trapping your arms to the sink’s edge.

His face was inches from yours.

“Rin?”

He soon let go of your limbs, using his hand to trace your features. From your eyelids, to your cheeks and then your lips. He puts a little pressure with his thumb, almost inserting it into your mouth.

Then, his teal eyes met yours. His long, pretty under lashes mesmerized you, almost distracting you from the fact that his large figure was suffocating yours.

“I’d say you’re pretty luck when it comes to genes.”

EXTRA:

Rin lived and breathed football. Every moment was dedicated towards his passion.

That was still the case til now. It just so happened that his passion included you.

“Rin!” He recognized that voice immediately. He’s surprised he didn’t get whiplash with how fast his head swerved to meet your form.

“[Y/N]—?“

“Got a copy of your jersey! What do ya think ? “ You gave him a little spin, letting him see how the jersey basically swallowed you whole. He makes a mental note to slip in one of his used ones into your wardrobe. He was adept at discreetly taking stuff out of it anyways.

He was so flustered that he completely forgot to respond, so you opted to take his silence as approval, “I’m guessing you like it?” You winked. You’ve gotten a lot bolder since the reunion dinner and acted a lot more like your ‘idol’ self around him at times. He didn’t know whether he liked it or not. On one hand it was the personality he fell for at the beginning, on the other it was getting increasingly more difficult not to take you.

“Mhm.” He nodded. Fists clenched so tight he could feel some blood leaking. Self control was just so hard when he was around you.

“Is that . . . the [L/N] [Y/N]?” He heard his teammates holler behind him.

He grimaced, knowing they’ll hog your attention for the following moments.

But at least that means both of you were safe from his aching lust and obsession this time.

星を探す瞳が好き　

hoshi wo sagasu hitomi ga suki

— Those eyes that search for the stars, I love them / I love those eyes that search for the stars

— Lyrics for D4DJ Photon Maiden’s 暁 Akatsuki (Dawn)

[therealdisneyfan2319]

Heaven Itself Part 2 | Wanda Maximoff

Summary: The direct sequel AND filthier Stripper MILF Wanda fic y’all wanted, too.  Enjoy!

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

Warnings: Smut (Minors DNI), language

Word Count: 1.9K

Masterlist

You had no idea what sort of ideas Wanda had in mind when she left for work with that little teaser, but you definitely weren’t expecting her to pull a harness out of her dresser.  Wanda wasn’t the dominating type at all.  She’d never expressed any interest in doing anything besides being fucked by you.  Sure, you helped her come out of her sexual shell a bit and she’d help you experiment with a couple different plugs, but neither of you had a conversation about her actually pegging you.  So with a quick conversation about safe words and an absurd amount of lube, Wanda eagerly inserted the length of the bright red dildo inside you.

“Oh fuck, Wanda,” you moaned.

“Yeah you like that, sweetheart?”  She smirked as you let out a groan in reply.  It was the only sort of response you could muster as she slammed her hips into your ass.

Your moans reverberated off the bedroom walls as Wanda continued to stretch your tight hole with every thrust.  While she was a little tentative, there was no way you’d be able to tell through the cocky demeanor she quickly adopted.  It was like she’d flipped a switch on her personality completely: the soft, loving woman who loved nothing more than being fucked by you was now topping you with ease.  She salivated at the sight of the red cock disappearing inside you with every thrust of her hips.  While she couldn’t feel it herself, she bit her lip to stifle her own groans as wetness pooled between her legs.

“Look at how well you take my cock, baby.  Who would’ve thought that such a big, bad man like you is really nothing more than my own little cock whore?” Wanda mocked.  Her grip on your hips tightened as she quickened her pace.

“Oh god, fuck, right there mommy,” you babbled as the tip of the dildo rubbed against your prostate.  Your head hit the pillow as your arms collapsed down, ecstasy overtaking your body.  

Wanda’s breath hitched as you begged for her.  “Mommy?  I think I could get used to that.”  She gave your ass a sharp smack, causing you to yelp at the sudden sting.  Her nails dug into your hips as her hips continued to slam into your body.  The bed shook with every hard thrust, slamming into the wall as your moans and Wanda’s grunts filled the room.  

“You feel so good inside me,” you gasped.  Sweat beaded on your forehead from the exertion.  Without any warning, Wanda quickly pulled out, your asshole gaping at the sudden removal of the girthy toy.

“Get on your back.  I want to see the look on your face when I breed you like the bitch you are,” Wanda snapped.  You willingly obliged, not wanting to disobey her. 

As you laid on your back, legs spread and feet on the bed, Wanda positioned herself between them.  There was a devilish gleam in her eyes as she grabbed the faux cock with one hand and teased it around your puckered hole.  You instinctively rocked your hips against it, desperately craving the sensation of being so full again.

“Aww, does somebody miss mommy’s cock?” Wanda teased.  You had no idea where she was coming up with such dirty talk, but it made your own cock throb desperately.

“Please just fuck me,” you begged.  She smirked as she abruptly shoved her entire length inside you, your back arching in response as you cried out.

“Careful what you wish for, baby,” she chided as she positioned herself on top of you.  “Look at you.  You’re a mess.  I think you need to be fucked more often, hmm?  Is that what my little whore wants?” All you could do was nod as she plowed into you.  “Use your words, sweetheart: do you want me to fuck you like the cock-addicted whore you are?”

“God yes,” you moaned as you wrapped your arms and legs around Wanda, pulling her close so you could reach up and capture her lips in yours.  “Fuck, I love you so much, baby.”  Your clammy foreheads were pressed together, hot breath clouding each other’s faces.  Wanda smiled into your lips at your words.

“Now be a good boy and cum for mommy,” she asked sweetly.

“Faster,” you whined.  You threw your head back against the pillow, veins straining against the confines of your flesh as Wanda bucked her hips even faster.  As you felt the coil in your belly tighten, you dug your nails into Wanda’s back.  She let out a hiss at the sharp pain.  

“You gonna let me cum in that ass of yours, huh?  You gonna let me fill you wit-”

“Fuck!” you yelled as Wanda’s words brought you over the edge.  You exploded on your stomach, hot white trails painting your torso as a deep pleasure you’d never felt before coursed through your veins.  Your vision went white momentarily as your body ascended to a different dimension.

As you laid on your back unable to move from the sheer intensity of your orgasm, Wanda leaned back on her heels and pulled out enough to squeeze the fake cum out of the dildo and into your ass.  You’d never been filled like that before.  The sensation nearly brought you to orgasm again as your eyes rolled back in your head, hips rolling against Wanda’s cock for more stimulation.

“Goddamn, you are a sight to see right now,” Wanda giggled as she continued to fill your ass.  “Now you know how I feel when you fuck your cum into me.”

“Oh lord, Wanda, I think you broke me.”  Your feeble attempts at sitting up were marred by Wanda’s hand on your chest.

“You got yours, baby.  Now it’s time for me to get mine.”  She pulled out of you, cum dribbling down your hole, and eagerly removed the harness.  “You know this is all I could think about while I was at work, fucking you with my cock and then riding your face until I cum all over your mouth.  I was soaked all night, and it wasn’t just from your cum dripping down me.  I had to take a break to go fuck myself.  Twice.”  Her body slunk up towards yours as your mouth went completely dry.  Every word made your brain misfire and all you could think about was shoving your tongue as far up Wanda’s cunt as possible.

When she reached your head, Wanda turned around and lowered herself onto your mouth.  You wrapped your arms around her thighs to keep her steady while she wrapped her hands around your throat.  With her glistening cunt nestled right above your mouth, you immediately began lapping at her clit as she humped your mouth.

“Oh that’s it, right there baby,” she moaned as you sucked on her swollen clit.  Your tongue circled and lapped at the sensitive bud, drawing louder and louder moans from the woman sitting atop your face.  Her hips moved faster as she searched for more contact.  You pulled on her thighs to drop her down closer to your mouth, shoving your tongue deep within her folds once you were able to.  A loud cry erupted from her as she fucked herself on your tongue.  “Fuck I’m close already.”

Wanda’s impending orgasm made you work harder, swirling your tongue around her walls and sucking as she humped your face desperately in search of release.  A loud groan and a sudden gush of hot liquid over your chin made you feel a little cocky.  As she rode through her orgasm, you clamped down on her thighs and began playing with her clit again.

“Oh god no, please baby, it’s too much.”  Wanda wasn’t used to such overstimulation before.  Her entire body quivered and shook as you ignored her pleas and brought her closer to another orgasm.  You dug your nails into her thighs as she tried to lift herself up.  Smiling as you greedily lapped at her cunt, Wanda’s hips moved more erratically as her second orgasm began to bubble up inside her.  “Oh fuck it’s coming, it’s coming, I’m cumming, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum I’m-oh fuck!” Wanda chanted as the orgasm tore through her body.  She groaned loudly as ecstasy surged throughout her.

As Wanda’s orgasm passed, you let go of her thighs and she promptly toppled over, unable to move.  

“Are you okay?” you chuckled as you sat up.

“I think that’s the best orgasm I’ve ever had,” she gasped, pushing a sweaty strand of blonde hair out of her face.  “How about you?  Are you okay?” She reached out to grab your hand that was sitting closest to her.

“Yeah.  That was…I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Me neither,” she giggled.  “I didn’t know I liked being called mommy so much.”

“I have no idea where that came from,” you admitted.

“Probably the same place where the time I called you daddy came from.”  She squeezed your hand as she gazed at you lovingly.  The quiet intimacy you two shared in that moment was unlike any moment you’d ever shared before.  “Now come on, mister, we’re gonna cuddle in the bath because-” “Aftercare after sex is very important,” you droned along with her.  It was an inside joke the two of you had.  She’d read it on a website early on in your relationship and while you found it a bit on the nose, Wanda had never experienced anything of that nature before.  She found it to be restorative, and she was so eager to be the big spoon after your intense lovemaking session.  

“Yes it is.”  She grabbed your hands and pulled you up.  Your knees wavered as your feet hit the floor.  She held your hands tighter as she walked you to the bathroom.

“Y’know, I’m really glad the boys are at their father’s house this weekend,” you told Wanda as she started drawing the bath.  “I like when we can have loud, raucous sex instead of worrying about being too loud or the bed shaking or them accidentally walking in.”

“Oh absolutely,” she responded as she poured her favorite bubble bath into the tub.  “But on the other hand, I like how creative we get when they are around.  I think my favorite was the time you shoved my panties into my mouth,” she said, blushing at the thought of the filthy act.  You smiled as you remembered the night in question.  “Come on, you get in now,” she said as she got in the tub and leaned up against the back of it.  You carefully got in and sat down, nestling yourself down between her legs and leaning your back fully against her chest.  

The water gushed from the spout as the two of you sat in the warm, bubbly water.  Wanda hugged you close to her as you rested the back of your head on her shoulder.  You sighed, relishing in the feeling of being held tight by your lover.  

“Did you really mean all those things you said earlier?” Wanda asked.

“About you?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Every word, darling.”

Wanda leaned forward, resting her head on your back as she wrapped her arms even tighter around you.  “I love you so much, Y/N.”

You smiled as you clasped your arms on top of hers.  “I love you too.”

[piscespixiewastaken]

Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:

Dream & Ponk - Rabbit

@sixteenth-day-event

(Did I totally misread the prompt and have to reword the fic to make it work? No, totally didn’t, no idea what you’re talking about)

(Also, thank you to @simplepotatofarmer for inserting rabbit!Dream in my head. May have accidentally stolen an idea from their Rabbit Run fic. If you haven’t yet, go read Rabbit Run, it’s very good! Can’t stop thinking of c!dream as prey hybrid types now.)

Sixteenth Day Event:

Dream & Ponk - Rabbit

Ponk finds an injured Dream in the woods by his house after a prison break. He’s not one to leave an injured man to die.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, I’m not the only one Sam decided to fuck with,” Ponk muttered.

The masked rabbit hybrid in front of him shrugged. He stared down at the hand Ponk was wrapping with bandages. He sat on the kitchen chair stiff and uncomfortable. There were more bandages wrapped around his torso and limbs under his trousers. His rabbit ears were heavily bandaged, which wasn’t helping his already damaged hearing. His right foot was missing, a rudimentary prosthetic attached to the stump of his lower leg. Ponk didn’t want to consider the implications of a rabbit hybrid losing a foot. Especially when he knew Dream could shapeshift.

“Seriously, what the hell did he do to you in there?”

Another shrug. Ponk sighed.

“Dream, you’re going to have to talk to me at some point. I can only help with so much if I’m guessing what hurts and what might be infected. You’re lucky to be moving while missing a foot like that,” he chided.

Dream’s ears wilted as he hunched his shoulders in response, as if trying to curl in on himself despite the fabric wrapped around his body. Ponk’s eyes softened.

“Just take your time, okay? I’m not turning you back over to Sam anytime soon.”

“What about the others?” a hoarse voice coughed out of Dream’s throat. “Would you turn me over to them?”

Ponk sighed. He’d been doing that a lot lately. When had the server become like this? His best friend taking his arm over a couple of tokens. That same person torturing their former friend. The Egg corrupting the others and driving them to hurt and kill on a whim. When had it all gone so wrong?

“No, I won’t be. I’m not a snitch, Dream. Have a little faith that I have some sort of conscience after all this,” he huffed, letting out a small, humorless chuckle.

Dream turned away. As much as Ponk would have liked to see Dream’s face, see the expressions he was making… he understood Dream’s desire for privacy. It seemed to have been ripped from him in prison.

The tension building in the room caused Ponk to switch subjects.

“Why did Sam… why did he torture you? Was it supposed to be a punishment?” he winced at the words leaving his mouth. But he also couldn’t help his curiosity. His need to relate to someone who had suffered abuse at the hands of the same person.

Dream flinched. Ponk bit his lip to keep down the concerned reassurance that tried to leap from his throat. Dream wouldn’t want that, not right now.

“It… Sam didn’t lift a finger. Not really. He just… he just condoned it,” Dream mumbled. His voice was so quiet Ponk almost didn’t hear him.

“What? He let… he let someone else torture you? In his prison?” Ponk couldn’t keep the incredulous tone from his voice.

Dream nodded.

Ponk swallowed. He could see Sam torturing someone. Hell, he counted what he went through as torture, and that only lasted a day at most. But to hand someone else the tools and sit back and watch…. That was almost worse.

Just who on the server would feel comfortable to get close enough to Dream of all people to torture him?

“Wh—?”

“It was Q-Quackity,” Dream said, voice breaking ever so slightly on the other’s name.

Ponk frowned. He didn’t know Quackity particularly well. He had seen the other when they had gone to the vault to detain Dream. But otherwise, they barely interacted. The younger man must be power hungry then, enough to try and take something from a man already locked up and unable to touch anyone.

“Huh.” It was all Ponk could think to respond.

There another long silence. The air felt thicker and stuffier by the minute, and Ponk debated opening a window before deciding against it. It would cause Dream to panic more, and Ponk had barely managed to get the young rabbit hybrid to his house after finding him bleeding out in the woods.

Ponk turned back to the masked hybrid to finish off the last bandage. His frown deepened as a line of blood dripped from Dream’s chin.

“Dream, is your head bleeding?”

Dream flinched, before reaching up and dabbing the skin under his mask. His fingers came away red with blood. Ponk watched as the young man’s chest stuttered, his lungs not quite working properly as he began hyperventilating.

Ponk took his hand and held it firmly but gently, rubbing circles on bandaged knuckles.

“I need you to breathe, Dream. It’s all right. You’re okay. I can treat the injury if you take your mask off. Can you do that for me?”

Dream went still, ears flattening against his head. His hands clenching and unclenching repeatedly. He shook his head. Ponk’s eyes softened.

“I promise no one will hurt you, Dream. I just want to make sure it’s not infected, okay?”

Dream was quiet again. For a good moment, Ponk thought he would have to leave the wound alone and pray it wouldn’t become infected.

And then Dream slowly raised his hand to the white disc that sat on his face. He undid the strap and lowered it.

The face that stared down at the ground was covered in scars and burns. As if a hot knife had been dragged across his cheeks. His little nose was inflamed and torn. His whiskers were almost shaved, which couldn’t possibly be good for his stability. There was even a small “Q” dug into the jawline. No part of Dream’s body had been spared the torture then.

Ponk was glad his own face was covered, but he knew his eyes would betray his horror. He quickly composed himself and got to work on the gash in Dream’s forehead, newly opened from whatever activity Dream had done after escaping the Vault. The young man stayed quiet, despite flinching at how close Ponk got. His dull, green eyes never left Ponk’s hands as he worked, and his ears were still pinned against his head.

“Why are you helping me?” The question was unprompted, maybe to deal with the unsettling silence that had fallen over the two of them.

Ponk sat back for a moment. “Because you used to be my friend, Dream. And you’re injured. I don’t actually enjoy seeing people suffer.”

Dream scoffed but remained silent.

Ponk placed the last plaster on Dream’s skin and stood from where he’d crouched beside the other. He stretched his arms over his head.

“Well, that should be everything. You can stay here for the night, and I would highly recommend you do so. I don’t want you to tear open any stitches,” he said, gesturing to a nearby pullout couch.

Dream shook his head. “I… I have somewhere to go. Thank you, though. I appreciate it.”

Ponk wished he were more surprised by the sincerity in that remark. It would have hurt less to hear than the gratitude oozing out of Dream’s voice, how his ears perked up just a little at Ponk’s offer. As if Dream thought he should have died out there alone and afraid.

“Of course, Dream. My door is open if you need anything, all right? And I promise, I won’t tell anyone.”

Dream nodded, strapping his mask back on.

“Thank you,” he mumbled as he pulled his hoodie back on and donned his armor.

He stood from his chair and almost immediately stumbled, catching himself before Ponk could react. He waved Ponk off and grunted as he stepped towards the door. It swung open with a push, and Dream peered out for a moment, glancing at the surroundings. And turning back to Ponk one last time, he nodded his thanks.

And then he was off again, hobbling down the path to the woods nearby.

Ponk stared out the open door to starlit sky above. He sighed, closed the door, and moved to clean the table of bandage rolls and dots of blood. A deep sorrow built up inside him as he thought of the dull eyes of a man he had considered a close friend. And of the maniacal look on their abuser’s face when he’d taken Ponk’s arm. One he probably had when Quackity had taken Dream’s foot.

When had it all gone so wrong?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(You thought, oh cute fic prompt, maybe fluff? No, you get angst instead. No comfort, only hurt).

[spilledbeans116]

Happy saiyan day everyone! To celebrate, I did a little self insert x Vegeta one-shot fic! I’m planning on doing one for Broly, Goku, and maybe even Raditz too! :)

Not sure if I’ll have the others done by tonight, but I wanted to share the Vegeta one with you all. The reader’s gender is not mentioned and they aren’t described so you can be you in all of them. Hope you enjoy!

—————————————————————————-

Saiyan Day • Vegeta x Reader • 838 Words

—————————————————————————-

—————————————————————————-

“What the hell are you doing?” Vegeta grumbled, crossing his arms and coming to a stop in the doorway to lean against the doorframe. He was in dark blue sweatpants and a casual gray t-shirt, having just woken up from his nap. Well nap was used lightly as he had been out for close to 14 hours after a week long training session with Goku. You, on the other hand, were dressed nicely; your favorite semi-casual clothes causing the prince to raise an eyebrow. “Why are you dressed up?”

You were currently finishing setting your kitchen table with a white tablecloth, plates, napkins, and utensils. A small vase sat in the middle, with a red rose and a candle beside it, and you smiled as you set down two wine glasses. “It’s saiyan day. Since you ‘don’t remember’ your birthday, we have to celebrate something.”

You could see his nose crinkle up a bit as he processed your words, those expressive eyebrows of his as dramatic as always as they furrowed. “The hell do you mean it’s saiyan day? As if your species even knows mine exists.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” you shrugged, making your way back into the kitchen. “But the date sort of sounds like ‘saiyan’ if you shorten it, right?”

He rolled his eyes, “you’re grasping at straws.”

“I suppose,” you replied, beginning to stir at some mushrooms and onions on the stove. “But I’m doing it nonetheless.” You tapped the spoon against the pan three times before reducing the heat of the stovetop. You turned on the oven light, squatting down to check how the steaks and baked potatoes were finishing up. “Why are you up already anyway? I thought you’d sleep a little longer?”

He walked into the kitchen, the sound of his footsteps echoing slightly around the room. “I smelled something cooking and assumed someone broke in. When do you ever cook anything?” You could hear the smirk in his voice as he spoke, “I’m surprised you haven’t burned the whole place down yet.”

“Interesting words coming from a man who couldn’t figure out the microwave,” you laughed, standing again and turning to face him.

“THAT WAS ONE TIME!” He snapped, turning away and pouting.

You giggled a bit and slid on some oven mitts before pulling the pan the steaks and potatoes were on out, shutting the oven off after and placing them on the stovetop carefully. “My point still stands, my prince.”

He blushed at that and took a moment to pause before speaking again. “Did you invite Kakarot as well? Broly?”

You placed your hands on your hips and raised an eyebrow. “I said we’re celebrating you, dummy. I know you don’t like large groups, and I can’t imagine you sharing a day with Goku of all people.”

He simply nodded.

You could feel the smile creep up onto your face as you poured the mushrooms and onions into a bowl. “I meannnn if you want them here I guesssss I could-“

“No,” he said quickly, clearing his throat. “No, this is good. You were right the first time.”

“Perfect!” You grinned, beginning to make him a plate. “I made you four steaks, but I have more in the fridge if you want me to heat them up; it’ll only take a minute.”

“Four is fine,” he said, coming up behind you and kissing your shoulder. You felt a shiver run down your spine as he pressed his forehead to the back of your neck and ran his hands over your hips. “I still don’t understand why you felt the need to do this.”

“Well, you do a lot for me; hell you do a lot for the whole planet,” you laughed softly. “You’ve saved my ass more times than I can count, you help out around the house, keep our friends safe… I wanted to try to return the favor, just a little bit.”

“Thank you.” He went quiet after that, the both of you standing in silence for a few minutes. When he spoke again it was barely a whisper, the deepness of his hushed tone sending a shiver down your spine. “I… love you.”

You could feel the warmth spread across your face as you turned to face him. “I love you too, Vegeta.” You kissed him quickly, causing him to freeze up once more as he was left in shock. “Now go change!” You grinned, turning him around and pushing him out of the kitchen. “I polished your chestplate and boots and everything for this! Enjoy it!”

“Y-you and your damned sneak attacks!” He stuttered, flustered to all hell. He sounded annoyed, but you knew otherwise. He loved you more than he’d ever be able to put into words, and you knew and understood that. You loved him and he loved you, and that’s all you needed to feel at peace. Random day of the year or not, he deserved to feel as special as he made you feel everyday simply by being with him.

[punks-never-die205]

Hey 😊, thanks alot. I really enjoy reading your answers. They're so much fun. 🥰😁 A very different question: would you tell us sth about yourself? I mean your age, your profession (are you a professional writer would interest me) for example and how you get to like the Kid Pirates so much. 😊

Awww how sweet, sure anon - I’m pretty open about my age on my main blog, which is linked in the pinned post for this, so I don’t mind sharing some stuff.

I am an Ancient Internet Being - I was a netizen in 1993, when my dad got a home computer for me for Christmas. AOL was the new big deal, and yeah. It was a time.

Anyway, I was 12 then and I’m 42 now - gonna have a big birthday request bash again this year on the main blog to celebrate hitting 43 this July. (I celebrate my age without shame because “old” is a privilege and I look forward to actually getting there in 20 years)

By day I’m a mild-mannered pun slinging tech liaison of sorts for my team. I do a lot of translating between IT and Business, and I do some tech work too. I have down time at work cause when things compile or meetings stall out there’s not much else to do.

I’m a rock star though, by my boss’ own admission, so I have the great luck of not being stressed and being able to write a bit during work.

I was once a professional writer, but that was… not my best time, honestly. I’m not cut out for it xD I’d rather write fanfic honestly, or do a re-write of my OG story and have it be what I wanted.

Fun fact, I guess, I don’t have a degree of any kind. I was working toward a criminal psychology degree out of high school, dropped out, worked, went back to college to get an IT degree - ended up with cancer, withdrew and spent all my college savings money on surgery instead of school and ended up finding a solid job.

Went back to college a THIRD time, had a 4.0, was rocking being on the dean’s list and then work changed our hours, and I had to withdraw again. (I had 12 credit hours and was working 56 hours a week - don’t do that. It’s fucking nuts.)

Just wasn’t in the cards.

I almost got denied a job because the hiring manager thought no degree meant I wouldn’t be able to compose emails, despite two published books….

