#so she spent all of her time trying her hardest to prove she could be the son he wanted

[egonkula]

baby charmac doodlin (you'll get cute happy ones in a moment :3 )

[g-hughes]

Bite Me - Q. Hughes

hockey masterlist | g's graduation celly

synopsis: When one of Quinn's teammates asks if their sister could stay with him to bounce back after a break-up, Quinn said yes. But six months later, Quinn feels like he has met his matched. Or when Quinn Hughes falls for his roommate, who happens to be his teammate's sister.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: smut mentioned! friends with benefits situation, Boeser!Reader, nudity, cursing.

Quinn Hughes thought of himself as being a “good guy”. He held doors open for people, swapped seats on airlines when asked, donated money to various charities, and spent time, when he could, coaching the Canucks Youth Team. He was a good guy and an even better teammate and captain.

He prided himself on being the one on the team the guys could go to when they needed advice or just someone to sit and listen to them rant. He would give his teammate the shirt off his back if one of them asked. So when Brock Boeser, Quinn’s best friend, asked if his younger sister could crash with him for a few days, Quinn said yes without even really thinking it through. 

“It’ll be a few days,” Brock assured Quinn as he brought in one of her suitcases, “Her dick head ex cheated on her and threw all her shit in the driveway. She was gonna spring for a hotel, but I couldn’t let her do that. I’d let her stay at mine, but we’re remod-” 

“Don’t worry about it, man,” Quinn assured his winger, “I know you’d do the same if it was one of my brother’s. She can crash here as long as she needs.” 

“She swears it’ll only be a few days.” 

But a few days turned into a few weeks, and a few weeks into a few months. Now it's been six months and Y/N Boeser has become Quinn’s official unofficial roommate. And he hated it. 

Quinn didn’t want a roommate, nor did he need one. He actually loved coming home to a quiet apartment after weeks on the road. He liked the solitude of being able to hide away from the cameras and the press in his face and following his every move. He liked to be able to walk around damn near naked and not have to worry about being walked in on. But having a roommate, all those privileges had been taken away. 

“Quintin! You parked in my fucking spot!” Y/N yelled as she slammed the front door shut. Quinn smirked to himself, as he finished mixing around the vegetables in the pan. He knew exactly what he did and he knew it was going to piss you off. Quinn had two parking spots, one for himself and one for a guest (which had become Y/N as of late), and he decided that tonight, he was going to forget his driver’s ed training and park in the middle of the two spots. 

“Quintin,” Y/N groaned, coming into the kitchen, setting down her bags from work. Quinn looked over his shoulder, trying his hardest to fight the urge to stare at your breasts. 

Yes, Quinn hated having a roommate, but it did come with its own perks. Such as, his roommate was very, very attractive. 

“Oh hey sweetheart,” Quinn smirked, “Did I miss something?” 

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, crossing her arms across her chest, pushing her tits up even more in the tight tanktop she was wearing, “You know what you fucking did, you parking in the middle of the spots again!” 

"Oh, I did?" He feigned innocence, "Well, maybe if you didn't leave all your damn shoes by the fucking door!"

"It was one pair! One pair, Quintin!"

"Quit calling me Quintin!"

Y/N groaned and grabbed her bag, stomping her way out of the kitchen. Quinn turned back towards the dinner he was cooking, his mood sour. He had such a good day too. Practice went smoothly, Toch only yelled at them for an hour instead of two. Things were finally starting to take a turn after a losing streak that put everyone on edge. Quinn felt the weight of the world on his shoulders, his first season as captain after a disappointing season. He had to prove himself, he had to prove that he was worthy of the captain spot. 

Oh, and waking up with Y/N’s mouth wrapped around his cock was an added bonus. 

Quinn hated to admit it out loud, it made him feel dirty and wrong about it, but there was nothing dirty and wrong about it. It seemed to have happened naturally, the tension between them building since the moment Quinn first saw Y/N. He had done his best to ignore her for the first week she was occupying his guest room. She had just been broken up with in a horrible way, and was trying to pick up the pieces of a shattered years-long relationship. But then she started to come out of her room, and she was like a storm, Quinn had no idea how to brace for. 

She was sassy, and smart, and beautiful, and stubborn, and messy, and so fucking sexy when she was pissed off about something work or at Quinn for parking over the line of his parking spot. 

It was bound to happen, the tension and animosity growing between them as the days went by. It turned into more than Quinn bitching about the shoes by the front door, which he had repeatedly told her to stop leaving them there. It turned into her bitching at Quinn for leaving dirty plates in the sink. Then it was Quinn bitching about how she would take the full garbage bag out of the can and leave it by the front door (in her defense, the dumpster was in the alley behind the building and Quinn didn’t feel very comfortable with her taking it out late at night). Then it was Y/N bitching about Quinn leaving his travel bag, unpacked, in the laundry room between roadies. 

The final straw for both of them was when they both came home, unsatisfied in different ways. Quinn had come home from a long roadie, the majority of them being losses. All he wanted to do was take a bath and relax and regroup for the next series ahead. Y/N, had come home from yet another shitty date. She insisted that her date didn’t need to walk her to the door, but he wanted to make sure she got in safely, or so he said. Quinn could hear her fake laughter from the other side of the door, as he stood at the kitchen counter, waiting for the tea kettle to whistle. 

“I had a good time,” She said, “Thanks for walking me back.” 

“No problem,” A male’s voice sounded out, “Ya know. . . this doesn’t have to end here.” 

Quinn grimaced. It didn’t take a genius to know that Y/N wasn’t interested. 

“I uh. . . I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Quinn could almost picture her nervously pushing her hair behind her ear, “I’ll give you a call.” 

“C’mon,” The guy was sounding desperate, “We both want to end the night right.” 

It was silent for a moment, and for some odd reason, anger flowed through Quinn’s body. Was the guy kissing her? Was she seriously considering letting him in? Quinn had never brought it up, but he assumed that Y/N wasn’t having people over. Not that she couldn’t, he guessed, it was her place too. But for some reason, the idea of her having a man in her bed pissed him off. 

“You’re right,” Y/N sighed. Quinn’s body seemed to move on it’s own accord as he walked over to the front door, his hand wrapping around the knob, “I better go see if my vibrator is charged. Night, Marcus!” 

Quinn jumped back startled as the front door was pushed open and Y/N charged in. He could see the confused face of the man, Marcus, behind the door as it slammed in his face. Y/N groaned as she kicked off her shoes and tossed her purse on the couch. Quinn wanted so badly to make a comment about her shoes, but instead he said;

“You have a vibrator?” 

Y/N looked at him, one eyebrow raised, “I am not a 16 year old. Of course I have a vibrator. Almost every woman has one.” 

“You use it?” 

“Yes, perv,” Y/N scoffed, and reached for her purse, “Boe said you were quiet, but I didn’t know quiet meant stalker. Night.” 

Quinn blinked several times as she walked down towards her room. His mind, again, thinking of other things to say, like apologizing for asking her such a vulnerable question, but instead, once again he blurted the wrong thing. 

“I don’t want you having sex in my house.” 

Y/N paused in her walk, holding still for a moment and turning around to face him, “Excuse me?” 

“I don’t want you having sex in my house,” Quinn stood firm on what he said, even though he regretted it the second he said it. Even though her name wasn’t on the lease, she was still living and paying rent (Quinn told her several times her money was useless, but she cried and told him she had to contribute somehow). 

“I am not.” 

“Good.” 

“Good?” 

“Mhm,” Quinn nodded. It was silent again as the two of them stared each other down, tension thick in the air like smoke. 

“Need anything else?” Y/N asked, breaking the silence. She folded her arms under her chest, pushing her breasts up in the tight black dress she was wearing. Quinn gulped, taking in her appearance; short, tight black dress, black leather jacket, black heels that made her legs look like they went on for miles. Her hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail, a dainty good chain around her neck. Quinn gulped, thinking and praying of anything that would keep the blood from rushing south. 

“Nope,” He shook his head. 

“Good,” Y/N responded, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to end my night right.” Quinn felt his boxers grow tighter as she turned on her heel, and walked down to her door. She stopped just before going inside her room, “Ya know, a gentleman would ask if I need help.” 

Quinn watched as her eyes seemed to turn a shade darker and looked him over from head to toe. In two quick strides, Quinn was pushing her against her door, his lips on hers. Her hands were in his hair, pulling on the locks she told him not to cut. His hands roamed her body, pulling her as close to him as she could possibly get. He shamelessly rutted her hips against her, his cock begging for release from his pants. 

“If I fuck you, will you stop leaving your shoes by the door?” Quinn mumbled, his lips leaving a trail of searing hot kisses on her skin. 

“If you do a good job, I might consider it.” 

From that night, their friends with benefits relationship blossomed. One would think with the among of orgasms they gave each other, that the animosity would be nearly nonexistent. But it only seemed to up the ante between them. The fights were louder, the pranks were almost near nuclear, and the sex. . . the sex was downright rough and dirty. It almost became part of Quinn’s pregame ritual, to fuck Y/N or jerk off to a video of her. 

Y/N clenched her jaw as she threw her dirty work clothes into the hamper, getting ready to shower the day off. She grabbed her speaker, making sure to turn it up loud enough to annoy Quinn down in the kitchen. He hated her taste in music, and she was well aware of it, always taking the aux cord from her when they would drive to Roger’s. Quinn also liked to eat his dinner in silence, claiming it was one of the only times of his day he had to himself. 

Smiling, she turned on Taylor Swift, letting the bass hit her ears as she stepped into the hot stream of her shower. 

Quinn was mid bite when the all too familiar intro to “SLUT!” started playing. He groaned, slamming his fork down, “One dinner. One fucking dinner in peace.” He pushed his chair away, storming down the hallway towards Y/N’s room. He wasn’t surprised to find her bedroom door unlocked, almost as if she was expecting him. He was about to push the door open, when he heard another all too familiar sound coming from the other side, the blood in his body rushing south. He smirked, imagining how deep her fingers were inside of her to get that kind of reaction. 

Quinn could tell she was getting close by the way her moans got higher pitched. He knew now was the time to strike. Pushing the door open, he walked right over to her shower and yanked back the curtain. 

“Quintin!” Y/N squealed, pulling her hands away from her core and covering her chest, “What the fuck!?” 

"Don't be shy, sweetheart," He smirked, looking up and down her soaking wet body. He licked his lips, and she scoffed, turning away from him, "Oh come on, it's not like I haven't seen it before. Turn back around, lemme see the girls again."

"Oh bite me, Hughes!" Y/N turned the shower head towards him, affectively soaking him. Quinn turned his body away from the water stream that was not only soaking his t-shirt and shorts, but the floor. 

"No," Quinn grunted and grabbed the shower head, turning it back towards her, "You'd enjoy it too much."

Y/N looked over at him, "You're all wet."

"That makes two of us now, huh," Quinn shot her that megawatt smile. Y/N rolled her eyes and snatched the shower curtain from his hand.

"You just lost your invite!"

my requests are open!! :)

[inuyashaluver]

hi! could you write something for maya le tissier where she has an athlete gf for a sport like tennis or something and goes to one of her games? <3

ace - maya le tissier

maya le tissier x reader

description: in which you and your girlfriend are each other’s biggest fans

warnings: a little long? i think that’s it!

a/n: maya baby! thanks so much for the request, enjoyyy❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

if someone told you and your girlfriend’s childhood selves that you both would not only live out your dreams of being together, but pursuing your lifelong passions as well, they’d have a heart attack.

you and maya, two peas in a pod have been absolutely inseparable since you were kids, growing up together in guernsey.

maya had always been drawn to football, having to play in the boys team just for some play time.

whereas, for you, it's always been tennis. you both met in school, running around crazily and excitedly during sports that no one seemed to enjoy. you quickly gravitated towards each other and never stopped from then on.

growing up in the same neighbourhood proved to be extremely beneficial for the two of you, countless afternoons spent at each other’s houses, chatting, laughing, yearning.

—

maya laid down a soft blanket in her backyard, the stars shining above as you came out with a tray of snacks in hand.

maya smiles when she sees you, hurriedly emptying your hands and ushering you to sit down. you both laughed and conversed, the pining glances almost unbearable when the other wouldn’t notice.

you lay down next to each other, your head resting on maya’s bicep as you both looked up at the stars. the cool breeze brushed against your skin but the warmth radiating from both of your bodies was all you needed.

maya would point out constellations to you, not in a scientific way but the maya way, making crazy pictures out of them just to hear your laugh.

“these are all your ancestors, star girl, say hi” maya teases, lifting up your hand and waving it excitedly, you laugh brightly, slapping her chest lightly as she giggles.

“says you, superstar” you mock, snuggling into her a little further when she pulled you closer slightly.

you and maya talked back and forth, about all your dreams, what you wanted to see the other doing in the future, swearing with a pinky promise the two of you would try your hardest to get there.

—

your friendship only blossomed as the two of you got older, even in high school the two of you proved to still be attached at the hip. so much so, people were questioning whether the two of you were dating. you both wished you were but were too scared.

you both joined better teams and facilities, still making an effort to spend all your free time together whenever you could. you and maya were each other's biggest supporters, through the thick and thin. celebrating the wins and the losses with a big hug which eased both of your worries.

—

“star girl!” maya beams brightly, holding her arms out to you as you walk into her embrace after a rare loss of a match. your head was nuzzled into her chest, the girl whispering words of praise to you as she gently rubbed up and down your back with her warm hand.

“i lost” you mumble against her training hoodie, “doesn’t matter, you were amazing as usual” maya says sternly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as you hug her tightly.

you weren’t a sore loser, not at all, but there was something so gratifying about winning a match, especially if you knew maya was watching, the girl coming immediately after training just in time for your match.

you allow yourself to be vulnerable with maya, something she did with you too. there was no judgement, only love and support when your walls would break down.

you breathe out sadly against her and maya frowns a little, pulling you to be at arm's length from her. “should we go get some ice cream?” maya smiles softly, moving a stray hair bothering your eyes away, you pout up at her slightly and she would love nothing more than to kiss it away but she couldn’t.

“not sure i deserve it” you sigh, maya moves her hand to lightly flick your forehead, making you jolt back as she stifled a giggle, “of course you do, come on” she moves her hands to rest on your biceps, giving them a gentle squeeze before grabbing all your stuff in her arms despite your numerous protests.

a sharp glare was sent your way when your hand attempted to grab your racket bag, dropping your hand with a huff “may, you’re tired, let me hold it,” you groan, maya shakes her head with a chuckle, “so are you” she taunts, you shut your mouth at that, you were exhausted, not just physically.

you were instantly cheered up when maya took you for ice cream, maya proud of her work when you couldn’t stop smiling as she dropped you off home.

you pull her into a tight hug when she walked you to your door, “thank you” you whisper, kissing her cheek quickly, continuing to hold onto her tightly.

“anytime, babe” she says softly, her hands comfortingly pressed against your back before reluctantly letting you go.

—

you and maya both had a mutual understanding that you liked each other, it was pretty obvious with the amount of affection you had for one another.

though your relationship didn’t progress yet, both of you waiting to see who would make that first move. and funnily enough, maya did it by accident when you were both 17.

you give her a bright wave when she finally sees you from the pitch during the line up, she grins at you brightly and sends you an equally excited wave, gaining some teasing from her teammates that she shook off like it was nothing.

whenever you were at each other’s games, you played better than ever, wanting to impress one another, in reality, you could both just sit in silence and the other would be in absolute awe.

maya had placed exceptionally well, hearing you cheer for her loudly amongst everyone else. her team had won an easy 2-0 match, and when that final whistle blew, maya didn’t waste any time and bounded over to you.

when she approached you, she noticed you with her number written neatly on your cheek, her heart beating out of her chest as she took in your appearance, in your tennis gear that she loved.

“hi, gorgeous” she says as she nears you standing on the other side of the barrier, “hey, champion” you tease, a proud smile evident on your face.

maya chuckles, without thinking, cradling your cheek in her hand and pressing a quick, tender kiss to your lips, your breath hitched when you felt her warm lips against yours, tensing when she pulled away with an expression of horror.

“oh my god” she breathes out, “i’m so sorry, oh my god, i am so sorry, i wasn’t thinking!” she rambles, you blink at her slowly, slightly dazed.

her rambling continues while you just stare at her in slight shock, hearing apologies spill from her lips as she hyperventilates.

“may” you say softly, her eyes finally meeting yours as her breathing began to settle. “it’s okay” you smile, feeling a little brave and pressing a quick kiss to her lips. she’s bright red when you pull away, so were you but you really didn’t care.

you both just smile at each other for a couple of seconds before breaking out into large fits of giggles, maya pulling you into a tight embrace, a wordless confirmation for the both of you that forever just started.

—

when maya got signed to manchester united, you luckily got a new contract and coach lined up in manchester and you just couldn’t decline.

you both moved into an apartment that just radiated love and warmth. elements of you and maya imbued in the residence.

you and maya were highly established athletes, you’d won countless amounts of championships and grand slams that you couldn’t even display the trophies anymore.

maya as well was extremely well decorated, countless amounts of awards and accomplishments that struggled to be displayed as well.

and even though you and maya were incredibly passionate about sport, it always came a close second to the real first places in your hearts, each other.

you and maya always found beauty in the simple things in your lives, bundling up at home after a gruelling time at training. literally lying on top of each other as you cuddled, tuning out the rest of the world while you’d both lazily kiss away any worries of the day, the gentle lull of your shared favourite movie filling out the sounds of the room.

a frequent activity you and maya loved to do on the weekend being hand in hand exploring, whether it was a new cafe or just a walk around your street, you only needed the company of each other to feel that feeling of home. safety.

—

“baby?” she called out from the front door, smiling as she heard you running from the living room to see her standing in the entryway.

you waist no time jumping on the girl, she laughs brightly as she catches you by your thighs, her cheeks tinged with pink when you spread kisses all over her cheeks, purposely avoiding her lips.

“i missed you” you breathe out, maya smiles fondly, “i saw you this morning” she teases, you hush her with a sweet kiss to her lips, your mouths moving together softly before she places you back on the ground,

“missed you too, beautiful” she grins, pressing another kiss to your lips before hanging her keys on the hook next to her door and hurriedly taking off her shoes as you went back to the living room.

she quickly gets changed and smiles when she feels you hugging her from the back in your bedroom

“make dinner with me?” you mumble against her back, “of course” she says like it was obvious, waiting for you to spin around so she could playfully smack your backside, giggling when you sent her a halfhearted glare.

you did most of the work but maya helped diligently, helping you cut the vegetables for the pasta dish the two of you were making. moments like these were your favourite with maya, the little parts of life that made your heart feel fuzzy.

you stir the sauce gently as maya begins to huff in annoyance, “now what?” she groans, you laugh at her over your shoulder, “you wait now, baby” you smile, “let me stir” she demands, “no, you did it last time!” you laugh, maya comes up behind you and plants her hands firmly on your hips, relishing in the fact your outfit of choice was one of her jerseys.

she leans down to jokingly bite your shoulder, chuckling when you flinch under her, you stop stirring for a second and maya immediately takes over, claiming you weren’t good at your job.

you were sulking next to her, maya shaking her head amusingly as she picked you up and placed you on the counter next to her, one of her hands gently resting on your thigh as you both chatted about your days, talking about upcoming matches you both had slowly approaching.

maya would occasionally steal kisses amongst the laughter and the chatting, not that you were complaining, letting out a happy sigh against her lips when she kissed you a little longer, making her smile uncontrollably.

once dinner was ready, you both eat on the couch watching a romcom you’ve both watched a hundred times. a mutual favourite between the both of you. you and maya would quote the script to each other, laughing brightly at the movie.

by the time you’d both finished eating, you rest your head against her shoulder while you cuddled into her, giggling when maya would recreate the cringe moments in the movie to you just to hear you laugh.

whenever kiss scenes would come up, maya would scoff, always waiting for you to entertain her.

“he doesn’t know how to kiss a woman properly” maya shrugs, making you laugh and quickly shutting up when her head snapped towards you. “fine, i’ll prove it” maya grabbing your face and smashing her lips on yours, a kiss making you feel weak in the knees and completely light headed.

when she pulled away, she gave you a smug smile, winking and watching the movie like nothing even happened. funnily enough, she did this every time you watched this movie, you’re not complaining.

