#idk what's up with these past couple of days but I've just been wanting to doodle so here we are

[thevampprincex]

"We met at a gay bar, didn't we Daniel?"

/runs off

[nereidprinc3ss]

relax

in which spencer helps university student reader de-stress after a particularly exhausting assignment

18+ (smut) warnings: fingering, overstimulation, happy crying, lowkey softdom spencer, slight d/s dynamics, reader is referred to as a girl, ????idk i've never had to tag for smut before lols wc: 2624 a/n: been doing some insane literary cooking. lots of smut AND more fluff in the works (all uni reader... lol... ). idk if i love this but again need to fucking get it out of my word doc so here u go, PLEASE lmk if you like it!!

You don’t even realize the room has gone completely dark until Spencer comes in the front door and flicks on the light. 

“Why did you do that?” you snap immediately, looking up from your laptop screen for the first time in potentially hours, blinking hard as your eyes painfully adjust. Your boyfriend gives you an odd look. 

“Hello to you too...” 

“I’m sorry. Hi. How was dinner?” 

“It was good,” he says, crossing the room to the couch that has been your entire world for the past five hours. You sigh, releasing some of the tension in your shoulders when he leans down to kiss your head and set down a to-go box on the coffee table. “Have you moved since I left?” 

“...no,” you admit, moving your eyes dejectedly to the keyboard.  

“You made progress,” he appeases, leaning over you to angle the laptop upward. Immediately you wrench it away, holding it protectively against your chest. 

“Stop! I don’t want you to read it yet!” 

“I could help you with it though,” he pleads, bracing a hand on the arm of the couch. You look up into his hazel eyes, where he’s definitely playing up the puppy dog factor. His tie brushes your stomach, and he smells like lavender and clove and-- 

“You need to go away,” you realize, snapping back to reality and shrinking into the couch, away from him—trying to escape his all-encompassing sensory presence.  

“Wh- I just got back!” he scoffs, straightening. 

“You’re distracting me,” you accuse, throwing him a baleful look. 

“I’m literally offering to help you.” 

“And I’m respectfully declining because I care too much about your opinion to show you this essay until it’s less terrible. I really just need a couple more hours to finish it, please?” 

Spencer sighs, regarding your pitiful state before moving to sit down next to you. Automatically you move your legs out of the way before settling them in his lap and damn it he’s supposed to be going away. Your iron grip on the laptop involuntarily loosens a little as his hands begin to run back and forth over your legs. No—you must stay focused.  

“Spencer,” you whine, flopping your head back. You let the implied complaint hang in the air. 

“You’ve been writing all day. Your brain is exhausted, and your synapses aren’t firing at a rate that is intellectually productive.” 

“What is the point of having a brain if I can’t even use it half the time!” you almost-shout, pressing the palms of your hands into your eyes until you see fireworks.  

The couch shifts and you feel the warm, robotic weight of the laptop unpin you as Spencer lifts it from your lap. “Don’t read it,” you beg, watching through parted fingers as he sets it on the coffee table, and relaxing slightly when he settles back into the couch.  

“Come here,” he says, holding out an arm. Too mentally exhausted to do anything but comply, you pull yourself up just enough to fall into him. Immediately he wraps his arms around you, one hand slipping under your shirt to rub your back in hypnotizing passes. “I think you burnt yourself out,” he mutters. 

You nod into his shoulder, surrendering yourself to his warmth, letting yourself sink into a lavender-clove fog, wanting nothing more than to dissolve into it. The darkness behind your eyes glows an inviting amber, threatening to pull you under...  

But the essay... 

“Stop thinking about the essay,” he demands. 

“But I have so much to do,” you sigh against his jacket, the words coming out muffled. 

“The best thing you can do now is give your brain a rest. I promise you you’re not making that paper any better if you’re exhausted.” 

“I am not exhausted,” you insist, although your eyes are still closed, “I’m just really stressed.”  

Spencer hums, continuing to rub your back.  

“Do you need me to help you relax?” he says innocently. 

Oh? 

One of your eyes opens to peer up at him suspiciously. He sweeps some of your hair out of your face. 

“Because I would be happy to.” A moment passes—him looking down at you fondly; you wondering if you’re picking up what he’s putting down. 

“And how would you go about doing that?” you ask suspiciously. 

“Orgasms reduce tension and stress and improve brain function.” 

Damn. Why did the nerdiest, most un-sexy pickup line ever just turn you on?

You groan, burying your face further into his shirt—mostly to hide any trace of a blush. 

“You know what else would reduce stress and improve brain functioning? Taking an Adderall and finishing my fucking essay.”  

“Angel, you're such a smart girl, and you are fully capable of doing whatever you set your mind to—but I will lock your laptop in my gun safe before I let you look at that essay again tonight.” He speaks so softly, and his fingers are still gently combing through your messy hair... all in all, you put up a good fight, right? Maybe you should just listen to him...

“... fine.” you say eventually, reluctant to give in too quickly even though the idea quickly has filled your stomach with butterflies. 

“Fine?” he says, pausing his motions as you turn your head just enough to look up at him. “Sounds like you don’t really want it, baby. Maybe we should just go to sleep. Or I could take you back to your-” 

“Spence,” you whine, gently grabbing the front of his shirt. Now he’s going to make you beg? As if it wasn’t his idea? Those puppy dog eyes of his are deceiving. 

“You’re gonna have to do better than that,” he sighs, hand moving from your hair to your outer thigh. 