But things are good now \o/

Oh! And the Eustass Kid - ah I got into OP April 2022 (my return to fan fic was October 2022 \o/ ) and fell in love with the entire show. My focus moved from Luffy to Zoro to Law at Shabody.

Sir Crocodile coming back in at Marineford got my full and undivided attention, but then I read a reader insert story with Kid in it. Went back and rewatched scenes for him and really paid attention and was hooked.

I loved everything alluded to about him, the personality, the view point he had. Post time skip he bulked out and that voice just grabbed me by the throat.

I couldn’t ignore him xD

Marco, Kid, Crocodile we’re pretty much it, but I love writing so many characters 😄 hell I have like 8 sideblogs to keep all the stories organized.

Kid is a beast of a character though, and I love him, and then I met people because of that and that love grew. Seriously Check out @swampstew - she’s passionate about the crew even more than me and I love what she writes.

@wyvernslovecake has an amazingly cute OC for the crew and lots of stuff about them.

I could list a dozen more, but you asked about me so I’ll reign it in for now. 🥰

[danmainacc]

MY REASON | TWO

pairing: leonardo hamato x black! fem! reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: angst, character death, fluff, tooth-rotting love, depression, trauma, limes, profanity, i’ll add more if i remember

a/n: so this is a rottmnt movie fic, with heavy emphasis on the time during the apocalypse. and i spell Kraang like this. i just feel like it makes sense. oh, and Leo gets sent into the portal along with Casey. this is so self-insert omg

and ik it seems like the reader cries a lot, and it’s cause she’s an emotional crier like me. i’ll cry when im happy, angry, sad, frustrated, the whole nine. and like i said before, this is very much self insert.

(10 years later)

...

“No,” you dismissed, your voice dangerously low. “We’re not doing that to him. End of discussion.”

“But, (n/n), if there’s a possibility--.” “He is just a boy, Leo! I’m not about to let him think he’s the only person who can save the world, some martyr for the cause!” you snapped, abruptly sitting up from your seat.

A floating flame appeared above your head, it’s intensity stronger than usual.

Since you were a fire-yokai, you had the ability to turn into literal fire, thus, when you get too angry, a flame floats over your head.

“He wouldn’t be a martyr, just an...intervention, of sorts,” Leo winced, the word martyr making him think of the worse.

“You’d be sending him to his death. Or traumatizing him at the very least,” you glared, Leo gulping heavily at your icy stare.

“Well around here isn’t much better. The Kraang close in by the day, and we’re running out of options,” Donnie sighed, motioning his hand to the window, which displayed the gigantic Kraang bots in the far distance.

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Your closest friends, no, your family, were actually debating whether or not to send your adopted son to the past someday soon, to stop the Kraang invasion before it could happen.

“I assume you’ve already calculated the probability then,” you turned to Don, him take the deep sigh and pulling it up on his wrist.

“It is, quite literally, a billion to one chance,” he stated, his hologram pulling up a skull and crossbones.

“And there’s no guarantee that I would send him to the day it went down, or any time around then. Something like this has never been done before. For all I know, I could send him to colonial times,” Mikey explained, throwing his hands in the air at the last part.

“April,” you pleadingly asked, looking for some sort of assistance, but she only hung her head. 

“We gotta face the facts. We’re outgunned, out-manned, out-numbered, and out of ideas. This may be our only chance.”

You balled your fists, angry tears beginning to well in your eyes. The amount of frustration coursing through your veins was enough to make you pop a blood vessel. 

“You all know what Cassandra did, what Cassandra sacrificed, in order to keep that boy safe. And you know that she trusted me to raise him right and keep him alive, for as long as I humanly could. I can’t let you send him back in time, without any possible way of getting back or any warning as to what he’s up against,” your gaze now back on Leo, his eyes desperately trying to apologize.

April sighed, standing up from her seat. “Look, Cassandra did what she had to do to keep the Resistance going. It’s something we’ve all vowed to do if...that time...so happens to come. But what’s happening now, is happening now. And if Casey is a possible solution, than we have to act on it.”

The lump festering in your throat doubled, making it feel near impossible to breathe. You knew what she was going to say next, and you didn’t want to hear a word of it.

“If worse comes to worse, we have to face the fact that if it comes down to Casey or the collective, we have to choose the collective.”

And with that, you immediately got up, making your way out the room. 

“(n/--.” “I need to be alone right now,” you dismissed Leo coldly, flipping open the tent flap and walking out, leaving everyone inside, silent.

...

Now on the “roof” of the barracks, which was really just a closed in cave, you looked out into the purple-skied horizon, the technodrome’s ominous silhouette plaguing the view. 

“Hey, Mom,” a familiar, puberty-ridden voice greeted softly, making it’s way closer before sitting next to you.

It was Casey.

‘Shit.’

You quickly wiped your face of the tear-streaks, turning to your son with your trademarked hollow smile. 

“Hey, Case,” you cheesed, turning to the boy. 

You were so proud of how much he had grown, his fighting skill and expertise with his weapon making him top of his class.

He was on the fast track to becoming Leo’s right hand. 

His expression immediately turned sour, your unhappiness sticking out like a green thumb.

“What’s wrong? You’re doing your mom thing again,” he asked sincerely, a hand on your shoulder.

You scoffed with a smile, “What mom thing?”

“The one where you pretend you’re fine when you’re not,” he answered seriously, his concern only growing. “What’s wrong? If it’s heavy, I’m sure I can take it.”

You took a deep sigh, looking out at the horizon once more as you tried to find the words, remembering a conversation you and a certain turtle had almost 10 years ago.

“I never wanted this for you. For any of you kids. I know it’s rehashed, but I just can’t shake this feeling of guilt I get when I see the way you kids were forced to grow up. Hell, you’re 16. You should be going to arcades and eating pizza and hanging out with friends,” the pleasant memories rolling in like a calm tide, washing you in some much needed nostalgia.

Your first pizza date with Leon, playing video games with Donnie, skating with Mikey, thoughtful talks with Raph. 

“Ar-cades?” Casey slowly asked, the word alien to him.

You sighed. “The first generation understands what it was like before the invasion, and what it was like when it happened. And I just can’t help but feel like we could’ve stopped this all from happening if we had just been more careful, more experienced, not so childish.”

Casey let out a polite snicker, “Kinda hard to do when you’re teenagers, Mom.”

You snickered as well, an embarrassed blush growing on your cheeks from how silly that sounded.

“You can’t keep beating yourself up for things that happened in the past. We’re in the here and now. And right now, I need my badass, fire-flinging mom to help us fight against the Kraang,” he smiled, resting his head against your shoulder as he looked out in the distance.

You smiled, pulling your son into a warm hug, resting your head on his.

Even if he wasn’t your flesh and blood, Casey felt like your son all the same. You love him to the ends of the Earth, and would lay down your life in a heartbeat.

“I love you so much, Casey. You know that?” you contently sighed.

“Yeah,” he smiled, looking up at you before out into the horizon. 

“I know.”

...

After your exchange with Casey on the roof, and your own time to think, you finally came to a decision, and knew you had to tell Leo.

You walked into your shared tent to see him laying on the makeshift bed, his back facing the door.

“Not right now, Don,” he sighed, as if he were a moody teenager.

It took everything to stifle a giggle at the familiar memories.

“Alright then, I’ll come back later,” you cheekily shrugged, turning around to head out.

He immediately shot up, snapping his head over to you. “(n/n)! Wait!”

He jumped out of bed and quickly grabbed your arm, turning you around and pulling you into a hug in one motion.

You smiled, hugging him back just as tight, the weight of his prosthetic arm still something to get used to.

“(n/n), I’m s--.” “Shut up,” you hushed, putting a finger to his mouth. 

“I’m the one who should be sorry. I caused a scene and was being selfish. I can’t just think of us when we have a whole camp to look after. And I want you to know that I support you, whatever you decide to do,” you smiled, cupping his cheek in your hand.

He smiled, picking you up bridal style and peppering your face in kisses, your giggles like music to his ears.

This was the (y/n) he had known all those years ago. Slowly but surely, she was coming back.

He just needed to have patience.

Suddenly, you attached your lips to his, turning the innocent kisses into something...different.

The kiss was hot, and made Leo feel almost light headed.

You hadn’t kissed him like this in a while.

“Is there anyway I can,” you had a devilish grin stretched on your face as you dragged your finger up and down his plastron, “make it up to you?”

Leo’s jaw dropped at the insinuation, before quickly recovering into his usual cocky grin.

“I can think of a few things,” he growled, quickly tying the tent flaps shut.

...

[bigsnzstanacct]

One of your fics mentioned giant sneezers making money with wind power and being a hot af sugar daddy…what about a sort of inverse on that? A down on his luck still hot af guy who can’t manage to get on his feet financially without his allergies putting him back in debt. Luckily he just so happens to meet someone (you) who not only loves his sensitive yet all too powerful nose, but can also afford to cover any…unexpected damages. (Not to mention you can spoil him like a precious little princess~!)

I’m with it! I wouldn’t substitute myself for that character because I feel very weird about inserting myself into sneeze fetish fantasies, weirdly? But yes, I do like this sort of like “awwww… did my sweet sugar baby blow out the walls of your shop? Well, they couldn’t help it, that little nose just gets tickled and off they go, it’s not their fault, is it sweetie?” And they’re just over there blushing and looking down because they are SO embarrassed that they lost control again but ALSO so horny to see their sugar daddy (or sugar mama or whoever) just taking charge of the situation and protecting them and babying them and not blaming them for their loss of control (and of course they know how much the big blast turned the sugar daddy on). The precious little princess spoiling part is really it, like. “Oh well I know your allergies get bad in September, so I just booked us a vacation for the month. Tropical island all to ourselves, you can blow as hard as that tickly nose of yours needs—just don’t cause any hurricanes! Haha!” (But is it a joke?)

[danthropologie]

PLEASE share your daniel ricciardo themed playlists with the class!!!

there are so many that it’s genuinely kind of embarrassing to list them all out like this but here you go:

danny ric - just general recs, songs he’s talked about, listened to, etc. i’m sure there are a million playlists out there like this, but i wanted one i was in control of

daniel ricciardo listen to more women challenge - self explanatory, there’s so many men all the fucking time and he needs more women in his life

the man, the myth, the legend - ‘knocked down and dragged out, but not done yet’ / ‘fighting against the passage of time itself’ sort of vibe

the untitled daniel ricciardo playlist - a little self-insert moment. very light, fun, happy. kind of just the general vibe of what i imagine being with him would be like. 

(and while we’re here, i’ll also plug my charles and max versions of the same concept: the charles one is sort of 80s synth pop inspired, light and frothy and passionate and vaguely doomed from the start. and the max one really leans into the softness and gentleness of it all because we all know he’s a bit of a basic bitch in taste (affectionately))

brain rot: depression edition - created the day we found out he had c*vid and it was looking like he might be replaced for the first race with a younger version of himself (and yes i’m referring to piastri, if we only fucking knew 😭)

brain rot: cleanse edition - positive manifestation, which i had to make after the vibes from the previous playlist became so horrific that i couldn’t stand it anymore 😭

untitled dr3 playlist - basically just a catch all for anything that reminds me of daniel and doesn’t fit in one of the previously mentioned playlists

the mixtape - i saw this post. it said daniel to me. i made a playlist about it.

the hubris of being young and in the sun // black and yellow // cause it feels so empty without me - these three overlap quite a bit and they’re all still works in progress, but they coincide with the big dick swagger of the rbr, renault, and mclaren eras respectively

blue - another little self insert moment based on @accio-ricciardo​’s tags on this post

the day i started dreaming - yet ANOTHER little self insert moment, but this time based on the idea of his partner being a singer-songwriter writing songs about him

little piece of heaven - the montana playlist! upbeat and folky with themes of escape and friendship and self-reflection. probably my favorite of all the daniel based playlists i’ve made, if not of any playlist i’ve made period

girl danny - pretty self explanatory, a playlist of songs that remind me of girl!daniel (and of course i also have girl max and girl charles playlists as well)

burn it to the ground - literally just a collection of angry songs from the day all the alpine/piastri/mclaren bullshit came out 😭

the only john mayer songs men are allowed to listen to - my toxic trait is loving john mayer and if i was going to get daniel into john mayer i would use these songs in this order to do it

how to fix a man in seven easy steps - as i said in the description, these are songs that would make even daniel ricciardo want to date a woman over 30. songs that slap me in the face and call me single in 15 different ways.

and then i also have a couple works in progress that aren’t quite to the point where i’d want to share them yet:

the official 'make a taylor swift fan out of daniel ricciardo' playlist - self explanatory. same as with the john mayer playlist, it’ll be a playlist of songs that i would use to make daniel a taylor swift fan

road trip fic - another self insert and my personal magnum opus, the ultimate road trip playlist but make it exes to lovers

edited to add: give into the moment - i read a daniel friends to lovers y/n fic and then after listened to sidekick by walk the moon and it gave me so much brain rot that i had to make this playlist 😵‍💫 it’s not about him but it’s not NOT about him yk

[rindomness]

oh yeah also because i really wanted this scene in the fic but i could not figure out a good way to insert it (somewhere during year 4, and the way I structured the numbers jumped me right past then) here's carlos and dana talking

-----

Dana knew.

Of course Dana knew, she’d been trapped there first. She’d been the one to show Carlos how to reach out to the rest of the world. To talk to Cecil again. Of course Dana knew. 

They’d never talked about it. How could he ask her, when she was so busy keeping the town from falling apart on itself? She was so young, and she’d barely had any time to adjust to being mayor before things had started to go wrong for her all over again. She’d survived NVCR’s internship program, but it hadn’t brought her any peace. 

So Carlos wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up, to potentially tear open a wound he himself was only now starting to acknowledge as such. Besides, she’d been Cecil’s intern, not his. He’d only been with her in that desert for a week. In terms of how long they’d both been there, together and separated, that was nothing. A week was nothing. 

He couldn’t stop Dana from asking him to get lunch, though.

It was a sunny day, the two of them sitting in Mission Grove Park eating meals brought from home. Relaxed. A break from the franticness of both their lives.

“So,” Dana said, one hand over her mouth as she swallowed, “How’s life been on your end?”

“Busy,” Carlos admitted. “I’d forgotten just how many disasters could happen in the span of three days.”

There had been almost none in the desert otherworld, aside from the occasional rumbling, but that had largely stopped a couple years after he’d gotten there. He still wasn’t entirely sure what had been causing it. Maybe Kevin's centipede god. That had been Kevin's theory, when Carlos had asked him about it.

“Yeah,” Dana agreed. “There's always something happening. You missed quite a bit of excitement while you were gone."

“So I’ve heard. It’s… sort of nice, though.”

“Having your life imperiled every time you step outside?”

“Not being by myself through it, at least.”

Dana hummed. She took another bite of her sandwich. 

“I sort of wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t gone to the Dog Park that day,” Dana said. “Whether it would have been better or worse for me, for Night Vale, for Cecil.”

“You two are still pretty close, huh?”

She smiled.

“I like to think we are. I like to think we’re friends, even after what happened. I haven’t had much time outside of my mayoral duties lately, though.”

“I think he considers you a friend still, too, if it helps.”

“It does. Thank you. How have you been holding up? Re-adjusting okay?” 

“After…” Carlos sighed. “I’ve been trying not to think about it too much.”

Dana hummed, and nodded. “That’s fair.”

“How’d you deal with it? The… time thing.”

Dana looked thoughtfully out into the distance for long enough Carlos wasn’t sure if she was going to respond to him or not. 

“I guess, for me,” Dana said, “I wasn’t really stuck. I mean, yes, for a while, but I wasn’t in the desert otherworld the whole time. I spent some time in the Dog Park, and I spent some time in the desert otherworld. I spent some time watching the station from the desert otherworld. And I’d gotten a message, through whatever means the universe uses to send those messages, that I’d be back here eventually. I wasn’t there forever. I was just… waiting. Watching. At one point, preparing.”

Carlos hadn’t had some mystical force send him a sign he’d make it back to Night Vale, so he supposed it was probably different. Dana had known, at some point, she’d make it back. Carlos hadn’t.

“Besides, it wasn’t even really the thing most on my mind,” Dana said. “I still think about it, killing my double. Or the original Dana. I wish I knew which I was. But I think about it, all the time.”

“If my opinion means anything,” Carlos said, stirring around his noodles. “I think you’re probably the original.”

“What makes you say that?” Dana asked, elbows on the table. 

“Because Night Vale asked for you back. If you were a double, it might not have recognized you as being from this Night Vale.” It didn’t lock you in there with me. It forced you to leave.

“Hm,” Dana said, and took another bite of her sandwich. “Maybe.”

[dewdropreader]

3, 5, & 8 for the new years writing ask!! Happy new year :)

3. Do you anticipate writing for a new fandom this year? Which one?

I have no idea! It’s definitely possible but I have no plans for any other fandoms at the moment! I’ve definitely had ideas for other marvel fandoms (especially crossovers with Loki characters but also others being involved) but other than a vague idea I jotted down for Sylvie and Peggy Carter meeting I don’t have any planned fics for other fandoms!

If I had to predict, the only one I could imagine is if my rewatches of Steven Universe allow that show to dig it’s claws back into me lol. I wrote a few snippets for things when I was like 17-18, after I’d stopped writing/posting fics officially but had short little scene ideas I wanted to write down. I adore that show still but I’m not at peak obsession/interest like I am with the Loki fandom! But we’ll see! It’s always possible that something like that (or maybe even season 2 of Our Flag Means Death?!) could inspire me enough to write something else!

5. Which WIP is first on your list to complete this year? Will you post a snippet?

I have a few that are first up! The main one is my 5+1 Christmas/New Year fic, I need to finish that soon so it’s not *too* far beyond the holidays lol. I’m a bit over half done and it’s short little sections so hopefully soon! Here’s a little preview!

Sylvie shrugs and starts tearing into the present, the goofy mustache themed wrapping paper being shredded effortlessly. She pulls out a long piece of fabric, bright green and covered in a slightly gaudy combination of gingerbread cookies, candy canes, Santas, snowflakes and reindeer. Holding it up in front of her and shaking it out reveals a long fleece onesie.

Loki gives an exaggerated frown that doesn’t stick as he lets out a laugh. “Shall I guess what mine is?” Loki gestures to his identical package.

“I have one too,” Mobius grins, cheeky and way too proud of himself. He clearly knows that his two much more stylish partners aren’t taken by the loud patterned pajamas, but when he’d seen them at the store he couldn’t resist.

“We’re meant to wear them and, ah, ‘twin’, are we?” Sylvie smirks slightly, her eyebrow raised.

“Triplet, yes. And I have more for the other Lokis when they come over tomorrow. Croki included.”

8. Is there a story idea in your mental vault that you’ve never been brave enough to try writing? Is this the year? Can you tell us about it?

It’s not fully in the vault, as I do have a bunch of notes and planning and even a few snippets for it, but it has been dragged along for a while and beyond what I have on the page there has been an insane amount of just sitting and thinking about it trying to sort it out in my brain and make it click! And that would be my Boastful Loki fic! In the vein of having written origins and/or rescues for the other void Lokis, I’ve wanted to tackle Boastful’s story for so long. I have a whole document of outlines and notes from conversations with people like @insert-witty-user-name-here where we discussed ideas and thoughts, all trying to build to the full fic, but it just hasn’t come together yet. Because we know so little about him (barely a personality beyond a few traits and no backstory) there are so many directions it could go, and I already have the main event that causes his deviation (briefly hinted at in “In the Middle of the Night”) but deciding exactly how I want the story to unfold to make it as impactful and fitting as I want, it’s just not there yet 😅 I hope this is the year it finally gets done!! I’m not sure if it’d be better or worse to finish it before Season 2, it’d be nice to solidify it with my own ideas but there’s a possibility he could show up again and we’d get some canon stories for him 🤔 Ideally I’d like to finish before summer/season 2 but we’ll see lol. Even if not the origin, I do have some plans for Boastful to show up and get some more time to shine in the found family series!!

Thank you for the ask!! ☺️

[lochrannn]

For the fic writer meme...damn, those are all questions I'd like to ask! Okay: 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 - and one of your choosing, if you want. :D

You glutton XP (Also thanks for DMing me those [insert fic]s)

2. Go to your AO3 “Works” page, to the sidebar with all the filters, and click the drop-down arrow for “Additional Tags.” What are your top 3-5 most used tags? Do you think they accurately represent your writing habits?

[AU-gust | August Writing Challenge (29)]

I'm skipping the first one, cause it doesn't really count XD

Established Relationship (16)

Canon-Typical Violence (16)

One Shot (12)

Porn with Feelings (12)

Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot (11)

I'm surprised at "Canon-Typical Violence" and not at all surprised at everyting else XP

3. What are some tropes or details that you think are very characteristic of your fics?

Porn with feelings definitely is one. Generally, because I've only ever written for Diego/Lila and they're a horny tactile pair, I've got a lot of furtive looks and needy kisses happening. Also, considering in canon, very little has stopped them from just being very in love with each other all the time, even when inconvenient, and being pretty open about it, I like to throw a wrench in in my fic and make them suffer while being in love. ( •̀ᴗ•́ )

4. What detail in The Night me and Your Mama met are you really proud of?

In the second to last chapter Diego and Lila have a neighbourhood BBQ going on and it’s all very domestic and nice but it’s told from Lila’s POV (3rd person, but ykwim) and she is at the same time treating the whole thing like a spy operation, excelling at normie conversation, scoffing at clichés like housewives getting off while sitting on the washing machine, while at the same time (unreliable pov character that she is) she’s actually really in to all of it. She loves watching Diego being neighbourhood dad, and how much fun their kid is having (when she’s not upset about toppled ice-cream), actually getting off on top of the washing machine (okay, this one might be helped by the fact that Diego is there XP). And it’s just, I enjoy sticking to these character traits that I assume about them, for instance Lila being constantly unsure about whether she’s cut out for normal life, but not going route one with them.

5. What do you wish someone would ask you about Kiss with a Fist? Answer it now!

I think I’d like to be asked some variation on whether I think they’re doing okay.

So, in Kiss with a fist, LIla’s having a bad day and then comes in to Diego’s gym to do a self defense class, some things go wrong her frustration spikes and after Diego is being a bit of a dick they end up having an actually hand to hand combat fight which ends with them making out and more. At this point they have an established relationship and I wrote this after s2.

And my answer to are they doing okay here, despite the fact that Lila lets out her frustration in a fight with Diego is, yeah, I think they’re doing okay and I think it’s the same thing the writers tapped into with Lila slapping Diego whenever she’s both frustrated with and overwhelmed with how much she loves him, and why I think Diego doesn’t just roll with it but sort of understands what she’s trying and failing to communicate (maybe a little badly, but going off of every single one of Diego’s reactions post initial slap in s2, he really, really doesn’t mind, more like the opposite). (That or she’s experiencing cute aggression XP)

Do they have unconventional methods? Yeah, are they maybe bad communicators if anyone else was involved in this thing? Yeah, I’m pretty sure this is one of many reasons why Diego and Patch couldn’t work out. Is it strangely perfect for them and are they soulmates? Weirdly, yes.

6. What’s one fact about the universe of the Space AU that you didn’t get a chance to mention in the fic itself?

Lol, you don’t understand what a mediocre writer I am XD

In the same way I can’t visualise, I also don’t really do much world building beyond what I actually write down. If you were to go through that automatic star treck-y sliding door, you’d very quickly realise you’re on a sound stage. Ignore the wires holding Lila up as she spins around in zero G and all that XD.

But there is a detail I only ever implied and that is that in this universe where AI Robots with a Civil Rights movement exist, Diego was totally also a mama’s boy for Robot Mom, but something happened to her and she’s no longer around (like, I’m not being vague or coy, I have not fleshed out what happened to her, but this Diego also lost his Robot Mommy and is still sad about it).

Okay, that was fun! Good questions! Thanks for playing along!

More questions here

[bratbarzal]

On Your Side (NH13) / Chapter Six

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: 15k

Chapter Warnings: believe it or not there's fluff in here. very very cute scenes I have to say. but obviously encompassed by angst. a fluff sandwich with angsty bread if you will. and the butter is nico's continuous pining. luke being the ultimate girls girl, wise beyond his years god bless him, the rest of the boys being soft, Nico's family being endearing, and then here we go!!! mentions of vomiting and food aversion, mentions of pregnancy & early pregnancy symptoms, I want to say there's mentions of drowning I remember thinking of the imagery and I can't remember how detailed I went with it sorry! it isn't actual drowning just like a metaphor of sorts. mentions of the birth control patch if you've ever had it you KNOW that needs a full trigger warning whoever came up with that deserves jail it's hell it's horror!! and mentions of poor parental relationships.