—

you were playing at wimbledon, maya couldn’t be more excited. you were already in london when maya had to stay back in manchester due to training, driving over as quick as she could to get there on time.

excitement bubbled in her veins when she entered the iconic wimbledon stadium, growing a little teary when she saw a picture of you for the final match, dressed completely in white according to the rules. maya snapped a photo of it, smiling brightly when she makes her way to your box.

she sits alongside your family, happily chatting while her leg bounced nervously as she waited to see you.

the cheers that echoed in the stadium when your name was called had her heart lurching, her eyes never leaving you as you walked out on the court completely composed .

maya always found you so attractive in times like this, never failing to remind you later on. you do the same thing when you watch her defending.

you just radiated confidence and determination when you took your step up on the court, highlighting why you were one of the best with each precise swing of your racket.

maya admired your skill, moments like these making her love you more than she ever could, endless. when you’d win a set, maya would cheer for you loudly with your family, bringing a little smile on your face when you could decipher her voice.

despite the pressure and intensity, you completely kept your cool, winning set for set when your focus was unwavering, executing each swing perfectly.

with a final breathtaking stroke, you sealed the title, when the match concluded, tears immediately welled in both yours and maya’s eyes, the crowd exploding into deafening cheers as your name was announced on the loudspeaker.

maya watched on proudly as you waved to the crowd, bowing to them and giving your opponent a warm hug in congratulations.

when you hoisted up that trophy, you looked straight at maya, both of you sporting bright grins as the cheers faded from your ears, the only thing mattering was each other.

as soon as all the formalities were over, maya rushed towards you, hoisting you up in a bone crushing hug. you cry into her shoulder as she cradles your head, whispering sweet nothings in you ear as you held on tight.

“my baby girl, so amazing, i’m so proud of you” maya says adoringly, her heart swelling with pride as she wiped away your happy tears. “i’m so happy you’re here, my lucky charm” you grin, your eyes glistening with gratitude when maya presses gentle kisses to your lips.

“you looked so good out there, you know?” maya smirks, her hand reaching to tug at the hem of your white skirt.

you laugh brightly at her, pulling her into another sweet kiss, “had to look pretty for my wag” you tease, maya chuckles, kissing your cheek affectionately, “my wag, my star girl” she says proudly, pulling you into another hug.

—

you both walked out of the stadium hand in hand, your hearts were full. maya boasted about you to your face and you couldn’t help but be sheepish around her compliments.

you had a taste of that pride when you watched maya play for manchester, wearing her jersey with a proud grin as you cheered loudly.

you and maya were each others biggest fans, and you both didn’t want it any other way.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

liked by ellatoone and 44,232 others

mayaletissier: i think i’ll stick to ball girl, wimbledon champ is too good for me

view all comments

yourname: hey, i think you’re good

↳ mayaletissier: don’t lie to me, you’re my girlfriend. you’re not supposed to lie.

↳ yourname: you’re a banging footballer, baby

↳ mayaletissier: i think i need private tennis lessons from a fit champion

↳ yourname: hm, i think i know someone

↳ mayaletissier: i think i can get you a private football coach too

↳ yourname: better be fit

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 | Acceptance

Sometimes, accepting that your past is yours is the hardest thing to do.

Tags/Warnings: Alien!Jungkook, Human!Reader, dystopian AU, space/Sci-fi/cyberpunk-esque, Enemies to lovers, Angst, Violence, Drama, romance, adult, angst, potentially triggering content, mentions of prostitution, this one's a little heavy, Hurt and comfort

Length: uuuuh 3k-ish.

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

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Considering he knew that you'd figure it out sooner rather than later, he's honestly a little surprised how much this is bothering him. Even years after everything happened, after all the work he's put into becoming more than just his past, it's still haunting him everywhere he goes.

Jungkook wanted to stay alone by pure choice. He doesn't want to give into some primal urges and get lost in it, to the point of morals and worth being thrown out the window. He knows that his kind- or at least, the kind his father cursed upon him with his partial genes- doesn't value emotional connections as much as other beings of the galaxy do. But still.

What that man did was unforgivable.

Jungkook doesn't remember his mother. He's sure he never met her- or maybe only as an infant, making him forget what she looked like. What he does know is that feeling of coldness he always received from his father- someone who should've raised him, or at least let the rest of the crew raise him. But that man would not let anyone care for him- Jungkook had to basically fight for his place, a place that wasn't even existing in the first place.

Nothing he could do would ever prove his worth to that man, because that man saw him as nothing but an accident. Something that should not have happened.

She was a great mother. Still is, even if Jungkook doesn't visit her much. She respects him, and his personal decisions- and that's more than he could ever ask for.

So, at the age of barely fourteen, he left the ship- with a bag of clothes and a bit of money from a crewmember, left alone on a planet near Cryon, where he met Seokjin and his mother. The young hybrid had instantly taken a liking to him, and after his mother learned of Jungkook's situation, she took him in- and willingly took on the role of a parental figure, no matter how much people looked at her oddly for her now two children that looked nothing like her.

But she cared for him.

For a long time, Jungkook had found comfort in his lifestyle. He wouldn't hurt anyone ever like he'd been hurt before, because he never attached himself to anyone or anything past friendliness. Jimin was an exception- but even he doesn't really get past his shell, never able to catch a glimpse of his heart.

And then came you.

You're nothing special. Just like his mother, you're a simple human being, cast aside with nowhere to go. And maybe that's why he wanted to shoot you so badly when he first saw you- because he took so much pity on you, that he felt like he'd be a worse person to let you live instead of giving you an end to your suffering. Humans are seen as nothing but greedy little parasites- they take and take and take and fight for nothing but their own self-worth.

And then you opened up. Every day you spent with him seemed to fuel your soul once more, charging up your will to live as you stopped trying to make him discard you at any given chance. And suddenly, he no longer saw the same victim as his mother once was in you- he saw someone. You're no longer just a being worth pity- you're you.

And he started to actually enjoy your company.

Especially after doing something like you did back with the vendor- you've proven yourself as someone that can and will decide what she wants to do. You didn't have to do this for him, and you know it, he knows that you know it. And he also knows that you didn't do it for him anyways, even if you think you did. Because you're basically defending your place in his life- on his ship.

And that's what scares him. That's what made him react like he did, yesterday.

You're not so easy to push around any longer. You're no longer someone who will just do as he says, and he wants that for you- you deserve your autonomy, you deserve to be able to make these decisions. But those things always come with a price.

And yes- maybe he's scared of you.

Because the longer you stay, the closer you get, the more it'll bug him or even hurt when you decide to move on from him. For years, Jungkook has feared hurting others- when in reality, he just got tired of being the one getting hurt. And now, with you in his life, it's already happening- because just sneaking a small glimpse at the security camera of your room shows you just quietly sitting on your bed, hugging your knees, waiting, thinking. And it hurts. He doesn't want you to be locked up like that. He wants you here, where he can see you, where you can talk, and where he can watch you knit your stupid little ball-shaped animals that you've hung everywhere at this point.

He likes them. Because they prove that you're actually here, that you're alive with him, and that you're not just wishful thinking.

His thumb runs over the little crooked horn of the goat you've knitted, that he's taken for himself now as it's attached to his keychain. He's been unkind and most of all unreasonable- but he doesn't know what to do now. You clearly want to stay, and it's also pretty obvious that you've found somewhat of an interest in him- and that terrifies him.

Because what if he does end up like him? What if he does fall into the same habits and behaviors as he did?

And how can he not, when you're already infesting his mind, without even doing anything at all?

He's forever branded as the 'accidental' son of a slave trader, a mistake that shouldn't have happened to begin with, and cost someone their life. He's no one you should associate with, let alone get involved with. You don't know who he is, what he is, and what kind of stigma he carries around. You've got no idea who you're currently traveling with, and maybe he needs to force you to face it.

Maybe if he shows you who he really is, you'll finally let him go.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──👽── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

You're not too sure why you're so unable to just wait things out. He's clearly gotten upset yesterday, after you mentioned that you knew that he was partially human- but why?

There's no way he despises the entire human race- because he has been quite kind to you, even though he didn't have to be. Even his proposal of letting you stay with Seokjin instead of having to 'wait out' his whole… situation, was one of kindness. He could've just told you to stay in your room, but instead, he thought of a more comfortable alternative for you, despite the trouble of traveling and time cost.

So why did that rub him so wrongly when you mentioned it?

There's not much time to think about that however, as the door hisses open- causing you to hide under the blanket you previously had over your shoulders in a panic, the reaction almost instinctual. You can only feel the bed dip a little under his weight as he sits down on the edge of it, and when you peek out, you can see that he's not even looking at you. Instead, his hands are holding his keychain with your knitted little goat attached- fingers playing around with it in a nervous manner.

"My mother was a prostitute." He starts, voice low and without much emotion to it. "My father… enjoyed her services so much, that he bought her." He explains, and you slowly sit up, blanket falling from your head to rest on your shoulders instead. "Chances of.. pregnancy were low- considering she was human, and my father was not." Jungkook says, while you just watch him, not moving much.

"But it happened anyways."

You're watching him, staying right where you are- his back still turned towards you, while he continues to occupy himself with the little yarn toy you made. "I don't remember her. I only know that she died, at some point." He shrugs to himself. "Not like it matters. Neither of them thought of me as something other than an accident." He scoffs, and you feel the need to comfort him-

but you don't know how.

"So.. that's why you hate your human side?" You wonder, but he shakes his head.

"I don't hate it." He denies. "I just.. hate being reminded of what I am, I guess." Jungkook tries to explain. "I'm known as the son of a guy who knocked up a human prostitute. I'm a bastard who never lived up to his father's expectations." He growls mostly. "I'm nothing but a joke to most people who know my father. And you'll be nothing but a joke either, if you continue to travel with me." He turns towards you, looking over his shoulder at your knees- unable to quite face you fully.

"You're Jungkook." You say, and he freezes- before he slowly let's his eyes travel upwards to your face, eyes swirling colors, emotions unsure.

"..what?" He breathes out, genuinely unsure. He knows who he is. What the hell do you mean by that?

"You're Jungkook." You repeat, shrugging. "You're a shipcaptain. A vendor. Traveler." You start to count, and his irises start to change- slowly seemingly settling into a soft, warm hazel- timid, but appreciative almost.

Looking up the meanings of colors in your free time is really starting to pay off.

"You're not your father. Or your mother." You shake your head. "Neither will you be like your children, if you ever have some. I'm not like my parents either, and neither is anyone else." You explain. "We're all just in control of ourselves. The only life I have any control over is my own, and the only life you have control over is yours." You tell him, slowly moving a bit closer as he leans his head down to look at the floor again. "You can't change your past. You can't erase it either."

"So I'm just cursed with it." He scoffs at no one.

"Just as long as you don't accept it." You shrug next to him, your legs now dangling off the edge of the bed, bare feet swinging back and forth next to his boots which are firmly planted on the floor. "The moment you accept that that's a part of you, you can move on. Because you maybe can't change your past-" You say, bumping your shoulder into his side to lift the mood a little. "-but you can control your future."

"What's the point if no one cares about anything but that?" He argues, eyes a grim grey color. "It doesn't matter. I don't want you to be stuck with.. a label like that too." He shakes his head.

"I'm not like you though." You huff, crossing your arms, making him look at you. "I don't care."

"You don't care that people will think I'm just doing the same thing he did?" He challenges, looking at you with a fiery gaze. This is not going according to his plan. "You're telling me you don't give a shit about the fact that everyone who knows him, will see you and immediately think of you as nothing but a sex slave?" he argues, standing up to instead stand in front of you, hands pushing into the mattress right next to your thighs, face only inches from yours. "You don't get to lie to me and say that you don't care about that." He growls. "I don't accept you sitting here, trying to convince me that you won't mind being known as the human plaything of the bastard who couldn't even earn his spot in the crew of a slave trader." He growls.

"I don't mind." You answer, summoning all of your confidence not to flinch, even with his angry red gaze on you, noses almost touching.

"Why." He quietly sneers, clearly agitated. "How can you not care?!" He barks at you, and you do lean back a tiny bit at that- heart beating a bit faster from the sheer force of his emotions.

"If a tree falls down in the woods and no one's around to hear it, does it make a sound?" you ask, and it's almost comical how his eyes flash a surprised white, entire body flinching back in confusion. "It's a saying on earth." You explain. "If you don't take a picture of a sunset, was it really as pretty as you remember?" You ask, and he seems entirely caught off guard.

"I don't.. understand." He admits. You giggle.

"Me calling you a bird doesn't make you one." You explain with a smile. And that, seems to click with him, as he looks at you with what you can only describe as genuine surprise. As if he's never really.. thought about it like that.

And then, you lean forward- arms pulling him closer, as you rest your head against his shoulder, holding him for a good moment.

Something he simply lets happen, because you're right.

He is in control of his life.

"I'm scared of you." He confesses, and you're a bit surprised, letting go of him as he stands upright again, arms crossed, eyes a pinkish hue.

"huh?" You ask, unsure what he's talking about.

"I.. enjoy your company." He admits. "I want you to stay. But at the same time, I want you to stay away from me." He tells you.

"..why?" You wonder, his words not making any sense.

"Because you can hurt me." He explains. "Maybe not physically- but emotionally."

"…oh." You realize what he's talking about, and now it's you who's looking away. "I mean.. uh.. I mean you're really handsome, don't get me wrong! But-" You stammer, a little bashful now. And the worst thing is that now, he seems oddly confident again- as if that was all he needed to connect the dots that you're not the only one developing deeper interest in the other.

"Handsome, huh?" He comments, arms crossed, gaze playfully pink.

"I uh- yeah? But uhm.. I mean, you know.. we're kind of just starting to really talk, so.." You mumble, looking away now. What the hell? Since when are you this shy? And how have you not noticed him not even wearing his usual uniform jacket? Those tattoos fill up his entire arm-

"That we do." He nods, feeling oddly light now that he's.. talked about this, to anyone. "And I'd.. like to continue to talk to you." He offers, making you look up at him again.

And somehow, you can read the message he's actually trying to tell you, between the lines of those words.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──👽── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

You're putting a bag on the free spot near his control station, causing him to look at you with a questioning gaze.

You've both agreed on a few rules now that you're staying during his.. well, mating season issue. One of them is to keep physical contact to a minimum, and other general rules are to leave him alone if he asks you to, or to take some time to wake up before walking into the command central- though you're not sure what that one's about. It's all stuff you can follow easily though- especially if it makes him more comfortable being around you. "what's this?" He wonders, opening the bag, finding multiple, small yarn animals inside.

"I'm being productive!" You exclaim proudly. "Maybe we could sell them at our next stop? I'm sure someone has like.. maybe a currency or two left over to pay for one of them." You propose, but much to your surprise, he seems rather conflicted over it, pulling one out to inspect. It's a mouse, black bead eyes staring at him. "You don't think so?" You wonder, and he shrugs.

"No, it's not that.." He mumbles. "But.. you don't have to earn money." He tells you.

"I know. But I want to." You explain yourself. "And, the ship is already full of them. We can sell those too-" You say, reaching for a short snake hanging from a screw slightly poking out the metal casing of the control screen, when he reaches out first, snatching it almost protectively away from you first.

"No-!" He barks, looking around with a sharp, cautiously yellow gaze. "…those can stay." He clears his throat, hanging the little knitted animal back where it was, adjusting it's position so it faces him. "We're not going to land anywhere within the next few weeks anyways. We'll fuel at outposts instead." He tries to justify.

"Jungkook.. we can't hoard all of them here." You giggle, and he looks to the side at that, clearly feeling called out.

"..I'm not hoarding them. I'm just saying you don't have to.. work, or anything like that." He argues back, trying to occupy himself with the control panel.

"I know. But, with the money I get from maybe selling them, I could buy more yarn or something." You shrug, sitting on one of the nearby server boxes.

"..what's wrong with me buying it for you?" He growls a bit offended, jaw clenched. You know this is probably just his hormones making him act like that, but it's still a little funny to tease him.

"Nothing!" You laugh. "I just wanna be independent. Earn my spot." You explain.

"You don't have to earn shit." He denies, tapping away on the touch panel in front of him. "...but I guess if you want to. Don't need my permission anyways." He huffs annoyed, making you laugh as you look at him almost pout to himself, trying to appear all busy when in reality, you know that the course he's flying is a safe route the autopilot has flown numerous times before.

"Hey Jungkook?" You ask, and he looks up at that, showing you his attention has been caught. "I like you." You say, and the look on his face is quite literally the most hilarious and wholesome thing you've ever seen -

Eyes wide open, round and filled with a shy blue, before it melts into pink, seconds until he closes them, and holds a hand in front of them to shield himself.

"Timeout, you demon!" He barks out, opening the main door for you. "Get out!" He yells, though it's clear that he doesn't mean it in an evil or genuinely upset manner.

Because even though you do as he says, laughing on your way to your room, he does later check in to make sure he's not actually mad at you- though it's rather sent as a text message on the control screen in your room, instead of spoken words.

Small steps, you think to yourself. Small steps.

[singmyaubade]

totally just friends

warning : mentions of smut and cursing

sypnosis : what's weird? we are just friends

james potter x female!reader

part 1 / part 2/ part 3

two weeks.

two weeks since james kissing you, two weeks since your entire friend group resented you, and two weeks since you made one of the hugest mistakes you could've made.

time felt so slow and agonizing.

you could deal with claire not liking you but your entire friend group? that was hell.

you knew that what you had did was awful but not being able to explain yourself or to help people realize how guilty you felt was the hardest and most frustrating part of it all.

james was trying to talk to you, you were trying to talk to anyone in your friend group, and they were ignoring you to comfort claire.

you did try talking to claire as well but she would either get really pissed or walk away from you.

this situation was more dramatic than you could've imagined.

now you were currently trying to talk to lily,

"lily please, let me at least explain myself." you begged, trying to talk to her during potions.

she scoffed, "what is there to explain?" she continued to examine her potion, "you betrayed our closest friend and couldn't be honest with her, that's fucked up."

you frowned, "i never meant to hurt her, i didn't even know it would be a dare, i love claire and i never wanted to make her upset." you explained.

she looked at you, "did you love her while you were kissing james?" she sarcastically asked.

"this is fucking ridiculous." you laughed crazily, "you know i would've never done anything to intentionally hurt claire and yes, i made a mistake but-"

lily cut you off, "there is no but, you made a mistake and as much as i want to sympathize with you in the best way i can, you know claire is in the right and didn't deserve that so stop trying to act innocent." she spat.

you had never seen lily so furious, well at you.

proving to claire that you wouldn't do that her again seemed damn near impossible and the resentment and hate towards you was something you couldn't fight.

you wished you could disappear.

but unfortunately, that was not going to be an option.

the class dismissed as you rushed out the door, not wanting to even wait for the dirty looks or snark remarks from claire.

having most of your classes with your friends was actually not the best thing considering the situation.

you spent most of your time on the bench outside during the ten minute break, thinking. thinking about what you could do or what to even say to claire. even if she did slap you and not be the kindest, she still was your best friend at the end of the day.

you were a little pissed at claire for how she was handling the situation but you couldn't blame how she was acting, she was clearly hurt by your actions.

the bell chimed, noting you to start walking to class, holding your books in your hands.

you were lost in thought when someone bumped into your shoulder aggressively, making you drop the books in your hand.

you looked behind you to see who did it and to no surprise it was claire.

"claire, what the fuck?" you angrily said.

she turned around with a smirk, "oh i'm sorry, did you drop your books?" she sarcastically said, pouting.

"this mean girl look is not cute and you know it, you are just being a bitch." you spat.

she inched closer to you, "maybe i wouldn't have to be a bitch if it wasn't for the fact that you couldn't keep your legs closed for the a hundreth time this year." she berated, earning a couple of 'oooh's' from different students.

you scoffed, "do yourself a bloody favor and just walk away, you are only doing this because you are angry which i will excuse this one time." you snapped.

more students from different houses started to gather around.

"oh thank you for permission y/n!" she sarcastically cheered, "that is so mature of you considering all you do is act like a slut for any boy who gives you an inch of attention," she was now face to face with you, "and just for clarification, james didn't kiss you because you had any personality, he only kissed you because you were easy and was hoping to score some." she scowled.

"fuck you." you spat.

"i'm sure you would love to do that considering you have fucked at least everyone in the school." she smirked.

that comment really got you, causing you to punch claire square in her face which made her fall on the floor.

you angrily looked down on her as she had a surprised look on her face from you hitting her.

you realized quickly what you had just done, "claire, i'm so sorry." you extended your hand to help her which she accepted, "my anger got the best of m-" you started.

you were cut off but the impact of her punching you as you feel to the ground and she rose on top of your waist, "you fucking cunt!" she yelled.

she started clawing your face which caused you to scream to which you punched her in the stomach, trying to get her off of you.

you punched her square in the nose, maybe even breaking it.

she yelped in agony, hitting you harder as you pushed her to which she fell opposite of you and you got on top of her. you began hitting her hardly as she reached and pulled at your hair roughly.

you yelled, punching her harder to which she covered her face as you felt someone grab you.

"you fucking whore!" claire yelled from the ground as you looked to see remus trying to pick her up.

you tried to break out of the persons hold but they weren't budging, "fuck you claire." you spat, blood coming out of your mouth.