Series Masterlist

Previous Part (Chapter Five)

A/N: potentially fun fact the last scene in this chapter is maybe the second thing I ever wrote for this fic!! like as a concept/idea it was one of the earliest scenes in my head and it's one of my faves!! I've been dying to get to this part to flesh it out and figure out how to build to it and I'm really happy with how it turned out!! writing for families of real people is such an odd concept but I really like the differences in their parents lmao it's fun to write and compare the dynamics obviously it goes without saying I do not know these people lmao

I know the last chapter broke a couple hearts so I'll leave you guys to crack on! as always, never proofread, and as always, would love to hear your thoughts and opinions!!! all the love in my heart to anyone who messaged me this last week on anon or not or private or whatever it may be I appreciate you so much yous have been so so kind to me and it means the world 💖

Nico

If anyone were to ever ask Nico what his favourite trait of Poppy’s is, he knows for a fact he would not be able to narrow it down. She’s a culmination of all things good, has been from the day he met her, and even the things he shouldn’t like about her, he loves.

He shouldn’t like that she’s sarcastic, quick-witted - scarily so - and sometimes says things before she has the chance to properly think about them or any problems they may cause her. He remembers his first couple of years in Jersey, when he was one of the more junior players on the team, still considered new to the country and the culture, and a lot of people had underestimated how familiar he was speaking English despite his years playing in Canada and growing up learning multiple languages. They would often default to explaining things like he wouldn’t understand, like common terms or jokes told amongst a group - and he, being too polite to correct them, had always ended up feeling like an idiot for it. 

There had been one instance prepping for a media day, where he had only met Poppy once a week or so before, and she had been prepping him to be on camera, clipping his mic pack and checking the settings. 

One of the other media staff, a guy called Liam who was in his second year where Poppy was in her first and had been the one she had to initially shadow, had cracked some misogynistic joke to her about how she was messing around with controls she didn’t understand just to be able to stand closer to Nico, as if he wasn’t right there or couldn’t hear him - and then when he had seen Nico’s furrowed brow and downturned lips, had assumed he didn’t understand the joke because he hadn’t laughed.

“It’s because she thinks you’re hot!” The guy had obnoxiously enunciated every word, capturing the attention of some of the more senior assistants in the room who had rolled their eyes just as hard as Nico had.

“He’s from Europe, Liam, not Jupiter. You don’t have to speak to him like he’s some alien.” Poppy had shook her head, caring so little about the fact that Liam had seniority over her, fitting the pack into Nico’s back pocket without him even feeling it, “He understands your slimy little jokes, he just doesn’t find you funny. Nobody does.”

Nico shouldn’t have liked her speaking on his behalf as much as he did, coming to his defence with her sharp tongue and cold glare, but no one had ever picked up on how uncomfortable that kind of thing made him before. The stupid jokes and the belittling tone Liam had used toward him. Poppy saw through both.

And all of her good is even better.

Poppy is positive. He has never seen her leave a room without having caused at least one smile or laugh. She’s someone he’s seen most of the guys perk up around, seek her out for help or even mundane conversation just to lighten the load, and he knows he’ll never be able to keep track of all the times he’s gone to her for a pick me up over the years.

She’s generous. Generous with her time when it comes to her friends, always making sure to maintain plans even when she’s at her busiest. When it comes to her work, staying late to help out a colleague or finish a project so it isn’t left to the last minute. With her knowledge and experience, always there for new members of staff or additions to the team to show them all her favourite spots in the area and get them up to speed with their role.

She is patient - waits around for him when he gets stuck doing media, or held behind to see the physio, and she never complains. She’ll never watch an episode of a show they start together without him, despite the fact his schedule doesn’t often allow for him to stay up late catching up, and she doesn’t moan when she gets spoiled if it’s something that comes out weekly and ends up being a hot topic in the office, doesn’t even spoil it for him out of spite. She even pauses the tv as soon as she notices he’s fallen asleep, and she’ll busy herself doing something else until she feels like he’s rested enough to drive home. 

And, above all, she’s forgiving. If someone were to push for an answer, and they were to have done so before this whole mess happened, he probably would have said that was his favourite thing. It’s like her superpower - to be able to understand things from a different perspective without judgement or a major confrontation. It’s like her default process is to give people grace and make things easy, even if they aren’t entirely deserving of that way out.

She had done so with Nico, that night up on the roof. He hadn’t deserved her leniency, not entirely. He had expected he would have to grovel and beg, and he had been more than willing to do so, but she had wanted to avoid further heartache for the both of them, and had decided to move on. 

And sure, she hadn’t technically forgiven him at that point for the way he had treated her, not properly, but she had put him on the path to redemption, and had made it clear what was expected to make it all the way there.

She’d gone easy on him, in spite of how much he had hurt her. She’d been patient with his reasoning, generous with her time, and had done so with an affectionate glint in her eyes that even now makes his heart warm to think about.

It’s the same glint she’d had when she’d come out of that elevator and had seen him by her door. He’d watched her take him in, eyes cast over him in a concerned assessment, and he knew then that no matter what he said, no matter how he explained what had led him to leave her that morning without a word, she would have forgiven him.

She would have found some way to rationalise what he had done, and put how it made her feel to the side in the name of moving on.

And he had seen his life flash before his eyes. 

Nights of coming home to her, muscles weak, brain fogged, and she’d give him that same look and accept what little he had to offer her. She’d be patient, she’d be forgiving. She wouldn’t get mad that he didn’t have time to take her on dates or trips, wouldn’t bite back when he got snappy after a couple of successive losses and let his frustrations come between them, would resign herself to those little parts of him she’d get to herself in the summer, when he wasn’t training or travelling or trying to fit everyone else in, and would swallow down the longing for something more because she loved him. 

And he couldn’t subject her to that, no matter how much she tried to fight him on it, or tried to call him out. 

No matter how much he wanted to be better for her, how much he wanted her to change his mind, the one quality he loved so much was going to be their demise, and so he had relied on it to cling on to the one thing he can give her.

Friendship.

Even if she won’t accept it for a while. Even if she wants to tell him to leave, and to ignore his texts, and his calls, and his efforts to bump into her at work, she has to forgive him. It’s who she is. 

She’ll forgive him and they can be friends.

Eventually.

And so with the weight of her bracelet in his pocket the whole walk home that night, Nico had decided that he could take a leaf out of Poppy’s book. 

He could be patient while she came to terms with what he had done. He could be generous with the space she needed. He could be positive and push down the bubbling doubt that she’ll forgive him at all.

—

Space happens to be the one thing Nico struggles with the most when it comes to Poppy. Especially conceptualised in the way that it has become - because he can’t physically give her space, they work in the same building. They share the same friends, they end up in the same rooms, and his resolve is as weak as ever where she is concerned, especially when she’s so close, so his generosity ends up being the trait that wains first.

He will give it to himself, he has been trying. He hasn’t been texting her as much as he wants to, understanding that bombarding her with begging and pleading is not only pathetic, but could also be considered harassment. And that will do him no favours in trying to earn back her favour.

But the other night he had been up on the roof after a long day, the air cold but the evening nice, and as he looked out across the Hudson, he had remembered how Poppy had once said her favourite time of the day, and her favourite thing about where she lives, was getting to see the sunset. 

On the early winter evenings, when she’d not long gotten home from work, she liked looking out her window and basking in what she had called cotton candy skies. Swirls of pinks and greyish purples behind the rows of skyscrapers on the other side of the river, all of which reflected the lowering sun in a glimmering, golden glow. He had taken a picture and sent it straight over with the thought that she might be missing it, and he just wanted to let her know. 

Even avoiding him, even wanting space, he was hoping she would at least appreciate that.

The sentiment attached to the picture had read, Just in case you don’t catch this yourself. And as he periodically checked his phone for the rest of the night, he had realised she had probably turned her read receipts off.

At least she hadn’t blocked him.

Nico had, however, started to get creative when it came to work.

Unable to stifle the need to check up on her, or to make sure something happened to brighten her day, he had taken to recruiting the rest of the guys to help.

He should have known how easy it would be, his first enlistment being Jack, who he knew would visit Poppy often, anyway. Only, now he did so with a drink in hand. Peach iced tea if his trip to her office was anytime after lunch, and a hot chai with oat milk if it was before. Nico had initially suggested snacks, but Jack had ended up eating them, himself, which turned out to be useful when it came to bribing him for information.

According to Jack, she was doing okay. Cracking jokes, rolling her eyes at the stupid nicknames he would come up with, and overall she seemed like her normal self. No signs of insurmountable heartache - not Jack’s words, but his own deduction.

He had been surprised at the lack of questions from him, but Jack knows when not to push something, so maybe he had decided to go easy on Nico for now.

Timo had been making sure she was breaking for lunch, checking in every few days so it wasn’t obvious.

John and Bass had taken to calling dumb jokes out to her every time they saw her in the halls, just to make her crack.

Curtis and Dougie had signed themselves up for the mentoring sessions she had been chasing them for since the season had started.

She had been fine with everyone - she smiled, she laughed, she joked, she engaged in conversation - and it was like nothing had happened.

Only, when Nico had felt brave enough to attempt even just eye contact, she wouldn’t even look at him.

No matter how many of the guys reported back that she was doing fine, he could see it every time he looked at her. 

He could see it even when he wasn’t looking at her - that teary, pleading frown she had given him as she had tried to take his hand, the resigned acceptance he had seen when she’d monotonously told him that they had made a mistake, assuming she was mirroring his own sentiments, the tremble in her lip as she had waited for him to leave with her head down at the door.

He thinks about it more often than is healthy, in situations where his focus should really be elsewhere.

Like in the gym, arms shaking as he attempts to lift more than he has in a while, and Jonas who is spotting him has to intervene before he ends up getting crushed.

Like in training, adrenaline pumping as his mind races all over the place, weaving around the defensemen and making sloppy attempts to swipe the puck until he finds himself on the weaker side of a nasty check by Luke that he can’t even argue was unwarranted.

Or in important debriefs in the small team auditorium, where one of their associate coaches, Travis, is going over team strategy before they travel to play the Canes, and he really should be absorbing all the information for such a crucial game - the potential to build on their current 2 game winning streak theirs for the taking - but all he can think about is the looming distance between him and Poppy.

They’re going down to Tampa after, and then head straight into the All Stars break. He isn’t going to see her for almost 2 weeks. Isn’t going to be able to send anyone to check up on her - not without rousing suspicion at least.

He thinks having Bratter knock on her door at home might ring alarm bells.

The distracted glance Nico casts towards the creaking door of the auditorium as it opens is instinctual and fleeting, but all his senses go into high alert when he sees who comes through it. 

The guys have been right, for the most part.

She does look okay.

She looks put together - probably more than he has looked the last two weeks without her, having barely shaved and punishing himself with a borderline dangerous lack of rest - her smart casual attire is neat and co-ordinated, a buttoned up red cardigan and long, dark trousers, her hair up in a ponytail that sways with her movement, and the only indicator that she has any sort of discomfort is the slight purse of her lips where he can tell she’s chewing at the corner.

Travis has become background noise - whatever he’s saying Nico is sure he can catch up on another time - and all he can focus on is the way she watches the coach with genuine interest.

Poppy is the kind of person that gives anyone the time of day - makes them feel like whatever it is they’re saying is the most important thing in the world, and he yearns for a day where her attentions are directed his way again. 

“And Poppy is here from the Youth Foundation,” Her name is one way to get his focus back, Nico’s eyes having not left her figure since she snuck in, leaning beside the door with a binder in hand. He follows as she descends the few stairs to the bottom and moves beside Travis, holding the binder to her chest as she smiles to the rest of the guys. “They have a favour to ask of anyone with some free time that you’re willing to give in your week off, she’s more likely to convince any of you than I am so I’ll just hand straight over.”

“Thank you, Mr Green,” she flicks the binder open, and Nico finds himself holding his breath in anticipation of her looking up and accidentally meeting his eyes, even for a second. “I know you guys are well overdue some time off, and we’d never usually ask so close to the fact, but we have a clinic out in Garfield on the 29th, we’ve donated a bunch of equipment and have some money to donate for the programme they have, and we were supposed to have Patrik Elias out to present it to the kids up there but he’s been held back in Czechia and won’t make it.”

Nico fights the urge to do something stupid like shoot up and volunteer straight away - if not for the fact that he’s supposed to be giving her space and shouldn’t force himself into her good graces, then for the fact his parents will be back in town by then, and he has plans throughout the week with them. Him looking desperate is the least of his concerns.

“If any of you are gonna be around, it would just be for the afternoon, a couple pictures and maybe some skating with the kids. There’s also one of those huge fancy cheques if you’re into showboating,” she tries to sell it, and earns a few affectionate snickers, but Nico knows these guys - while they’re generous people, and he loves them all, and knows they all love her, they’re exhausted, and have been waiting too long for a week of reprieve. 

He kicks at the shin of whoever happens to be sat closest to him. Holtzy. Perfect. He knows he was planning to stay in Jersey. It earns him a glare, but it captures his attention enough so that Nico can level him with a stern look back. 

“If anyone wants to do it, just swing by my office-,”

“I’ll do it,” Alex raises his hand after rolling his eyes and acquiescing to his captain, faking a smile Poppy’s way.

“Oh,” she doesn’t mask the surprise on her face, her lips parting in shock and eyes rounding in disbelief. She looks to Travis who just gives an approving nod in response. 

And, only because he snickers in amusement, Nico kicks Dawson, too. He hasn’t sent him Poppy’s way yet, he’s overdue his turn, and it’s his own fault for laughing at Holtzy’s misfortune. 

“Me too,” Dawson sighs, raising his hand as well and kicking back at Alex when he laughs in turn at him. 

“That was easier than I thought, thank you guys, the kids will be over the moon with the two of you!”

Nico wishes he was the recipient of the smile she gives the both of them. It’s the biggest smile he’s seen her wear in recent weeks, and he can see the light reflect in sparkles in her eyes from all the way across the room. 

That should hold him off for a bit - that little bit of warmth she gives. And sure, it isn’t directed his way, but he can settle with the fact that he’s technically the cause of it. Maybe when he’s down in Raleigh or Tampa he’ll see that smile instead of the other look etched into his recent memory.

“That’s all I’ve got, I’ll leave you guys to your meeting, thanks again!”

He watches her the whole way out, until the door swings closed behind her retreating figure, and his mind races with a surge of misplaced adrenaline for the rest of the debrief.

That’s most of the guys checked off his list, now.

Dawson and Alex are going to help her out with the hockey clinic, John and Nate have been making their way through the worlds worst dad jokes for the past two weeks to relay back to her, Jack is on drink duties, Timo on lunch, Curtis and Brendan are hopefully slowly thawing the ice with cute pictures of their kids. Jonas, Dougie, Haula, Dawsy, Pally - majority of the team have been recruited on his mission to keep her spirits up. Those who haven’t yet had a task are more than willing to play along.

All except one.

His attention drifts over to a mop of curly hair a few rows down, slumped in his seat with his arms crossed over his chest, and though he can’t see his face from where he’s sat, Nico imagines it bears the same angered frown it had when he’d checked him on the ice, earlier. 

Luke is pissed, even as distracted as Nico has been lately, that much is obvious, and he needs to get him on side if he has a chance of ever fixing things with Poppy.

He had underestimated their relationship, when he’d given it some thought, before. When they had been talking about Poppy that one time on the flight back from the Capitals game, and Luke had suggested she had deeper feelings than Nico had ever previously considered.

He had assumed because he’s never seen them together much, that they weren’t as close as Poppy and Jack seem to be, but he knows now he was wrong. 

Luke can be reserved to most, cast in the ever present shadow of his older brothers and held to unfair standards, but he is quietly observant, Nico has noticed, and he clearly sees more of Poppy than he lets on.

He knows Luke is protective over her, that he cares more than he’ll probably ever say.

He hadn’t overshared something she wouldn’t have been comfortable with when they’d had that initial conversation about him and Poppy pretending not to be into each other. He had told Nico to talk to her, had called him out on suppressing his feelings for her and pushed him to take action.

And when he had encountered Nico with Talia in the elevator back in their apartment building, he had been disappointed. 

Jack had been awkward, and evasive, but Luke had a clenched jaw and a purposely avoidant gaze. 

He thinks he gets it.

Luke had encouraged Nico to pursue Poppy, and in his pursuit, Nico had ended up hurting her.

As much as he definitely blames his captain, Luke also blames himself, and Nico of all people knows how frustrating that can be. 

When Travis calls time on the meeting, and the group disperse, Nico rushes down the steps as the boys flood out of the room and catches up to Luke with hastened steps.

“I need to talk to you,” Nico falls in line beside him, a hand clapped authoritatively on his upper back to guide him off his path and toward the locker rooms.

“Can it wait? I’m hungry,” Luke huffs, trying to resist the rerouting but falling victim to one of Nico’s infamous glares.

“Don’t make me pull rank,” he sighs as he yanks the heavy door open, his free hand gesturing for him to enter while the one on his back gives a light shove, “In.”

“Look, I’m sorry for the check earlier, it was a dick move, I didn’t mean it,” Luke starts as Nico follows him into the otherwise empty room, closing the door behind him and gesturing for Luke to take a seat.

“Come on, Luke, I’m not an idiot,” Nico scoffs, “You’re pissed at me. You have been since you saw me with Talia back in our building, but you’ve got the wrong idea,”

“Your personal life is none of my business,” Luke says like it’s something he’s been taught, something he’s rehearsed, and there isn’t a doubt in Nico’s mind that he and Poppy have been the topic of conversation in the Hughes household since the day he had run into them, maybe even before. Jack has been avoiding the topic like he’d never seen it happen, giving Nico a breather where he had initially thought he would call him out - but it’s becoming increasingly clear that Luke is the actual confrontational one of the two of them.

“If you have something to say to me, I’d rather you just come out with it than check me in a practice game, Hughes.” Nico sighs, leaning against the door to block Luke’s path out and staring him down until he relents. He has never thought he would be thankful for someone checking him before, especially not in a practice game, but the minor hit has given him the perfect opportunity to clear the air.

“Fine. I don’t like how you treated Poppy,” he says, plainly, “She’s supposed to be your friend, you don’t do that to someone you care about.”

“Carry on.” Nico thinks a part of him is urging Luke to argue because Poppy won’t, and he needs to have someone he can vent to - even if it’s someone who won’t side with him. He probably prefers it that way, ever the glutton for punishment.

“If you didn’t like her the same way, you shouldn’t have led her on, she deserves better than that.”

“I agree.”

“And she-,” his eyes narrow, “You agree?”

“I didn’t break things off because I don’t like her the same way, I did it because I do,”

“I hope you understand how stupid that sounds.” Luke rolls his eyes as he throws himself into his cubby, running a hand through his curls in frustration.

“I know it might not make sense, but I’m trying to do what’s right. She deserves someone who can give her one hundred percent of themselves, who isn’t away all the time and isn’t constantly stressed out of their mind or too tired to function.” He finds himself relaying Talia’s exact sentiments, and the memory of that particular conversation makes his stomach churn. 

“I care about her too much to end up being the guy who can’t make her happy. I know you of all people understand that to some extent, Luke.” It’s one of the few flaws of making it to the elite level of their sport - the lack of balance between their career and their personal entanglements. They’ve both spent their lives wanting nothing but to win and succeed, and it’s always going to be difficult to come to terms with, but the cold, hard truth is that they can’t have everything without paying the price for it. Something will have to give, and it would be an injustice for that something to be Poppy. “It wouldn’t be fair to her to start something that I can’t put my all into. So, I agree, she deserves better.”

“You know what else she deserves, Nico?” Luke stands from his point on the bench, the inch between them seeming more than it really is when he’s dishing out home truths like punches to the gut. “She deserves to make her own decisions. She deserves for you to be honest with her and not let your ego get in the way of what she might want.”

There it is again. Luke letting on that he knows something he doesn’t about Poppy. Unease spreads throughout his every nerve ending.

He’s always been the one who knows Poppy. Who understands her. Who gets how she thinks and grasps how she feels. 

Luke might think he does, but he doesn’t. Not like Nico.

Nico, who can’t quite fathom how he’s ended up being schooled on how to treat a woman by a 20 year old. By Luke. 

“It isn’t ego,” he mutters in denial, but it’s no use. Luke is scarily prompt to retort - especially when it comes to defending Poppy, Nico knows by now. It would be endearing if it didn’t frustrate him to no end.

“Really? ‘Cause it sounds to me like you’re so afraid to fail with her that you won’t even try.”

“I don’t want to hurt her.” He knows again that’s a pathetic excuse. Poppy had called him out on it, herself. But surely the hurt now is nothing in comparison to the hurt that could be. 

The hurt that comes with the demise of an actual relationship. Of building and building and building something, putting in years of tiresome efforts only for it to be demolished just as the final brick is laid. Of the ever-growing love between the two of them wilting into something sad and lifeless.

He can take the silent treatment. He can take the avoidance.

He won’t be able to handle that.

“How’s that going for you?” 

Luke isn’t trying to be mean, he knows that, but it doesn’t lessen the sharpness of his words - the truth digging into the most sensitive parts of Nico’s skin so deep that he feels like he’s bleeding out.

Nico sits down himself, no longer blocking the exit and allowing for Luke to leave of his own accord - only, the younger boy sits beside him, heaving out a prologued sigh and giving his captain a friendly pat on his leg. 

“Just give her time, she’ll come around, and then the two of you can talk. And when you do, you owe it to her to be open about what you both want. If you can promise me you won’t do anything else to hurt her, I’ll promise you to stop checking you in practice.”

“Sounds fair,” Nico agrees, mustering up a weak smile to give to the younger defensemen before Luke stands up. “Sorry for cornering you.”

“You’re fine, I was being an idiot.” Luke shrugs, making his way over to the door, and only because he clearly can’t help himself, he stops before leaving. “You see how easy that was to admit?”

Nico usually has better aim, and he blames Luke’s speedy departure for the way the pad he throws hits the wall with a soft whack.

Frustration is a feeling Nico doesn’t think he has ever been as familiar with as he has been lately. 

He’s frustrated as a player - the team unable to keep a winning streak to save their lives, having lost both of their games on the road last week and the mentality of the locker room dwindling with every week that passes that they don’t keep their momentum going.

Frustrated as a captain, specifically for the teammates they keep dropping to injury. Jack, Timo, Eric, Pally all dipping in and out with scratches, the roster dwindling with every passing game.

Frustrated as a friend, guilt building every time he thinks about Jack becoming more reserved in the days leading up to the All Star break, his shoulder putting him out of contention to play and the team having to send Jesper as their representative in his place. 

And, it goes without saying, frustrated when it comes to Poppy - who he had hoped would be in attendance when he had elected himself to take Jesper’s place at the signing and Q&A session he had scheduled at the end of the week. When he had come all the way out to the Rock and sought her out in the Foundation offices after volunteering, he had found out she had been off sick since that day in the auditorium, so his frustrations had crescendoed to an all time high. 

Even his parents being back in town hasn’t helped - his mother more observant than he likes to think, and she has been pecking away at any attempts of a cool exterior with more questions than he thinks he’s going to be on the receiving end of at this Q&A.

Nico has never been one to complain about any kind of community event, but the thought of having to spend all day plastering on a fake smile and pretending he isn’t at his boiling point is proving to be difficult.

So, when Jessica, the media admin who had been debriefing him on what was going to be posted on the team socials, had finally finished and had left to liaise with one of her colleagues, he had sent his mother, Katja, away to grab him a drink before the signing started. 

He just needs a moment of quiet. Where he can self-level the anxiety that is currently crushing him like a bug, take some deep breaths, and mentally prepare for the overwhelming social interactions he is about to endure. 

He wishes Poppy could be there.

He had tried texting her, just to check on her, but again, she hadn’t replied, and the thoughts have been swirling into something ugly within him the longer he has gone not knowing where or how she is.

Is she actually even sick, or is this just another attempt to stay out of his way?

The breathing clearly isn’t working, he thinks. Maybe walking might help.

Or maybe walking straight into the front of the girl who is the cause of all his frustrations might help.

As soon as he sees her, he feels guilt prick at his nerves like continuous, thick needles pushing into the flesh.

When he thinks back on the weeks before, he doesn’t entirely know if he had wanted her to look worse for wear, but as he takes her in now, he realises he hadn’t.

This is the furthest thing from what he had wanted for her.

Poppy stands before him a paler version of herself - eyes sunken, lips chapped, a slight sheen to her forehead that has caused the baby hairs around there to curl up and stick to her skin. 

Her boss Elaine had said she was sick and he had selfishly spiralled into the assumption it was just another attempt to avoid any contact him, but now his chest feels heavy with a mixture of shame and worry.

She takes a moment too long to gather herself after their initial collision, and his words feel heavy in his mouth as he asks, “Are you okay?”

“What are you doing here?” Her voice is hoarse, and the way she blinks up at him is slow and fatigued. 

“What are you doing here? You don’t look like you should be working.”

“I’m fine.” She definitely doesn’t sound fine. “Where’s Jesper?

“Bratter went to Toronto to take Jack’s place in the All Stars, they didn’t tell you?” It hadn’t been a last minute decision, so he isn’t sure how she wouldn’t know already.

“Oh,” she frowns, and if he wasn’t so worried, he’d find it cute how she looks like she’s trying to recall a memory where that information had been relayed to her. “Yeah, I think they did. They didn’t tell me who’s replacing him, though.”

“That would be me.” He doesn’t point out that it should be obvious.

“That seems like overkill.” There’s a hint of familiarity that he feels at the quip, and Nico doesn’t know if she’s trying to crack a joke or trying to be rude - he doesn’t care, either way. When he notices her squinting against the light, he subtly shifts until she’s no longer facing it directly.

“I volunteered.” He admits, and he watches as realisation sinks in. He volunteered just to be near her, and if she calls him out on it, he’s in no fit state to deny it. Of course he did, she has barely spoken to him in almost 4 weeks, and if he’s being honest with himself, he’s losing his mind a little. “I was hoping we could talk after,”

“Nico,” she sighs, touching her palm to her temple and seemingly applying pressure, pinching her eyes shut as she tries to breathe through a wave of what looks like disorientation, “I really can’t deal with this today,”

“I miss you, Poppy,” he hums, and he knows it’s an asshole move, to take advantage of the current situation, of her being sick and having lowered her defences, but he knows he’ll regret it if he doesn’t take the opportunity to touch her. He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, strokes a thumb softly at her cheek, and tries not to think too much about the way she seems to lean into it. “I’m worried about you.”

“You’re supposed to be giving me space.” She sounds defeated, and there’s a selfish part of him that hopes she is - that she is relenting to his advances and giving in - but he knows Poppy too well to assume it’s going to be that easy.

He doesn’t even like to think about how much he has hurt her. When images of that evening flash through his memory - when he closes his eyes and sees her teary ones looking back at him, can hear how she’d fought for him to listen, to figure things out together - his chest aches in a way he doesn’t think it has before. It’s relentless, and excruciating, and he hasn’t yet found a coping mechanism that gets rid of it.

Except for seeing her. When he sees her, it lessens. When he hears her laugh from around a corner, or spots her in the halls at The Rock, talking with her co-workers or perusing one of the vending machines, he can pretend he’s okay. He can pretend that they’re just not talking because they’re both busy - not because he monumentally messed everything up with her.

And now, talking directly to her, touching her, seeing her up close - despite the difference in her usually bright complexion - he can convince himself of the same. Things are okay. They’re okay.

“I also said I still wanted to be friends.” He tries, his hand still cupping the side of her face before she shakes him off.

“Except that we’re only friends when it suits you.” She accuses with a frown, a little energy seeming to flood back into her system. “And when it doesn’t, you just toss me off to the side like I mean nothing to you.”

“That’s not true, I-,”

“I really don’t feel well enough to be having this conversation right now.”

“Then when? Every time I see you, you can’t get away fast enough. We work together, we have to see each other, you can’t avoid me forever.” He knows he doesn’t deserve to rush her. He knows he has no right to be making any kind of demands, and that the situation they’re in is entirely his doing, but he can’t help himself.

He’s frustrated.

He’s desperate. 

He had thought he could give her the patience she deserves - the space she needs - but it has been proving immensely difficult, and he just wants her back.

In whatever capacity she’s willing to offer, he’ll take it - as long as her eyes meet his for longer than a second at a time and he gets to be on the receiving end of one of her heart-stopping smiles, he’ll take it.

Even if they can’t be what they were. If the texts cease, the dinners together stop, the drives home from the Rock aren’t on the table anymore - he just wants to know there’s still love between them. That when she looks at him she doesn’t only feel the crippling hurt he fears he has caused her.

“You had no problem shutting me out the last time,” she scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest and scowling up at him, “It should be like second nature for you to ignore me again.”

“That isn’t fair, it’s not the same-,”

“Poppy!” 

Nico has always loved the way his mother is enamoured by Poppy.

The first time they had met, she’d been besotted with her. It had been during Poppy’s first year with the team - his parents had come out quite late in the season, late enough that he hadn’t seen them in a while since the summer, and he was anticipating their arrival with child-like excitement. 

Their flight into Newark had been delayed, and with them coming out on a game day, he was shut in the locker room by the time they had arrived, and he had asked Poppy for his biggest favour yet in the course of their friendship.

She had agreed to it no questions asked, no favour held over him in return, and she had pretty much hosted the two of them from their arrival at the Prudential Center to when the arena had emptied.

When Nico had reunited with his parents in the family lounge, Poppy had still been with them, waiting until she saw them off into their son’s company before leaving them alone, and he had never been more grateful to someone in his life.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he had apologised as he embraced his father, a firm clap coming down on his back as his arms wrapped around him, and he had smiled at Poppy over his shoulder. “Did you guys enjoy the game?”

“Of course we did, we had the best company in all of New Jersey,” his mother had her own arm around his best friend, Poppy’s cheeks flushing as she smiled bashfully back at him. 

Nico had kissed his mom on the cheek and had given her a side hug with the arm not around Poppy before he moved his attention to his friend.

“Thank you for looking after them,” he beamed at her, wrapping his arms around her once his mother had released and giving her a little squeeze. “I owe you,”

“That’s alright. Your dad got a little rowdy in the second period, but other than that they weren’t too much trouble,” Poppy had shrugged, a mischievous smirk cast toward his father who gave a humoured scoff in return.

“You were yelling louder than me, Poppy,” he remarked, his accent thick and his tone fond. “Katja tell him.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Nico chuckled, shaking his head toward his mom as she opened her mouth ready to pick a side, “I believe him, she gets creative when it comes to calling out the refs, I’ve heard it before.”

“Sorry for being passionate about my team,” she had pouted, “I’ll just sit in silence while you all get high-sticked to holy heaven next time.”

Nico had felt warmth wash all over him when he heard his dad’s loud cackle of a laugh - the kind he gave over family game nights when Nina outsmarted both her brothers, and they would turn to their father for some kind of defence, the kind of laughter filled with familiarity and affection - and had seen his mother’s crinkling eyes and dimpled smile.

“Do you need a ride home?” He had asked, swallowing down the attraction that was spiralling within him before it was too obvious to ignore. They had rode in together that morning, and he would usually drive her home if that was the case, but he had also promised his parents he would treat them to a nice meal after their long flight in.

“I’m alright, I can hitch a ride with one of the other boys,” Poppy declined, “You guys enjoy your dinner, it was really nice to meet you.”

“Nonsense,” Katja had exclaimed, a hand on Poppy’s arm as she moved to hug her goodbye, “Come with us, Nico can drop you home after,”

“We’ve been dying to hear someone tell us all of Nico’s secrets about his life over here.” Rino had joined in, egging Poppy on until she couldn’t say no.

When she had looked over to Nico, he hadn’t realised she was silently asking for his permission, too busy looking at her with a dopey grin on his face before he pulled himself together enough to nod his approval.

“Okay, yeah, thank you,” Poppy had agreed, “I just have to grab my bag from the office, I could meet you at your car in five minutes?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you in five.”

Nico had watched her go off as his mother looped her arm through his, leaning into him and watching Poppy until she disappeared through the far doors. 

“I like her,” Katja had a big, complimentary grin on her face when Nico looked down a little at her - and despite slipping into their native tongue, Nico had thought it would be obvious to anyone listening in what they were talking about just from the look on his mother’s face.

“Yeah, she’s great,” He had concurred, shaking her off his arm so that he could wrap it around her shoulders as they walked, and in a true show of his denial at the time, he had added, “A really good friend.”

He still remembers the sound of his mother’s knowing hum, that interaction between the four of them a catalyst for the feelings he had for the longest time suppressed.

Weeks ago, Poppy had asked him the last time he had wanted to kiss her. He’d told her about a night in a bar after the team had crashed out of the playoffs last year. A night where, in all the anguish and misery and regret, she had made him feel like he could breathe again. It was the last time he had felt overwhelmed by the urge to take the leap into something more with her.

The first time had been that night with his parents, when he’d dropped her back at her apartment after an evening of them oversharing embarrassing childhood anecdotes and Poppy sharing her own stories - ones she had of her favourite memories with Nico, and even ones without, letting his mom and dad into the strongroom that was her life before she met their son. 

Looking back, he thinks that night truly would have been a catalyst for his blossoming affections if he didn’t feel the watchful gaze of his parents waiting in his car while he made sure Poppy got inside safe.

He would have kissed her, he knows it.

Instead, he had returned to the driver’s seat and tried to ignore the smug grin his mother kept sending through the rearview mirror from her place in the back seat the whole journey to their hotel.

In the years since, her affections for Poppy have only grown, and so he should have expected that she would get excited the second she saw her - he only wishes her timing was better.

“Hi, Mrs Hischier” Poppy smiles despite her discomfort, the apples of her cheeks rounding and endearment sparkling in her previously dull eyes. The energy she gives to his mother is a stark contrast to that she had just been giving to Nico. “It’s so nice to see you!”

“It’s Katja, sweet girl, it’s clearly been too long since we have spoken!” His mother’s arms wrap around her, and he watches as Poppy’s body seems to melt at the touch, tense muscles relaxing and hand rubbing at her back. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t look too good, are you feeling okay?”

She presses the back of her hand to Poppy’s clammy forehead as Nico remembers her doing so often to him as a child, gauging her temperature and casting a concerned glance over her from head to toe. 

“I’m alright, I’ve just been off sick the past week, I still probably look a little like a zombie,” Poppy chuckles, dismissively, still maintaining an eyre of warmth in the way she looks at his mother.

“Not at all, as pretty as ever, isn’t she, Nico?” His mom nudges him as if he needs any prompting to compliment her.

“Yeah,” he agrees without hesitation, and he starts to feel palpitations when her eyes glance quickly over to meet his before darting away.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Poppy huffs, and he doesn’t entirely know who she meant that for. “Did you and Rino enjoy your trip to Canada?”

Nico doesn’t know why he finds himself surprised by the way Poppy effortlessly recollects the information - a throwaway comment he had made to her in the back of that bar all those weeks ago of his parent’s whereabouts. Poppy remembers because she cares. She has always cared. Always listened to what he has to say, even if he thinks it’s irrelevant, and has always shown interest. 

He finds himself watching her as she catches up with his mother, giving tired smiles but engaging nonetheless, the conversation flowing between the two of them just as effortlessly as it had on the day they had met - where they had conversed over dinner like they had known each other for years, and Nico had blushed every time he met his mother’s eyes from across the table.

He remembers his birthday dinner with his family at the beginning of the month, where he had sat in mostly-silence and wished for her company, and he starts to wonder if it’s always going to be like that, from now on. 

If he’s always going to be longing for her. If he’s always going to feel like something’s missing if she isn’t around.

“I should go,” he hears her say, “I have to check some of the questions with the moderator and they’ll be opening the doors for the signing, soon.”

“Of course, don’t let me keep you,” his mom presses a comforting hand to Poppy’s arm, thumb rubbing in a soothing gesture before they part with goodbyes and a promise to catch up, properly, at some point. 

Nico doesn’t miss the way she hadn’t given him the same courtesy. And neither does his mother.

Her eyes narrow in his direction, and just as her lips part to no doubt call him out, a figure comes up beside them,

“They’re ready to start the signing if you are, Nico.” Jessica’s unusually perky voice rings out beside him, and he’s never been more thankful for an interruption in his life.

He hasn’t seen that disappointed glint in his mother’s eyes since he’d told her he was bringing a girlfriend home to meet her at the end of last summer, and had shown up to the house with Talia in tow.

Poppy

As backwards as it might seem to some people, the only part of Poppy’s life where she is able to seek complete solace in recent years has always been in her work.

When she had first gotten her job within the organisation - a co-op internship that covered her final year of college - she had been almost overwhelmed with pride for the first time in her life. She had always been a good student, had got into college of her own merit and hadn’t used family connections like she suspected her brother had done, and she had worked her butt off to prep for the application and interview.

And when she’d gotten the call to tell her they wanted her on the team, she had been over the moon.

She’d gotten along so well with the people she had met in the team so far, had loved their ethos and the environment at the Rock, and she couldn’t wait to build something great for herself when she got started.

She had immediately called home after accepting the position, buzzing with excitement to tell her father that she of all the alleged thousands of applicants had been accepted to work on the media programme for the New Jersey Devils, a respected establishment in one of the biggest sporting leagues in the country. She had expected he would be proud of her, too, but he had ended up heaving out a disappointed sigh, and she could hear him fold up his paper in the background before he had asked, “Hockey, Poppy? Really? What kind of success do you expect to find in such a barbaric environment?”

As much as his disapproval had hurt at that time, she credits her father’s aloofness with her happiness in her role to this day.

It turns out, she can find a lot of success in a barbaric environment if she puts enough of her heart into it.

Even back in her media days, acting as a lackey for some of the more senior guys and trudging through those first few months of hazing, she had loved her job. 

Sharing insights into the team and the sport, determined to break any stigma associated with the guys who played it and all while highlighting the way it brought pride and community to her home state, she left the building every day with a pep in her step and a giant grin on her face.

And it only got bigger when she was recruited onto the Youth Foundation team. The projects she has worked on, the people she has met, the incredible things they have all achieved together - she doesn’t think she could have gotten any luckier with her career - despite what her judgemental, uppity parents think of it.

So, when things get hard elsewhere - when she spends a little too much time with her family and goes a little stir crazy, or when she gets her heart broken by the one guy she had trusted to handle it with care, and ends up fixating on the possibility of him rekindling things with a woman he had told Poppy didn’t make him happy - she resorts to her factory settings of knuckling down and putting her work first.

Which is how, in the weeks since Nico had left her apartment that horrific night, she has attached her name to every project she can pick up. She has accepted every meeting, answered every call, returned every email, all with a smile she had felt like she was forcing at first, but has started to feel real as time has gone one.

And she thinks it’s working.

She doesn’t dread coming into the Arena - doesn’t pace the length of her office to prepare herself every time she needs to leave it, doesn’t hold her breath as she turns the corners in anticipation of seeing him, doesn’t wince every time someone knocks on her door until they pop their head in and reveal themselves.

Poppy has well and truly immersed herself in her work, and she can’t even feel the rattling of the shattered pieces of her heart anymore.

She’s too consumed with other stuff. With hockey clinics, planning fundraisers, local rink openings, development programmes, the Sweep The Deck gala, mentoring sessions, preparations for the Stadium Series in the next month. 

She should be exhausted. 

If she actually gives herself the brain power to think about anything other than work for a second, she probably would be - but she’s turned into a hammerhead shark of sorts, and she knows she’ll suffocate in all the other feelings if she stops swimming. 

If she gives even a second of her time to the constant urge to think about Nico, she’ll drown in him. In the hurt and the ache she feels when he’s even in the same room.

She has taken to pretending he isn’t there. To looking at others, immersing herself too deep in conversations that he won’t dare to interrupt, and she is actually satisfied with how she’s managed to hold herself together when it comes to the rest of the guys.

When the season had started last year, and Poppy had been avoiding Nico for the other reason over the course of those months, she had pretty much locked herself in her office during work hours, and had stayed home outside of them. She didn’t go to games, didn’t go to team events that she wasn’t working, didn’t attend birthdays or dinners or celebration trips to whatever bar could accommodate the whole team for the night. She had stopped engaging as much with the other guys - Jack had even taken to calling her a recluse if she remembers correctly - and she’s determined not to let this mess get in the way of the great relationships she has with the rest of the team. 

If not for the fact that it would be petulant for her to take out her frustrations regarding their captain with them, then for the fact that she needs the companionship.

She needs it so much that she doesn’t run from it, or even pretend like she doesn’t like their company. 

Weeks ago, if she had been coming up from the parking level with Nate Bastian, and he had tried to crack the joke, “Hey, Poppy, why are elevator jokes the best kind? Because they work on many levels,” she honestly would have scoffed and called him lame. But she had felt her lips twitching earlier in the day, and had let him boast about how he had made her smile as they walked together through the building to anyone they passed without even denying it.

The guys have been doing more for her mentality than she can ever thank them for - holding her up while her every instinct is telling her to crumble - and she couldn’t be more grateful to be a part of such a great team.

The Hughes brothers, especially. Luke, who texts her his every rambling thought sandwiched between memes and links to Tiktoks about giraffes, because he knows they make her smile. And Jack, who, despite being out of play with his shoulder, still, checks in with her every day he comes in, a drink in hand when she needs a pick me up the most, and an ever growing list of ridiculous names to call her. 

His continued visits have made her grow less weary of the knocks at her door, and so when one echoes through the room as she’s replying to some emails, she doesn’t feel the stutter of her heartbeat like she would have done last week.

“Hey, Pop,” he pokes his head into her office, fingers flexed around the door jamb as he edges his way in, empty handed, this time, but Poppy can’t hold it against him. Her day is almost finished, after all.

“What, no stupid nickname today? Did I upset you or something?” She pauses typing as she looks up at him, watching him close the door behind himself as he takes her lighthearted tone as an invitation inside.

“I did have a joke lined up about Snap and Crackle, but you’ve ruined it now actually,” he rolls his eyes playfully, throwing himself down in the chair opposite hers and flicking affectionately at his bobblehead. 

“Sorry,” Poppy gives a quick, bashful smile before going back to her work, tapping away at her noisy keyboard as she works her way through her inbox, “What’s up?”

“Was wondering if you’d seen Luke?”

“Not today, he doesn’t usually make a habit of coming down here though. Did he say he was gonna stop by?”

“Not exactly.” Jack frowns, a slight shrug of his better shoulder.

Poppy casts a confused glance his way, eyes narrowing as she watches him fidget in the seat. “Do you guys think the y chromosome is meant to get you out of ever giving a straight answer to something? What do you mean, not exactly?”

“Well, Dawsy said he’d seen him with Nico, and lately that means,” he looks as if he’s weighing up what to say in his head, and Poppy wishes the lower part of her desk didn’t block her legs from his so she could give him a quick kick to the shin, “Well, people usually come straight here after Nico pulls them to talk.”

She sighs.

She had figured as much, but the confirmation of it doesn’t make her heart ache any less.

She’d had her first suspicions when Smitty had shown her every picture she thinks he’s ever taken of his kids the other day. He’d sat beside her in the lounge while the team and staff had been waiting for some sort of safety meeting - one she hadn’t even got to focus much on because he had talked her ear off for almost an hour until he was finally pulled away for some other responsibilities. 

And then Jonas had come by her office - something he had literally never done before. He had found Poppy working on a project, brainstorming with post-its on her cleared floor, and had waited around until she had finished - chipping in little ideas here and there for a presentation on the Learn To Play programme and using his 6’2 stature to take an aerial photo of all her sticky notes that Poppy never would have been able to get right, enabling her to clean them away and tidy up after herself before she finished for that day. It wasn’t that she minded his company, he’d actually been a massive help, but she had this nagging feeling that he would never come see her of his own volition.

Then there was Holtzy and Dawson volunteering for the hockey clinic in the debrief earlier like they were being held at gunpoint and forced into labour.

Nico has put them all up to it.

Even when he’s giving her space, he can’t leave her be.

“So what you’re saying is he’s abusing his position of power to get you all to come talk to me,”

“I don’t know if I’d phrase it like that,” Jack scratches awkwardly at the back of his neck, and she only feels a slight pinch of guilt. She knows he had a habit of coming to see her before all of this, but his visits have definitely increased over the past few weeks - so, he isn’t entirely innocent, either. “Maybe he misses you?”

“Maybe he should have thought about that,” she mutters, leaning onto her desk and pressing her palms into her closed eyes to relieve the headache that’s starting to build. 

Distracting herself with work had been going so well.

“You know we can’t talk about this, Jack,” she sighs, “He’s your captain, it’s not fair of me to vent about our situation to you of all people.”

“Ouch,”

“You know what I mean. If it was anybody else, I’d come to you for advice, but you guys are a team, I’m just-,”

“Don’t finish that sentence, Poppy,” Jack rebukes, sitting up straight in his chair and levelling her with a stern look, “You’re our friend. Even if Nico is asking the others to check up on you, they wouldn’t do it if they didn’t care about you. None of us want a repeat of the start of the season, okay, we just want to know you’re alright.”

“I appreciate you saying that,” Poppy gives a weak smile, the kind that doesn’t quite meet her eyes, “I just don’t want anybody taking sides, I know Luke’s been off with him about the whole thing,”

“That’s probably where he is now,” Jack realises, “He did get a little rough in practice before.”

“Yeah, I heard,” she says, knowing Luke and Nico had a collision earlier that had been the talk of the office all morning. “Look, I love you guys for it, but I don’t need babysitters. I just wanna move on. And you can tell Nico that, the next time he tries to force you out here with.another iced beverage just to keep me company or whatever.”

“Well, they go on the road tomorrow, so you should get some peace and quiet around here.” Jack still seems solemn at the thought of the team travelling anywhere without him, but she has tried one too many times to talk to him about it and, every time, he has shut her down. He’ll talk about it when he’s ready, and if she’s making a point of not wanting to be pushed on a subject, she isn’t going to do the same to him, even if her instincts are telling her to wrap the guy up in a bear hug and tell him everything will be okay. “I’ll leave you to your work, anyway, I’ll be around until the weekend if you need me, Pop. I promise I would be bringing you drinks even if he wasn’t asking me to.”

He pushes himself up from the seat with his good side before retreating back towards the door, and Poppy can’t let him go without at least attempting to cheer him up. He never usually leaves this quick, always finds some reason to hover and affectionately irritate her just a little - but she can tell he’s done figuring out reasons to linger around the arena for the day.

“I would have laughed, by the way,” she calls out to him, causing him to pause half way out and look back, a questioning brow arched her way. “Snap, Crackle and Pop would have been a good one, it’s funny.”

“They’re all funny, Poppy.”

She really is losing her mind.

As if the universe is playing some gigantic, cruel joke on her, Poppy’s promised peace and quiet while the team have gone on the road has turned into her shut in her apartment with every single curtain drawn, wrapped up under a mountain of covers to combat the shivers, and a leg poking out of them to alleviate the hot flushes - all while battling the most crippling waves of nausea she has ever experienced in all of her adult life.

She had gone home from work on Wednesday and had invited Nia around, hoping her best friend’s anger around the Nico situation had dwindled enough that she wasn’t going to harp on about it all night, and they could enjoy some movies and dirty takeout like they were back in college without Poppy having to even think about anything else.

Uptown Girls had been playing on the TV, empty containers of Korean Hot Pot had littered her coffee table, and Nia had fallen asleep sprawled out across the couch when Poppy had first started to feel off.

She had been watching Brittany Murphy and Dakota Fanning swirling around in the teacup ride, and had started to feel like her own living room was spinning.

She had barely made it to her bathroom before she was puking her guts up, waking Nia in the process who had spent the next hour holding her hair back before she tucked her into bed.

Poppy had called in to work the next morning. She had missed even watching the game against Carolina, could barely remember a solid half an hour of consciousness between that Wednesday night and Saturday morning.

All she remembers is vomiting, Nia checking in after work, bringing an abundance of electrolyte drinks and trying to get her to eat before she had to leave again She recalls burning bagels she had forgot she had left in the toaster, vomiting again at the smell of the burned bagels, and having a series of the most absurdly vivid dreams she’s ever experienced in her life. 

All of which had one common theme.

Nico.

Dreams where she’s swimming in a large, unidentifiable body of water. It’s cold, and she is exhausted, and her limbs ache from treading water and trying to stay afloat. It’s mostly dark, sometimes lit by the moon, the reflection of which shimmers in her path to something in the distance. And she’s stretching, reaching out, desperately kicking her legs to get to whatever it is until she realises it’s him, and he’s swimming away, making it a thousand times harder on her.

Dreams of her stood at the door of her apartment, the repeated knock on the other side echoing on and on as she scrambles to look for the keys to unlock it. It’s a pattern she thinks she recognises, a rhythmic knock that only he has used before, but she can’t get the door open with all her might, and her keys are nowhere to be seen. 

Dreams of their fated night together, only this time it’s like she’s on the outside looking in, watches the two of them in the throes of passion, only when she takes a proper look, he isn’t into it like she is. Or there’s another version where she isn’t herself at all. She has much lighter hair, and mutters out profanities in German as Nico presses sweet kisses into her lips and cradles her face lovingly. She’s Talia, and he looks as happy as ever when she is.

Despite the almost 3 days of round the clock sleep, she has never felt so exhausted in her life.