"calm down." james whispered in your ear, your body relaxing.

as you became unfocused, claire broke out of remus's hold and began lunging towards you.

she punched you in the jaw so hard that you heard a crack. you yelled louder in pain as multiple students began grabbing claire to hold her back.

you grabbed onto your jaw in pain as james began blocking you with his body.

you felt unable to focus, the pain was indescribable. you felt as if your entire jaw was misplaced, you couldn’t believe claire actually had it in her.

james urgently rushed you to the infirmary where pomfrey took a look at you, “merlin!” she said, “excuse my language but your jaw is entirely misplaced.” she touched your jaw as you groaned in pain.

james was holding your hand as you squeezed his hand when you felt pain.

pomfrey went away for a second, grabbing her wand, “this will only hurt for a second.” she said.

before you realized what she was doing, a simple charm placed your jaw back into place which hurt like a bitch.

you yelled loudly, squeezing james’s hand as tightly as you could.

you calmed down after a minute, not feeling as much pain due to a numbing charm.

pomfrey healed most of your bruises and cuts although the claw marks were going to take time to heal.

after a few healing potions and some fixing of your jaw, you had to talk to headmaster dumbledore.

“can you convince him i’m still sick?” you pleaded with promfrey.

she shook her head in dismissal as you sighed. you looked at james next to you who gave you a comforting smile.

“don’t worry, you know dumbledore won’t be so harsh.” he comforted.

you smiled, calming down, “thanks james.” you said, “and thank you for staying with me the entire time.”

he shrugged, “it’s whatever i guess.” he joked as you pushed him a little bit.

“if i’m not expelled, I’ll see you after?” you said, sounding a bit more like a question.

“of course, would die without ya.” he said, embracing you in a hug then holding your cheeks with both of his hands on either side, “i’m sorry you broke your jaw because of something i did.” he sounded genuine which made your heart flutter and due to his hands heating up your cheeks.

you laughed, “it’s okay, i think the kiss was worth it.” you winked, leaving him grinning from ear to ear.

“between you and me,” he whispered, “me too.”

you smiled, “i should get going.”

“yeah, ill see you soon eh?” he said.

“yep.” you replied before heading off.

you went up to dumbledore's office with nerves radiating your entire body. you couldn't believe this is where you were and you couldn't believe that you and claire actually fought.

none of it seemed real.

you took a deep breath as you entered his office, claire sitting on the left side with a scowl on her face.

"come in miss l/n." dumbledore greeted you with a friendly face.

you stepped inside, sitting down on the right side, about five inches away from claire.

"i have heard from many other students and they have claimed to have witnessed that you started the fight." he said, looking at you, "is that true?"

you swallowed, "it is, i was hurt by something claire had said which is no excuse and i got violent." you admitted, looking into your lap, "i apologize."

he nodded, "is there anything you would like to say miss brown?" he asked.

"i apologize too, i reacted out of anger and should've never called y/n such horrible names." she said, "she's my best friend and didn't deserve that."

this caused you to look at her, you were still her best friend.

"hogwarts forbids any sort of violence and you are both mature enough to talk about your issues instead of resorting to that. usually, this would result in expulsion," he said, causing you to widen your eyes, "but i was a teenager once and know that mistakes are not in the list of characteristics nor do they define you and due to that understanding, your punishment will be detention for two months."

a wave of relief hit you so harshly, you wondered if dumbledore could've seen it.

"i appreciate that, nothing like that will ever happen again." you stated.

"agreed." claire nodded.

"i hope so." he said, "and i hope you both realize that friendship is more important than a teenage boy." you both looked at each other in surprise, "with that being said, you may go off to dinner." he dismissed.

you both thanked him, walking out of the room.

you chose to speak first once you both were otuside, "i'm really sorry claire, i should've never done that to you and i was being selfish, i love you so much and you matter more than any boy ever could." you heartfully spoke.

claire was glossy-eyed, "same with me, i'm sorry for ignoring you and well being a bitch," you both laughed, "and for hitting you, i never should've gotten physical."

you smiled, "i completely agree, i should've never hit you, i just want to be best friends again." you said.

"and that we are." she held your hand, "honestly, i think you know how to throw a punch." she joked.

"me? did you see the punch you gave me, knocked my bloody jaw out of place." you both started laughing loudly.

"i didn't think it was hard!" she giggled.

"i swear my jaw will never be the same." you frowned jokingly.

she kissed your cheek, "there, it's fixed, trust me."

"actually, it is feeling a little better now." you agreed.

"and about james, if you want him, you can-"

she cut you off, "trust me, i do not want james anymore, i have realized i like the idea of him and not truly him. plus, pettigrew is actually very kind and hilarious." she said.

relief washed over you, "i always thought you two would be cute." you admitted.

"really? good to know." she winked, "and we both know you and james are meant to be." she added.

you scoffed, "yeah right."

"you should admit it before it's too late." she sent you a smug look, "the way he looks at you is as if you he could look at you for an eternity." she said, looking ahead.

a grin plastered on your face, "really?" you asked.

"yep." she simply said.

it was silent after that, you were too lost in your thoughts. in that moment, you knew that you wanted to be with james potter.

not because it made sense but because he was always there, he always cared.

james felt like an adrenaline rush that never faded or when you are floating on water with your eyes closed.

he made you feel golden.

and i guess you could say that james potter himself was golden.

you both made it to the dining hall, sitting down with the group as they looked at you both totally confused.

"are you guys going to kill eachother again?" dorcas asked.

"yeah because i can totally record." marlene added.

you and claire both started laughing, "i'm afraid there will be no more killing eachother." claire said.

you agreed, "yeah, i think we will stick to being best friends."

"thank the lord, i was really starting to miss you." mary said, looking at you.

"agreed." dorcas said.

"missed you a lot." lily said.

"missed you too lils." you smiled.

"i'm sorry for what i said." lily said.

you squeezed her hand, "i understand why you said it and i love you for sticking with claire." you said, kissing her on the cheek, "i'll be back guys, i have to go do something." you excused yourself as they all nodded, continuing their conversations.

you went up to james and tapped his shoulder, "may i talk to you?" you asked as he looked behind to see you.

"y-yeah of course." he said, getting up.

you both went outside of the hall, "claire and i cleared everything up."

he nodded, hands inside his pockets, "good good, i'm glad."

"yeah and i obviously didn't even get expelled." you laughed.

he chuckled, "amazing news." he said, looking at the ground.

"and i also realized that i kinda like you." you said as he looked at you in shock, "just a little bit." you joked.

"i think i kinda like you too." he cheesily said.

"so potter, will you give the most extraordinary time of my life by letting me take you on a date?" you asked.

he hummed, tapping his chin with his pointer finger, "i meann,"

he suddenly picked you up as you yelped and carried you in the air, "of course i will!" he yelled.

"okay okay! bloody put me down!" you giggled.

"wait does that mean i can finally fuck you?" he asked, jokingly.

"maybe after thirty dates." you said.

he pouted, "thirty?"

you rolled your eyes, "i'm kidding with you, if you take me to a nice place, you can fuck me." you said.

he cheered loudly as you shushed him, "can i kiss you?" he asked.

you mimicked his pretend thinking earlier, "no shit sherlock."

he smiled, placing his hand on you cheeks and kissing you.

and now, you guys weren't totally just friends.

thank you guys for following in on this little series ! i am sorry it took so long, so many holidays. if this wasn't the best ending/ last little part, i apologize. anyways, i hope you enjoyed, love u all sm.

tags : @inluvwfbzarry @bunnyrose01 @fanfictioniseverything @fairysluna @maylaysia109 @margaritasrosadas @slay-and-gay @altyx @axa-00 @mata0-0mata @samihatasmim167890 @yourfairygoodwriter @arac3ly @b-barnes04 @let-love-bleeds-red @malfoylaufeysonweasleybarnes @adrienette715 @greeniegreengreen @siriuslysmoking @swag696942069 @evanpetersrightbigtoe @vpiange @eviesmith1810 @melllinaa @okkulta @mystarlightswiftt @mxm47max @robinbuckleysgfreall

@strangeanndunusual @girl-frm-mars @hfduudus @noob-master-6-9 @tobesolovelysstuff

[gracies-baby]

Henry’s Wedding

(Gracie Abrams x Reader)

——————————————————————————

Y/n sits at the bar at the wedding, sipping on her drink as she feels people's eyes on her. She can feel them judging and gossiping about her while she silently waits for the appropriate time to go home. She takes another sip of her drink before she feels someone sit next to her. She looks to her side only to see Henry Abrams.

"What're you doing here all alone? Go socialize" He teases as he gets a drink.

"Why did you invite me? I mean, me being here is just making everyone uncomfortable" Y/n asks with a sad look on her face.

"It's none of their business. Just because you're not with Gracie anymore, that doesn't mean we can't still be friends. I'm sure it was her fault anyway. I love her but she's never been great with communication" Henry replies with a soft smile.

"She didn't tell you about it?" She asks quietly.

"No, she never really wanted to talk about it. She would just hide in her old room and get mad over every little thing. Weenie slept in Auggies room instead of hers one time and she got so pissed about it. It's weird, I've never seen her like it before" Henry smiles sadly at the girl before he hears someone call for him.

"I gotta go, but please try to have fun. I wouldn't have invited you if I didn't want you here" The two of the smile at each other before he walks towards his wife. Y/n takes another sip of her drink before she feels someone's eyes burning into her. She looks behind her, making eye contact with a familiar brunette. Y/n quickly looks away before quickly walking outside, avoiding contact with anyone else. She sighs when she feels the cool air on her before she takes a seat on the grass in front of the lake. She stares at the moon's reflection on the water before she hears someone's footsteps behind her. She looks behind her once more seeing the same brunette.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come. I'm leaving now" Y/n quickly stammers out before trying to walk past her ex, only for Gracie to grab her wrist.

"Don't go. We don't even have to talk. We can just sit here in silence. Just don't leave me again. Please" Gracie's voice cracks as tears fill her eyes.

"I don't need to be here, Gracie. You've been doing just fine without me" Y/n replies as she takes a step away.

"No, I haven't Y/n! I've been miserable without you! We were together for 7 years and I was happy, and I thought you were happy too but then you just randomly left me, and I didn't even understand why!"

"Because you can do better! You could have anyone in the world, and you spent 7 years of your life on me!"

"I don't want anyone else! You're the only one I could ever want! I need you Y/n! What do I have to do to prove it to you?! Do I need to get a ring? Because I did that! I just never had the chance to give it to you!" Gracie rambles before Y/n's eyes widen at the last sentence as tears stream down her face.

"You can't just say that, Gracie. This hurt me too. Leaving you was the hardest thing I ever had to do" 

"You didn't have to! I didn't want you to! We can still fix this Y/n" Gracie replies as she takes Y/n's hands in her own.

"Gracie-"

"No. I still want you back. You're not leaving me again, Y/n. I need you. And I know you want me too. Please, just give us one more chance" Gracie pleads before Y/n slowly nods causing a huge smile to appear on both their faces. Gracie softly grabs Y/n's face before pressing a deep kiss against her lips. They smile into the kiss before they hear someone clapping behind them.

"Finally! I knew you guys would get back together!" Henry exclaims when they pull away causing Gracie to groan.

"Do you really need to interrupt everything?" 

"I'm just happy you're not gonna be so mad all the time. Most days you didn't even talk to anyone. You were so boring. It was kinda fun when you cut your hair over it though" Henry teases as Y/n laughs while Gracie glares at her brother.

"That was not the reason I cut my hair. You just got married. Why are you here? Shouldn't you be with your wife?"

"I'm the one that got you two back together. You should be thanking me" 

"You didn't do anything! You getting married did not get us back together" Gracie replies before Henry sticks his tongue out at his sister before walking back inside. Gracie and Y/n smile at each other before they share another kiss.

"I'm never letting you go again" Gracie mumbles against her girlfriend's mouth as Y/n smiles, wrapping her arms tighter around the brunettes neck.

[spade-andthe-microwave]

Chapter One: The Beginning Rating: M (themes of gore, canon-typical violence, trauma) Word Count: 1264

A/N: I am cross-posting this from my A03 now that I've finally decided on formatting everything. Since 5 chapters have already been finished, I'll be posting all five here.

“Yes, good.” Jango nodded in approval as his 9 year old daughter hit the target clean in the center once again, 10th time in a row. “Now, let’s try a moving target again, Faovi.” He pressed a few buttons on his vambrace, the targets beginning to move. “We can take a break once you hit each target three times in the same exact spot.” “Understood, buir.” The young girl nodded, raising her rifle again and steadying it on her forearm, taking a deep breath as she lined up her next shot. This was none other than Jango’s young daughter, Faovi Nasta-Fett. She was born while he was still a slave, only three years into the long 12 years of slavery. The two had only recently escaped, Jango having raised her entirely alone. He had wasted no time in making up for the lack of proper training during those long years of slavery, and it showed with the intense training he put her through out of fear of her being captured again and being unable to defend herself. Despite their short time spent in freedom, Jango had already made himself very well known in the Bounty Hunting world. It didn’t just come with credits and connections, it came with enemies, and he couldn’t guarantee he would be able to protect Faovi when she needed him. If he needed to train her from the rising of the twin suns to the set of them, then so be it. He would rather hear her complain about the heat than not hear her ever again because she was stolen from him. Three shots landed on the first moving target, hitting the same area each time. She moved onto the second, managing yet another three shots in the same area. The last one moved far more sporadically, making it difficult to hit in the same exact spot. She huffed as she only managed to land the three hits, but in different areas. “Blast it.” “Language, Faovi. Try again.” Jango kept an eye on their surroundings, a hand always remaining near his blaster. “Remember what I taught you. Try. Again.”

Faovi let out a soft sigh and observed the movement of the targets, the twin suns shining in her eyes. She squinted her eyes before shaking her head. She slightly lowered her body, reaiming her rifle. She watched as the sun glinted off the targets and quickly changed her approach, hitting the harder target once, then moving to the easiest one with two shots, moving to the second hardest with a single shot. Jango tilted his helmeted head to the side, watching her with interest. He hadn’t taught her this, but it seemed to be proving effective thus far. He kept his mouth shut, waiting to see if she would in fact complete this challenge. Faovi quickly tilted her blaster upwards the moment the harder target blocked the sun again, landing another shot in the same place as before, then hitting the third shot to the easiest target. She shifted her forearm again, landing the last two final shots to the second hardest target, then the final shot to the hardest target once the sun was blocked once again. Each shot hit its target as perfectly as she could get it, a sigh of relief escaping her lips as she lowered her blaster. “Good job, Faovi. I didn’t teach you that, but I’m glad you were able to think on your feet.” Jango nodded his head, tapping another button on his vambrace to stop the targets. “Let’s clean up, then you can have some water. There should be a new job for me from Rozatta. You’re staying on the ship this time. Understood?” Jango began to break down the small, makeshift training targets, Faovi doing her best to drag the parts back onto the ship. “Lift with your legs, not your back Fao’ika.” Jango reminded her, helping to pack up everything before waiting outside of the ship for her. Once she got everything loaded on, he gently ruffled her wavy black hair, holding out the water canteen for her.

Faovi carefully took the water canteen, but didn’t open it to drink until she was seated on the ship. She carefully screwed off the top, feeling how little water there was still left in there. She let out a soft sigh, taking the smallest of few sips, barely enough to quench her thirst, before sealing the canteen once again and passing it back to Jango. Jango took the canteen but felt there was still water inside. “Faovi… ad’ika. We aren’t slaves anymore, remember? We can get more water back at the cantina. You can finish the drink, no one will be upset.” He knelt down in front of her, offering the canteen back. “But, buir. What if they don’t have any more water at the cantina? Or they charge too much for it? Or we crash on our way back to the cantina?” Faovi counted off each of the reasons on her fingers, sapphire eyes laced with mild panic and concern. Before she could list off more concerns, Jango carefully took her hands. “Ad’ika. Enough. We are free. Please drink the water or you’re going to get sick from the heat. You’re sweating a lot.” Jango opened the canteen again and held it out to her, still holding one of her hands. Faovi’s eyes softened and she carefully took the canteen, slowly drinking the rest of the water without spilling a single drop. Jango let go of her hand once she finished, pressing the forehead of his helmet to her forehead. “Thank you. Let’s go ahead and fly back. I have a feeling there is more work to be done.” Jango let go of her and walked into the cockpit, sitting down in the pilot’s seat and flicking the ship on. Faovi quickly sat down in the co-pilot’s seat, tying back her long hair and taking the controls.

“Remember how to pull the ship up off of the ground?” Jango tilted his head towards her. “Yes, buir.” Faovi nodded, carefully tilting the controls to lift the ship off of the ground. Jango nodded silently in approval, guiding her along on how to fly the ship back towards the port. Once they landed, Jango turned off the ship and slid out of the seat. “Stay on the ship, Faovi. Do not even peek your head out. I’ll be right back.” Jango walked towards the ramp of the ship, opening it up before stepping off once Faovi was in her hiding spot. He sealed the ramp behind him, passing off a handful of credits to the service tech waiting outside. “Fuel and a glass cleaning. That’s it.” Jango spoke coldly, walking into the cantina to see what new jobs there were. Faovi remained in her hidden spot on the ship, a hand over the small blaster Jango gave her to protect herself. Her eyes felt heavy, but she did her best to stay awake. Her breathing was soft, quiet, and even, her knees pulled against her chest like a protective barrier. Given they were only recently freed, and that Jango distanced himself from other Mandalorians, Faovi had yet to receive any armor despite being the age in which she could wear it. Time passed by and eventually Jango returned, nodding to Faovi. “New job. We may be able to get you some armor soon, Faovi. With this one, we’ll be able to get you multiple sets.” Faovi’s eyes widened as she looked up at him, her hair shifting back. “So… what’s the job?”

[pigeon-behavior]

If you watch this, you'll see that third and hardest to see pigeon in this video is showing off a certain behavior.

Every time one of the other birds is close to me, she decides to come closer too. She won't approach alone. She's not sure enough of herself, and likely me. But when the tipplers are showing her that they aren't afraid of me at all, she can't help herself.

Her name is Ivy, and she's a companion-bred bird from a very friendly line. She spent a lot of her childhood being pampered and adored by a person when she wasn't with her parents. She has really good associations with people.

But a lot of pigeons have to build every relationship they have with humans individually. She REALLY suspects that I could be a great friend, and she's SO tempted, but she can't automatically assume I will be as good as her last person. I haven't had a chance to prove it yet.

(I got her at an unfortunate time where I had just been struck with physical disability, and spending time in the loft is a lot harder than it used to be.)

But it is still great to see her trying, and KEEP trying. If I catch her in the right mood, she enjoys baby talk, because her breeder used to do it all the time. She's the kind of bird where if I had the physical ability to spend the time out there I could make friends with her like that.

But this is also just a sign of a great baseline temperament. Pigeons that aren't born friendly and curious don't do this. They don't keep trying with the vibe of a cat who just can't keep itself out of trouble.

I love her, she's great. Also she's got a bald patch under her throat right now. #SeptemberMolt

If you like my posts, consider tipping me on ko-fi!

[writingtohealmytrauma]

5/4/24

she left me 2 months ago and the pain is still so real and unbearable. 8 years of our life gone, she is now a stranger we dont talk, i want to talk so bad but she wants to move on and asked us not to message i want to talk to her everyday but i need to respect her decision's she still hasnt blocked me and i cant bring myself to block her number, not that it would do any good as i know her number off by heart, i managed to get the strength to archive our conversations so im not constantly seeing her name and our life everytime i message someone, i had been messaging her out of desperation and longing for connection with her and i can see by the read reciepts that she is seeing my message but choosing not to respond and it just hurts so much that this is clearly what she really wants and she is trying her hardest to get over me and us.

she tells me "We pushed it as far as we could" in reality she pushed it as far as she wanted. she tells me that she wants to have a family and she doesnt see a future with us after 8 years so she needs to leave me and find someone else to have a family with. she's 26 and wants to have kids before 30? so she cant waste any more time with us. i spent my life serving her, but it wasnt enough. i gave her everything. i literally made her breakfast and dinner every day for 3 years to prove my love to her, i flew her business class around the world i showed her a life she never dreamed off. i was there every day when she got home waiting to hear about her day, i ALWAYS made and had time for her always. she was my purpose i lived to serve her. all i ever wanted was to marry her, everyone use to have a go at me saying "why dont you marry her?" "hurry up and put a ring on her finger" like i was the problem? she was the one that would never commit. all i wanted was a family and life with her. I know her past trauma's have played a huge part in all of this, she come from a very broken family and has carried alot of trauma her whole life that she refused to deal with and that leaked into our relationship in so many ways. i truly believe if she had of dealt with her passed issues we would stil be here. she was not the only one to blame i also brought issues to the table but i have worked and turned myself out inside as a person to try and fix/overcome these and i feel i really did. she had an avoidance schema which was a real issue she would always run and shut off from us whenever things were hard, my mind is constantly telling me she was overwhelmed and her avoidance schema kicked in and thats why she ended it as there was no good reason to end it, weeks before she ended it she was telling me that she was finallly ready to get engaged after 8 years?? im so confused? I worry that she has realised this was an overreaction to a minor problem but her pride is stopping her from saying hey this is blown out of proportion can we try and fix this?? i would come running! i'd lay my life down to fix this, what ever it took whatever love she needed it is hers. I worry by the time she comes to this conclusion i will have moved on, not because i wanted to but because the pain is to great and i dont want to take my own life from grief. does one ever truly move on? will i still think about her in years too come? there is that weird sense of hope that we will get back together but i cant hold onto that. when we first started dating she saw a psychic (I dont believe in that stuff) but he told her that she was going to meet her partner and they would be together for life like penguins and that she would have twins with them. over the years i truly believed that and i made that a promise to myself that she was my penguin and that we would be together forever and have twins and i held onto that promise for so long, that promise got me through the hardest time in our relationship and now i feel its been broken it makes me sick to think that im not her penguin and some other man might be? she will have twins and a family with another man? makes me want to curl up and die.

It hurts so much that she wants to move on she couldnt do it anymore 8 years, meant nothing i know she wasnt in it for a long time i just kept pushing and pushing and exhuasting myself trying to fix it, i knew in the back of my mind that it was over a long time ago and that we wouldnt work in the future. she was my best friend though and the only family ive ever had all i wanted was to serve her and love her but there was always this twisted gut feeling in my stomach everytime i thought about our future, not from fear just uncertainty. we broke up once before for a short period of time and she bought someone back to our house within a couple days of us breaking up my mind reels at the thoughts of who she is with now who she is seeing.

**DREAM

I had a dream last night that we met up and i asked had she been with anyone else i asked her and i wanted her to say yes so i could hate her and move forwards in my dream she told me after a week of us separating that she had been sleeping with someone else she began to describe the sexual encounter to me with such joy saying it was hot and sweaty and that they didn't use protection and i remember feeling such a sense of a rage and sadness and sickness all at once in my dream, the though of her with another man made my sick. **DREAM

i woke up and i felt relieved as my mind was still telling me that was a real conversation and i hated her and could let her go and after properly waking up and realising it was a dream i cant shake the feeling the thoughts of that dream and what it meant to me. now i feel like i need to know if she is sleeping with other people so i can move on? WHY IS MY MIND ATTACKING ME LIKE THIS? i want to know that she is with other people so i can hate her so i can detach as i feel thats the only way i can move forward but at the same time i dont want to know either. i have no interest in other women right now, i dont think i ever will. i gave her every part of my heart and soul. ive only ever slept with 2 people in my life and have no interest in sleeping around being with other people, the thought makes me feel sick.

everytime i see anything slightly sexual it reminds me of her it makes me feel sick to my guts as to who she is with. i was her first and she was my second and to be intimate almost every day with the same person for 8 years is so special. i think its a mix of jealousy and fear fear because i know what other men are like and what they are capable and that she has not been exposed to how feral men can be and jealousy because what if she finds someone better than me? what if they pleasure her better or love her more. what if she is more attracted to them then me? she said to me that she still loves me and thats not that she doesnt want me she just doesnt think we have a future?? which is so insanely confusing cause how can you love and want someone but not be willing to commit to marriage and life together and risk going out into the world and hoping you find the connect you had with someone else.

she was my bestfriend, all i wanted was to be around her and in her presence and i think that makes this all so much harder for me. i feel like im one of those people that is always surrounded by people but feel so alone always. she took away the loneliness made me feel complete and normal maybe it was bad that i needed her to make me feel that way, maybe i should learn to feel that way before getting into another relationship. thats what everyone tells you to do. but does anyone actually truly do that? does anyone ever wait untill they are complete and feel whole before getting into another relationsip? i feel like if you were complete and happy being alone you would never get into a relationship at all so i feel like that kind of advice is a lie? what else would compel you to be in a relationship if you have learnt to be happy alone, i understand women having a biological clock and im led to beleive that some women have overwhelming maternal instincts and the need to have children but as a some what succesful male, if i learn to be happy aloen and enjoy my own company? why would i want to get into a relationship what would be the driving force behind that? so i think that type of thinking is a lie and fanciful.

i feel scared to go back home, i know i need to though. i left the state i live in to go stay with my cousins for a wgile to try and clear my head i dont know if it has helped our made things worse? im genuinely not sure.

im so scared of running into her, im so scared of running into her with another man. i dont know how to deal with these feelings of fear and jealousy. i just love her so much and my heart screams for her day in an day out.

even writing this now i feel sick at the thought the she is talking to somoene else and flirting with them and doing sexual things with them.

i think the hardest thing for me to grasp is her being sexually intimate with someone else. that seems to be the trigger for me to spiral and feel sick.

my psycologist told me that those are grief thoughts and to label them grief thoughts and that they will pass but they just make me sicker and sicker everytime i think of them.

im not eating, im not sleeping all i do is train. i feel so insecure and so scared i feel like ive aged so much in our relationship and that im ugly and un lovable so im just destroying my body to stay fit and become stronger than i am. i worry its becoming a mental ilnness almost a body dysphoria i hate myseld and everything about myself.

she was younger than me buy a couple of years and i know she is going to date someone younger than me and they will be fitter and stronger than me and it just hurts so much to think that.

i get angry cause i feel like she used me and robbed me of my life and my best years and that she never had any intention of seeing this through. she just used me as a vessel to get her setup in a career and financially.

[yr-obedt-cicero]

You’ve probably been asked this question a lot but were the Hamilton’s strict parents?

I would consider them so. Before I begin about Hamilton and Elizabeth individually, it's important to settle the family dynamic they had; Hamilton was usually off at work, and couldn't always be there every day with the kids. But Elizabeth was a “stay at home mom” (Which doesn't work in the common case it's used in; as Elizabeth didn't have the opportunity to go out and work if she even wanted to), she was always with the kids and running the house. It definitely appears like they weren't the lenient, coddly type. Don't get me wrong, they were very affectionate parents, smothering even. And they valued having a tight knit family — that it was a family virtue of Hamilton's that his family wasn't to be separated ever if possible. But they definitely weren't the kind of parents that were friends with their kids. I would describe their parenting style as helicopter parents, where they were very involved in their children's activities and lives.

I'm not too sure about Elizabeth, because not much is written on account of her parenting style. But considering how strict her own mother was, she likely ruled out the same teachings as when she was a girl. If Elizabeth was strict in any sense, it was likely with religion, as that was a very essential thing to her in life — and she was was very adamant her children attend church, and she would read them a Bible lesson every morning. Unfortunately, there isn't much insight on motherhood for Elizabeth, as most of her correspondence was burned and since she spent all of her days with her kids there was nothing that needed to be written down. She harped on John C. often for him to update the progress on his biography, so you can make the assumption if she wanted her children to get work done she wouldn't allow slacking off.

With Hamilton you can get a good idea of his parenting style and what role he played in the household; Hamilton was majorly in charge of the boy's, and would take them with him into the city when he could. It seems on disciplinary matters, Hamilton was only called upon if the case proved severe enough, like a “Wait until your father comes home and hears about this”. Rarely in any of his correspondence with Elizabeth is there mentions of him needing to correct much from the kids. Only a brief mention with Philip, who was the most rebellious of the children; “I am anxious to hear from Philip. Naughty young man.”

Hamilton played a very active role in his children's education, in fact, all of the surviving letters to his kids are about their education. Hamilton managed all the children's schooling, and even mentored Philip himself after he graduated college. He was a very strict and unrelenting teacher, probably prioritizing education above all due to how sacred it was for him as a child himself. He wrote Philip a very strong rule list that dictated and managed every day of Philip's life while studying for the bar.

And he was always keeping an eye on the children when they would leave, as I mentioned before; Hamilton often did not like the family to be apart where he could not keep an eye on things. As Hamilton was reluctant to let Philip travel alone for very long, and even had a friend of his keep an eye on him while he passed through Providence;

“As my eldest son Philip, who lately graduated, will pass through Providence on his way to Boston, I give him this line barely to introduce him to you; since the time I have prescribed for his return will not permit the stay of more than a day at Providence.”

(source — Alexander Hamilton to Jeremiah Olney, [August 12, 1800])

He also just seemed protective of his children in general. He would constantly write panicking letters to Elizabeth when he heard one of the kids had gotten sick, and would usually try his hardest to rush home. According to Hosack, after Philip nearly died in 1797, Hamilton took on nursing his kids himself whenever they fell ill and prescribed their medicine, or found the greatest doctors in the state, himself.

So, overall, yeah I would consider them so.

[astrology-bf]

A Hot Mess

(CW: Contains Major Dawntrail Spoilers, Explicit NSFW, A Beach Episode)

It should have been so simple.

The Second Promise of Tuliyollal had thought he had a handle on himself: a sense of both his strengths and weaknesses, and fair guess as to his limitations. He was no mighty warrior, nor particularly outgoing, but Koana knew that he was smart and studied - enough to make up for what he lacked. Had Sharlayan not proved the final winner in the contest between brains and brawn? Even mighty Garlemald, for all its strength, found the Scholar’s city too dangerous a prize to try and claim. All Koana needed do was follow that example, and Sharlayan ingenuity would even out the playing field between Zoraal Ja, Bakool Ja Ja, and Koana. Lamaty’i, for all her well-intentioned zeal, was no true contender. He only hoped she wouldn’t take it badly when she lost.

Except… she didn’t. 

Wuk Lamat, Third Promise of Tuliyollal, had won. Bakool Ja Ja had failed to acquire more than two keystones despite briefly having thieved another, and the Resilient Son disqualified himself right at the finish line by attacking an elector out of anger. Lamaty’i had struggled, but with the help of Krile Baldesion, the Leveilleur siblings, and the Warrior of Light, she’d found her way: learning of the people of Tural and their many cultures and traditions. And even when it might have cost her victory, she never hesitated to take time to render aid. She’d heard the people’s words, felt and learned the lessons in their stories, and thought how best to serve them before acting. She recognized her limitations, too, no longer trying to be a solitary unbroken pillar but instead a real leader : listening to expertise she didn’t have, and leaning on her friends to cover for her weaknesses as she lent her strength to cover theirs in turn. And that was why Koana forfeited. 

It had been the hardest shot he’d ever made in all of years of practice with a gun, but he’d destroyed his tablet as a final declaration of his belief that Lamaty’i was the only real choice. He’d been wrong about her, and wrong about himself. It was painful to admit defeat, but Koana loved his sister more than he disliked the feeling of inadequacy. He was still Lamaty’i’s brother, and doubtless he’d have opportunities to further introduce new innovations to Tural - not at the pace he might have liked, but one Tural could stomach. So Koana, forever Second Promise and no more than that, would be whatever Tuliyollal’s next Dawnservant would need. Even if that was apparently a courier.

Koana hadn’t seen much of Lamaty’i since she’d returned, but he could hardly blame her: though their father had long planned it, there were still final preparations to be made which took up time. The people of Tuliyollal had gotten wind that a successor had been chosen, but it seemed exactly who that was remained unknown. People didn’t seem to realize Zoraal Ja had disappeared, nor that Bakool Ja Ja had failed, or even that Koana forfeited. It was a little painful seeing those supporting him still looking at him hopefully, ignorant of how the Second Promise had completely failed them. But he made no effort to correct them - the announcement was not his to make, and Koana was in truth appreciative of just a few more days to steel himself to face the public. He wouldn’t be out now, but Lamaty’i had asked him if he’d bear a message to the Warrior of Light on her behalf - a task that he’d accepted, as he had reasons of his own to speak with Ifan.

The Warrior of Light had ended up surprising Koana in a lot of ways. He was indeed a clever and quite powerful spellcaster, as the Second Promise witnessed when he’d fought beside him against Valigarmanda and Gulool Ja Ja’s shade, but what seemed different to Koana was that Ifan spent a lot of time considering the ‘should’ of it, rather than the ‘could’: he could have cleared Lamaty’i’s path, but chose instead to let her stumble on occasion and be there to offer comfort and assistance if she genuinely found it insurmountable. The silly man was rather wise… not just wise, but kind. He hadn’t said a word about their talk in Kozama’uka to Lamaty’i or the others, and from that point had been nothing but friendly and supportive of Koana as a person, if not a candidate for Dawnservant. Perhaps that’s partly why Koana opted to delay and help deal with Valigarmanda - he’d be leaving Lamaty’i to fight it by herself if he proceeded, yes, but he also saw the note of disappointment in the Warrior of Light’s expression. Like he expected Koana to be better. And he, like Lamaty'i, seemed elated when the Second Promise had arrived to help. 

Forfeiting his claim had been the hardest shot he’d ever had to make, but it was worth the sight of the appreciation in his sister’s eyes, and the admiration in Urianger’s, Thancred’s… and Ifan’s. He wasn’t quite sure why, but it had made Koana smile to see the Warrior of Light impressed with him. 

He was a good man. Clever, learned, good-looking (Koana supposed), adventurous, compassionate, and fun to be around… All the things Koana wasn’t, save his own wits and study. No wonder Lamaty’i seemed so enchanted with him: he’d taught her what she needed while never asking her to sacrifice what mattered most - her love for life, and her love for her people. What had Koana done, save condescendingly beseech her to just let him take care of her? It felt like in a mere few months the Warrior of Light had been a better mentor to Lamaty’i than Koana had for her entire life. Not only was he a failed Promise, he’d failed as a brother.

Koana knew the feeling that he felt was jealousy. That silly foreign mage with his damn smile and his blue eyes and that laugh which made Koana’s ears twitch, with his many friends and partner who was the expert on all matters Allagan, who’d just breezed into Tural one day and did the things Koana couldn’t for his father and his sister. And now Lamaty’i wished for him to join her as a part of her administration: that was the message that he’d been asked to bear. The Dawnservant-elect had come to view the Warrior of Light as irreplaceable… and though he knew it to be otherwise, it felt to Koana that he himself had been replaced.

For all that, he couldn’t bring himself to cast resentment towards Ifan. Not after everything he’d done for Lamaty’i, and for Koana too. The Hhetsarro’s own inadequacies were just that: his own. However much a mess he felt at present, he owed the Warrior of Light civility. And so he inhaled, steeled himself, and raised his hand to knock upon the door of Ifan’s cabin.

“Just a moment!” called a voice. 

Koana wasn’t waiting long. Some sort of rune flared up above the handle before it faded, and then the door swung open to reveal the Warrior of Light in partial dress. He wore his pants, but was barefoot and had exchanged his tunic for a garment that Koana identified as some sort of silk jacket in a Doman style. The Second Promise blinked and pursed his lips as he realized Ifan was without a shirt, and quickly snapped his eyes up so they didn’t linger on the ash-brown fuzz that dusted his pectorals. 

Ifan blinked at him, then smiled. “Koana.” he greeted. 

Koana cleared his throat, then nodded at Ifan politely. “Surprised to see me? I suppose it’s only natural.” he stated, cursing at himself for being uncivil and not starting with a greeting.

The Hyur didn’t seem to mind, and gave a little laugh. “Somewhat. ‘Tis a pleasant surprise, however. Do you want to come in?” he offered as he stepped aside.

Koana paused briefly, then decided it was better that they speak in private lest Second Promise let his judgment lapse and say something uncivil towards Ifan in earshot of others. Not that such was what he came to say. So he stepped into the cabin and let Ifan close the door behind him, and spared a moment to inspect the way he lived.

Messily. There were books scattered about, and he had a tendency to drape his clothes over a chair rather than fold them. It also smelt of both mezcal and some kind of herbal smoke. A little strange, as Ifan seemed quite neat in public: but then again, Koana’s own workshop could easily be called a bomb site whenever he became a little too involved with some new project, and he was utterly fastidious in his appearance.

“What can I do for you?” asked Ifan. The man leaned back against the table with his arms crossed, mercifully obscuring any chance of his jacket slipping and revealing something; though Koana felt his lips purse slightly as his peripheral vision noted the inadvertent framing of that curve. He didn’t mind it, it was just rather distracting.

Nonetheless, he nodded graciously. “I haven’t properly thanked you.” he began.

Ifan blinked, then chuckled once. “You’ve thanked me a few times, Koana.” he pointed out.

Koana grimaced slightly, remembering that he had indeed thanked Ifan. His ears flicked in embarrassment, but he continued. “Yet I still feel the need to do so. That my sister was able to realize her potential is a testament to the quality of her traveling companions. Particularly you. For that, you have my heartfelt gratitude.” His face was quite composed, but the feeling in his voice was genuine… as was the difficulty. But Thancred and Urianger had counseled him to be more open with himself, and so he did his best.

The smile on Ifan’s face lost any coyness, becoming something warm and slightly thrilling to Koana’s eyes. “I only did what you would have done in my shoes.” he replied, canting his head towards the Second Promise with a pointed look.

The Hhetsarro’s cheeks began to darken as his ears splayed flat, but an appreciative smile soon overtook his face. He reveled in the feeling of the Hyur’s admiration for a moment… and not a moment longer. He settled his expression, and nodded sagely. “...My primary business in calling is to deliver a message from Lamaty’i.” he began again. “As you well know, after the ascension ceremony she will officially take up the mantle of Dawnservant. She has expressed a desire for you to accept a post within her administration… while making no mention of me.” Koana blinked in realization at his verbal slip. That wasn’t a remotely relevant detail to Ifan. His lips parted out of instinct, as he readied to apologize and once again withdraw… But once again, Koana remembered his friends’ words. And so he simply nodded, having said the partial truth of how he felt.

Ifan’s humor faded at Koana’s words, though the latter couldn’t quite identify whatever feeling that the Warrior of Light was showing on his face. Displeasure? Concern? He didn’t voice it, merely hummed and nodded for Koana to continue.

Koana was somewhat relieved that Ifan didn’t press him. “You needn’t decide immediately. My sister will broach the matter with you again after the ceremony. Whether or not you continue to assist Lamaty’i is up to you.” He paused again, lips twisting and his ears lowering to press themselves against his skull as he clenched his fists behind his back. It was momentary, however, and though it was a struggle he gave words to his thoughts. “...You have become someone irreplaceable to her. As her brother, I acknowledge that with no little jealousy. But believe me when I say I hope you will stay by her side.” Koana didn’t look at Ifan as he spoke to him, head lowered deferentially and arms still held behind his back as if addressing a superior. The Hhetsarro felt his tail hairs bristle slightly at the awkward tension, and what he felt was gracelessness on his own part. His lips twisted, and he closed his eyes and nodded. “That is all. If you will excuse me.” he finished, bidding Ifan a farewell.

“Koana.”

The Second Promise felt his ears twitch as his name was uttered. He raised his head to meet the Hyur’s gaze with apprehension on his face… but it eased somewhat at the Warrior of Light’s expression. Ifan had his silly smile again, though strangely pointed and endearing,

Ifan rose from where he leaned against the table. “Are you busy, at the moment?” he asked.

Koana blinked, then shook his head. “I have no prior commitments.” he stated.

The Hyur smiled. “How about a walk? We can get something to eat, as well.” he suggested as he gestured at the door.

Koana felt his ears begin to flatten as his face fell. A note of shame then flickered in his eyes, feeling very childish in contrast to Ifan kindly offering his company. “I would not wish to bother you further.” he answered. Then he swallowed as he lowered his gaze again.

Ifan stepped forward and reached up to squeeze Koana’s shoulder. “Hardly a bother, you’re surprisingly good company. Just give me a moment to get more decent.” he said, reassuringly.

The alternative, that being returning to his chambers and spending the night trying not to sulk, did appeal to Koana on some level. The urge to just be truculent and graceless, to just accept his stiffness and not try to make the effort. Sitting in his workshop or his study, while the world moved on ahead of him… and left him behind. 

Ifan had a hand extended, though. Not physically, but he could tell the man was looking back for him, to make sure that he kept pace. He likely knew how Koana felt, to some degree… Ifan shared that he was orphaned, too. He was looking out for him. So Koana nodded, and took the figurative hand. “I will await you outside.” he agreed.

It didn’t take the Hyur long to dress, as he simply traded out his jacket for a cotton tunic in a Hannish style that moved like woven air with its sheer weave, and donned a belt and pair of shoes before he joined the Second Promise on a walk. They’d no destination, but Ifan had suggested that they walk along the shorefront before returning through the Bevy in a loop. Koana had agreed, though he insisted he walk Ifan the entire way: he was still Second Promise, and Ifan was a guest within his city. 

The evening was quite pleasant: earlier humidity had now been eased by a fresh ocean breeze, and the sky was nearly cloudless. Menphina was not visible, however, her shining face concealed behind the veiled mystery of a new lover’s moon… but the Arrow seemed to gleam the brighter for her absence, as if the Wanderer proved intent on being there in her stead. The city was less busy than it would have been as Tuliyollal conserved its energy for crowning a new Dawnservant, so Ifan and Koana walked largely by themselves along the shore.