When the nausea fades ever so slightly, and she gets enough strength in herself to get up - to eat, to drink, to function like a normal human being, she feels sluggish and weak, and like she hasn’t had a moment’s rest in months.

Nia had been checking in, surprisingly not sick herself even though Poppy assumes her bug came from the takeout they shared - but Nia is vegetarian, so she had thought that might have explained it. She had been making sure Poppy remained hydrated, and continued to eat despite the continuous waves of nausea that kept coming back. She had done her grocery shopping, stocking her refrigerator with a bunch of different juices and smoothies, and buying her a bunch of fresh fruit, some bread, some yoghurts, pasta, crackers, plain chips, all the things that would hopefully keep her energy up and her nausea down.

And it had taken her a week to recover to a point that she felt like she could work again. She probably shouldn’t have forced herself back when she wasn’t feeling, or looking, 100%, but she had become so used to using her job as a coping mechanism, that regaining the slightest bit of her energy had her spiralling a little mentally, and she couldn’t take being at home any longer.

She had known that Jesper had his Q&A event, and had to stop by the Rock to pick up some of her files before making her way over - but that trip had proved to be more trouble than it was worth, and she had ended up getting herself all mixed up when she had returned to her office and had ended up dry heaving in the bathrooms when she caught a mix of smells walking through the hallway on her way in.

She had wanted to get some prep work done - approve the questions, meet with the photographers, catch up with Jess from Media, but she had ended up hurled over the toilet bowl for a good hour until she felt somewhat better, and was in so much of a rush to get over to the event that all she had managed to do to pull herself together was throw her hair up and hope that chomping on a breath mint wouldn’t trigger her senses all over again. 

She felt like she was fresh out of The Walking Dead.

She had to get an Uber over, had sat with her head out of the window like some kind of dog to alleviate the sweat that had broken out from her rushing around, and by the time she made it - she was so out of sorts she barely could remember why she was there.

And then she had bumped into Nico.

And she hates that she had felt a little better.

She hates that she found comfort in the fresh smell of his cologne, or the soft touch of his hand to her skin. She hates that the sound of his voice had quelled the rapid thumping of her heartbeat, and that it felt so good just to be in his presence, she had almost forgotten how much she had been hurt. How much he had hurt her.

She hates how she had felt obliged to pretend everything was okay in front of his mother, the sweetest woman on planet Earth embracing her like she was her own daughter, wrapping her up in a shroud of worry and sheer maternal instinct.

And she hates how all of those feelings have lingered throughout the afternoon. As she had watched him engage with his fans during his signing, big dimpled smiles sent to tiny children drowning in jerseys way too big for their small frames, and all adorning his number on the back. As she had watched Katja as the event unfolded, eyes sparkling with pride for her son and everything he has accomplished. As she’s stood and watched him answer questions she knows the answers to like she knows her own favourite food.

Where is your dream vacation destination?

He wants to visit Costa Rica.

What is your favourite sport outside of hockey?

He loves Tennis, loves Roger Federer, a real idol for him as a kid growing up in Switzerland, but also loves soccer, which he always says with an uncomfortable twist to his lips, because his father used to play.

What does he miss the most about home?

His family. His siblings. She probably knows more about Nina and Luca than she knows about Oliver, at this point.

“What’s your favourite thing to do in Jersey when you’re not playing hockey?”

“Uhh,” Poppy watches as Nico rolls his shoulders, his face pensive as he ponders the question, “It depends when we get time off. If the weathers nice, Jersey has some nice beaches, sometimes we go in a group and hang out,” he answers, and just before he carries on, his eyes flicker over to Poppy, meeting hers and holding her gaze until she looks away. “But if it’s when we’re playing I try to spend any downtime with friends. I have some really great friends here and I think that helps me destress a little, just being around them, going out for food and drinks and stuff. Some of my favourite people I have met while I’ve been living here.”

Poppy doesn’t dare look back up, her pulse throbbing in her temples.

“Well that’s a perfect segue into the next question, who’s your best friend on the team?”

She doesn’t stick around to listen to him skirt around that answer, pushing herself discretely through the doors back into the room that the signing had taken place in and busying herself packing up what she can without any help. 

She needs to carry on working, needs to stop thinking, needs to stop feeling so many things. Needs to be somewhere else, where she can’t look at him, can’t admire the way the deep brown of his irises shine when he smiles, or how one of his eyebrows does that cute little hop when he speaks for a little too long, or how she thinks she can still feel his hand on her face even though it’s been at least a good couple of hours since they had spoken by now.

She doesn’t realise how quick she’s moving around until the room starts to spin, and she stumbles a little into a table before steadying herself on one of the chairs.

“Hey, Poppy, are you alright?” The words are spoken in an accent she’s always found comforting, only the voice is different. Softer. Feminine.

She looks up to see Nico’s mom moving closer, concern causing her eyes to go round and her brows to furrow, and the soft, gentle touch of her hand to Poppy’s arm has her stuttering in her response.

“Y-yeah,” she breathes, “Just got a little dizzy.”

“Are you sure, do you need to sit down?”

“I’m okay, honestly,” she smiles, despite the way Katja’s warm, caring eyes mirror those of her son and make Poppy’s chest ache just a little. “I haven’t really eaten much today, I just got a little lightheaded, I’ll be fine once we’re done here and I can go home and eat.”

“Here,” Katja reaches into her purse, digging around before she pulls out some sort of granola bar, “I got this for a snack on my flight and didn’t eat it, you can have it to keep you going.”

Poppy can hardly decline the motherly gesture, and takes the snack with a thank you before unwrapping it and taking a cautious bite. She probably isn’t doing herself any favours, the nausea creeping up when she chews on a bit of dried fruit, and the unexpected flavour immediately triggers her stomach. She’s been sticking to crackers and dry toast, and hasn’t really eaten anything sweet in a week - the combination of the fruit and the syrupy coating making her feel so uneasy she has to sit down. 

“You’re still sick?” Katja sits beside her, watching over her in the way only a loving mother could, concern etched upon her beautiful features and a tilted head examining Poppy from head to toe. 

“I usually shift bugs a lot quicker than this, but I think the not being able to eat and the exhaustion is making everything worse.”

“You aren’t sleeping, either?”

“Technically I might be sleeping too much.” Poppy takes another bite, trying to put her mind over the matter, knowing that it should actually make her feel well enough to get through the rest of the event to have something in her belly. “But I keep having these crazy dreams, and they’re so vivid that I don’t feel rested at all when I wake up, even if I got enough hours in. Then I just feel anxious and it makes me more tired.”

Katja nods understandingly, a knowing smile plucking at her lips until her cheeks dimple, just like Nico’s do. “How many weeks?”

“Have I been sick?” Poppy asks, too busy trying to ignore the sickly sweet flavour on her tongue to notice the woman sat beside her shaking her head, “Just last week. I think it was bad takeout or something, combined with work stress probably-,”

“How many weeks are you into your pregnancy, Poppy?” She chuckles, a gentle hand placed on Poppy’s lap. “You don’t have to pretend to me.”

“My-,” Poppy covers her mouth as she swallows a hardly-chewed bit of granola, “I’m not-,” she struggles a little with her words, cringing at the way she can feel it going down her throat, and clears it with an awkward cough when she can, “Pregnancy?”

“Oh Goodness, I’m sorry,” Katja’s eyes widen in alarm, the hand on Poppy’s knee squeezing apologetically, “I just thought, the dreams, the sickness, the exhaustion, that’s how it started for me with all 3 of my children.”

“Oh.” At least she isn’t the only person Nico has ever caused to have such torturous dreams, she thinks. “No, I’ve just had a bug, I’m pretty sure it’s gonna clear up,” she says, her voice much smaller as she continues to speak through trembling lips, continues to grow more unsure of her words as something akin to dread settles in the pit of her stomach. “And this is like the aftershocks of being sick, or something, one last hurrah for the germs.”

“Of course,” Katja nods, giving Poppy’s knee a comforting rub before placing her hands on her own lap, a sheepish look given as she makes eye contact, the same dark eyes she’s been dreaming about looking right at her. “I would never usually assume, I swear you don’t look it, it was just my first thought when you mentioned the sleep. It just took me right back, my pregnancies were all like that. Heavy sickness, exhaustion, even in my bones I felt tired, and the dreams were crazy, especially with Nico, it was like full movies playing out in my head every night for the whole 9 months.”

“I never knew that was a thing.” Poppy has obviously heard of morning sickness. She’s heard of expectant mothers being exhausted, their bodies worn out from the oh-so-minor task of creating life, but she hadn’t ever heard anyone talk about dreams being an indicator of pregnancy.

“Babies make your body do crazy things.” She gives a reminiscent chuckle, and Poppy notices her lose herself a little in the memory, warm eyes melting with the recollection. “But at least you don’t have to worry about that.”

“Right.” The empty swallow Poppy takes next hurts more than the granola had before, the scratch of the cereal a minor irritation in comparison to the lump currently forming there. “What other symptoms did you have?”

“At the start, food was my enemy. Rino used to have to make me smoothies to get all my vitamins in. You wouldn’t think with the appetite my boys had growing up that they would have made me fear eating so much, but it was bad. I always envied the women who just had a little morning sickness.”

Poppy feels her eyes well up - more so at the way Katja’s eyes glint with pride and love when she talks about her family than anything else. It’s beautiful. Even recalling how sick her babies had made her, Poppy can tell from the look on her face that her pregnancies brought her unadulterated joy.

She remembers when Oliver’s wife, Kimberley, had been pregnant with their first son. They had lived in Jersey, still, back then, and family dinners were a staple every Friday night. They were all sat around the dining table back at the Jensen house, and Kimberley, God bless her, had misguidedly asked Priscilla what her pregnancies were like. 

“Hell.” Poppy’s mom had said, sipping at her wine and looking over the glass at Oliver with a measured glare. “He gave me uneven breasts and dry skin,”

“Mom,” Oliver had grunted in disgust, a protective hand reaching out to take hold of his wife’s.

“And she,” Priscilla gave an accusatory point in Poppy’s direction, “Gave me thin hair and postnatal depression. But she evened my breasts back out, so there’s a silver lining, I suppose.”

Kimberley hasn’t made the same mistake of seeking motherly advice since then. 

“And Nina made me have super-human scent, I could smell things from floors away.”

Poppy can barely look at her anymore.

After she’d spoken to Nico when he’d turned up before, she could still smell him from across the room. And she hadn’t been able to step foot in the common area in her office when she’d dropped by to pick up her files earlier, thinking she could smell someone’s microwaved food and feeling like she was about to vomit. She has only been able to nibble at dry crackers all week just to avoid eating or smelling anything that would set her off.

But that’s the bug, right? She’s been sluggish, she’s been tired, running hot all week, and her body has constantly ached, especially-

“I should get all this stuff packed up,” Poppy shoots up from her seat, thankfully able to suppress the dizziness. “I think I feel better, thank you so much for keeping me company.”

She shouldn’t hope so much that she isn’t being rude, shouldn’t expect or want Katja to hold her to high esteem, but she finds herself cringing at her quick subject change, and caring a little too much that it will make her think less of her.

Her son doesn’t want her to be a part of his life in that way, Poppy thinks, so it shouldn’t matter what Katja feels about her. Not anymore.

“That’s okay, Poppy, thank you for listening to me reminisce. It was nice. Nico usually gets too embarrassed for me to talk about stuff like this.” Katja follows Poppy up, mirroring her to help her pack up the rest of the merchandise that hadn’t been bought or signed.

“I don’t think he could ever be embarrassed by you.” Poppy chuckles despite herself, defending him like it’s second nature, even though she knows Katja wasn’t trying to put him down in the first place. He’s her son, for crying out loud, Poppy thinks, she doesn’t need some random girl he works with acting like she knows him any better than his own mother. “He probably just doesn’t want to think about ever making you uncomfortable, even as a foetus or whatever.”

Katja gives that same knowing smile she had worn just before turning Poppy’s world upside down mere minutes ago. The smile that would be patronising on anyone else, but the warmth in her eyes holds nothing but understanding and appreciation.

“He’s a sweet boy,” she remarks, proudly, “I never thought of It like that."

“Yeah, you raised a gentleman for sure.” Poppy had considered that it would feel more like a lie when the thought had come to her head, but as the words leave her mouth, she finds comfort in them.

Despite how much he had hurt her, she still knows Nico’s heart. She knows he cares deeply, knows he is selfless and warm, and loves with everything in him. He just doesn’t love her - not how she wants him to, at least - but she can’t hold that against him forever.

The words weigh a little heavier when the situation dawns on her, but she tries not to get ahead of herself. Not again.

She can’t be pregnant. That’s insane. 

And she can’t rack her brain trying to remember if either of them had protected themselves with his mom sat right in front of her, she knows for a fact she can’t suppress the heat that rises up her neck at the memory - she may as well wave a gigantic flag that reads Hey, I had sex with your son!

“We’re heading for dinner when he’s finished here, would you want to join us?” Katja asks, motherly concern etched upon her features, and Poppy’s heart warms at the gesture in spite of the panic rousing in her chest.

“That’s alright,” she shakes her head, guilt plucking slightly at her with the telling of the minute lie, “I have plans with another friend.”

“We’ll be going home next week, so there’s plenty of time to catch up, if you’re free at all.”

Poppy can’t help but relent with a soft smile, nodding at the suggestion without overthinking it. She’d accidentally gatecrashed a couple lunches Nico and Katja had together in some of her previous visits, and she was always so welcoming and kind - it would hardly be putting herself out if she were to do it again. “I’d like that,”

“If you’re busy, Nina and Rino will be over for the Stadium game, don’t let them convince you to come out when I’m not there.” She jests with a pointed finger, and Poppy finds herself laughing despite her nerves. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good girl.” Katja reaches out and pinches softly at Poppy’s cheek, “Make sure you keep drinking plenty, and eating too, even if you feel sick you should try make sure you’re keeping your energy up. Try soup with lots of vegetables and bread. You can make it in a big batch and freeze it.”

Poppy can’t remember the last time her own mother had cared about her like this - not without belittling her, at least. When she’d spoken to her mom last week, had told her she was off work sick and couldn’t come over at the weekend, she had heard her roll her eyes over the phone. She’d been told that this is where eating poorly gets her, and that if she was keeping on top of her supplements and vitamin shots, she wouldn’t be so prone to illness. 

Even as a grown woman, with her own career, her own life, her own home, she still feels like a berated child when it comes to her mom. 

Nico’s mom makes her feel child-like in an entirely different way. In a way that’s warm and comforting, a way that wouldn’t give her anxiety every time her name comes up on her phone.

“I will, thank you for looking out for me, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it, Katja.”

Kindness comes like a second nature to Katja - to all members of the Hischier family she has encountered thus far - and a pang of jealousy and longing hits her at the realisation that some people have just been raised around this level of benevolence their whole lives, and think nothing of it.

Though, she knows Nico appreciates it.

Katja departs back through the doors into the Q&A with a soft smile and an enthusiastic wave, and Poppy waits until they have closed properly before she retrieves her cellphone from her back pocket.

Frustrated at the way it refuses to identify her face, she prods her fingers into the screen, typing in her passcode and swiping until she finds her calendar app. 

She knows she had an appointment scheduled in December with her gynaecologist. She had been in the middle of trialling a new contraception back in October - a sticky patch that had made her bleed continuously for 3 weeks and turned her into a raging nightmare to be around - and had stopped using it despite the 6 week recommendation she had been given, figuring she’d just wait out the rough periods until her next time she was booked in and speak to the doctor about it. But she’d been so busy in the back end of last year, she doesn’t remember how long it’s been since she stopped. 

Her eyes widen when she locates the appointment, clicking into the date, December 15th and reading the notes she left in there.

NEED TO RESCHEDULE!!!! busy w/ work, gynae breaks 4 xmas 22nd, comes back Jan 2nd.

She remembers the phone call as soon as she reads it. She had cancelled instead of rescheduling, knowing she was picking up extra work and would be busy until pretty much after the Christmas break. She was supposed to call in the new year. She’d gotten distracted. She hadn’t thought it was an emergency, it wasn’t like she thought she would need it for contraceptive purposes. And her periods hadn’t even been that bad since she stopped using it. Light flow, 28 day cycle, barely any cramps. She’d even been keeping a track of it, herself. She had nothing to worry about, which is probably why she hadn’t remembered to book herself back in. Hadn’t thought to start taking any other birth control in the meantime.

Her Cycle app is the next stop, flicking through the dates until she realises she was on her period after Christmas, and that the 10 or so days after that had ended were marked another colour, given another meaning.

She can feel her heartbeat in her ears. 

No, no, no.

This isn’t happening.

She’s jumping to conclusions.

It’s just a sickness bug from the takeout.

The dreams are just her broken heart playing tricks on her.

She isn’t pregnant.

She can’t be pregnant.

Next Chapter

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

[selfship-shenanigans]

Palette and doctor!

Tysm!! <3 It's only been uhhhh *checks notes* 2 weeks since you sent this ask... I've been so busy pls forgive me 🙏

🎨 Palette: Paint a picture with your words! What is a scene featuring yourself/self-insert that would fit into the source of your f/o? It can be anything!

This is a scene from the "official" Ganondorf x Ray fic, but I've only ever drafted it and never fully written it, so this is a summarised version. It's set well before the two of them got together, and when Ray was still slowly earning the trust of the other Gerudo. Ray often helped around the fortress while they were there as the Gerudo were often short-handed. One day, they came across an injured solider, Erise, who was in a lot of pain and struggling to heal as she still had to work hard despite her injury and couldn't afford to rest. So the next time Ray visited, they brought with them some medicinal herbs and other supplies to help Erise that they bought in the castle town market. Erise accepted Ray's help, albeit reluctantly, and this scene plays out while Ray is tending to Erise's wounds.

Erise comments that Ganondorf seems... fond of Ray. Ray asks if she really thinks so, looking up briefly from what they're doing. She says she doesn’t really understand why he’s taken a liking to Ray, but if it makes him happy, then she will welcome them with open arms. But she warns Ray not to even think about crossing him or betraying his trust, or they'll be facing the wrath of the entire Gerudo race. He’s not just their leader, he’s their king, their god, their guiding light, and he means more to them than Ray could ever know. Ray assures her that they would never even think of such a thing and that they care about him a lot too. Erise doesn’t seem convinced. Ray continues tending her wounds in silence until they're finished, and she thanks them afterwards, saying that she really does appreciate Ray taking the time to help her out and that she feels a lot better already. Ray gives her the rest of the medicinal herbs they brought and asks her to give them to whoever needs them, and tells her that if they need more, they should tell Ray and Ray will do their best to get some. Erise asks why Ray would do this when she’s a Gerudo and they're a Hylian, expressing her surprise that they don’t appear to be prejudiced against the Gerudo like the rest of their kind. Ray explains why they came here in the first place, how they ended up becoming sort of friends with Ganondorf, and why they're determined to help the Gerudo. Ray spent their whole life being fed the same lies about the Gerudo as all the other Hylians and never thought to wonder if it was really true, but now they know the truth, and they couldn’t have been more wrong about the Gerudo. Ray feels obligated to try and help the Gerudo even though they had nothing to do with their past treatment. Erise remarks that Ray truly is an unusual Hylian… but perhaps not in a bad way. Maybe if more of their kind were as open-minded as Ray, things could change between the Hylians and the Gerudo. 

🩺Doctor: What is the worst injury that you/your self-insert has sustained in canon? If so, what was the cause and did you recover? What was your f/os reaction?

I haven't actually thought about this before, but since Ray lived a normal peasant life before meeting Ganondorf, and he always kept them safe at his side once they were together, there won't have been many chances for Ray to sustain any major injury. If they ever were seriously hurt, it probably would have been during Ganondorf's takeover of the castle, when Ray, despite having zero combat skills and having been firmly instructed by Ganondorf to stay out of the fighting, picked up a sword and did their best to fight alongside the Gerudo. They would most likely have been struck by one of the Hylian soldiers' swords, so it would have been a cut/slash wound.

Of course, Ganondorf would have taken very good care of them--only the best medical care in the entire kingdom for his beloved pet. So Ray would have made a full recovery for sure. Ganny would have been absolutely pissed tho, both at Ray for disobeying him and getting themself hurt, and at himself for allowing it to happen.

[mikashisus]

Thus Always to Tyrants

"i hope you live a life you're proud of. if you find you're not, i hope you have the strength to start all over again."

— f. scott fitzgerald

chapter 2 (part 1) wc: 16k

author’s notes: timeline is in chronological order from now on bc i confused myself with the mixed one 😵‍💫

madge venti is sm fun to write, esp since i think he deserves to go batshit crazy in canon (in his archon form specifically. — hyv PLEASE LET HIM).

insert curious venti who wants to know more about this person who is causing trouble and messing with time and he doesn’t realize he’s falling.

ik some of yall didnt want her to come back, but the og cryo archon is making a return bc she actually plays a huge part in this fic and i planned a long time ago for her to play this part.

enjoy!

previous chapter

CHAPTER II: i loved you like the sun (part I)

The winds grew restless as a powerful storm began to brew overhead. You were mounted in place as you stared at the god before you, who right now, was beyond furious. He seethed with anger, his shoulders heaving as he tried to steady his breathing.

“Why didn’t you go back…?” his voice was shaky, teetering between the lines of concern and something greater, something darker.

Amidst the tempest winds, you couldn’t find an answer to his question, coming up empty as you tried to think of why you hadn’t taken the chance to go back through that gate.

You’d never see your friends or family ever again. You’d have to spend the rest of your life stuck here, in a timeline that you didn’t come from.

“I… I don’t–” you trailed off, your voice failing you.

You couldn’t see his face, but you could feel his fury radiating off of his slender body, and it terrified you.

You’ve never heard of any instances where Barbatos had gotten angry or even remotely upset. Every record of him in Mondstadt’s history told of the kind and gentle archon who always treated humanity with a sort of fondness. He referred to the people of Mondstadt as his children for goodness sake.

Every bone in your body rattled as the winds around you whipped violently. You were at a loss for words as you stood before him, your jaw hung open in absolute disbelief. As soon as he made eye contact with you, a sharp shiver ran down your spine, and you suddenly wished you had passed through that gate.

His eyes glowed, as they usually did, but this time with an inexplicable anger. His brows knitted together, and the way his lip curled up into a snarl was frightening.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve just done!?” he roared, the winds matching his fury. “Do you have any idea how lucky you were that you had a chance to go back home!?”

You were left utterly speechless as he continued to yell at you.

“I’d give anything to go back! ANYTHING! And you just– you threw your chance away!” His voice cracked as he began to calm down. Tears pooled at the corners of his eyes, and for a moment, you thought that he was going to hurt you.

That thought was incredulous, and made you realize that there was so much more for you to learn about the Anemo Archon– more specifically, Barbatos, the god behind that title.

As soon as the winds tempered and the rising tornadoes slowed to soft breezes, Barbatos’ eyes widened significantly. The look of pure terror on your face made him pause for a moment, and before you could take a step closer to him and try to explain yourself, he shied away.

His wings twitched and he didn’t meet your eyes as he muttered, “I just… yelled at a child of Mondstadt…” he gripped at his scalp, the guilt and regret from his former actions filling him up to the brim.

You stepped forward, attempting to reach out to him, but he immediately outstretched his wings, flying away before you could touch him, leaving behind a huge gust of wind and feathers in his wake.

Back in the city, the festivities for the Windblume Festival were still in full swing. You weighed your options in your head, wondering if you should continue to party with the rest of the town, or if you should find lodging and call it a day. Based on the recent events with Barbatos, you thought it wise to go and find lodging instead of giving in to temptation and continuing drinking.

However, you still hadn’t processed the reality you were living in, and decided to drink away your sorrows just this once. One time couldn’t hurt… right?

Grabbing a random bottle from a table that Lawrence and his sister occupied, you popped the cork and downed a few gulps. Lawrence cheered at the sight, rising to his feet and clapping obnoxiously. The rest of the table joined in, and as soon as you removed the bottle from your wine coated lips, you gasped for air.

You searched for the label on the bottle, a feeling of familiarity welling within you at the aftertaste of the wine. You’ve had this before.

“A toast to the lovely lady, (Name)!” Lawrence, drunk off his ass, yelled. The rest of the table whooped and cheered before returning to their own conversations.

In your peripherals, something red caught your eye. A gentle hand rested on the small of your back as another took the bottle from your hand. A deep, soothing voice filled your ears.

“I believe you’ve had enough Thousand Wind Wine for tonight, My Lady.”

Looking up, you felt the air get knocked out of your lungs. You had to be dreaming… there was no way that Diluc had followed you here, right?

Before you could speak his name, the man placed the bottle back onto the table and ushered you away to a calmer, quieter atmosphere. Now, the two of you stood right in front of the cathedral, overlooking the loud partygoers at the foot of the Barbatos statue.