“Do you have a favorite book?” asked Ifan. They hadn’t spoken much since they’d decided where to go, Ifan giving Koana space to speak but finding that the latter was too hesitant.

Koana glanced at Ifan, then let out a mirthless chuckle. “The answer to that question seems to change every day. I cannot pick one.” he said, unable to conceal his literary fondness. 

Ifan grinned at him, and Koana felt his ears flick happily. “Ah, that’s how I know you’re a real book lover.” he hummed brightly. “What is your favorite today, then?” he asked.

The Second Promise straightened up a little, tail rising from where it had hung lankly the entire walk. “It is a treatise on the aetheric ziplines used on the Isle of Haam. I had thought I might explore the use of them around Tuliyollal.” he explained. The city’s elevation was a constant problem for both pedestrians and commerce, and though the local aethernet had helped immensely there were those who couldn’t use them. 

“Oh, those?” replied Ifan with a pleased nod of agreement. “They are pretty fun, and I can see them being useful here. Any interesting insights from this treatise?” asked the magician.

Koana nodded with a hum. “The principle hurdle seems to be maintaining a consistent density of aether.” he explained, eyes gleaming as the wheels turned in his head. “The Isle of Haam is rich in it, Tuliyollal less so - ceruleum may be an option, but I would need to study physical examples to see if such is possible. Even if not for civilian use, rapid transit through the city’s elevations would be of great facility to the Landsguard in responding to a crisis.” He gave Ifan a smile, and gestured up towards the higher reaches of Tuliyollal as if to indicate precisely where he’d recommend the line be built. 

Ifan gazed at Koana with a grin as he explained, his cheeks turning a faintly ruddy bronze at seeing the way the Second Promise’s expression turned absolutely radiant when he was speaking from the heart. “Well, if you ever need an escort for an expedition for such a study, I’d be happy to accompany you. Maybe you can show me a few places I missed in Sharlayan, too.” he offered.

The Hhetsarro gave a grin, then - faint, but nonetheless apparent, as was the way his ears and tail near quivered for a moment as he relished the idea. Then Koana blinked as he remembered that the choice about a zipline was no longer his. His expression settled. “It seems I shall have the time.” he stated, quietly.   

Ifan’s own smile faded into a quiet look of concern. By now, they’d passed the central docks and walked beneath the shade of Bayside Bevy’s larger warehouses. At length, Ifan spoke again. “She hasn’t forgotten you, by the way.” he said.

Koana blinked and glanced at Ifan sharply. “Has she said something to you?’ he asked, hesitantly.

The Hyur looked back at Koana and shook his head apologetically, but gave him a reassuring smile. “I just know her. She can barely go a few minutes without mentioning something Koana did or how Koana might perceive this situation. Just have a little faith in her.” He reached over to place a hand on Koana’s shoulderblade, and gave his back a gentle pat before withdrawing.

A sigh left Koana’s lips as his ears lowered. He knew it wasn’t just a lie to make him feel better… Lamaty’i did love him. Maybe it was just the fact she looked to Ifan, where once she looked to Koana. The Second Promise nodded. “It is difficult, I will admit. I’d put great hope in being Dawnservant.” he confessed, swallowing and looking faintly miserable.

“You’ll find your way, Koana. You’re a strong man.” soothed Ifan.

Koana swallowed once again, then looked at Ifan in gratitude. Nonetheless, his eyes were pleading. “I do not feel so.” he admitted.

Ifan halted, then, turning towards Koana and looking down to meet his gaze. Though they now stood at the harbor’s near-deserted far end, the Hhetsarro’s eyes had little difficulty in the gloom - he could see the soft and sad expression upon Ifan’s face. “...You and I have a lot in common, Koana. Being used to being the strong one. The older brother, the champion. Living afraid that if we let our guard down for a moment then everything will disappear. It took a lot of strength to do what you did, forfeiting like that.” he said, quietly. His tone was far from silly or unserious, carrying with it a strange note that Koana could only liken to treading on a set of stairs that once bore too much weight. “I admire that. Whatever else you are, you’re a good man. That’s what really matters.” He smiled, then - not coy, but true feeling.

For the first time, Koana found himself actually wondering what it was like in Ifan’s shoes. All those deeds he’d done within the books he’d read ,or tales he’d heard from portside rumors made no mention of how Ifan truly felt about his life. He noticed, then, how many scars the Hyur had beneath his gauzy tunic. The man had clearly suffered for his calling, and hearing such a person reassure him… Koana felt himself return the smile. “I thank you, Ifan.” he replied, his ears and tail both rising slightly as he voiced the words. Then he let out a breathy laugh. “The impression I had is that you disliked me.” he added, sheepishly.

Ifan chuckled with a nod. “I was wary, aye.” he admitted.

Koana’s smile eased, but his expression was less weighty than before. “Because I opposed Lamaty’i?” he asked, with genuine curiosity.

The magician hummed sagely, then let out an awkward breath. “You had me worried that Tural might turn into another Garlemald, for a few moments. Particularly in Kozama’uka.” he explained.

“You did seem… annoyed, if I had to put a word to it.” muttered the Hhetsarro, remembering the way that Ifan looked at him.

“If it helps, it was more a matter of…” Ifan began, before pausing as he chose his words. “Garlemald made a practice of eradicating local cultures if they deemed it threatening or inefficient. Othard’s magical traditions may take centuries to recover, if they do all. I could have healed the fields quite easily, even more so if I didn’t care about disrupting other parts of Kozama’uka’s aether - but Ihih’hana, silly as it seems, was the right choice. People need meaning to survive, not only food.” he explained. Then he chuckled, and grinned down at Koana happily. “But I don’t need to tell you. You learned the lesson, and as said… I admire that. You didn’t let me down in Urqopacha or in Yak Tel. I think of you as a friend, but I don’t mind if that’s unrequited.” he finished.

Koana stared at Ifan. A breath escaped his lips, and his ears and tail were perfectly still. Every conversation that he’d had with the magician, Koana had experienced this same feeling in his chest at points: a swell within his breast that made him want to cling to something lest he float away on it. A lightness that the Hyur could kindle with his words or laugh. Even the mere sight of him. His silly smile. Ifan wore a beard, but he kept it neatly trimmed and oiled so it framed his mouth quite nicely. A floral oil, it smelled like, that went well with the note of herbal spice that Koana had come to recognize as Ifan’s scent. Koana probably had a better chance to figure out what kind of oil it was if he got closer. Close enough to kiss him, even.

“Something on my face?” asked Ifan with a lofted brow and somewhat amused expression.

The Second Promise took a moment just to register that he’d been spoken to. Then he blinked and shook his head quite sharply, ears pressing flat in realization of just how messy he allowed his thoughts to get. “Forgive me. My thoughts ran away with me.” he apologized.

Ifan hummed. “Where to?” he asked, crossing his arms.

Koana’s lips began to twist within the flat frown he’d set them in, his gaze off to the side as he tried not to pray for the beach to open up beneath his feet and swallow him. “It would not be polite of me to say.” he stated, quietly.

Ifan nodded slowly, then smirked. “Fuck politeness.” he stated, crassly.

The Second Promise’s ears flicked sharply at the vulgar language, and he winced instinctively. He grimaced as he reached up to remove his glasses, then took his time in taking out a cloth to clean them - not that they weren’t spotless, but he needed an excuse to steel himself. He slid the spectacles back on, then swallowed. “...Your lips.” he forced out.

Ifan blinked as both his brows shot up. Then a pleased huff escaped him. “If you want to kiss me, you can just ask.” he snickered as he gave Koana a teasing grin.

Koana’s ears pressed flat against his skull as his cheeks darkened. “I have… never…” he muttered, trying not to fidget with his gloves.

The coyness in the Hyur’s expression faded into something more sedate. He blinked again and chuckled at himself. “...Oh. Sorry, I-” he began.

Koana shook his head, forestalling an apology for forwardness. “The opportunity has never… presented itself.” he explained, somewhat awkwardly.

Ifan gave a sympathetic and appreciative smile. “Well… I’m not here to force you, nor do I want to create any unfair expectations.  But if opportunity is what you want - I won’t say no.” he offered.

The flush within Koana’s cheeks turned even darker, and he almost pouted as he did his best to avoid eye contact. “Would not your partner have words regarding it?” he asked.

Ifan rolled his eyes and snickered. “That’s assuming he wouldn’t want to kiss you, too.” he countered, looking Koana up and down as if finding the idea of watching G’raha kiss him rather thrilling.

Koana blinked as he met Ifan’s gaze. “You want to kiss me?” he asked, unable to conceal his disbelief. 

The Hyur smiled at him admonishingly, as if Koana’s desirability should be completely obvious. “I’d like to, aye. Not just on the lips, either.” he added with a wink.

Koana felt his ears splay flat as his toes and tail curled at the suggestion. He swallowed and sucked on his tongue, his usual stiffness struggling with his present situation’s unfamiliarity. “...I would not wish to be unsatisfactory.” he answered, at length.

Ifan shook his head. “I’m satisfied just talking to you.” he answered, earnestly. “And if you want, we can just move on and forget this tangent ever happened. Whatever would make you happy.” Then he gave Koana a friendly smile, reassuring him that he expected nothing. 

That was a comfort. He’d let his judgment lapse in Ifan’s presence several times, and every time the man had handled it with grace and just been there for him. So Koana didn’t doubt that if he wrote this evening off as one of him not being clear-headed, it wouldn’t change a thing… But that was the problem, was it not? Dissatisfaction with the present. He’d never had the time for things like what the Hyur was suggesting. He had it now… and the opportunity, too. With someone that he trusted, and looked rather nice. So Koana glanced at Ifan, and he nodded slowly. “...Perhaps it is time to try something new.” he consented.

“That’s the spirit.” said Ifan with a reassuring smile. Then he stepped forward, and reached for Koana’s hands. The Hhetsarro’s ears flicked upright as his palms were placed on Ifan’s waist. “Why don’t you take the lead? Explore a bit.” he suggested, quietly.

Koana blinked and swallowed, then looked around. “Here?” he asked. This end of the shoreline was deserted, but there was always the odd chance that someone might walk by.

Ifan smirked. “If you want.” he chortled. Then he looked around himself, and nodded before guiding Koana over to a pillar in the port’s retaining wall where they could stand largely obscured in shadow. He leaned against the wall, and drew Koana forward to press against him before he hummed and let the Second Promise take the lead.

Koana had no notion where he’d even start. He had read… things… but reading it was very different from doing it. It couldn’t be that hard, could it? Ifan told him to explore, and didn’t seem afraid that Koana might do something wrong. His hands grasped Ifan’s waist, fingers slightly kneading and his lips pursed tightly as his anxiety mounted, eyes fixed on Ifan’s chest but not seeing a thing.

Only when the Hyur reached up and gently slid his glasses off did Koana take a breath. His violet eyes flicked up to Ifan’s wine-dark blue.

“Might be hard to kiss with these.” hummed Ifan gently, his free hand sliding up Koana’s back until his fingers were pressed at the nape of the Hhetsarro’s neck, under his collar. A brief tactile reminder of the neck massage in Kozama’uka.

Koana let out another breath, a little bashful but still grateful for the Hyur’s guidance. He took his glasses and slid them into the pocket of his coat, then wet his lips as he locked eyes with Ifan once again. He let out a breath, and did what came naturally: leaning forward and up, appreciating Ifan craning his head down so he didn’t have to stand upon his toes, their noses brushing as Koana finally identified the scent within his beard - Azeyma rose, which lured him further in until he felt his lips press against Ifan’s in a shy and gentle kiss.

Ifan slid his arms around Koana, but didn’t hold him tightly: a loose draping of his arms to scaffold the Hhetsarro as the latter drew back slightly before kissing Ifan a second time. Then he pressed forward, parting his lips hesitantly but quickly finding confidence once Ifan drew his tongue in with his own. Koana’s nervousness and hesitation ebbed away, ears kept perked and listening for any change in Ifan’s sounds so he could tell what the magician liked. Though Koana didn’t realize it at first, his hands had started wandering all over Ifan’s back and sides… though he didn’t stop when realization hit him, since he liked the bit of padding in the mage’s thighs and torso. He was very warm, as well, the inside of his mouth near scalding when Koana braved it with his tongue. Fun to kiss, and fun to grope. So Koana just indulged. 

A rolling purr began to hum from Koana’s chest as he and Ifan kissed, the former growing confident and pressing Ifan up against the wall so he could kiss him that more deeply, rubbing up against him as Hhetsarro often did to grind their scent into their partner. It wasn’t how the Second Promise had imagined his first kiss, but it was thrilling nonetheless. 

Too thrilling.

Ifan blinked as Koana sharply pulled away with a choked gasp. He shuddered and convulsed quite violently… and then relaxed into a gentle twitching. His head was lowered and his eyes were tightly shut, lips set into a small line.

The Hyur blinked again, then let out a breath. “...Did you just-” he began, faintly incredulous.

“Say nothing.” gritted out Koana, ears pressing flat against his skull as he tried not to think about the stickiness within his breeches. Of course the Second Promise couldn’t go a mere few minutes without… “I… I apologize, it was-” he shook his head, utterly ashamed… then gave a yelp as he was turned around and pinned against the wall. 

Ifan was grinning down at him with a look of burning lust within his eyes that made Koana gasp and shudder. “Hot. Very hot.” he churled. Unable to restrain himself, he reached down between Koana’s legs to grip his groin and give it a good squeeze. “And still up for more, it feels like.” he observed with a lewd shaking of his head. 

Koana’s face was burning dark, his pupils dilated and his ears and tail both quivering. “Ifan-” he gasped, then brought a gloved hand up to his mouth to try and stifle a loud groan as Ifan groped him. He didn’t protest, however, the Second Promise’s hips rolling to meet where Ifan’s hand was pressed against his groin. 

Ifan gave a hum at the growing wetness on his palm. “Feels like you made a mess, too. Don’t worry, my dear prince, I’ll get you cleaned up.” he stated, then moved to unclasp Koana’s belt so he could unbutton the Hhetsarro’s breeches.

It took a moment for the man to register what Ifan was doing. He blinked, then swallowed. “Wait-” he began, then paused as he caught sight of Ifan’s expression.

Ifan raised an eyebrow. “...Huh.” he said.

Koana went perfectly still. “What?” he asked, hesitantly.

The Warrior of Light smirked wryly as he gave a very impressed hum. “...Surprised you don’t keel over with that.” he observed. 

Koana felt the hairs on both his ears and tail bristle in embarrassment. “It is not that- gods below… ” His protest was cut off by his own hand on his mouth as Ifan knelt and swallowed him before he dragged his lips away and left him nearly spotless before making sure the mess within the pale green fuzz below his navel and between his thighs was fully cleaned - and then he took him in his mouth again, before he let the Second Promise take the reins.

He was hesitant at first, as he’d been when they had kissed - but not for quite as long, given just how good it felt. But soon enough Koana had his hands in Ifan’s hair, slowly grinding up against his face and building a much deeper pace save whenever Ifan had to take a moment just to breathe considering Koana’s size. He was allowed far fewer of them as Koana found his stride, the Hhetsarro far more focused on ensuring that the muttered slurs and curses in Turali didn’t get too loud - though his focus on that failed, too, as after a point Koana had turned Ifan around so that his head was up against the wall and had nowhere to go when Koana thrust. The Hhetsarro was sweating in his machinist’s coat, one forearm braced against the wall while his teeth were digging into the glove upon his other hand, hips working at a steady pace and ears flicking as they reveled in the filthy noises that were coming from between his legs. It was a blissful feeling: no migraine, no duty, no worry. Just the warmth around him, the sounds within his ears, and Ifan’s scent within his nose.

As he neared his peak, however, he realized where he was. The Second Promise of Tuliyollal, in public on the beach, his pants around his thighs and groin-deep in the throat of the Warrior of Light. Anyone could walk by, at any second. It was frightening… or was it thrilling. But he felt a surge of heat within his core as he began to pant in panic, then- “Ifan… I-... Wait-”

He took a step back, but it was too late. Koana braced himself against the wall with one palm as he bit down on his other fist, already coming as he sprang free of the Hyur’s mouth and spattered both his face and chest with stickiness. Ifan chased him, however, and Koana had to try his hardest not to cry out as he was taken to the base and near-devoured, still shuddering and shaking as his climax was prolonged.

Koana wasn’t given any chance to slip into regret. Ifan slid back slowly, still pleasuring but with less pressure to help Koana climb down at a steady pace. And when he had come down enough, the Warrior of Light released him - though his hands remained on Koana’s hips in steady reassurance.

He could hardly think. Everything felt good, everything was spinning. He was sweaty and a mess, and Ifan even more so; he couldn’t quite believe that all that messy white on Ifan’s face was his. Not that he complained… He found himself grin faintly at the sight of it. 

Ifan grinned back up at him, licking his lips and chuckling. “How are you feeling, my dear prince? Besides messy.” he asked, looking very pleased despite the redness in his eyes and the brazen flush all down his face and neck.

Koana thought about it for a moment, but as he made to answer he was interrupted by a rather loud protesting rumble from his stomach. The Second Promise closed his eyes and hung his head, defeated. “...My body will permit no propriety today, it would seem.” he lamented. Then he gave a breathy laugh.

The Warrior of Light began to laugh, and then he shook his head before he stood and wiped his face with his left hand. “Don’t need to worry about that around me. I could use a bite myself. Not that you aren’t delectable.” he added, licking a finger with a wink.

Koana pursed his lips as he pulled up his pants, but mostly just to hide his smile. “You are a silly man.” he stated. 

“Silly, huh?” asked Ifan, seeming quite amused.

The Second Promise nodded sharply. “Yes. Silly.” he repeated.

Ifan stuck his tongue out from between his teeth. “And that turns you on, doesn’t it?” he teased. Then he gestured with his hand, and in a shimmer all the mess on both himself and Koana was magicked into nothingness.

Koana gave a little frown, trying not to seem impressed by Ifan’s legerdemain. “I will neither confirm nor deny such.” he answered, though his tone was teasing. Then proved unable to conceal his smile.

The Warrior of Light smiled back, then gave a little grin. “Then I must perform some Feats to get a better understanding of you. Shall we Repast?” he asked, reminding Koana of the rather enjoyable challenge of preparing xibruq pibil.

The Second Promise had to chuckle. Whatever happened, he was a man with his own life, and Ifan seemed determined to remind him to enjoy it. His body was still shivering occasionally from just how much he had. 

Koana gave a nod and reached up for his glasses, before he placed them on his face once more. “I am in your hands, my friend. Lead the way.”

[peace-and-light-poetry]

Goodbye Chen

(Inspired by, dedicated and all the thanks goes out to yours truly, Takuyarawr)

Some time, after a battle, Ran and Chen found that Yukari's health had declined and that she fell ill. Despite how weak she was becoming, she tried not to pay any attention to it and was enjoying her life. As her illness worsened, doctors treated her with the best treatment they could offer but, however, it did more damage to her body than it did repair. Knowing fate was being merciful and hostile to her, she didn't know how to break the news to Ran and Chen, so she told Reimu and asked for her to give them her parasol.

When Reimu broke the news to the shikigami, they were in utter disbelief and were immediately grief-stricken. "I'm sorry, Ran, Chen, she didn't know she could tell you herself, so she told me to tell you and she wanted you to have this." Reimu said, handing them the pink lace parasol Yukari loved so dearly. A few days later, Yukari fell into a coma and died in her sleep, from the last of the treatment that she wasn't strong enough to survive.

Her funeral service was long and full of tears from those that loved her. Even Yuyuko, as gluttonous as she was, didn't think to eat all the food. Everyone was dressed in black and/or purple. Reimu closed down her shrine for a month, grieving and out of respect for her deceased yokai friend.

Grief-stricken, Ran was trying to hold things together and often took to caring for the violet garden that Yukari left behind but found her health, too, had declined. Chen was hit the hardest and spent half of the day at Yukari's grave, wishing for her to come back.

However, Ran had the most of her problems, other than her mistress's untimely demise. She found her declining health had proved she was ill with a terminal illness that was incurable. She knew she couldn't ignore it but couldn't tell Chen. All through the summer, she hid her illness and, in the fall, after becoming so frail and thin, she went to a doctor to see how far it progressed. However, the diagnosis wasn't good and that the illness had spread rather quickly through her body.

Throughout the fall, she secretly had herself treated for her illness and tried to make her appointments less frequent. She didn't want Chen, her ever so beloved shikigami and pet, to be alone so whenever she left Chen at Reimu's, she was going to see get treatment. In November, she left Chen at Reimu's one last time before she went into the hospital.