“You look at me as if you’ve seen a ghost,” the man beside you said, keeping a reasonable distance so as to not make you uncomfortable.

You swallowed thickly, nervously fiddling with your hands. “My apologies, I was just caught off guard.”

You could tell that he called your bluff with the way he hummed noncommittally, but he didn’t pry any further. You wanted so desperately to ask about the wine’s name, so you did.

“What is Thousand Wind Wine?” you questioned softly, your voice a little hoarse from all the alcohol you consumed tonight.

The redheaded man looked at you as if you had two heads. “You are a child of Mond, yet you do not know of Thousand Wind Wine?” You kept your lips pursed. At your silence, he briefly sighed. “It is made with the basis of dandelion seeds. The rest of the ingredients can be decided upon by the brewer. I brewed that bottle, therefore I used dandelion seeds, wolfhook, and a few other berries.”

Thousand Wind Wine was just like Dandelion Wine, just made a little differently. You came to the conclusion that it was most likely the original name for dandelion wine.

“You are not from Mond, are you? Not this one, at least.” The man questioned, glancing at you with a knowing look. “I apologize for eavesdropping, but I was there when you spoke with Lord Barbatos.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach. You sighed heavily, “So you know then…” you turned to look at him, only to see remnants of guilt in his crimson eyes— eyes that looked so much like—

“You remind me of someone,” you muttered. “That’s why I choked up when I saw you. Your— most likely—descendant, Diluc… he’s like my brother. I’d recognize him anywhere… he looks so much like you, that it threw me off.”

He nodded solemnly. “I see.” It was silent for a moment. “How is my family faring in the future?”

Sighing, you leaned against the stone railing of the small balcony. “Diluc is the last of your bloodline. Master Crepus passed a few years ago. We were only eighteen.” You blinked back tears as you remembered the man that treated you like his own daughter.

“Would you mind indulging me in some happier stories?” the man asked, not wanting to make you cry.

You laughed softly and nodded. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

The man smiled, and it was then that you realized just how similar Diluc was to him. “There is no need to apologize. It was I who brought up terrible memories for you. Please, do not blame yourself.”

Entranced by his gentleness and charm, you relaxed and returned his smile. Taking a deep breath, you decided to tell a story from your childhood.

“There was this one time that Diluc, Kaeya, and I tried to steal a barrel from Master Crepus’ reserves—“

Landing on the soft brush of Mt. Aocang, Barbatos felt a sense of relief wash over him. He raised his head, watching as the first signs of dawn crept over the horizon.

The view was magnificent from this height, and he suddenly remembered why he decided to include wings in his godly form.

He liked feeling weightless. He liked feeling free. He liked being able to soar through the skies like a bird, an animal that his friend once dreamt of seeing one day.

“I do hope you’ve come here regarding serious matters, and not to pull tomfoolery like you usually do.”

The commanding voice of Rex Lapis drew him out of his daze. He smirked as he turned around, only to be met by intimidating amber eyes and a very unimpressed Geo Archon.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, old friend—“

“I’d say we are hardly the like.” Morax seethed.

Ah, Barbatos almost forgot. This brute was still very much a hothead. He was a blubbering buffoon that was still in his prime and at the end of the day, was still the one that hurled mountains at Barbatos during the Archon War not too long ago.

“Come now, we’re friends aren’t we?” Barbatos took a seat at the table Morax was occupying. “After all, I sent you a whole month’s worth of the finest wine my children have brewed! I don’t do that for just anyone!” He crossed his arms over his chest.

Makoto giggled, “I would like to try some too, Barbatos! If you’re willing to share. I could send some Inazuman sake to Mondstadt for you as a ‘thank you.’”

Barbatos gasped and abruptly grabbed the woman’s hand enthusiastically. “Of course! Why, the Windblume Festival is occurring right now! I shall send you the finest wines Mondstadt has to offer! I look forward to trying this ‘sake’ you speak of!”

A tall figure sat down in the last open seat, placing a plate of baklava in front of Barbatos. The calming voice of Rukkhadevata entered his ears, “Wine, you say? What would you consider the best out of every brew that Mondstadt makes?”

Barbatos smiled at his newfound friend. Out of all of The Seven, Rukkhadevata was the most delightful to have a conversation with. He entertained her, “My personal favorite is Thousand Wind Wine, made with dandelion seeds. It is a trademark of my nation. Would you like me to send you wine as well?”

Rukkhadevata nodded, a gentle yet eager smile pulling at her lips. “Of course. As a gift, I’ve brought baklava for everyone here to try. For our friends who could not attend this get-together, I have sent the same to their nations.”

Barbatos would’ve loved to try the delicious treat in front of him gifted to him by his dear friend, but so many thoughts were plaguing his mind, drawing his attention away from the food and stripping him of his appetite.

“I came here for a deeper reason than just to see all of you,” he said, his expression turning serious. “Someone passed through the gate…”

There were three varying reactions from his fellow archons. Morax’s eyes slightly widened in surprise, Makoto gasped as a hand rose to cover her mouth, and Rukkhadevata simply hummed in understanding.

“I had assumed as much,” she sighed softly, closing her eyes. “As soon as I felt the change in Irminsul, I immediately rushed to see what had caused it. …How could this have happened?”

Barbatos clenched his hands into fists as he gripped at his exposed thighs. The glowing marking on his thigh did little to soothe him. If anything, it only served to mock him and his foolish actions.

“I can only assume that my future self failed to prevent it from happening. How? I don’t know…” he muttered, staring into the stone table.

Rukkhadevata placed a comforting hand on one of his clenched fists. The whitening of his knuckles served as confirmation that he was frustrated about this whole ordeal. She gently grabbed his hand, forcing his fingers to unclench. She rubbed soothing circles into his now reddened palm with her thumb, brushing over the crescent shaped markings he created.

“Self deprecation will only make you feel worse, Barbatos.” She calmly stated. Her soft tone made his shoulders relax and his wings drop to the ground. He was no longer tense. “Do not blame yourself for this. It was an accident, and accidents happen all the time. You can’t save everyone, and even though it hurts to hear, it is true.”

He knew she was right. She was the god of wisdom, after all.

He refused to let himself cry in front of anyone. He wouldn’t let anyone know just how much he was hurting, especially not his dear friends.

“Oh, Barbatos…” A soft hand was placed on his cheek, and upon feeling a small spark of electricity shock his skin, he knew it was Makoto’s. “It’s okay to cry. Let your emotions show. We are no judges here.”

“Egeria would be, if she were here,” Rukkhadevata joked softly, earning a slight chuckle from Barbatos at the thought.

His smile prompted the others to smile. If Barbatos was happy, then everything was okay. If he was upset, that would spell out disaster. All of The Seven were aware of this fact. Barbatos was like the glue holding them all together. He was the sole reason there was peace between them, and the reason they all held these get-togethers.

“How long has it been since we’ve last seen her?” he wondered aloud, only for Makoto to give an answer.

“A few months, at most. She’s been quite busy recently.”

Morax sent Makoto a confused look. “You keep in contact? Fontaine is a long way from Inazuma.”

Makoto giggled, “I have my ways of communication.”

“Do not sound so malicious, Baal.” Rukkhadevata scolded, though the words held no weight. The two of them held each other’s gazes before they burst into a fit of uncontrollable giggles.

A cold, piercing voice cut through the airy atmosphere the four gods had created. “Do the three of you have no semblance of shame?” The feminine voice questioned in distaste.

Barbatos perked up at the voice, his eyes practically sparkling in delight as he watched the elegant figure grow closer to the table. Morax pulled a chair up for her in between him and Makoto, but she simply formed her own chair out of ice directly between Makoto and Barbatos.

Makoto’s hand retracted from Barbatos’ cheek, and instead was replaced by a chillingly icy touch. “Continue, Barbatos. Let off everything that is on your chest.”

Barbatos sighed heavily, melting into her touch even though it sent a sharp shiver down his spine. He was cold, but he could bear it if it was her. He always could. He smiled at the touch, his cerulean eyes boring into her sapphire colored ones. She could always tell when there was more that he wished to say.

“The girl had the chance to return to her time…” he trailed off, his voice small as the others stared at him, giving him their full attention. “But… at the last moment, she… she didn’t. She stayed, and I– …I lashed out at her. I didn’t mean to lose my temper with a child of Mondstadt, but I did… and I–”

“You regret it.” The Cryo Archon answered for him.

Barbatos’ lip trembled. He pulled his face away from her hand and sighed. “I don’t know what to do. The only chance I had to save her is gone. She’s stuck here forever.”

A tense silence passed over them before Makoto spoke gently. “Did you ask why she chose to stay?”

He nodded. “She didn’t answer… well, I think she was too scared of me to get a single word out.” His voice trembled with guilt.

“Darling,” The Cryo Archon placed a finger under Barbatos’ chin, turning his head to face her again. “Everything will be okay.”

“What do I do?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The Cryo Archon smiled sweetly at him. He loved her smile— it was so fitting for the god of love. “Apologize for the outburst, but make sure she is okay. I can’t imagine this is easy for her.”

Barbatos nodded. “The next time I see her, I will.”

“Good. Now here,” Rukkhadevata smiled as she handed him a plate of baklava.

You didn’t know how to pass the time. Barbatos told you to meet him at Windrise so he could speak with you, but that would be at sundown. You had about two hours to kill until then.

The stone arch you passed through stood tall and proud in the exact same position it was always in. You stood before it, waiting to hear the small whisper of a voice that would call out to you and urge you closer. However, there was no such whisper.

Placing your fingers on the odd markings lining the stone, you found that they no longer glowed underneath your touch. It was as if the whole thing had been a dream. The only way you could tell that it hadn’t been was your surroundings.

Taking a leap of faith, you stepped through to the other side, wondering if you’d feel that odd tumbling feeling again, as if you were falling down a hole. You didn’t. Nothing changed. The city was still young, and so was the nation.

“You appear lost and confused.” A voice whispered.

You whirled around to find where it came from, only to see that you were still alone. A shiver crept up your spine as you could suddenly feel the presence of something all around you, the force overwhelming. Yet, you couldn’t see a thing.

It almost sounded as if it was coming from inside your head. “Changing the past and altering the future are two unachievable things… yet you pulled it off without so much as a flick of your wrist.”

Your brows furrowed. “Who are you?” you demanded, your heartbeat roaring in your ears as you continued to search for the owner of the voice.

“You need not know who I am, and you needn’t search for me. The only thing that matters is that I know you.”

Another shiver ran up your spine, and you shuddered. “That doesn’t make me feel any better. Are you… a god?”

The voice chuckled softly, “Such an interesting question. Consider me a passerby.” The feminine voice paused for a moment. “It is fate that we meet like this again. And it is coincidental that you have asked me the same questions you did before.”

Confusion brewed within you. You gave up on searching for the source of the voice, and instead focused your gaze to the city sitting upon the lake. “We’ve met?”

“In a distant dream. Or perhaps you could say… in a memory.”

Whoever this was, they weren’t intending on telling you their true identity. Nor were they intent on revealing themselves to you. All you had was a voice speaking inside your head.

You sighed. “I think I would remember a voice like yours speaking inside my head like this,” you crossed your arms over your chest. “Why are you here? What are your reasons for hiding yourself from me?”

“Those who are lost need to be guided back home, do they not? You are lost, and you are far from home. And I am a guide.”

“Is there any way I can get back home?” you questioned.

You were holding onto a slim bit of hope that she would say yes. You hadn’t taken the chance to go home when it was presented to you, and your actions were slowly catching up to you.

The more you thought about the reality of your situation and the consequences of your own actions, the more you wished you could go back home. You didn’t have a future here, and you couldn’t keep messing with the past like you have been doing.

“Home. What does home mean to you?”

Struck with that question, you remained silent as you thought it over. What did home mean to you? Was it a place? A person? A thing? You had never once thought about it before.

You always assumed that home was your childhood home in Springvale, and the apartment you rented out above the jewelry shop in the city once you turned eighteen. It had been that small home on the coast of the beach that one summer when you and your mother had taken a vacation to Fontaine.

It was that cottage in the mountains Northeast of the City of Mondstadt near Dornman Port, when your older brother had been stationed there for half a year. It was your host family’s house in Inazuma City when you studied abroad in the Spring one semester.

Those were all places you had considered home at one point in time. Home wasn’t just one place for you. It was a bunch of places, but perhaps it was also the people around you. Your mother, your brother, your friends back in the present, your friends from overseas, and the two black cats your brother took in after they kept coming back to his porch everyday.

Maybe home was wherever you went. Maybe it was your heart.

“I suppose… it’s wherever I go.”

“Then do you consider this past your home too? It is Mondstadt, is it not?”

You rubbed your temples in frustration. “But I don’t belong here! In this timeline! I belong in the present.”

There was a small beat of silence. “Fate is your true home. You have run from it before, and you will continue to do so in the future. But you must remember: you cannot change your fate.”

“What does this have to do with me going home!?” You were beginning to get a little irritated now. Her ominous behavior and her incredulous words were hurting your brain. None of this was making any sense at all. “What does this have to do with what I asked?”

The voice sighed. “Your answers never change, and your searching for an escape never ends. Greed will inevitably lead to your ruination.”

You felt even more lost than a moment ago. She was dodging your questions, and she wasn’t giving you any clear answers. As far as you knew, it was all gibberish. There were underlying meanings to her words, that much you were aware of, but none of it made sense to you.

It was all going in one ear and out the other.

“Your choices thus far have affected your future. If you continue to make the same final choice that you have been, then this cycle of your damnation will persist, and you will be left to an eternity of chasing a fate that will never be within reach.”

The overwhelming presence around you dissipated, and the wind that had once ceased was now picking up again. You stared out at the city, repeating her words over and over again in your mind.

Eternal damnation? What did that mean? And more importantly: what did she mean by ‘the cycle will persist’?

There were so many questions left unanswered, and you felt even more lost than you were before. She called herself a guide, yet she did nothing to help you along at all. Because of that, you felt as if she was far from a guide. All she did was speak in riddles that you couldn’t understand, ones that made absolutely zero sense whatsoever. Usually you loved riddles, but these were a kind you simply couldn’t solve.

You didn’t mention the voice you heard to Barbatos, and you definitely didn’t mention the mysterious note that appeared in your pocket after your conversation with the aforementioned voice.

“Barbatos is not who he says he is.”

You didn’t know what to make of the elegant words written on that small piece of paper. What did it mean? Was the Anemo Archon not to be trusted? That was what it was sounding like, but you weren’t entirely sure. It wasn’t like you could ask anyone, especially the ominous voice that spoke to you.

“Thank you for meeting me here, (Name).” He said softly, a small innocent smile pulling at his lips. It seemed forced, though you didn’t comment on that.

You sat down in front of the Statue of The Seven and pulled your knees up to your chest. Barbatos inhaled and closed his eyes, taking in the scent of nearby windwheel asters and the serenity of a fresh gust of wind. Then, he took a seat next to you, one of his wings falling to rest on the stone behind you.

It was silent for a few minutes as the both of you relished in your peaceful surroundings and the serene weather. It was the perfect day for a walk around Falcon Coast. Sometimes, on Kaeya’s days off, the two of you would take a relaxing stroll on the beach, letting the cool water lap at your bare feet. He would share stories about the Knights, ranging from funny and embarrassing moments with the rookies, to serious drama happening between a few of the captains.

You would silently listen, occasionally giving your input when he asked for it. When you got tired of walking, the two of you would sit down in the sand and talk some more, filling the air with loud laughter and enjoying each other’s presence.

Today reminded you of one of those days. A sense of longing filled your chest as you realized you would never get to experience that again.

“I’m sorry,” Barbatos’ mutter brought you out of your stupor. Surprised, you turned your head to look at him. His aqua eyes were downcast, avoiding your gaze, and his brows were furrowed together in guilt. His voice was small, shaky. He curled in on himself somewhat, resembling a hurt dove lying in the grass.

“For raising my voice and getting angry with you. I shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t right of me to do. Please accept my heartfelt apologies, and I promise to be a better Arch–”

You turned your whole body to face him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Stop. You don’t need to promise me or the people of Mondstadt anything. Do you know how much you’ve done for us already? How much you’ll do in the future? You are already an exceptional Archon. You protect us time and time again, and you care for us like no other Archon has. So… you don’t need to promise anything, because– because you’re already amazing.”

His head whipped up, his eyes blown wide with surprise. You immediately retracted your hand from his shoulder and bowed your head. “I-I’m sorry for touching you, I–”

Two gentle hands grabbed your cheeks and lifted your face to meet his warm, welcoming smile. “Please, do not be frightened. I am no different from you. I make mistakes and I am flawed. Do not treat me differently from anyone else just because I am a god.” His soothing voice and comforting words were enough to make you relax a little.

He chuckled softly, “You remind me of someone… A boy I met once.” There was a deep sadness that reflected in his eyes as he said this.

Your mother always told you that eyes were windows into the soul. You searched his eyes, looking deeper to find the source of the immense sadness that Barbatos was feeling. This was clearly a touchy topic for him to talk about, yet he brought it up anyway. The wound had not healed yet, and maybe it never would…

“He was just like you… a beautiful soul with a heart made of gold and a determined fire in his eyes,” he continued, looking far off into the distance as dandelion seeds rose up in the wind. He handed you a windwheel aster he had plucked earlier, and you watched as the petals twirled in the breeze. He sighed heavily, a solemn smile gracing his pale lips. “The most beautiful people leave us in such cruel ways… and way too soon.”

Nodding, you hummed in agreement. Taking the flower from his fingers, you traced your finger over the soft petals and thought of the many people you’ve lost in your own life. All of them were compassionate people with beautiful souls. They were taken away too soon for you to process, and even now, you couldn’t come to terms with the reality of their deaths.

“To a god, time may seem indefinite… but it can feel way too short all at the same time.” He muttered, letting out another sigh as he stretched his legs out in front of him. In a flash of light and whirling feathers, his appearance changed.

He was no longer adorned in those white garments he always seemed to wear. Instead, he was now wearing a getup akin to a bard’s. You knew this bard form better than anyone in this time period. It was the form he used to disguise himself in the modern day. The reason behind why he walked among mortals even though he was a god was unknown to you.

But there was one thing you knew for sure: you loved his songs.

Studying your expression, he smiled. “You seem to recognize this form of mine. I take it that it has not changed in the future?”

The frown on your face deepened at his words. Noticing this, his smile abruptly dropped. “Indeed, though there are some minor differences.” You couldn’t help the slight animosity in your tone as you thought of the last conversation you had with Venti. More like the last argument.

Barbatos was silent for a moment. When you met his eyes again, he was still frowning. “Your tone suggests that you are not so fond of the future me…”

You scoffed, “You could say that. You’ve been nothing but a dick to me ever since I met you.” It went silent again, and as soon as you registered what you had just said, a loud gasp escaped your lips.

Had you really just talked to him like that? Had you really just said that to his face? Him, the Anemo Archon.

As you whirled around to apologize profusely and even beg on your knees for his forgiveness for how you spoke to him, he promptly hummed. He seemed a little lost in thought as he processed your words. Eventually, he exhaled deeply in disappointment.

“Though it doesn’t make sense why I would treat such a lovely maiden that way, I am deeply sorry for my behavior. I hope you can forgive me for how I’ve treated you in both this timeline, and your own.” He held your gaze as he spoke, his eyes filled with guilt and sorrow. “You don’t deserve that. I’m sorry.”

Barbatos was oddly human, even though he was a god. Just like he stated before, he also made mistakes and had many flaws. He was just as much a sinner as anyone else. He felt emotion like everyone else–pain, suffering, grief, joy, fear, anger, sorrow.

He was just like you, and that revelation made you feel more comfortable around him than before. It would take you a bit to get used to the fact that he was a god, but once that went away, you could completely relax whenever he was present. Until that day came, you’d have to remind yourself of how human he was.

This time, with a bit of confidence, you took his hands into yours. His palms were soft, but you couldn’t help but notice how calloused his fingers were. You suspected it was because of how much he played the lyre.

“I forgive you,” you said. “Well, I forgive you for raising your voice with me. It might take me a bit to forgive all that you did to me in the future.”

He nodded “I understand.”

With a small smile of reassurance, you said, “How about we start over?” His aqua eyes met yours. They sparkled with delight and something else you couldn’t decipher. “My name is (Name). I am a child of Mondstadt, and my favorite thing to drink is the fresh beer my brother brews every year during Weinlesefest.”

He chuckled and cleared his throat. He sat up straight and smirked, “Well… my name is–” he paused for a moment, a frown pulling at his lips as he brought a finger to his chin in thought.

“How about the name Venti?” You suggested, thinking of the jovial bard that you saw from afar back in your own time.

He snapped his fingers and laughed, “That’s perfect! You have an eye for names, my dear.” He smirked again, knocking his shoulder with yours, causing you to giggle softly. He took your hands into his. “I am also from Mondstadt, and I may or may not be the Anemo Archon… don’t tell Mondstadt though!”

You couldn’t help but giggle again at his playful tone. Was this what it was like to have a real conversation with him? This… freeing?

“The wonderful taste of Thousand Wind Wine brings me ease. It is undoubtedly the best brew that Mondstadters make!” The pride in his voice was very much evident, and you could see it in his eyes: the unconditional love for his people. “I suppose the wind is also one of my favorite things.”

Just then, a gust of wind blew his hair around, and he laughed joyfully. “As long as the winds blow, as long as endless spring engulfs this nation… Mondstadt will stand tall and proud as a beacon of hope and freedom for all.”

The determination in his eyes upon uttering those words was admirable. The Anemo Archon undoubtedly represented how an Archon should act and think. He was picture perfect, though that didn’t mean that he was exempt from having any flaws.

“‘As long as the wind will blow, Barbatos will protect Mondstadt.’ That is what my father always told me before his passing.” You muttered, relishing in the late afternoon breeze.

Venti stared at you for a moment, his eyes wide. You chuckled, “Are his words that surprising? Your people love you dearly.”

He looked away, a small smile on his lips. “I’m just not used to it is all; you know, all this praise and adoration. It leaves me baffled. But… I can confidently say that I love my people just as dearly.”

“I’ve never heard of an Archon loving their people so much that they refer to them as their ‘children.’ You truly are an astounding Archon.”

Venti turned to you with a warm smile. “Of course I love my people. I adore them, in fact. I wish to see my people happy and free without the pressure of living under the rule of a god. I wish to live peacefully alongside them someday. I adore all of humanity, each and every side to it; The bad, the good, the dirty… all of it. The flaws that encompass humanity are what make them have the power to rival the gods.”

The power to rival the gods? What did that mean? You decided not to think about it for now, and instead relished in the soothing voice of the man next to you.

“May I ask you something?” he questioned, his tone carrying a sense of seriousness in it. When you nodded, he pursed his lips. “Why did you choose to stay here?”

Ah, there it was… the question you still couldn’t provide an answer to. The less you thought about your reality, the less it pained you to realize everything that you lost by staying here. Ignorance was bliss. You knew that eventually, the weight of the situation would come back to bite you, but for now, you’d ignore it all and try not to think about it.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes. “I truly don’t have an answer to that. I think that maybe… maybe I decided to stay because I need some sort of closure, I guess. I know that doesn’t really explain anything, but… that’s a good enough answer I can give at the moment.”

He didn’t press you further, and you took that as him being satisfied with your answer. However, when you studied the stoic expression on his face, you were doubting if that was true.

“I don’t mean to scare you more than you probably already are, but… do you understand the severity of your choices?” He paused to let his words sink in. “Do you understand how much of an impact this will have on the future? You have interacted with me, Lawrence, Ragnvindr… and many others. You have altered the course of history, changed what was originally written in Irminsul.”

He turned to you, his brows furrowed in slight irritation. “I don’t mean to be harsh, but I must say this to make you understand: The way you have changed history since coming here is utterly unforgivable. Time is sensitive, and messing with it is dangerous. It can cause immense repercussions to those who dare alter it.” His tone was even, firm. He wasn’t joking around.

He wasn’t leaving this open for discussion… He was forcing you to understand just how serious this was.

You gulped as his intense stare sent a shiver down your spine. He continued, “Every action, every word that flows from your tongue has a consequence. Everything will affect the future. Each word you’ve said to me, each drink you’ve shared with Lawrence. Time is not your plaything. Everything that has happened in the last hour, the last day, the last week, has already changed what will happen in the future. Do not stay ignorant. Do not brush these words off. Please heed my warnings, and understand just how serious this is.”

He wasn’t going to say it out loud, but he wanted you to take accountability for the things you have changed. Although part of it was also technically his fault because he pushed you through the portal, you were the one who decided not to return back from whence you came.

His gaze hardened. “I will say it again: Do you understand?”

The air around you grew silent and tense as he softly uttered those words. You nodded, “Yes.”

You didn’t see him for three weeks after that, and you couldn’t get the words written on that mysterious note out of your head, as well as that feminine voice that warned you of your fate.

“Barbatos is not who he says he is.”

You spent the next few weeks accommodating to your new life, though it was harder than you imagined. The weight of your reality settled heavy upon your shoulders, and to rid yourself of the feeling, you drowned your sorrows away with alcohol.

Angel’s Share did not exist in this timeline, but there was still a tavern in Mondstadt. Mondstadters were known for their love of alcohol. The nation itself was known for its many taverns, love of music, and its many bards that roamed the land. The tavern near the cathedral was bigger than Angel’s Share– significantly so –and was owned by a family known as the Blair family.

The head of the family was a kind man by the name of August. He was often seen bartending with his two sons, Klaus and Arbor.

His darling daughter, Guinevere, was a waitress whom many adored. Her long, oak brown hair fell along her back in elegant waves. Her verdant eyes shone with sparkling curiosity and hope. She had a lean figure, and her stature was no more than most of the women in the city. Her hair was often pulled back into a low ponytail, with her platinum colored bangs framing her pale face.

Her apron was always discarded somewhere behind the counter, leaving her in a white button-up blouse with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and black fitted pants. She appeared more masculine than feminine with this look, but it suited her well nonetheless. At least she was more presentable than her brothers. Their hair was always unkempt and their shirts were wrinkled. It was obvious they had little to no care for their appearances.

After becoming a regular at the North Wind Tavern, you quickly learned that their mother had passed away in the battle against Decarabian. She had been one of the fighters on the front lines, with a bard whose name was completely unfamiliar to you, and an archer named Amos. Unfortunately, all three of those people had perished.

Spending another one of your nights in this tavern, you decided to ask Guinevere a question that was on your mind for some time now.

“Say, Gwen…” you got her attention as she set down a glass of Thousand Wind Wine in front of you. She hummed, sending you a kind smile. The harmonious sound of a bard strumming a lyre could be heard from the far end of the tavern. “Where does the inspiration for this tavern’s name come from?”

“Oh!” A brilliant smile graced her lips as she clasped her hands behind her back and bounced on the balls of her feet excitedly. “Have you not heard the tale of the North Wind?”

With a shake of your head, you waited for her to tell you the tale. She pulled out the wooden chair across from you and sat down, leaning her elbows on the table.

“The Tale of the North Wind is one every child of Mondstadt knows. At least, those from the Eastern most part of Mondstadt. My family, the Blairs, were once ardent worshippers of the god of memories. She was a kindhearted, gentle soul who adored humanity and wished to set us free from the shackles of the harsh weather that engulfed the land. She was so powerful that she even challenged the Wolf King himself, though the two had no real qualms with each other.

“She worked hard to protect her people from the evil clutches of Decarabian, but she couldn’t protect everyone. My family was amongst those who were kidnapped by the evil tyrant and brought to live under his rule. However, we never lost faith in Queen Catalina. We continued to pray and hope for her protection and guidance– the guidance of the North Wind.

“Many years ago, the people of Mondstadt used to think she was the female counterpart to the Wolf King, and thus gave her the title of “Queen of the North Wind” to match his title as the King. Although the two gods were allies, they were anything but lovers,” she giggled. She let out a sigh. “But alas, the tale of the humble and gentle Queen of the North Wind had to meet its end. She perished after the death of Decarabian.”

You leaned forward in your chair, circling the rim of your glass with your finger. You had already downed it in the short time that Gwen was telling her story. “What happened to her? How did she die?”

Gwen sighed heavily, placing her chin in her palm. “That’s a bit complicated. No one resided in her territory by the time of Decarabian’s death, so no one really knows for certain how she died. However, there are speculations that she gave up her mortal body so that Lord Barbatos could become the Anemo Archon. There are some theories floating about that say her spirit merged with the wind, and that she and Lord Barbatos share a deep connection. But… there’s not really any proof of such claims.”

“I see.” You didn’t know what to make of that. After all, most of Mondstadt’s history had been lost after its extensive library had been burned to the ground hundreds of years ago. You hadn’t even known that there were other gods residing in Mondstadt other than Barbatos.

“There’s nothing we can really do about it, I guess.” Gwen sighed and stood up. “At least the Thousand Winds of Time are still with us,” she swiftly grabbed your empty glass and sent you a wink. “I’ll get you another glass.”

When she came back, you had more questions. She laughed loudly at your next one. “Are you sure you’re from Mondstadt? Every child of the Wind knows who the Lady of the Thousand Winds of Time is! She’s the one who watched over Queen Catalina for a time, and she’s also said to have a very deep connection to the Anemo Archon. The Lawrence family is working on building an extravagant temple for her as we speak.”

Suddenly, it all clicked. The Thousand Winds Temple was a temple built for– presumably –another god in Mondstadt. You wondered just how much of this nation’s history had been lost in the great fire all those years ago.

Just as you were about to ask another question, Arbor, Gwen’s older brother, approached the two of you. He sent you a small nod and handed Gwen a guitar. “How about you show our new friend how we party in the North Wind?”

The guitar had beautiful, intricate engravings of flowers on the wood, and was polished over with a fine sheen. It glittered under the orange tavern lights. Gwen eagerly took the guitar and beamed at you. “I can’t believe it’s been a few weeks and you still haven’t witnessed a Blair family show!”

Arbor sighed. “It’s not really a family thing… Gwen just likes to make it one–”

“Oh, stop it, Arbor! It is a family thing! After all, it’s the three of us that participate! And… Pa says he loves it when we perform on the stage together. Because it reminds him of Ma.”

Letting out another sigh, Arbor reluctantly agreed. “I’ll get my violin ready.” He walked off towards a room behind the bar that was only reserved for employees.

With a giggle, Gwen scurried off towards the stage in the left corner of the tavern, calling out to Klaus as she did so. As you took a sip of the second drink that she had given you, a familiar soothing voice entered your ears.

“We meet again.”

It was none other than Ragnvindr. He sent you a curt nod and gestured towards the chair across from you. “May I?”

You smiled. “Please.”

He took a seat and called for a glass of Thousand Wind Wine. August made quick work of the drink, deciding to fill your glass too while he was at it. Ragnvindr sighed contentedly. “Fresh wine is perfect after a day of hard work. It seems you think the same.” His crimson eyes flitted down to the glass in your hands.

Shrugging, you decided to agree with him instead of telling him why you were really here. It seemed as though he had already caught on, as there was a knowing look in his eyes. He already knew why you were frequenting this tavern, and you weren’t that fond of someone knowing your secrets.

He motioned towards the stage where Gwen and her brothers were preparing to play a few songs. “They’re a magnificent trio, Emilia’s kids. They were what kept spirits and morale high during the rebellion. Them, and—” He abruptly stopped, leaving his sentence unfinished as he took a lengthy sip of his wine.

“What was she like? Emilia?” You questioned, watching as he took a deep breath to compose himself.

A sudden smile broke out onto his lips. “She was like everyone’s mother. She had a particular love for music… that love of music passed to her gifted children. Even that guitar that Guinevere is holding was Emilia’s. Arbor’s violin too— and Klaus’ hand drums. Even August used to join in with her. He’d play her violin or drums to accompany her rich singing voice. A bard friend of ours would often sing duets with her. The two of them together were what kept us from giving up. Them, and our now mighty Anemo Archon.”

You raised a brow in intrigue. “Lord Barbatos was there?”

You didn’t receive an answer to your question. Assuming it was a sensitive topic, you turned towards the stage and watched as Gwen easily grabbed the patrons’ attention.

She giggled, “Now, I want all of you to sing along! This song was written by our mother, Emilia. May her soul rest easy with others who we lost in the battle for our freedom. We dedicate this song not only to her and the late Queen Catalina, but also to the Anemo Archon! The one who saved us!” She cleared her throat, bowing her head. “We hope you hear this, Lord Barbatos, wherever you are on the wind.”

With a deep breath, she strummed the guitar. You were quickly entranced by her rich voice, and you couldn’t help but smile as you watched her get lost in the music. Despite his earlier opposition to participate, you could see a small smile form on Arbor’s lips. He was undoubtedly enjoying this.

The door to the tavern opened, inviting in a large gust of wind from the outside. Gwen laughed into the next verse of the song. “To the Anemo Archon!” she shouted mid-verse, causing a chorus of cheers to ring throughout the tavern.

The other patrons shouted their own praises to the god of wind, raising their mugs and glasses into the air. Most of them had recognized the song, singing along in a brilliant harmony.

“Nothing you can take was ever worth keeping—!”

You turned your attention to gauge Ragnvindr’s reaction, only to see him tapping his foot along to the beat of the song, and mouthing the words as if he had known them by heart. You assumed that this song was one of many that was frequently played during the rebellion.

Gwen truly was a performer— weaving in between tables and eagerly getting others to join in on the fun. Some couples rose from their seats and began to dance, while others stomped their feet along the wooden floors, adding to the already lively atmosphere of the North Wind Tavern. If every evening was like this, you supposed you wouldn’t mind spending the rest of your days in this era.

As you allowed yourself to get lost in the sound of the Blair family’s music, you failed to notice the pair of cerulean eyes that were watching you from afar. A chill ran down your spine, and you downed the rest of your drink. When you looked up, you met eyes with Barbatos, who was currently in his bard attire.

You sent him a warm smile, and he returned it. He winked and raised his mug, a silent toast, and your smile widened. Your attention was redirected to the Blair siblings as the song finished and Gwen cheered, turning to her brothers with tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. The three shared a long hug, and you could feel their sadness from where you sat.

“Thank you!” Gwen wiped her tears and took a small bow. Her eyes landed on the bard who had tried to hide himself amongst the crowd, and a beaming smile graced her lips. “We hope you enjoyed the song, Lord Barbatos!”

Flinching at the newfound attention drawn his way, Barbatos chuckled softly and nodded. “I loved it, in fact. Do you mind if I play a song of my own?” He pulled out an elegantly crafted lyre– one made of gold with a gem placed in the middle. The strings glowed aqua, a clear indicator that this was no mere lyre, but a divine creation.

Everyone in the tavern gaped at the item. You knew that lyre; It was none other than the Holy Lyre Der Himmel. It was kept away in the basement of the cathedral with high security in place to make sure it wasn’t stolen. The only time it was brought out was for Ludi Harpastum.

“Why, of course!” Gwen hopped down from the stage, giving a small bow to Barbatos. “The spotlight was made for you.”

He nodded in acknowledgment, taking his place up on the stage. He sent her a warm smile before clearing his throat and turning to Klaus and Arbor. “Do you mind accompanying me with this song?”

The two men shared a look before nodding. They were not about to pass up an opportunity to share the stage with the Anemo Archon. Arbor reached for Gwen’s guitar, to which she eagerly handed over.

Barbatos began to strum his lyre, leading the song as Klaus and Arbor followed suit. “Some of you may be all too familiar with this song. Please, sing along! Let the wind hear your melodic voices!”

Of course, no one was going to deny his wishes. Bright smiles adorned every patron’s face. Although he spoke of the people’s voices sounding like a melody, Barbatos’ voice outsold any others you’ve ever heard. You were more than familiar with it, always stopping to listen to him sing whenever you got the chance.

His voice was just as ethereal as ever, carrying a light and airy feeling akin to that of the wind. It sounded like the echo of an angel’s silky voice. You supposed that now that you knew his true identity, it all made sense on why it felt that way to you.

As the song continued, you realized you knew it like the back of your hand, word for word. It was the one about the soldier, the poet, and the king—a famous tale written about three influential figures in Mondstadt’s history. Over time, the real meaning of the song faded away, replaced with a new meaning.

In the present, it was sung about The Seven, with the soldier representing the Geo, Electro, Pyro, and Hydro Archons. The poet solely represented the Anemo Archon, and the king represented the Dendro and Cryo Archons. The amount of times it was sung in Mondstadt taverns was way more than you could count on both hands.

You didn’t know if anyone outside of Mondstadt really knew of the song, as it had originated in this nation.

Taking a glance at Ragnvindr again, you spotted a forlorn look in his eyes. Despite the smile resting on his lips, his eyes held a deep sadness. You had yet to find out what secrets he was keeping and why they were troubling him.

“Are you not going to join him?” He questioned suddenly, turning his head to look at you.

You glanced to where he was pointing, only to see that Barbatos was staring at you as he sang. He only broke eye contact when a patron cheered next to him, causing him to excitedly sing the next verse.

“What do you mean?” you replied. You had an inkling of what Ragnvindr was implying, but you had to be sure first.

He scoffed softly. “I think we both know what I mean. Just look at the way he looks at you.” He pushed your chin, turning your head to face Barbatos once more.

Sure enough, the bard was vying for your attention again. However, he looked away from you almost immediately, a pink tint coating his cheeks. He was embarrassed that he had been caught.

You laughed, somewhat in disbelief. “I don’t see how he could—“ you stopped short as Ragnvindr sent you a smirk. You gulped, shaking your head. “He’s—“

“A god?” he finished for you, raising a brow. You nodded. A soft chuckle left his lips. “And why is that stopping you?”

You couldn’t think of an answer to that question. Instead, you simply shrugged. Barbatos ultimately wanted you to see him as human— something he was without even trying to be. It was easy for a god like him to mingle with humans, and the more you learned about him, the more you started to realize just how beautiful he really was.

“He’s taking an interest in you,” Ragnvindr continued. “You should welcome it with open arms. Unless, that is, you don’t want it.”

You didn’t know what you wanted. Everything was piling up on your shoulders all at once, and it was beginning to take a huge toll on your mental state. And there was only so much that alcohol could do to stop it. You knew that eventually you’d snap, because the pressure kept building and building.

Deciding to stay silent, you watched as the man across from you pieced everything together. You didn’t even need to say anything, he already understood, and that scared you. The only other person who was able to understand you like this was Diluc.

The song ended, the obnoxious cheers from the crowd hurting your ears. You were brought out of your stupor, watching as the humble bard on the stage took a dramatic bow and gratefully accepted a few mugs filled with wine. Gwen handed him a freshly picked rose from a vase, to which he eagerly took and thanked her in earnest.

“To the Anemo Archon!” A patron raised their glass, followed by the rest of the patrons in the tavern. A unanimous cheer erupted throughout the tavern.

Ragnvindr raised his own glass, making eye contact with Barbatos as he also muttered his own, “To the Anemo Archon.”

You would’ve joined in on the praises were it not for your swirling emotions and thoughts. Instead, you made a silent toast, before you abruptly stood from your chair and bid farewell to Ragnvindr. Your chair scraped loudly against the wooden floor, making you flinch.

Paying your tab to August, you hurried out of the tavern. The cool night air engulfed your body, providing a brief solace to your hot skin. You inhaled deeply, slowly exhaling as you stood under the light of the moon. The sounds of lively banter and cheers filtered out into the street from inside the tavern.

A faint yell followed, Gwen’s thick accent entering your ears. She had taken the stage again, this time singing a song that she had written herself. As the tune began, a mellow one opposed to the last song she sang, you walked away from the North Wind Tavern. Everything got quieter the further away you were, until finally you could no longer hear Gwen’s harmonious voice.

The streets were mostly empty at this time of night. It left you completely alone and vulnerable with your thoughts. The silence, apart from the howling wind, made you feel more uneasy. Feeling a sudden pang in your chest, you made your way to your comfort place– a place where you knew you could relax and wouldn’t be interrupted.

Although your mind was running rampant with the thought of wanting to go home, you knew you needed to be alone right now to think. Taking a seat on the steps beneath the Statue of The Seven in Windrise, you let out a shaky exhale.

The words Jean had spoken to you all those years ago in the rain made your lip start to quiver.

“All you ever do is think about yourself!” She yelled in a fit of fiery rage. The words had tumbled out of her mouth so effortlessly, as if she had been meaning to say them for a while. However, there was a deep pause between those words and her next sentence, a clear indicator that she did not truly mean what she had said.

“If you had to make a choice between me and your future… which one would you choose?”

As soon as she uttered those words, you were at a loss. You knew the answer: you would always choose her, but in that moment, your voice failed you. With a devastated look in her sky blue eyes, she gulped and nodded. Whether the water droplets on her face were her tears or just the rain, you didn’t know.

You have regretted that night ever since. Why hadn’t you just told her that you’d choose her over and over again, no matter what? Were you actually selfish like she claimed you were? You knew by now that she didn’t actually mean anything she said that night, that it was all just pure, unbridled anger, but a part of you still wondered if what she said was true.

If you really were selfish.

Before you could stop it, a tear rolled down your cheek… and then another… and another, until you were choking and sobbing as you gripped the fabric of your pants tightly. This wasn’t just about that night. It was also because of how much you missed everyone back home.

Ah, that word again. Home. That mysterious voice had asked if you considered Mondstadt your home– regardless of the time period. You still didn’t have an answer, and you weren’t sure if you ever would.

You missed your friends dearly. You missed your older brother, even if he treated you poorly most of the time. You missed the man you considered to be a brother to you, Diluc, and you missed your best friend Kaeya. Of course, you also missed Jean and the tradition you two had of sending each other dandelion seeds every Windblume Festival, Weinlesefest, and Ludi Harpastum… you also missed the opportunities you didn’t take in your former relationship with her.

You missed spending your nights in Angel’s Share and watching multiple talented people perform. Sometimes you’d even perform a song or two and get the crowd going. Diluc was always thankful for the way you effortlessly brought in business whenever you performed.

He used to always tell you that you were made to be on stage—to be singing and performing for others. You never considered a music career something you were passionate about pursuing until he said those words.

There were so many things you missed that you would never experience ever again. Ducking your head, your shoulders heaved as you continued to sob. The sound echoed throughout the open space. A soft breeze whistled by, carrying along a sweet melody that you heard one too many times.

Without a word, Barbatos sat down next to you. It was quiet for a while as you cried, the only sound permeating the air being the strumming of a gentle tune and your sobs that were still wracking through your throat.

The last time you had gone through a serious depressive episode like this was when you and Jean called it quits— the night that hurtful words were said.

It was cruel of Barbatos to be playing a tune that you so often matched with your past relationship with Jean. You hadn’t spoken your worries on the wind, so what brought him here? Was it the sound of your cries?

The wind was especially prominent here. You chided yourself for making the mistake of coming to a highly windy area. Though, in the end, his company was very much appreciated, as was the strumming of his lyre.

It no longer mattered to you how he knew you were here or why you were crying. All that mattered was the comfort he brought you, even without having to say anything.

You glanced over at him, only to see his eyes closed and his lips pursed into a thin line. He was in his element, his fingers flawlessly plucking at the strings of the Holy Lyre. With every note, tiny aqua colored light particles emitted from the strings, floating into the air before dispersing into nothing.

For a moment, you wondered if the Holy Lyre had some sort of ability to calm the soul, as your mind was not only clear of the worries you were facing minutes ago, but your tears were now gone.

You relished in the serene moment for a little while longer, wishing you could stay like this forever.

With your mind and body now calm, you thought back to everything that happened with Jean. Instead of the intense feeling of self hatred and confusion from before, you now felt numb. You tried to wrack your brain for any positive memories to look back on, and sure enough, you were presented with many.

Like the one time the two of you sat by the river and talked about your insecurities. Jean was always so terrified of not living up to her mother’s expectations of who she wanted her to be. She was scared of not being the perfect, headstrong and chivalrous daughter that she wanted.

Little did she know, she was already exactly that: strong and resilient. She fought for what she believed was right, and she was ready to face any challenge head on no matter what. You told her that to her face in that moment, a smile breaking out onto your lips subconsciously as you praised her.

You could still remember the way her cheeks reddened when you did so.

She listened just as intently when you told her your own worries. You were scared of not being able to do anything for anyone— that you were useless. You were scared that you were selfish and only thought about yourself in any given situation. You didn’t want to be like your mother. You wanted to help people, to at least do one thing to help the world grow.

When you said all of that, she stayed silent for a while, and you feared that your worries were indeed true. What were you trying to achieve in your life? You didn’t have any expectations to live up to or some huge duty to fulfill like she did. You were just a normal person, someone that didn’t have anything to offer to the world.

Unlike Jean, who had so much to offer to Mondstadt. Unlike Diluc, who protected Mondstadt. Unlike Kaeya, who was the last hope for his fallen nation.

…Unlike Barbatos, who has helped and protected Mondstadt so many times in the past, and continued to do so from the shadows. He built the nation into what it was today. His principles and beliefs were the core foundation of Mondstadt. He participated in the revolution that saved the people from the evil tyrant. Without him, Mondstadt wouldn’t be standing tall like it was.

Maybe it wouldn’t even exist anymore.

His influence shaped the nation into what it was. The three important people in your life also helped to shape the home you loved so dearly.

But you? You hadn’t done a single thing. Your fears had come true.

Your lip quivered, and the stinging of tears pricked at the corners of your eyes again. All the while, the tune you loved to associate with your ex was still being played. You gripped at your pants, your knuckles becoming lighter from the force.

What did you even have to offer to the world? That question plagued your mind so much, and you always knew the answer: …nothing.

“Sometimes,” Barbatos spoke quietly, his soothing voice cutting through your self deprecation. “The purpose we have in this world is not a big one. It can be small… but that small purpose can lead to bigger things in the future. Just like how a small breeze can bring hope to all in the darkest times.”

He smiled softly when you glanced over at him. “No matter how small that breeze is, the impact can change the world.”

Barbatos’ words resonated with you, giving you a small ounce of hope that you didn’t have before. You set out to find the answer to the question that you thought you had the answer to.

If everyone had a purpose, what was yours? Giving up wasn’t an option— not anymore at least. If Barbatos had faith that you had one, then you were going to believe him and find what it was.

With a newfound determination, you awoke the next day bright and early. Today you were going to set out and begin your journey of self reflection and acceptance; Something that you had never explored in the past because of the fears that laid beneath your skin.

But now, you were going to step out of the box you placed yourself in and explore the world without the rose colored lenses you always hid behind.

You didn’t know where to begin, but you supposed the mysterious note you received was a good start. Reading the elegant calligraphy again in your mind, your brows furrowed.

Why was someone trying to get you to find out who Barbatos really was? And why you of all people? You didn’t belong to this time. The choices you made here were already affecting Mondstadt’s future— Barbatos made that clear through his lecture a few weeks prior.

Although it severely frustrated you, you figured that you would have to find the answer for yourself.

Stepping out of the inn you were staying in, the bright rays of the sun beat down onto your exposed arms. It was a beautiful day, with a gentle breeze drifting through the streets. The city seemed to come alive, with vendors stocking their wares and tired bodies exiting their homes. A few dogs trotted down the cobblestone, barking happily.

You smiled brightly as one of them ran up to you. It was a breed that originated in Mondstadt— its black and brown coat shining in the sun. It eagerly pranced around your legs, letting out a small yip of happiness as you scratched behind its ears.

Cooing softly, you gave it the attention it wanted before it bounded off to find someone else. You took in a deep breath, the scent of dandelions on the wind relaxing your mind.

Lively chatter could be heard around every corner. As you passed by a few vendor stalls, you greeted them with a polite wave and a smile. They waved back with a smile of their own, bidding you a good morning.

Mondstadt was just the same as it always had been: a peaceful haven with friendly smiles and a welcoming atmosphere.

Your first stop for the day would be the North Wind Tavern to gather information.

Hundreds of years ago, the original library in Mondstadt was burned to the ground. Barely any records of the nation’s history had survived, gradually causing the people of Mondstadt to forget it.

You decided to take advantage of your trip to the past and venture out to the library to see what kind of books you could find on Barbatos. Seeing as how the nation had recently been built anew and it was currently the early years of The Seven rising to power, you wondered if you’d find anything at all.

However, you weren’t about to give up hope. One thing you learned from Barbatos and Gwen was that you had to stay positive.

Swinging open the door of the tavern, you spotted a few day drinkers littered about. Jovial music was being played on the stage by a bard and his companion. Behind the counter, Arbor was organizing bottles.

You could hear some clattering on the second floor. Upon craning your neck to try and see what it was, you saw Klaus taking the wooden chairs off of the tables and lighting a few candles.

“Good morning,” Arbor greeted with a curt nod.

You sent him a shy smile. You’ve never talked with him one on one before. “Good morning, Arbor. How are you?”

“Alright,” he answered shortly. “What can I help you with?”

You shook your head. “I’m not here for a drink, but thank you. Is Gwen here, by chance?”

He perked up at the mention of his younger sister. “I’m afraid not. She’s not working the tavern today. At least, not on day duty.” He turned to place a few freshly washed glasses onto the shelf, organizing them in a certain way that made you wonder if he was a bit of a perfectionist.