Before she went to the hospital, she asked Reimu to explain the situation. When Reimu did, Chen broke into tears and asked "Why didn't anyone tell me?" Reimu gathered her into her arms and said "We didn't want you to worry but I see that is the least of your problems." In the winter, after all the doctors did what they could, Ran passed away of her illness. Reimu brought Chen to be with her, as she died. While dying, Ran gave her the hat she wore. Ran's funeral service was short but tearful. With both of her mistresses passed on, Chen went home, alone. She walked through the house. Only she remained in the large house. She went to her room and cried.

Ran and Yukari's rooms were empty and quiet. Their beds were made. Nothing was taken out of their drawers. Nothing was left out of place. She went to each of their rooms and sat. She went to the kitchen. Yukari often served her a bowl of her favorite cereal, whenever she was awake, but now Chen had no one to serve her cereal. She went out into the garden. She, Ran, Yuyuko, Reimu, and, occasionally, Rinnosuke would play a game of baseball until one of them broke a window or a vase, in that situation they would run to avoid getting in trouble. The large house was full of memories of her mistresses.

Reimu stopped by everyday to feed her and that was all she could do for her. When spring came, she went to the Hakurei shrine to see Reimu. "Hello, Chen, what brings you here?" asked Reimu, curiously but in some degree of despair. Chen looked up and said "I want to know if I could say goodbye because I never really got a chance to." Reimu paused for a moment and said "I know, Chen, but I can't bring them back because that would involve messing with the border and Yukari wouldn't have wanted that."

"Is there any way I could tell them goodbye but spend some time with them before I do?"

"I could escort you to the netherworld and ask Yuyuko to lend them to you for a day but we must escort them back to the world of the living, then you must wait for them after about 10 minutes upon arrival, and, after the time is used up, they must return to the netherworld."

"How do I convince Yuyuko to lend them to me?"

"One must explain the purpose and ask for the favor as a favor but, if that doesn't work, one must bribe her with food."

The next day, Reimu escorted Chen to netherworld. Youmu met them at the gate and demanded their purpose. Reimu carefully explained the situation and Youmu let them pass. They met Yuyuko in her castle and explained the situation. "Hmm, I hear your plea but I wonder how Ran and Yukari would feel about it but I'm pretty sure they would give one more day to spend with you, I'll get them ready." said Yuyuko, as she left the room. She returned with Yukari and Ran. Both embraced her and said how much they missed her. "You can have them for one day and, after that, they must return to the netherworld. Any longer than that will cost you dearly."

After following Reimu's instructions, she brought them to their house and spent the entire day with them there, reliving her life before the battle, before their illnesses, and, most of all, before the loneliness and grief. After spending the entire day with them, the next day she knew she was going to lose them forever. The next day, Chen escorted them to them to the border between Gensokyo and the netherworld and, as her mistresses walked off after giving her a final embrace, she said " Goodbye."

Ran and Yukari didn't look back but said "Goodbye Chen, goodbye Chen, goodbye... forever." She watched them leave and continued watching before they disappeared in the mists of netherworld. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she went home. She walked into her room and found a present for her. It had a note that said:

Dearest Chen,

We know our time to be with you is short, so we give you this present to remember us by and we want you to know we love you and we want you to be strong. We left this on your bed before we left, a gift to you.

Sincerely with love, your mistresses,

Yukari and Ran Yakumo

Chen opened her gift and found it was a photograph of them together in a golden frame, decorated with fake flowers, and found that they had made a doll for her. Chen hung the photograph on the wall and fell asleep cuddling the doll. Back in the netherworld, Yukari and Ran stood, waiting for Chen to eventually join them.

[obsoleteozymandias]

Hi there! I’d like to ask for a twst match up!

Basics:

Gender-Female, she/her/they

164 cm tall, Virgo but doesn’t act like one, INFP

+I pride myself on being a very dedicated person. If there’s a task delegated to me, I will work my hardest to see it through, even if the end results aren’t perfect. I’m not a leader but still take my responsibilities seriously because I fear disappointment and feel like I always have to prove my worth.

+I’m slow to trust, but generally a good judge of character. I’m the person you turn to if you need to vent or complain about something. Even though I don’t have many friends, the few that I do have I am very attached to. I’m mostly a loner though, perfectly happy this way, and am introverted but not to the point of a hermit.

+Adaptable: I don’t complain much about change, and usually work well with people of different personalities and backgrounds. I go with the flow most of the time.

-I’m a very irrational person. I try, but conventional logic just isn’t my strong point. This sometimes causes other people to see me as odd or stupid/lazy because my way of thinking isn’t the norm.

-I can be absentminded and a klutz. I’m always making mistakes and trying to fix my mistakes. I’ll probably annoy some people by being really forgetful and scatterbrained. I’m always reciting things or writing lists to help me remember.

Despite my own flaws, I’d still say I’m overall a well-rounded person, a jack of all trades. I enjoy learning many different things and having a wide skillset. I adapt easily and can probably fit into most dorms.

Hobbies-

Cosplay is the biggest one. I normally don’t put too much effort into my regular appearance, but I spend alot of time putting together costumes, wigs, props, and makeup, and looking my best for photoshoots and cons. I’d love to learn how to sew or make my own costumes one day.

Image editing—mostly related to cosplay above, but I enjoy editing and manipulating pictures and experimenting with all sorts of visual effects and filters just for fun. I like taking selfies and photos on my phone too, just to edit it afterwards.

Also I enjoy medieval history, ancient mythology (particularly Greek and Roman), symphonic metal and alt-rock music, tabletop games, video games (mostly JRPGS, visual novels, and otome games), musical theater, and collecting objects (antique pens and leatherbound journals).

This one, as a stan of a certain character, was very easy. 

== Twisted Wonderland ==>

I match you up with…

Sebek Zigvolt 

Sebek is difficult to say the least. He’s rude, abrasive, and often dismissive of the abilities of others. But he finds solace in you, someone who will listen to him and give him the time of day. 

It shocks him, honestly. He’s used to being dismissed, and though it wouldn’t usually bother him, for some reason the idea of you dismissing him makes his chest hurt. 

He’s most attracted to your dedication and hardworking nature. Sebek isn’t one to give up easily (or ever), and so he’s glad the two of you match eachother in your passion for simply getting shit done. 

He’ll be honest with you about your work quality, but it comes from a place of genuine love and desire to see your best work flourish. 

Whatever you make/do, he’ll brag about it to others, even mentioning it to Lilia and Silver with the same proud smugness that usually accompanies his Malleus rants. 

Sebek may not understand you way of doing things at first, but I fully believe that he could use a change of mindset, and so as he comes to understand and respect you, he’ll begin to see the advantages and reasons why you think the way you do. 

He’ll also watch you go about your hobbies, obviously interested, although trying to hide it. 

Later in the relationship, he no longer hides his fascination with your hobbies and actively learns as much about them as he can. 

Some nights are spent with you gaming and him reading, sharing facts and stories late into the night, just enjoying the presence of one another. 

[beneathashadytree]

Hi.. hope I'm not bothering ya or something, may I request modern au with Sherlock? Reader is female (u can make it gender neutral). Reader is studying music, while she was practcing on the violin in the music room, Sherlock sneak in without her noticing till he complaints her, then she asked him to teach her ( 'cause she isn't very well), and that ended sweetly? Like with kisses and such (idk how but let ur imagination magic works). Btw they're both studying in the university

A GENTLE HAND - SHERLOCK HOLMES X READER

Warnings : none I think, modern AU, this is not proofread, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : comfort and fluff <3

Word count : 1.3K words

Additional notes : You could never bother me! Thank you so much for requesting such a sweet idea, and for giving me the choice to make the reader gender-neutral. It’s what I’m most comfortable writing, to be honest🥰 I personally saw Sherlock as a criminology and criminal justice student. I hope you like this!💗

Requests : Are open! Check the rules over here.

Want to support me financially? Here’s my CashApp!

Masterlist

It wasn’t something they’d foreseen; realizing that the major they’d chosen to follow their dreams would be the thing they most struggled with on the daily. They’d spent years praying and hoping that they’d get accepted at this university, so they could begin to study music and music theory, and someday pursue a career as a violinist in the meantime. Their hopes and dreams relied entirely on this being their future plan.

What had come as a surprise, though, was them soon coming to realize that they had a frustratingly difficult time trying to learn how to play that musical instrument that they’d been so eager and impatient to learn. No one had warned them that the violin in particular was one of the hardest string instruments to master, and that getting even the basics down would prove to be a challenge. It was equally frustrating and saddening to have their dream right within reach of their fingertips but be unable to grasp it.

Their boyfriend, Sherlock, was infinitely patient, and never once complained about the absurd number of hours he had to tolerate their trials of playing the violin. How he never got irritated by the grating noise of the bow harshly hitting each string with their horrendous technique, they had no idea. After all, living together in such close quarters as broke college students wasn’t at all easy.

He majored in criminal justice and criminology, and holed himself up in his office whenever he had to study. Given just how busy he was, they usually tried their best to wait till he was taking a break or something to practice, and resorting to studying from their notes and textbooks whenever he was hitting the books. Sometimes, however, the time crunch prevented them from doing so, and they were forced to disturb the peace and quiet even as Sherlock studied on.

Times like this, for example, were the worst of all. They’d been trying for the past hour to work on their handling of the bow in a particular piece, seeing as for some reason the notes always came out a lot sharper and harder than they should. They couldn’t pinpoint exactly where they were failing, and by now their fingers were blistered with all the pressing they did on the strings. Their agitation was so intense and all-consuming that they hadn’t noticed their boyfriend’s presence in the room until he tapped their shoulder.

Jumping a little, they turned to him. “Oh, sorry love. Want me to take a break so you can focus?”

He shook his head, eyebrows furrowed. “Don’t worry about that. It’s just that you don’t look like you’re having a particularly good time.”

Shoulders drooping, their arms fell to their sides, the violin feeling even heavier now. “It’s just that… I don’t know,” they sighed, “I used to think that becoming a violinist was my dream, but now…”

As they trailed off, Sherlock gently reached out to squeeze their shoulder. “Your dream hasn’t changed. I’d have to be blind to not see the longing look you have in your eyes whenever you watch an orchestral performance. You’re overwhelmed, and there’s nothing strange about that.”

They leaned into his touch, edging closer to his chest and simply enjoying his presence when frustration was tearing them apart like this. “And do you ever get this way? About your own studies I mean?”

“I’ve always wanted to become a detective, but you have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to just chuck my textbooks into the fireplace and just quit school,” he chuckled, bitterness on his face as he went on, “But then again, I’d be doing exactly what my entire family expects of me, and that wouldn’t do, now, would it?”

“Guess we’re stuck in this boat together, huh,” the mumbled, exhaustion rolling over them in waves that seemed to never end. Sherlock must’ve noticed that, because he almost instantly reached out to pluck the bow and violin from their hands.

“You’re tired. Without getting proper rest you won’t be getting much further, trust me on this.” Grinning up at them, he added, “Coming from someone who stayed up three days straight for a sociology quiz only to get an E.”

They let out a weak laugh, before pausing as realization hit them. “Wait, hold on… didn’t you tell me that you can play the violin?”

Sherlock stilled in place. “Well, yeah, but I’m not that good at it.”

Rolling their eyes, they said, “Now’s not the time to be modest for the first time in your entire life.”

He gave them a pointed look as he lifted the violin up to his shoulder and nestling his chin on the pad. “Then you should know that I’m not being modest. I honestly took it up as a hobby for a short while, so I wasn’t all that good.”

“Still, you’d definitely be better than me. Maybe you could teach me a thing or two?”

After a moment’s pondering, he nodded, lifting the bow to the strings and fluttering his eyes shut as he did. “I’ll slow things down a bit, and try to help as best as I can.” And with that, he gently slid the bow over the strings, and let the music entrance them bit by bit.

Sherlock wasn’t by any means a professional, and his technique was a little lacking indeed—however, he’d completely omitted the fact that he was capable of evoking a certain mix of emotions whenever he played; that his playing would pull forth the feelings of pure devastation and melancholy and put them to sound, letting them linger in the air and leave lightness in their chest behind. It was beautiful in that sense.

Infinitely patient, he went through every single step with a gentle look in his eyes and deft fingers guiding them. He repeated every movement, not once, not twice, but a million times if needed, seeing to it that his sweetheart would understand and be able to follow through every single one of his instructions. The goal wasn’t for them to imitate his movements, but to learn and incorporate their new abilities in their own playing style. Perhaps in that sense, despite his lack of professionalism, he was a better teacher than they’d ever had.

Another hour had passed, though this time none of their troubles and annoyances weighed down on their shoulders. This time, they had a perfectly content glow to their face, satisfied with their progress and proud to have such a multi-talented boyfriend. Sherlock never ceased to amaze them, and they made sure to voice that.

“You’re wonderful,” they grinned at him, awe in their eyes as they finally set the violin down on the nearest armchair, “I’m so grateful to have you. Thank you for this.”

His eyes softened, a fond look on his face as they leaned in. “You’re welcome. It really wasn’t much. You can rely on me whenever.”

“It’s one thing to say as much, and a whole ‘nother to prove it every time.” Looking head over heels in love all over again, they wrapped their arms around his neck, pulling him in with an unexpected strength. “You really are the best,” they mumbled against his lips, before softly pressing theirs to them in a slow kiss. Languidly brushing their lips together, they made sure to show just how much they’d appreciated the gesture. His own hand reached back to pull their head in closer and angle their mouths perfectly against each other, deepening the kiss as a small sigh escaped them. Humming against their mouth with pleasure for a second before he broke them apart, he was too quick for their taste to pull away.

Still, it was always lovely to stay in his arms and have him look so tenderly at them. They knew that eventually they would have to accept the fact that they’d soon find themself in another predicament, overwhelmed by their studies and their slow progress, but for now, they’d rather bask in his attention and affection. Just a few minutes more.

Taglist: @sherlockscumslut @lilias-highlights @thispersoniscrazy

[bratbarzal]

On Your Side (NH13) / Chapter Four

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: 10k

18+ MDNI!!

Chapter Warnings: (rushed) smuT!! with the hardest possible T on the end. (finally!!) as if it isn't only chapter four but also this is an accidental pregnancy fic so whatever fingering, oral (both receiving just not simultaneously lmao), heavy petting, (unprotected) p in v (like protection isn't even thought about or mentioned pls I beg be more responsible than this lmao), some admirable displays of endurance honestly, there's a random joke about jumping in front of a car sorry idek how else to write that warning, aaaaaand nico being... an idiot perhaps? he's a man after all, poor decisions are written into the very core structure of his chromosomes unfortunately

Summary: Poppy Jensen’s job with the New Jersey Devils was supposed to be her first big step into adulthood - a way to prove to herself and her overbearing parents that she could make her own way in life. She was never supposed to become involved with any of the players. Becoming best friends with their captain was stupid. Getting her heart broken by him was tragic. Getting knocked up with his child was just plain messy.

Series Masterlist

Previous Part (Chapter Three)

A/N: I'll just let yous crack on this time no yapping on my end hope you like it lmao (but I must say, as always, never proofread)

if you do wanna yap, if you have any feedback you wanna share or criticisms or whatever, my inbox is always open!! 💓

Poppy

Nia: !!! 

Nia: 🚨CODE BLACK 🚨 

Nia: !!!

Poppy wouldn’t usually be the type to sit on her phone at the table in a restaurant, but desperate times had called for desperate measures, and she would say being made to wait 10 minutes with no response to any messages on what was supposed to be a first date counted as desperate times.

She had been flicking through instagram stories, hoping to catch a sneaky glimpse at the guy she wanted to be the cause of her cell’s incessant vibrations, but to no avail so far.

She had been picking at bread rolls and sipping at her water, tapping on her screen every 30 seconds to check when fifteen minutes had passed, and she would have been able to up and leave without feeling bad about it. Would have been able to tell her mom that she had at least made an effort, unlike Mr Evidently Not-So-Perfect Tucker Lyon.

But who needs fifteen courteous minutes when you have a best friend like Nia Auden. 

Nia, who had introduced the Code Black protocol to their friend group when they were teenagers, and who had stressed the severity of it to everyone. Never to be abused, always to be used for the ultimate good.

When they were younger, the two of them specifically had abused it a couple times - to get out of presentations in class, bad dates, or dinners with overbearing parents. 

Nia had once sent Poppy a Code Black text when her dad had thrown some boring party in the family home, and there usually would have been nothing in the world that would have gotten Poppy out of it - but a text from her best friend, who’s parents were out of town, and who desperately needed someone to drive her to the emergency room after she sliced her finger opening a tuna can, had Mr Jensen agreeing in seconds. His heartstrings had been thoroughly plucked by the story of the fake injury and the thought of that poor girl sitting in Norwood Emergency Care on her own with half a finger left. Poppy had only just managed to convince him he didn’t need to help, and the two of them spent the evening binge watching Gilmore Girls in Nia’s basement, concocting a plan for Nia to wear a finger bandage for the next few weeks if she was coming over.

The contingency had been entirely pointless, obviously, because Poppy’s dad was hardly ever around enough to notice such a small detail, back then. And, despite her mother having the perception levels of a hawk, Mrs Jensen cared too little about Nia to notice, either.

In instances like that, the use of the code was mostly pre-planned. The girls would complain about whatever it is they wanted to get out of until one of them suggested it, and it was always a case of waiting for the incoming text without seeming too obvious. But her and Nia hadn’t agreed to this. Not this time.

Sure, she’d droned on earlier in the day about how much she didn’t want to go on the date, but Nia wouldn’t usually go rogue - especially not with a Code Black. This kind of thing takes preparation and a pre-warning.

Poppy: what’s up?

Poppy: you okay???

She had remembered Nia’s plans for the evening - taking a potential client out for drinks, showing them the wonders of the better side of the Hudson River, and hoping that she can charm them into signing with her agency - trying to work her way up the ranks of podcast production until she can hopefully get a job in television or film.

Nia: I’ve just witnessed the saddest sight I’ve ever seen in all my 25 years.

Nia: need to share out the misery before I let it consume me 😢 

Attached to her messages was a pixelated picture, taken from across whatever bar she had found herself in. It was blurry, and bad quality, taken in poor lighting and zoomed in the whole way but Poppy was still able to make out who it was. All too reminiscent of the pictures Jack had sent her a week prior.

Nico, sat alone at a bar, chin in the palm of one hand and a drink in the other.

Nia: he’s about as subtle as a smack to the face, Pop.

Nia: moping and brooding for all of NJ to see

Poppy: this is your code black?

Poppy: six exclamation points and two blaring alarms for nico moping again?

Nia: this doesn’t look like an emergency to you?

Nia: you’ve broken the poor guy

Poppy: why is it always my fault? 😢 

Poppy: you told me to make him sweat??

Nia: he looks like he’s one drink away from throwing himself in front of oncoming traffic

Poppy: wow dramatic much?

Nia: you haven’t seen him in person

Nia: in fact I think I just saw him wipe away an actual tear

Nia: how sad ☹️ 

Poppy: nico doesn’t cry in public

Poppy: only in private to movies about dogs

Nia: your date is clearly going well for you to be replying so quick

Poppy: he didn’t turn up

Nia: stfu

Nia: how rude!!

Poppy: it’s whatever

Poppy: can you tell nico I’m omw so he stops sulking?

Nia: no but I can bully him until you get here 🥰

Poppy: go easy on him pls 🙏 

Nia: 🤷🏽‍♀️

—

Nia was right. Nico is about as subtle as a smack to the face. The kind where the sound of it silences the rest of a room, and the imprint of closed fingers comes out almost immediately into the recipient’s skin surrounded by a hot, burning redness that lingers long after it’s done.

It’s something Poppy had realised as soon as she saw him when she got to the bar, as soon as he saw her, and he couldn’t wait to get to her - leaving Pally with his mouth wide open, mid sentence as Nico ejected himself from whatever one-sided conversation his teammate was having to seek her out.

She’d realised it when they were alone, and he practically had to cuff his hands behind his back to stop himself from touching her, unintentionally making a show of his attempt at restraint. Or when he’d pressed the stiff outline of his evident arousal into her hip, making a show of the complete opposite.

And when Timo had interrupted the two of them, the sharp clench of Nico’s jaw and the whitening of his knuckles by his sides.

Subtlety is far from Nico’s strong suit.

Not when he’s burning holes into the back of his teammate and long-time friend’s head when Timo returns to the group, not when he’s initially giving tight-lipped smiles whenever anyone asks if he’s alright, or mentions that he seems a little out of sorts.

Not when his hand takes up permanent residence on the small of Poppy’s back, and he absentmindedly rubs random shapes into her flesh as the two of them converse with the team. Although, she doesn’t entirely mind that aspect.

Not when she had initially thought he might act the opposite - might keep his distance, pretend their back of the bar rendezvous hadn’t happened and refuse to get too close out of a fear someone might notice something between them. 

He hasn’t left her side for almost two hours now, and she quite likes the quietly possessive stance he has taken up beside her. 

She quite likes a lot about how he has been tonight.

Likes the attention and affections he gives her, likes the way he clues her in on conversations she otherwise would have no business being involved in, likes the way he lets her see little parts of himself she hadn’t got to really see before - not this fully, at least.

Like how he leads his team with gentle authority, wanting to make sure they’re having fun, looking after themselves, not letting their loss from the previous night dampen the joy from the win the night before that. Not caring that they are in fact supposed to be out celebrating him, and knowing that with a short break until their next game, they all deserve to let loose a little. He checks in on everyone, recalls little details she doesn’t know how he juggles in his mind with everything else he has going on, and she can’t help but lack subtlety herself in the way she admires how he deals with Jack.

Nico, who is soft spoken, but assertive, seemingly shy, but comfortingly confident, handles the younger boy with such care it makes Poppy’s heart thud rampantly in her chest.

Jack had suffered a knock to his shoulder in their game against Chicago on the Friday - had missed the game against the Canucks, missed the game against his brother, the whole Hughes-Bowl extravaganza - and is now stressing over missing his first time co-captaining a team during the All-Star weekend at the end of the month.

And Nico somehow manages to calm him down - taking his time to let Jack air out his grievances and coming back on every worry to diminish it with words of affirmation and encouragement.

Nico is reassuring, gentle, understanding of his frustrations, and as they sit across from Jack in a darkened booth, a couple hours after their encounter in the hallway, a few drinks deep into the evening, she starts to think she’s never been this attracted to another person in her life.

With their legs pressed together under the table and his hand, the one that lays free when he uses his other to gesture as he talks, rubbing gently into the flesh just above her closest knee, she’s starting to lose her mind just a little.

She hadn’t been able to stop herself in the empty hallway before from launching herself at him, but 4 days of no contact with Nico had her entire body buzzing with anticipation.

Anticipation of his feelings, of her own feelings, even, and what they could lead to if she just let them take the reins.

Twice they had kissed now - twice her whole world had been rocked off it’s axis with just the press of his lips to hers, and as she’s been pressed to him for the better part of two hours, has watched the indent of his dimples form into his cheek, watched his dark eyes gleam under the poor lighting in the bar, watching him laugh and smile and be his charming, charismatic self, she starts to feel a pressure rise within her. It’s like she’s a shaken up bottle of soda, and one more touch, one more glance, is going to twist the cap straight off of her until she fizzes all over the place.

And when Jack dismisses himself to get another drink, his mood seemingly lifted, able to crack a smile, at least, she leans into Nico, hand on his lap as she cranes her neck to speak into his ear. “I think I’m good to get out of here, now.”

She only just manages to jut her chin away when his head turns to look at her, tongue darting out to wet his lips, dark eyes dashing down to survey her own tucked between her teeth. “Oh yeah?” His voice is a lot lower than it had been when he spoke to Jack, huskier, breathier, and the deep hum of it rings all the way from her ears to the pit of her stomach. “You want me to take you home?”

She nods, and it takes every ounce of restraint she has not to kiss him again, in the middle of the crowded bar, surrounded by all their friends - especially with the way he’s looking at her, his darkened gaze pooling with pure unadulterated lust.

“Let me grab my jacket and we can go.”

“I’m gonna say bye to Nia.”

He squeezes lightly at her thigh as a confirmation before edging out of the booth and lending her a hand to help her out. “I’ll come find you.”

Nia isn’t too hard for Poppy to find, having joined the group in their private section, bringing her hopeful clients along with her and introducing them to the team. She’s stood with John Marino and Nate Bastian when Poppy comes over, and her best friend looks at her with the smuggest grin she’s ever seen in her life.

“Finally broke free of Captain Sexy’s clutches, huh?”

Poppy wishes, not for the first time, she would stop calling him that, especially in front of other people.

“Nico’s gonna make sure I get home okay,” Poppy tells her best friend, immediately cringing at the hollers that break out beside her. 

“Ooh, I bet he is,” John scoffs, nudging Bass in the side, the two of them grinning almost as wide as Nia.

Nate wolf-whistles, before singing, “Poppy and Nico, sitting in a tree-,”

“Whatever word you’re thinking about spelling out,” she hooks a finger pointedly at John, cutting the two of them off before they can carry on whatever childish rhyme they could come up with between them, “Save it before I spare the world of any future mini-Marinos.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he salutes, “A little early to be heading out though, isn’t it, Poppy?”

“Some of us have work tomorrow,” she smiles, regardless of the fact that she doesn’t have to go to work until she has a meeting in the afternoon - but these two don’t need to know the semantics, “I’m just borrowing Nia for a sec.”

She drags her friend a safe distance away so the two of them can’t eavesdrop, and tries to ignore her lack of subtlety when she sings, “F-u-c-k-i-n-g.”

“Don’t stoop to their level, Ni,” she sighs, rolling her eyes despite the stuttering of her heart, and holds her hand out to retrieve the purse she had left with her when she’d first come into the bar. “You’re better than that.”

“What? It’s catchy,” Nia shrugs, hazel eyes slowly assessing Poppy as if trying to read her like a book. “And you’re so trying to get laid tonight. Don’t think I don’t know what the two of you were up to when you disappeared into the back, before."

“Whatever.”

“Hey, do me a favour?” Nia asks, reaching into Poppy’s purse for her phone and holding down the side buttons until the device powers down. “Don’t turn that back on until tomorrow.”

Poppy doesn’t even have to ask. She has a sixth sense for her mother’s interference, and she just knows she’s been blowing up her phone all night with questions. Nia is right, she doesn’t need to dedicate any precious mind space to that tonight.

Tonight is for her and Nico, whatever may happen.

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” Poppy lets out an uneasy laugh, allowing for Nia to zip the cell back into her bag before stepping away ever so slightly. “I’ll text you as soon as it’s back on, though.”

“Damn right you will.” Nia scoffs, leaning in to give Poppy a quick hug, “I want every last detail, Jensen.”

“Sure thing, Auden.”

“Have fun, Poppy, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

The two friends part with a quick peck to the cheek, and Poppy retreats in search of Nico, who she finds by the bar, eyes meeting from across the room as if he had been waiting for her to finish.

Once she had made her way over to him, he holds his jacket out to drape over her shoulders, and she tucks herself under his arm as he leads them out of the bar into the cold of the night, wrapping her arms around his middle in an attempt to distribute some of the warmth she has stolen from him by borrowing his coat.

“I’ve got us an Uber,” he says, pulling her into him as they wait by the side of the building. “It should be here in a minute.”

“You don’t wanna walk me home?” They’re in Jersey City, maybe a fifteen minute walk from her apartment, and they could easily warm up if they made pace. The sky is clear, and she wouldn’t mind getting to walk somewhere and hold his hand.

“I’m not piggy-backing you all that way, Poppy,” he scoffs, knowing her better than she knows herself - the mention of a piggyback bringing forth an ache in the soles of her feet. Not a chance of walking fifteen minutes. “We can get the car to stop a block from your place, and I promise I’ll carry you around the corner.”

“If we’re going to my place we should get the Uber straight there, you won’t ride in my elevator and I need to be carried the last two flights of stairs at least.”

“Your elevator is a rickety death trap,” he hums into her skin, nose tucking into the open collar of his jacket draped over her shoulders, nudging at the curve of her neck. “And I don’t feel like dying tonight.”

“Oh, do you have big plans for the rest of your evening?” 

“I have a very pretty girl in front of me and a lot of time to make up for.” The last time he had mentioned making up for lost time, it had made her feel uneasy - this time couldn’t be any further from that. She feels anticipation, excitement, exhilaration - knowing the time he’s referencing goes so far beyond those months apart. 

“My place, then, the whole way,” she confirms, “And I’ll just have to figure out a way to distract you in the elevator so you don’t think about dying.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard for you to distract me.”

She tries not to overthink the meaning behind that - tries not to let her mind wander down paths it shouldn’t go down, where she pictures him thinking about her when he shouldn’t - when he’s with other people, in other places, away from her.

And, just in time to save her from an embarrassing display of public affection, a black Suburban pulls up to the curb in front of them, and Nico nudges her toward it.

They sit together in the back, his arm around her, thighs pressed together, her right hand holding the hand attached to the arm slung over her shoulder and the left fiddling with the fingers of his other in her lap.

The two of them make very brief small talk with the driver, and the drive takes maybe 5 minutes before they both stumble out right in front of Poppy’s building, Nico quick to send the driver off with a tip while Poppy unlocks the main door.

The elevator is already on the bottom floor, and she tries her best to do all the work in getting it to go up. Nico had been mostly accurate to call it a rickety death trap - the type with doors you have to close manually and lights that flicker and hum like something straight out of a horror movie. 

The only surefire way to distract him is to kiss him, and she doesn’t have to use up any brainpower to convince herself to do so.

She pulls him in with soft hands placed on either side of his neck, and he falls immediately into the flow of it - large hands gripping at her hips, pushing her gently into the far wall as the elevator begins its ascent. They don’t part until the elevator stops, and even then, they only do so so that Poppy can yank the door open and pull him out with her, immediately attaching herself back to his lips and kissing him with fervour.

They shuffle down the hall until they’re outside her apartment, and she blindly, one-handedly fumbles around in her purse for her key, manages to slot it into the keyhole after a few tries, and twists until she can hear the lock turn. 

Once the door is unlocked, the two of them stumble into Poppy’s apartment, the thick heels of her boots thudding against the hardwood floor with each clumsy step, and in the very back of her mind she hopes Peter downstairs can’t hear it too loud.

The thought is fleeting, though, because Nico’s hands press firmly into the base of her spine, causing her hips to jut forward and practically thrust straight into his, his tongue taking immediate advantage of the gasp she lets out and prodding into her open mouth. 

He guides them backwards, tangled limbs interlocking until their bodies careen toward the kitchen, he throws his jacket somewhere on the way, and he manages to blindly reach a hand out to stop her colliding with the island counter.

He slowly lets her fall back into it, hand curved over the sharp edges, mouths still pressed together in a sloppy, messy kiss and his body follows suit, aligning to her every curve and indentation. 

She wonders briefly if it would have been easier to just break apart - to allow the dim lighting emanating from her kitchen to guide the way to safety instead of relying on Nico’s hasty memorisation of the layout of her apartment, but as she feels the soft muscle of his stomach roll into her torso, feels the flicker of his tongue against hers, she realises it all adds to the exhilaration. 

Adrenaline is pumping through her very core, and she doesn’t want to break apart, even for a second. 

She’d had a dream about him, once. In the very early stages of their friendship, before the somewhat rational and entirely brutal part of her brain stomped down on her attraction. It went something like this, wandering hands, frantic movements, she doesn't remember exact details but she does remember waking up in a cold sweat.

Regardless, nothing she could ever dream of lives up to the real thing.

To the way his stubble scratches at her skin, the way his hands dig into every part of her they choose to touch, grabbing and clawing with desperation and determination, the way his thick thighs nudge hers apart with subtle dominance so his leg can slot between hers as they both lean into the counter.

The real thing is something else, entirely.

He manages to lift her onto the counter, somehow communicating through touch exactly where he wants her, because as soon as his thick fingers press into her hips, she knows to leverage her hands on the surface behind her and assist him with picking her up, their lips locked the entire time.

Every move is frantic, but intentional, and she is teetering on the edge of rushing this and savouring every moment - and it seems like he is too when he pulls back, their lips parting with a wet smack and his slightly sticky forehead pressing into hers.

The rise and fall of her chest is scattered, while he tries to level out his breathing, trying the in through the nose out through the mouth technique to seemingly calm himself down. 

All she can do is watch. Admire the way his eyes drop closed, thick eyelashes fanning out as he scrunches his face, even thicker brows furrowing as he battles whatever internal dialogue is taking place - one she doesn’t want to interrupt or intervene with. 

“Are you too drunk for this?” He asks, a surprising croak to his usually level voice, his dark eyes opening to gauge the honesty of her response.

“No,” she pants, still a little out of breath, not so used to being able to pull herself back together as quick as he is. “Are you?” 

“No.” 

He sounds a little more certain than she did, although he had been out longer tonight, and had definitely had more to drink. She supposed he has the constitution for it. But she knows she isn’t too drunk - knows she would consent if she hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol all night. She had been ready to jump his bones in that dingy back corridor of the bar, and had been fully sober at the time. 

He flexes his fingers at the sides of her thighs on the countertop, itching to touch as if he’s holding back until he gets the right answer. “Do you want this?”

She nods, gaze flickering between his rich, dark chocolate eyes as if trying to read his mind.

In what world would she not want this?

“Tell me, Mohn,” he commands, knuckles whitening as he clenches his hands into fists.

“I want this.” She breathes out, pressing her forehead back to his, eyes fluttering closed as if too heavy to keep open, and allowing for her other senses to heighten. “I want you.”

She blinks her eyes open to see relief visibly flood through him in a rushed wave, and watches as it washes over his entire being - realising just how much her previous rejection, if she would even call it that, had weighed on him the past few days.

Her hands fall onto his atop the counter, rubbing soothingly until his fists flatten out, and all the tension in them disappears. Her fingers fold over his, lifting and guiding them until his palms lay flat where the bottom of her dress meets the soft skin of her thighs. She can feel how hot she is before she starts to push at his hands, taking a shuddered breath as he takes enough initiative to curl his grip around the curve of the flesh there, and she guides his hands slowly upward, the skirt bunching up as they go. 

She watches as his gaze follows the movement, staring intently as more of her skin is revealed, until he looks up to meet her eyes, seeking permission in a heated glance. 

She feels like she can read his mind when he looks at her like that. Feels like he’s laying out his every intention on a storyboard, visual aids and all, sees it branch off into two potential paths, just like the two she had been weighing up in her own mind.

One where they both take their time, tension building to a euphoric crescendo, where his hands get to memorise every curve and hers get to do the same, where they uncover every unheard sound, every unpracticed touch.

And another where he rips off her clothes and takes her for the first time on the kitchen counter, where she claws at the skin of his back, and he uses his lips to scatter purple bruises across her chest.

He seems to be able to find a middle ground when he starts to help her undress, and keeps one hand slowly caressing the slight dip of her waist as they both push the dress up her body and tug the fabric over her head, with him discarding it off to the side when they’re done.

He flicks teasingly at the strap of her bra until it falls down her arm, gathering and draping just above her elbow, and leaving him free rein to lean down and press his swollen lips to the space where her shoulder meets her collarbone, just about able to feel the subtle echo of her pulse as it travels down her neck.

Her head dips back, granting him full access to her upper body, all the way up her throat and to her jawline, and one of her hands raises of its own accord to the neck of his sweatshirt, fingers tangling in the chain she had gifted him until her nails are tickling and scratching at the skin beneath it. He makes quick work of unzipping her boots, again pulling them off and throwing them away with a heavy thunk.

The moan she lets out is breathy, sparse, but it appears to fulfil something inside him all the same, awakens something greedy as his large palms cup at the sides of her hips and tug her forward, grasping the waistband of her panties and having enough leverage as she slides across the surface to bring them down. She hops slightly so he can pull them over the roundness of her ass, and he steps back a touch from between her legs so that he can dispose of them, flinging them to God-knows where to lay with her dress on the ground. 

She’ll worry about it another time.

He maintains his position, fingers wrapping around her calf to push it to the side, parting her legs until he can see what beauty rests between them. 

He gazes upon her with unabashed hunger, goosebumps rising on every inch of her skin as she takes in the heat behind his eyes. She has never felt so exposed to another person, so admired, so adored.

Her kitchen is illuminated only by the under-cabinet lighting strips behind them, but she can see the way his irises glisten and sparkle with desire. He makes slow, deliberate movements - painstakingly displaying his intention as he steps forward into her space, leaning with a hand down on the counter beside her thigh, and the other remaining on her opposite leg. When he starts to bend, she stops him with a shaky hand on his shoulder.

“Wait,” she whispers, losing her breath when he breaks his gaze from between her thighs to look up at her. “Could you take your shirt off?”

The corner of his mouth twitches upward, a single brow arching in a teasing question.

“Please?” She thinks she almost sounds pathetic, but has little space in her brain right now that she can dedicate to caring about it. “I need to touch you.”

He wordlessly follows her command, straightening up and reaching back to pull the sweatshirt from his body. It drops straight from his grasp to the floor, and the t-shirt he layered underneath follows suit. “Better?” He asks, biting back a smug grin as he watches her eyes trail down his torso, lingering on the faint dark patch of hair just below his bellybutton. 

“Kiss me, again.” She requests with a shaky breath, and he fulfils her command, lifting a hand to cup at her jaw and pulling her face into his. Her fingers tickle at the nape of his neck when their lips press back together, immediately parting them until their tongues collide in the middle. She brings her other hand to his chest, his skin warm beneath her touch as she drags it painstakingly slowly down his torso, savouring the feeling, stopping at the button of his jeans and skilfully popping it open without the need for them to part.

Nico releases a cautioning hum into her mouth, pulling away with a slight pop and taking her hand into his to stop her as her fingertips start tickling at the elasticated waist of his underwear.

“Me first.” He huffs, selfishly, swatting her hand away and bending until he can press a kiss to the inside of her knee, pulling her legs apart with a hand clasped around her ankle and lifting until he can swing it over his shoulder.

She gasps when his nose bumps at her thigh, trailing up at a dizzying pace as all she can do is fall back onto her hands placed atop the counter and wait for him to reach his target. He does so with his tongue first, licking a slow, long stripe upward, culminating with his lips pursed around her clit until he can apply mind-numbing pressure to the bundle of nerves.

A hand soon finds purchase in his hair, scratching easily at his scalp and gently tugging when he introduces a finger into the mix, then another, prodding at the wetness that has gathered at her entrance and easily sliding his middle and index fingers up to the bottom knuckles.

There’s nothing she can do to contain the sounds that tumble out from parted lips, gasps, moans, squeaks, all spurring him on where she cannot mask the pleasure he elicits within her.

He adds another finger, she lets out another elongated whine, hips thrusting forward of their own volition into his face, and he doesn’t even seem perturbed. His mouth maintains the same pressure on the bundle of nerves, tongue flicking, lips pursing, and the noise of it all is downright filthy.

His fingers bend and prod and pulse within her until a knot builds deep in the pit of her belly, and ineligible sounds fall from her mouth, eyes rolling into the back of her head.

So much better than anything she had dreamt.

“You’re trembling, Mohn,” he chuckles darkly once he pulls away for a quick breath, pupils blown when he looks up and meets her eyes from between her legs. “Are you gonna come for me?”

He presses his thumb where his mouth had just taken up residence on her clit, rubbing random little shapes into it as he lifts his head, angling his body to press his forehead to hers. 

The pressure swirling in her stomach is almost too much to bear, and she can’t help the tremors in her thighs as he holds her in place, her mind tumultuously cloudy and the interlink between her brain and her mouth cut off with a staticky disconnect.

Her hand lands upon his arm, nails digging in with a marking pressure until crescent shapes form into his skin as his digits work at her masterfully, that knot within her growing and unfurling into something beyond words.

The sensation rips through every fibre of her being, head thrown back, mouth dropping open, stomach clenching and the entirety of her legs trembling, from the tips of her toes to the apex of her thighs, as her orgasm hits like a tsunami, walls clenching around Nico’s skilful fingers and pulsing into a vice-like grip.

He presses his forehead to her chest, both of their skin slightly clammy with a light sheen of sweat, lips seeking out the flesh of her breasts spilling over the cups of her bra, and with his free hand, he reaches around to unclasp it until they fall free of the fabric, just for the sake of it.

“Are you okay?” He asks after a minute of her catching her breath, smirking into her skin as he presses light kisses around her nipple, avoiding the sensitive area in an attempt to tease, watching as it hardens in anticipation of his lips. She feels the shivers wrack all the way down her spine and shoot straight to the nerve endings there.

“I think I,” she babbles out incoherently, and he chuckles deeply into the valley between her breasts. “Yeah.”

She’s thankful for the moment of reprieve, rolling her shoulders and lifting her head back up to look down at him. She feels dizzy - the cartoon kind of dizzy, where stars whirl around her head and her vision mimics the wavy lines of tv static.

He seems mesmerised by something, too, and when she follows his gaze, she can see the staccato rhythm of her heartbeat bouncing visibly from under her breast, and he’s watching it as if trying to memorise the staggered, spiky flow.

She lifts a hand to run her fingers through his hair, using the clamminess of her palms to push the strands away from his forehead, clearing a path for his heated stare to find hers before he pushes himself the rest of the way up and presses his lips back into her own.

“That was crazy,” she mutters into his mouth, teeth clashing ever so slightly as he chuckles in response.