Your shoulders drooped. “Oh.” You could feel a pit of disappointment settle in your stomach. You were going to ask Gwen to accompany you to the library. “Well, I’ll be off—“

“Is there anything in particular you needed from her?” Arbor questioned, turning to face you with an expectant look. “I can pass along a message if you would like.”

“Well, there were a few questions I had, but… I suppose I can get them from just about anyone.”

He motioned to a seat at the bar, to which you sat down and watched as he prepared a non-alcoholic drink for you. He worked with a certain precision that answered your previous suspicions. With a final touch, he slid the glass to you and got to work on a second glass.

As soon as he finished, he rounded the bar and took a seat next to you. “Well?”

“There’s a library in the city, right?”

He raised a brow, taking a sip of his drink. “In the city? Not necessarily. There is a library, but it’s not in the city. It’s a little to the north… Why do you ask?”

You sighed. “I wanted to research a few things. I came here hoping Gwen could accompany me, but I guess I’ll have to go alone.” Going alone might be better for you. That would leave you with time to yourself to think.

“I could go with you.” He told you, his deep voice steady as his gray eyes met yours. “If you’re willing to wait until lunch, I can go with you during my lunch break.”

A smile broke out onto your lips. You were nervous to be completely alone with him because of how intimidating he seemed. There was a constant frown on his face, and his fierce gray eyes warned others to stay away. Despite his initial sharp tone and broody demeanor, you were slowly realizing that he was quite kind.

Not wanting to turn his idea down (and wanting the company on your journey), you nodded. “Okay. Sounds like a plan.”

You spent the remainder of your morning out in the streets. Before long, midday arrived, and you made your way back to the tavern. Arbor was finishing up an order as you walked in.

He placed the drink down in front of a patron and left the bar. “I’ll be out for my lunch break, Pa.” He told his father, receiving a nod from August in response. The older man saw you standing by the door and sent Arbor a small, knowing look.

Without a word, Arbor tossed his father a warning glance and joined your side. “Ready?” He slung a small bag over his shoulder.

With a hum, you nodded and the two of you began to set off for the Mondstadt library. It turned out that it was not that far from the city at all. A little north near what would later become Wolvendom.

There was minimal chatter along the way, but you didn’t mind. Sometimes silence was a better choice, and spaces did not always need to be filled with conversation.

Arbor was a comforting presence, despite your original unease towards him. You learned he was a swordsman, and quite a skilled one at that. Having to stop to deal with some monsters on the way, you watched in awe at how Arbor elegantly moved to take care of them.

Just like when he was mixing drinks, he was precise and flawless, defeating each foe with a flick of his wrist and not even breaking a sweat. He was a seasoned soldier, that much you could tell from the battle scars lining his toned arms.

He swiftly wiped the excess of remains off his blade, scowling at the sight. His scowl disappeared as he turned to you, urging you along the path that was now cleared of danger.

“Where’d you learn to fight like that?” You couldn’t help but ask, eagerness in your voice.

You’ve met your fair share of swordsmen—Kaeya being one of them. Arbor’s movements reminded you of Kaeya’s in a way. Though, Kaeya wasn’t as graceful. Diluc wasn’t either, but he was a bit of a different story.

Arbor placed his sword back in its scabbard and sighed heavily. “I reckon Gwen told you about the tale of the North Wind?” You nodded. He continued, “I worked closely with Her Majesty— I was one of her bodyguards. Among all the North Wind Knights, I was deemed the best of the best by Her Majesty’s lover.”

“She had a lover?” The surprise in your voice made Alaric let out a small huff of amusement.

“She did. A god from Natlan,” he answered, “the Mighty Lord of Fire, Lowen. They were an exceptional warrior of immense prowess and undeniable power. They were considered a god of war. According to those who only knew of them by name, they were ruthless and bloodthirsty. But to those who knew them personally, they were incredibly kindhearted and fiercely loyal.”

“But?” You glanced at him expectantly.

A look of sorrow flashed in his gray eyes. “They did not win the title of Pyro Archon. And Queen Catalina did not win the title of Anemo Archon.”

It was silent for a moment. “What happened to Lowen?” you questioned softly.

“No one knows,” he muttered. “Since no one resided in the Queen’s kingdom by the time of her death, no one knows what happened to Lord Lowen. It is assumed that they fled into the Dark Sea, but there is no proof to back such claims. Not when the Dark Sea is impossible for mortals to enter. …I am sorry, we got off track from the original conversation.”

“It’s quite alright.” You sent him a small smile.

“I was appointed under Lord Lowen as their protector each time they decided to pay a visit to the kingdom. Eventually, they took me under their wing and began training me. Although my skills with a sword were admirable, Lord Lowen claimed I had more potential that I needed to unlock. They taught me the ways of combat from their homeland, and as they surmised, my skills grew.

“They didn’t just train me in the art of the sword. They also taught me to wield a polearm, though I prefer to use a sword,” he let out a deep exhale, “and then it was Amos who taught my siblings and I the way of the hunt.”

There was that name again: Amos. You could’ve sworn you’ve seen it somewhere in the present, and it kept getting mentioned by the people around you. For now, you decided to keep your questions pertaining to Amos to yourself. If you were lucky, you’d be able to find their name in a book in the library.

“We’re here.” Arbor announced, gazing up at the fine work of architecture.

The entirety of the library was made out of fine stone, with marble pillars in the front and gold trimming lining the edges. The symbol of a triquetra laid engraved at the top. The anemo sigil was engraved into the wooden doors with a silver sheen, and the windows reached from the floor to the ceiling, allowing a generous amount of sunlight to filter through.

The name of the library was etched into the stone underneath the triquetra. The large, oak doors were extremely heavy, requiring a great amount of force to be pushed open. Arbor pushed them open without so much as a grunt, taking a step inside. You followed, your jaw falling slack at the wondrous sight.

Hundreds upon hundreds of books lined shelves on every wall. Near the entrance on both sides were tables and chairs for resting, and you could spot a few more tables near the back of the library. The ceilings towered above you, making the building look bigger than it was. Elegant chandeliers hung down from the marble ceilings, all of them lit.

There were more aisles of books than you could count on both your hands and Alaric’s combined. It seemed to go on forever, though you knew it didn’t. A receptionist desk sat to your right, with a blonde woman looking to be in her thirties occupying the space.

She greeted the both of you with a gentle smile. “Welcome. If there’s anything you’re searching for in particular, feel free to ask me,” she said in a hushed voice, maintaining the peace and quiet of the library. Even though her voice was quiet, it still echoed off of the walls.

The fact that this very library would be destroyed in the future caused a pang in your heart. This place was absolutely gorgeous, filled with possibly more knowledge than the Sumeru Akademiya’s House of Daena. It made you not only upset, but angry at whoever caused the downfall of such an important piece of Mondstadt’s history.

“Thank you.” You returned the woman’s smile and began to walk towards the many aisles of books. Where would you even start? It’d take you years to find what you needed, and possibly centuries to read every book in here.

A little overwhelmed by the gargantuan selection of books, you sighed. You could already feel a headache forming.

Arbor’s eyes flickered between the labels on the aisles, and you wondered what he was looking for. You hadn’t told him your exact reasons for coming here, so he couldn’t possibly know that you were here looking for books on the Anemo Archon. So what was he searching for?

Instead of interrupting his search, you split off to browse on your own. There could be multiple options on where you could find books on Barbatos. Either the ‘A’ section— for Anemo Archon, ‘B’ for Barbatos, ‘G’ for gods, or maybe even ‘T’ for The Seven Archons.

You took to the ‘A’ aisle first, thumbing over every book’s spine in hope to find what you were looking for. In the end, your frustration led you to the woman working the front desk.

“Ah, you aren’t the first nor are you the last to look for information on Lord Barbatos,” she smiled as she led you to the back of the library. You would’ve never thought to come all the way back here. “Luckily for you, I have donated a few books in the past few months. Everything you’re looking for is in this section.”

She pointed to a relatively small section in the very back of the library, a shelf tucked in a corner near a doorway leading to an employee only area. There was also a table with a few chairs on your right. A few books had been left on the table. Seeing the books, the woman sighed.

“I wish people would put the books away after using them. If you need anything else, let me know.” With a final smile, she gathered up the books on the table and left you alone.

You turned to the small section she directed you to. There wasn’t much… only a few books in total, but you took what you could get. You pulled the first book off the shelf and read the cover.

“The Pale Princess and the Six Pygmies”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. This book still existed in your era. There were many copies of it in fact, mostly in Mondstadt. Had this book been one of the few that survived the destruction of the library? That couldn’t be… nothing survived that fire. So what was it doing completely intact in the future?

And why was it in a section of the library pertaining to Barbatos?

Regardless, you placed the book in your bag and plucked another from the shelf. You suspected that this one was one of the books that that woman had donated, as it was practically untouched and in perfect condition. You placed it in your bag.

The next book you pulled from the shelf caused the one next to it to fall off. You reacted quickly, catching the book before it could fall to the polished floors. You sighed in relief. A few loose papers slipped from the pages and fluttered to the ground. As you picked them up, you noticed they were sheet music.

Taking a look at the book they escaped from, it was none other than a journal. The leather binding was worn from years of wear and tear, and there was a small windwheel aster drawn on the spine. The front of the journal did not contain the name of the author, though there were multiple scratches on it. In the bottom corner was a set of initials that you concluded was the author’s.

On the inside was a name you recognized; One that Ragnvindr had uttered the night prior. If you remembered correctly, the name belonged to a young bard in the rebellion who was among the many that died. You had never heard of the bard’s name before this. Since this journal was here in the library, you considered that it too was burned in the great fire.

However, you recalled seeing a similar journal in Crepus’ old study. You never went prying in his stuff, unlike Diluc who was extremely nosy and always up in his father’s business. If your suspicions were correct and this was the same journal that you had seen in Crepus’ study, then how did it end up in the hands of the Ragnvindr family?

You put the thought aside for now and focused on the contents of the journal. You took a seat at the nearby table and opened up to the first page, absentmindedly running your fingers over the engravings on the spine of the journal. The writing was messy, but still legible.

A date was marked at the top of each entry.

“Today, with a few others, I picked some windwheel asters just shy of the wind barrier. My hand almost got whisked off, were it not for one of my companions! A close call.”

“Today, I have found my very own windblume.

It shall stand as a beacon of hope for the future that is to come.

If these flowers can survive this harsh climate, then so too can I and the others of Mondstadt survive these trying times.”

“Today, a family hailing from the West joined in on my singing. They are quite the talented bunch. The parents are even skilled soldiers!

When asked about their origins, they claimed to have been living under another god’s rule. We did not even know there were other gods outside the wind barrier.

We do not know of anything outside this barred city.”

You paused your reading. The family mentioned was most likely the Blair family that had been taken under Decarabian’s rule.

“The people are growing restless and impatient. Waiting around for a miracle is no longer an option for anyone. It is time to put an end to this tyranny.

I have taken matters into my own hands. A rebellion is what is needed to finally regain our freedom.”

“A miracle arrived after all.

A small wind spirit born from our cries for help has revealed itself to us. Such a small thing it is, but that matters not.

It is fond of my playing. It is also fond of my voice. I shall place all my hopes in this new beacon of light that has graced us with its help.”

“More people have been brought under Lord Decarabian’s rule. More of Queen Catalina’s people.

It is assumed she is losing power. The small wind spirit seems to be quite familiar with her name. I find myself wondering about their connection.”

“The people among the rebellion are growing discouraged. There is not much I can do. I am no soldier, I cannot rally troops.

My only talent lies with the lyre. With this, I hope to ease their worries and raise their spirits. This is my role, and I will see it through. For the people, for freedom, for Mondstadt.”

“The wind spirit has not given up hope, and therefore I will not either.

Today it spoke. It was humming a tune I have never heard of before. I wish to turn it into a song, however, the spirit claimed to have already known the lyrics to the song I want to write.

As peculiar as that might be, it gave me more hope for the future.”

“Meetings for the rebellion have gotten more frequent. After today’s meeting, I stayed behind.

When asked why, I confided in Ragnvindr, and told him of my worries. He had enough on his plate, but listened to my ramblings anyway.

‘Do not worry about your strength of body’, he told me. ‘Those who wield the blade will carry all the burdens of the people. You need only focus on your strength of will, and pass all your worries to me.’

His words resonated with me. He is a good listener… and a good friend.”

“I admire the bravery of the Gunnhildr Clan. They have not once put down their blades, nor have they shown any signs of surrender.

The wind spirit admires them too. They are what brought the Gunnhildrs to us. If not for both of them, I fear that we would have failed much sooner.”

“Lately, a terrible feeling has consumed me. I fear that we may fail, but… my worries should not discourage me. Nor should I trouble Ragnvindr with them again.

I will continue to play my lyre and sing. It is my role in this war. And I shall leave the fighting to my allies who can.”

“I fear I will not live to see tomorrow’s dawn. Should I die, my only regret would be not giving my wind spirit a name. But how could I give it a name when all the names that came to mind did not fit?

I considered giving it my name… but that would be quite selfish, wouldn’t it?

I asked Amos if it was selfish. She promptly said ‘It is not. We often name things after ourselves to better understand them, and perhaps even love them better, because it is hard to love who we are. By doing this, we learn to love ourselves.’

Her words touched my heart. When I asked if it was even fair to name an immortal being, she replied, ‘Naming it after yourself would further immortalize you. There is nothing wrong with immortalizing the ones history has its eyes on, especially if they are a paragon of hope and virtue.’

I believe this was her way of saying that I am important to history… However, I am hesitant to believe so. If history were to have its eyes on anyone, it would be her, Ragnvindr, the Gunnhildrs, and of course, my wind spirit friend.

I am but a bard. My name will not be remembered, unlike those of my allies.”

“Oh how I wish I could have seen the birds in flight, and the open skies beyond the wind barrier.

I will fight for my people, my freedom, and for my beloved Mondstadt.

And of course, I shall fight for my wind spirit friend, who still goes without a name. Should I live, I will give them a name I have been thinking of for quite some time.

Should I live, we will travel the world together, and we shall sing songs for all to hear in an era where Mondstadt is free.”

That was the last entry. You knew what happened after that. The bard died, just like many others during the rebellion. Ragnvindr was the one who told you this.

Carefully closing the journal, you placed it in your bag. You didn’t know why it was so significant to Barbatos. There was no mention of him anywhere in any of the journal entries.

Standing up from your chair, you made your way back to the front of the library. You took the woman at her word when she told you to come to her if you needed anything else. Perhaps she had some insight into the journal you found.

As you were approaching her desk, Arbor joined your side once more, two thin books tucked under his arm. You eyed them curiously, trying to get a peek at the titles on the spines.

“Have you found what you were looking for?” he questioned, redirecting your attention to his handsome face.

You sent him a small smile and nodded. “I have.” You then placed the books on the desk before you. “I’d like to check these books out.”

The blonde haired woman nodded and sent you a warm smile. “Sure thing! Just write your name down here, as well as the names of the books, and you’ll be good to go!” She slid a piece of paper towards you and you took the quill from her hands, elegantly writing your name down on the paper.

You handed the quill back and placed the books back into your bag. Arbor did the same, and soon after, the two of you were retreating back to the city. A subconscious smile graced your lips as you traced your finger along the spine of one of the books.

Arbor peered over, a small scoff escaping his lips at the book’s title. You could’ve sworn you saw a hint of a scowl on his face. However, it was gone as quick as it came.

“You’re interested in the Anemo Archon?”

You nodded, “Yes. I’d like to learn more about him, so I’m hoping these books will help.” You showed him the other books you signed out, and he hummed disinterestedly.

He turned away from you, his gray eyes narrowing. Studying his put off expression, you could see him clenching his jaw. Various assumptions filled your head at that moment, all of them shouting the same thing. You didn’t want to believe them, so you shut them out and decided to play the role of being ignorant instead.

It was a not so wise choice, but you’d take that over the possible truth of the matter.

Clearing your throat, you pointed to the books tucked under his arm. “Were you also looking for something?”

You remembered the way he immediately darted off to look for something in particular the moment you stepped foot into the library. You were more than curious to know what it was he was looking for, but you also knew when to keep your nose out of others’ business.

Arbor shifted, hiding the books’ titles from view, and sent you a curt nod. “A few books were recently imported from Sumeru’s Akademiya. I have been waiting for them for a while now.”

His grip on the books tightened, as if someone were going to steal them away. You certainly had no desire to.

Sensing he was not going to talk further about the matter, you didn’t pry into what it was he was hoping to learn about from those books. Instead, you glanced back down at the book in your hands and traced your fingers over the cover.

It was a beautiful cerulean color, with the depiction of Barbatos’ wings in the center. Gold trimming lined the wings, glittering under the light of the sun. The drawing looked like an exact replica of the Anemo Archon’s grand wings. Except, this drawing had two pairs of wings instead of just one.

You considered he might look more grandiose if he had two pairs of magnificent ivory wings— or maybe even three. A subconscious smile broke out onto your lips as the thought crossed your mind. The image you curated in your head did not help.

Closing your eyes briefly, you vowed you would uncover his secrets and therefore learn more about him not only as an archon, but as a person. And through that, you would also uncover the mysteries behind that note you still kept tucked in your pocket.

But if you were going to learn more about the god, that meant you had to spend an awful lot of time with him. That was going to be a difficult feat.

It was hard to catch him when he was as free as the wind and went wherever he pleased whenever he pleased. But you were not going to give up, because if there was anything to praise you for, it was your hard work and determination to see things through once you set your mind to something.

You would see this through, no matter what.

author’s note: not even halfway done with chapter 2, which is why i decided to split it up into 2 parts. how are we liking the blair family so far? alaric and gwen?

for some context on the “queen catalina” and “lord lowen” i wrote about, they’re two of my ocs. in the genshin universe, they existed during the archon war. catalina ruled over a small portion of mondstadt and was just as kind and gentle as barbatos. she was the god of memories. lowen ruled over a portion of natlan and was calm, strategic, and calculating. they often came off as intimidating, but they were actually quite kind and compassionate. lowen was the god of wrath.

every time i insert catalina and lowen somewhere, they’re always lovers. and for some reason i always give them the tragic lovers trope or right person, wrong time trope.

yes, catalina has a connection to barbatos. in one of my other fics that’s on wp, catalina and barbatos had a very close relationship that was akin to that of lovers, but i never explicitly state what their relationship status was. im leaving it up to reader interpretation 👍 just like im going to do for this fic too. so u can view them however u want - whether it be past lovers, close friends, allies, or a qpr. but they are never enemies.

if u’d like more insight into their relationship from my other fic, feel free to ask! i love talking about them! :D

also ofc if u have any other questions, pls ask! i’ll answer them as best as i can.

[agentwhiskeysdarlin]

An Unexpected Surprise

Pairing: Din Djarin (Mando) X F!Reader

Rating: NSFW 18+ (minors dni)

Warnings: light bondage (reader is tied up and blindfolded), squirting, dom/sub relationship, dom!Din, sub!Reader, oral (female receiving), vaginal fingering, over stimulation, “forced” orgasms (he makes her have several), p in v sex, rough sex, unprotected sex (you know the drill), fluff, really cute ending, average ending with Din lol

Word Count: 1.1K

Author’s Notes: It’s been a minute since I’ve written for Din but I wrote this awhile back and decided to go ahead and post it. I really love it and it was definitely fun to write. As I should say when it comes to an extra spicy fic please do not hit keep reading if this is not your cup of tea. Also be kind. I hope you all enjoy! Thank you to @clint-aww-no-barton​ as always. I am also going to pull from my last Mando smutty fic for a taglist! Let me know if you want on it or off!!

ao3 link

  Everything was dark and a chill danced across your bare skin. You pulled a breath in through your nose, holding it for a few moments, before letting it out of your mouth, trying to relax. Your hearing had been heightened from the loss of sight, but you couldn’t hear him yet. The room was deadly quiet. He had left you tied, spread open for him and completely naked, other than the blindfold over your eyes. You were starting to become restless and you knew this was all a part of his game.

  Hard steps came from above you somewhere, drawing close until they stopped. You heard him drop to his knees, his armor hitting the floor. Then his still gloved hands were rubbing up your legs, making you jump at the sudden touch. You couldn’t stop your hips from bucking and it earned you a chuckle.

  “So impatient little one,” his voice coming out of the modulator in his helmet always sent chills through you.

  “Please Mando,” it was a soft and simple plea, but it must have been enough for him, or else he was tired of waiting himself.

  You heard the hiss of his helmet being removed and let out a sigh. You so badly wanted to see his face but you also wanted to respect him. His lips fell to your thighs, peppering kissing along the skin, causing goosebumps to rise to the surface, before he blew on your already wet center. You let out a gasp, followed by a moan and a hip thrust. His hands came down to your hips and held you down, which was unspoken way of telling you to be still. Then the flat of his tongue began to travel from your entrance to your clit, before he sucked the bundle of nerves between his lips. Your neck arched and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Your lips parted with a loud moan and stayed that way.

  “Fuck,” you breathed the word from your lips in a pant.

  Mando set in on you, licking patterns around your clit and sucking it between his lips again, pulling all sorts of noises from you. Then he moved down, licking around your entrance, before moving back enough you could still feel his breath fan across you. He slowly inserted two of his fingers and you shuddered at the pleasure. He began fingering you at a quick pace as his tongue found your clit once again. You were blissed out and lost completely to the man’s will. He controlled you and took what he wanted from you. You let out moans and animalistic noises you had no idea you could even make.

  “Come on little one I know you can come for me. Let me taste you,” he pulled away just enough for the words to be spoken and then he was right back to work.

He pumped his fingers faster and turned them in a come here motion. The dam broke and you lost complete control. You swore you passed out as you screamed, cumming hard around his fingers.

  “Fuck that’s it,” he let out a slight moan himself as he worked you through your orgasm, leaving you shaking.

  “I’ve never…” you started breathless and unsure what you really wanted to say.

  “You squirted and I want to see that again,” Mando spoke, a growl appearing at the end of his words.

  “I what? Oh fuck!”

  His fingers thrust back into you, cutting you off as your head flew back. He seemed to finger you harder and faster his tongue merciless on your clit. You were a mess and not sure if you could release again, but the man wouldn’t stop until you did. After his tongue had traveled around your clit, he removed his mouth and his other hand started to rub at your clit in a quick motion.

  “Oh fuck Mando!”

  You practically screamed as you came again, shaking as white light exploded in the darkness you had been seeing. This time you heard liquid hit the floor and knew you had done it again. Your legs shook and tried to close but between the strong man who settled there and the rope around your ankles it was impossible.

  “So fucking hot,” Mando growled and the next few moments went by so quickly you couldn’t register much.

  The blindfold slipped from your eyes, exposing the world around you and almost at the same time Mando thrust his cock deep into you. He didn’t even let you adjust before he was fucking you so hard and fast it made your head spin. His lips crashed against yours and he kept going, desperate now for his own high. You gripped at him and he let out a moan that, by itself, could have sent you to your third high.

  “You feel so fucking good wrapped around me little one, squeezing me and taking me so good,” he praised and you let out a moan.

  “I’m so close again,” you whimpered tears gathered in your eyes at the intensity.

  “Cum little one I’m right behind you.”

  With his permission, you let go for the third time and gripped him like a vice, which was all he needed. He let out a moan and stilled, emptying himself inside you as his head fell to your shoulder. You went completely limp, your whole body shaking lightly and your limbs numb.

  “I can’t…anymore,” you panted.

  “Shhh I know, I know.”

  You closed your eyes trying to catch your breath and bring yourself back to earth. Then it hit you. His head was still down on your shoulder, buried there and you could feel his hair? Wait his helmet was still off! Your eyes flew open in panic but then you closed them again.

  “Mando your helmet,” you spoke in panic.

  “It’s okay it’s okay. Open your eyes little one,” his voice was soft and you obeyed.

  The man in front of you was handsome just as you had always imagined, and you couldn’t stop the smile that spread over your face. Your hand went to reach for him and you looked over realizing you were still tied up.

  “Oh, let me,” Mando quickly moved to untie you. As he moved to your ankles you slowly sat up still looking at him.

  When he stopped and his eyes met yours, you felt your heart leap. The moment you had waited for for so long and you were too blissed out to notice.

  “Man..”

  “Din.”

  “What?”

  “My name is Din Djarin.”

  “Din,” you repeated with a smile, not able to stop the fresh tears that danced in your eyes.

  You reached up and, with a slight bit of hesitation and a small nod from him, your hand cupped his cheek. You let your eyes take in his features and then you were pulling him to you. Your lips smashed against his, your fingers in his hair and he was pulling you into his lap your legs on each side of him.

  “Fuck me again so I can call out your real name.”

  “You read my mind.”

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