“Crazy?” He asks, his own teeth tugging a little at her bottom lip, “Not mind-blowing? Incredible?”

“How would you describe it?”

“Perfekt. Herrlich.” His accent is thick with the words spoken into her skin. 

“What does the second one mean?”

“You can look it up when I’m done with you,” he bumps at her nose with his own before pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth, teasingly.

“I’ll be sure to do that if I can remember my own name by then,” 

“Magnificent.” He presses a kiss to her cheek, hands travelling to grip at her hips and sliding her to the edge of the counter until her body presses fully back into his. He lifts her enough for her to drop unsteadily onto her feet, and holds her until she can stand up straight on shaky legs. Her hands immediately drop to the open waistband of his jeans, pushing them until they fall down his legs and he can kick them off with his sneakers. 

“Is it my turn now?” She asks, plucking at the elastic of his briefs with a hooked finger before she takes his hand in hers.

“Whatever you want, Mohn.”

Nico

When Nico had started his evening, never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined where it would end up. When he had been dragging his feet about the party - had taken too long getting ready, had lied about his Ubers cancelling on him when he turned up late, had moped around his friends until he was exiled to getting his own drinks at the bar - he could not have pictured himself finishing his night in Poppy’s presence. And even in the back of the bar, when the two of them had kissed - despite how heated things had gotten, and despite asking her if she wanted to leave with him - he wouldn’t have thought he would be currently attempting to coax a fourth orgasm from her.

He’d asked with the intention of spending the night, sure, but his mind hadn’t let itself wander this far. It had envisioned a night cuddled up on her couch, maybe making out, maybe relieving the tension between them by grinding into her like some love-struck horny teenager who didn’t know how to control his libido.

He’d given her her first sat atop the kitchen counter, leg thrown over his shoulder, the other bent up and resting on the side to give him full access to the heaven between her thighs, where he’d gotten his first taste of the wetness that had been gathering there all night. His fingers had mapped out the path his cock would take, rubbing in and out, bending, curling, pressing at her spongy walls until she came apart in front of his very eyes - her entire body trembling in euphoria. 

The second had come after he’d moved her over to the couch, had sat her on his lap while they kissed a little more, and she’d worked her nimble fingers at taking him out of his briefs, had wrapped them around the base of his cock and worked up and down with a mind-numbing pressure while he struggled to kick his underwear fully off. Before he knew it, she was leaving a wet patch on his thigh, his hands were moving of their own accord to lift her hips and he was easing her down on his length until she was fully seated upon it.

He’d given her some semblance of control at first - let her work at her torturously slow pace while she got accustomed to his size, and he pressed delicate kisses to whatever skin he could reach. Her breasts, her chest, her neck, her jaw - leaving light but memorable marks to evidence his occupation of her body. When he felt her ease up, when she started lifting herself to bounce on him a little, his hands stopped listening to the little voice in his head telling them to be gentle with her, and they grasped at her waist, leveraging her up and down into the perfect rhythm until she was begging, “Nico, don’t stop.”

The sounds she let out, the moans, the whines, the cries, he thinks he’ll be playing back for a long time to come, and the feeling of her walls clenching around him as she came for the second time is a one he never wants to forget.

How he had managed to hold himself back, he’ll never know. How he lasted long enough for her to pull herself off of him, swing her leg over and lean down beside him until she could take him in her mouth, he thinks it’s commendable - especially considering there was a point earlier in the night he had pictured himself coming just in his pants.

Her eyes had met his as she licked him from base to tip, swirled her tongue around the head of his cock before slowly taking him into her mouth inch by inch. He’d held her by her ponytail, gripping tighter the further she took him, watched as her pretty eyes rolled back and her mouth grew sloppier. Her tongue pressed against him, suctioning to his length as she worked up and down with varying pressure and a hand cupping at his balls, and he quickly found himself tugging at her hair to let her know, “Poppy, I’m gonna come,” but she just gripped at his thigh to keep herself in place until he released down her throat. 

He watched intently as she had lifted her mouth from his length with a pop, brought herself level onto her knees next to him on the couch and his eyes followed the bob of her throat as she swallowed - she had even licked her lips to make sure nothing had gone to waste - and the sight of it all contributed to the pulsing feeling that shot straight back to his cock, where he honestly couldn’t remember it even going down after his release.

He’s never been one for kissing a girl straight after she’s gone down on him, always thought there was something a little weird about it - but there was something about tasting himself on Poppy’s tongue that he couldn’t let go amiss, and so he had grasped at her chin, pulled her toward his open mouth and wasted no time in swiping his tongue against hers.

The making out on the couch plan had ended up coming to fruition after all - way less clothing involved, of course. He’d laid her back, cupped her face with one hand and her hip with his other, bodies slotting together as she bent a leg to accommodate him, and kissed her until they both got worked up again, grinding and writhing against each other until it became impossible to restrain themselves. 

“Do we ever make it to my bed in your big plans for the evening?”

Her fingertips had been scratching up and down his back, from the base of his skull to the dip above his ass, some indentations deeper than others, some movements more soothing, but he could feel that he had been marked up - not that he minded.

“You’re so desperate for me to carry you somewhere, huh?”

“Well, if you’re offering, I wouldn’t decline.”

He had snuck another kiss from her before working himself up onto his feet, offering her a hand to help her stand before he had picked her up, her legs wrapping around his middle section and his hands encompassing the backs of her thighs.

She had kissed him while he carried her, stumbling blindly toward the other side of her apartment, freeing a hand to guide himself until he found the door to her bedroom. He clumsily edged into the room, kicking the door shut behind him and stepping forward until he felt the edge of her bed and could let her down onto the thick comforter, her body falling back into it and splaying out like a dream.

“You might wanna cover the rabbit’s eyes,” Nico smirked when he noticed the stuffed animal tucked in between the pillows behind her, “She won’t be able to look at you the same after tonight.”

“Bunny’s seen me do a lot over the years,” Poppy chuckled, reaching back for it and stroking over it’s head with tender eyes, turning it toward Nico as she held it’s ears back and waved it in front of him, “Plus, you’re a teddy bear, you wouldn’t defile me in front of my sweet little bunny would you?”

In a surge of possessiveness at the thought of that damn rabbit seeing Poppy do anything with anyone else, he quickly grabbed it from her hand and tossed it across the room, lunging forward to pin her down and capturing any protest she would give between his lips.

He could hear her sweet laugh, feel the shaking of her chest beneath him, and he felt warm all over - felt like in all the years of knowing Poppy, this is where he had longed to be - soaking up her joy, sharing her space, clothing entirely optional, completely wrapped up in her everything.

The third orgasm had come from slow, sensual movements - slipping into her heat as he kissed her with intent, swallowing her moans and savouring them as he moved on top of her, his hands holding his upper body just above hers, her arms curling under his, clawing at his shoulders as the two of them press completely into each other with burning intensity. Her legs had trembled again, the telltale sign of bliss wracking through her, and had wrapped themselves around his hips as he chased his own pleasure.

And in chasing his second, he wants to give her a fourth, which is how he has found himself holding her legs up, thighs pressing back into the mattress to open her up completely for him, and he gets to look down and watch himself disappear into the heaven between her angled up hips.

“Nico, please,” she whines as his pace quickens, pressing himself deeper and harder into her with dizzying pressure. “I can’t,”

“You can give me one more,” he knows she can, can feel it in the way her walls clench around him, squeezing tighter and tighter, “You’re so good, Mohn, such a good girl.”

If he wasn’t so astute to her every reaction, he might have missed the way her back arched, and her eyes clenched a little more shut at the affirmation. But now that he knows she likes it, he can’t stop himself, leaning down to nip at her ear and keep whispering his every dirty thought until she comes again. 

“My good girl taking my cock so well,” he groans, his own climax approaching quicker than he can control, “My pretty flower, just one more, you can do it, you’re so wet for me, yeah?”

The response she gives is a stuttered mess, and he thinks he could get used to making her speechless like this. 

“All for me, you’re all mine,” he breathes into her sticky neck, and he doesn’t even need her to confirm it, not with the way her fingers clutch at his back and her body arches into his like the perfect puzzle piece. 

She is his.

The 3 prior orgasms prove it. The jewellery adorned on her wrist proves it. The pictures scattered throughout her apartment prove it. The years of shared lives, shared jokes, shared meals, shared friends, shared rides, shared routines - they all prove it. 

The way her first thought after being stood up by someone else was to come to him, to kiss him, to spend her evening pinned by his side and her night underneath him, it’s all the proof he needs.

She is his, and he is hers.

They come together - him with a guttural groan into her skin followed by mutterings of profanities in his native tongue, and her with a pleasured cry, and he all but collapses on top of her as the two of them come down with deep, laboured breaths and shaky limbs.

It takes a good few minutes for their breathing to even out, her rubbing soothingly at his back as he softens inside her, eventually pulling out and causing the both of them to wince at the sensation. Nico rolls to the side, off the top of her, but stays so that he can get a proper look at her in the afterglow.

And glow, she does - despite the mess of her hair, the swelling of her lips, the blooming bruises littered across her chest and neck - she looks like something out of a dream. Especially with the soft smile that erupts when she looks up at him, eyes sparkling like they always do when they are cast in his direction.

He reaches over to swipe a stray wisp of hair out of her face, long enough to tuck behind her ear and he’s able to cup the side of her face, leaning into her for another kiss, still unable to get enough.

“I have to use the bathroom,” she utters once they’ve parted again, pressing a hand lightly to his chest, “Could you get me a glass of water from the kitchen?”

“Of course,” he pushes himself up before offering her hand, and he can’t help but watch as she stumbles toward her en-suite with a proud chuckle.

His bare feet pad across the hardwood until he gets to Poppy’s kitchen, and he quickly rounds up some essentials while he’s away from the bedroom. He slips into his briefs for comfort, picks up the t-shirt he had worn that he wants Poppy to wear while she sleeps, gathers his cellphone from the pocket of his jeans and then gets Poppy her water, taking a large gulp of it himself before topping it all the way back up.

Poppy is still in her bathroom when he returns, and he decides to join her, throwing the t-shirt over to her when he enters. She’s cleaned her face in his absence, and her hair is down now, the comb she had used to detangle it laid beside her sink. 

She takes the top from him with a muttered thank you, and shrugs into it before pulling her hair out. Once she’s adorned in his clothing, he gets a good eyeful of her ass again when she bends to the cabinet beneath her sink and throws a small package at him. 

It’s a toothbrush, red, compared to her lilac that she’s just retrieved from a holder on the sink top, and once he’s unwrapped it, she holds out the tube of toothpaste for him. 

It hits him that he’s never really shared this part of his routine with anyone, before. Never stood side by side, catching each other’s eye in the mirror, holding back smiles every time they do - he’s usually coming back to his previous partners already in bed, getting in late from a roadie, or having to slip out before them in the morning to get to training. He’s never had time like this, doing the little things, having something so usually mundane and established make him feel sparks in the pit of his stomach. 

He can see flashes of other routine things he could do with Poppy. Things like grocery shopping - pushing the cart as she checks items off a list on her notes app - cooking together - him in charge of cutting the ingredients because he doesn’t trust her not to get too cocky with a knife, and her mixing everything together, lifting a spoon to his lips for him to try whatever delicious concoction she had put together - doing the chores - she would vacuum because she knows he hates it, and he’d do all the chemical based stuff, because she doesn’t like when her hands get dry but also doesn’t like them getting sweaty in gloves.

All things he’s never given anyone else the time for, before, he’ll give it to Poppy.

He’ll give her anything. 

He puts the toothbrush in the holder beside hers when they’re finished, and he doesn’t miss the little smile she gives when he does.

For next time, he thinks.

And even though they’ve barely caught their breaths from the first time, he craves the next with every fibre of his being, especially when Poppy leads him back her bed, and they settle in under the thick duvet, tangling up in one another - limbs interlocked, stomachs pressed together, her hands stroking at his hair and his pushing his t-shirt higher up her thighs.

“Do you think you still remember your name?” He asks.

“Just about,” she hums, “Not sure about yours, though. Nick, was it?”

“Still good enough to crack bad jokes, I see.”

“Hey, I don’t ever crack bad jokes, take that back,” she pouts, adorably, swatting at his bare chest.

“Say my name, and I’ll take it back.” He can’t help but be possessive when it comes to her - even the thought of her saying a made up name as a joke in her bed has his fingers itching to hold on tighter to her. His. Not Nick’s. Nico’s. “C’mon, you’ve moaned it enough tonight, Mohn.”

“Stop,” she whines with a bashful smile, swatting at him again. “You’re the one who’s not funny.”

“Say my name, Poppy,” he commands with a playful pinch at her ass.

“Nico!” She squeals, her leg twitching until she lifts it to rest over his. 

“Good girl,” he hums deeply, rubbing soothingly over where he had just nipped at her flesh. She nuzzles into him, and he can’t help the smug smile that breaks out as she once again reacts to the brief utterance of praise he had given her. “Sweet dreams,” he mutters into her hair, breathing in the smell of her shampoo and committing it to memory. 

This is where he wants to be every night, the last thing he sees before he falls asleep being Poppy, her pretty eyes drifting closed, her soft lips parting as her breathing evens out.

And as his own tell-tale signs of beckoning slumber appear, he lets the realisation wash over him that he hasn’t felt this content in a really long time - and it’s that thought that soothes him into a deep sleep, the kind in which he hasn’t been able to have for the longest time, either.

—

Nico wakes to the uncomfortable feeling of a full bladder and a gentle buzz on the nightstand beside him.

The vibrations continue as he tries to adjust to the darkness of the room, the sun still not having risen yet, and when he reaches back to retrieve his phone, he cranes his neck to make sure he can read the time without bringing it too close to Poppy.

05:12am.

He doesn’t have morning skate today, so he knows there shouldn’t be an alarm on there, but his Face ID isn’t picking up his features from this angle to be able to read whatever notifications had interrupted his sleep, so he carefully untangles himself from the peacefully resting girl beside him and tiptoes over to the bathroom.

He flicks the light on and closes the door to, just enough that it doesn’t disturb Poppy, and pads sleepily over to the toilet to relieve himself. 

His phone buzzes again in his hand - the continuous kind of buzz, as if someone’s calling him - and, as if by second nature, he presses to the bottom right of the screen to accept the call, lifting the device to his ear and muttering out a quiet, croaky, “Hello?”

“You’re awake, thank God,” the voice that responds is female, the words uttered in German, and it takes Nico a good few seconds for his brain to connect the dots as to who is currently speaking to him.

“Talia?” He asks, a sudden shot of panic seeping into his previously calm demeanour, his heart rate picking up and pins and needles rushing through his hands.

“I need to speak with you, it’s urgent.”

“It’s 5am.” He sighs, rushing over to close the bathroom door so he can flush the toilet without running the risk of waking Poppy with the sound. “Can’t this wait?”

“No, it can’t. Why are you whispering, is someone there?”

“I’m not whispering,” he tries not to, but again, he doesn’t want to make too much noise.

“Whatever, I need to come over, are you at home?”

“Yeah,” he responds before he can think, knowing any other answer was a sure fire route into an argument. Any other time, any other place, he would have told her the truth, but 5am in Poppy’s bathroom doesn’t seem like the prime spot to be bickering with his ex girlfriend over the phone. “What do you mean, come over, aren’t you in Germany?”

“No, I just landed in Newark. I told you, it’s urgent.” She does sound panicked to give her credit - and why else would she fly back to the States if she didn’t need to talk about something serious. “Can I come straight over?”

Poppy’s apartment is within walking distance to his own, only a few blocks away. If Talia is leaving Newark now, he should be able to make it back before she gets there. They can talk about whatever it is, then she can delete his number and leave him alone, and he can move on with his life.

“Talia,” he huffs, partly ready to reject her as soon as he remembers where he is, remembers who he has yearned for so long to wake up next to, and who would be really upset to find out he had ditched her to go meet up with an ex.

“Please?” She sounds like she’s crying, and if there’s one thing Nico can’t do, it’s say no to a girl in tears. Even if it’s a girl who, not even a month ago, dumped him via text message.

“Yeah, fine, whatever.”

“Thank you. I can let myself up, I still have the key, I’ll see you soon.”

He mutters out a quick goodbye before hanging up, quickly washing his hands, and making his way back into Poppy’s bedroom.

She’s on her back now, arm laid out beside her as if ready to take him back in, and he feels a pang in his chest at the thought of disappointing her.

He knows that he should wake her - should tell her that he doesn’t want to leave her to wake up alone, but that he has to. That he wants to be back - he will be back. But that would all cause her to ask questions, and he’s not sure that she’ll like the only answer he can give right now.

Poppy is understanding, but this has already caused a wedge between the two of them - caused her to doubt herself far beyond what Nico can comprehend, or what she’s been able to share with him. 

He can explain things to her as soon as Talia is gone. As soon as she’s said what she needs to say, has given him back the keys to his building and apartment, and has closed the door on them ever interacting again.

Hell, if it’s quick, maybe he can come back with breakfast from the place around the corner Poppy likes so much, and she’ll never have to know where he had disappeared to, or who he had seen while he was gone.

He presses a brisk, soft kiss to her cheek, quickly surveying the floor of her bedroom before he leaves to retrieve her bunny, slotting the soft toy into her open arm so she can cuddle it in his absence.

He briefly considers leaving her a note as he dresses himself in her kitchen, checking around for something to write it with, but the realisation quickly dawns on him again that he can’t be certain if or when he’ll be back.

He just has to hope that if she wakes up before he is back, she isn’t too upset, and that he has enough persuasive power to get her to forgive him just one more time if he doesn’t make it.

He leaves her apartment with the soft click of the automatic lock behind him, and the sound echoes in his head until he makes it back to his own apartment, the ever-growing weight of dread filling his empty stomach as he waits for his ex girlfriend to arrive.

Next Chapter

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[strongerthanmypast]

Why I Wrote a Book About the Adult Industry

In 2010 I entered the adult industry and spent half a decade making choices that would forever change my life, until I "retired" in 2015. In 2020, after hiding everything for 5 years and trying to pretend my past was perfect, my life fell apart completely in almost every aspect, and it was in that moment that I chose to stop living in the dark. I started a step program and worked with a therapist on some deep issues, which revolved mostly around my past. I started to write about my experiences, and combining that with journal entries over those years in the industry, a rough draft of a book started to form.

I wrote this book mainly to prove to myself that you can’t heal from trauma by keeping it hidden away in a closet. Healing cannot be silenced. Healing doesn’t come from hiding away. You can try your hardest to run or create new realities but the darkness will lurk under at all until you revisit it time and time again. When you’re no longer afraid to share about it and to help others lives using your story, that’s uncomfortable recovery for me, and it is much needed for me to heal fully. It took years, but I finally realized that if I wanted to continue on in life without living any type of a double life, I had to stand on a rooftop with this book in my hand and shout to the world that the words are indeed on the pages. 

HERE is a video talking more about why I wrote the book and the process it took to write it and publish it:

Purchase a Paperback Version of the Book from Amazon HERE or Barnes & Noble HERE (Cost: $20.22 plus shipping)

Book Title: The Girl She Thought She Was

Book Summary:

Once an innocent, happy-go-lucky teenager from a small town in the midwest, she does whatever it takes to break out of the mundane life she knows all too well. She chooses a fake name for herself, "Ruby," and enters the world of adult films. Her curiosity brings her from one adventure to the next as she discovers her independence while feature dancing at clubs, meeting her fans for film sessions, and learning to edit and produce her own videos. Eventually she finds herself just outside of Las Vegas, in a small town known for its brothels. All she ever wants is to make her mark on the adult industry. Does she have the courage and strength to stand up to everyone who tries to take a piece of her soul along the way and make it to the top? Or will she discover that chasing her dreams is a dead end, or worse?

Here is a video clip of me reading a bit from Chapter 1:

In this first chapter you can start to get a glimpse of how easy it is to be sucked into the adult world, thinking it is innocent and creating more independence in your life. Boy was I wrong about that! Here is a video clip of me reading a bit from Chapter 2:

Chapter 2 shows you the path it took for "Ruby" to get from the idea of porn to actually on set. It seemed so thrilling, so exciting, so safe. She could hardly see how the men around her were completely taking advantage of her whenever they could. The business she creates for herself takes some wild twists and turns and in the end, she is left with a LOT of guilt and shame, and not much to show for it. Here is a video clip of me reading a bit from Chapter 10:

 

Chapter 10 is filled with emotions as the main character discovers that the road she has been on is a red brick road to hell. Nothing has been what it seemed at the beginning, and she is ready to take the most courageous step of all, getting OUT of the industry.

I hope you enjoy the book and know that you too can speak your truths no matter what you have been through! Being unafraid to continuously talk about my trauma and my healing is what will help others heal and in turn, help me understand myself more fully. If you're looking to begin to heal from your past, feel free to reach out!