“Please?” you whisper, dignity forgotten as you look up at him imploringly. 

“Lean back, sweet girl,” he says, helping you adjust your position til you’re lying against his chest, legs sprawled across the couch. Your head lolls on his shoulder, intoxicated by his close proximity. “Perfect. Such a good listener.” 

Normally, you’d be quick to make a defensive remark, but with the way he’s slowly hiking your shirt up, running his hands over your sides so lightly it gives you goosebumps—you're really in no position to argue. Your eyes flutter shut as his hands grow bolder in their explorations, crossing your stomach, fingers just slipping under the waistband of your shorts and skimming over your hipbones before coming back up. 

“Does that feel good?” he murmurs, and you nod lazily, apparently losing access to your language facilities after running them dry all day. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem good enough for your boyfriend. “Do you remember when the last time I touched you like this was?” 

Through the hazy blur of your exhaustion, you try to think back. Was it... two days ago? Three? More? 

“Almost a week ago,” he supplies the answer for you when you take too long. What? That can’t be right. 

But when you think about it harder... it is right. It was right before finals week started.  

An errant hand straying up your torso distracts you. “Do you remember what I did?” 

You flush. 

“You... yeah,” is the best you can offer, too flustered to say exactly what he did to your body. That stray hand moves over your breast. Your back arches just slightly at the stimulation through the thin fabric of your bra.  

Thankfully, he lets you off the hook.  

“I made you cum three times, right?” 

“Mhm,” you hum through closed lips, tense with anticipation as he finally slides both hands down to your shorts and wordlessly directs you to lift your hips so he can pull them all the way off along with your underwear. 

“You’ve been so busy lately, huh. Working so hard.” 

You unconsciously drop your bent legs open, brain too foggy to be insecure about how utterly bare you are—allowing him to slowly rub up and down your inner thigh. 

“I’m gonna make you feel good, honey. I don’t think three times was enough for such a stressful week.” 

You gasp when his fingers finally brush your clit, whimpering slightly when they just barely skim your entrance before tracing the wetness back up.  

“Give me your hand,” Spencer says, taking his own from between your legs and holding it up. You don’t even think about it, releasing your grip on the arm he now has wrapped around you and holding it out for him. At this point, you’d do anything he tells you to without hesitation.  

He takes the proffered hand, gently guiding it back between your legs. Your fingers meet slick, soft warmth. “Do you feel how wet you are?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe, seeing how your fingers glisten when you pull them away. His remain, running slowly up and down your clit. Your brain seems to be vibrating in your skull as warmth spreads throughout your body. 

“Who’s that for?” 

“You, Spencer,” you whimper. He hums in approval before the room falls into silence as you both watch his teasing intently, your breath baited as you try to be patient. But your body isn’t with the program, you keep twisting slightly, your hips cant upward. “Please, please,” the words escape on a held exhalation as you finally break, arching your back against him as your search for more friction.  

Without warning, he sinks two fingers inside you. The slight stretch after not having taken anything in a week scratches an itch you didn’t even know you had, and you let out a broken moan. 

“I know, honey. You’re so good, I know.” Spencer kisses your head as he speaks over your cry, barely moving his fingers for a few moments while you get comfortable. 

Still you’re not ready for it when he withdraws and pushes back in. 

“Look at that,” he breathes. 

“Oh, fuck,” you choke, watching how your arousal completely coats his fingers as he slowly, slowly begins to fuck you with them. 

Again you feel the vibrations in his chest as he laughs slightly—probably at your earlier insistence that you didn’t desperately want this. The laughter fades as you both become entranced by the sight of his fingers disappearing into you, and your stomach twists with pleasure. His pace remains languid, and he seems to delight in the filthy, wet sounds his hand is producing between your legs.  

“You okay, baby?” he asks after a moment, seemingly snapping out of some trance. 

“Uh huh,” you whimper. One particular drag of his fingers at just the right angle has you dizzy, and then he’s speeding up. Your jaw drops at the change in pace and your hips chase his hand, wanting even more. 

“So pretty,” he mutters as his other hand moves to spread you open.  

You attempt to shut your legs around his wrist, but instead he just ruts his fingers deeper into you, palm pressed against your clit. You attempt to twist away from the extreme stimulation, but he doesn’t allow it. 

“Too much,” you squeak, bucking your hips inadvertently. 

“No it’s not,” he states, like you’re talking about the weather. 

“Spencer, I really c- ah- can't!” 

“It feels like a lot, huh?” he asks soothingly, not letting up one bit. 

“Yes!” you cry, eyes stinging as tears begin to well. 

“You’re okay, angel. It’s just been a while.” 

You are so completely fucked. Each stroke of his hand feels like an electric jolt through your whole body. It is too much, but at the same time, pleasure is pooling deep in your stomach and at the base of your spine and you never want him to stop. You throw your head back onto Spencer’s shoulder, eyes screwed shut.  

“Relax,” he mutters, carefully bearing down the pressure across your waist with his arm to try and keep you from squirming. 

A rhythmic whine breaks through the barrier of your sealed lips as you focus all your energy into taking it, when the all-consuming need to kiss him hits you. You twist your neck to look up at him, observing the furrow of his brow and the way he’s tucked his bottom lip into a bite. Thankfully he notices your movement—his eyes dart from your own half-lidded gaze to your lips and he understands what you want. 

The kiss is messy and the angle is awkward and you’re moaning into his mouth half the time anyway, but it feels so good to have his lips moving on yours that you don’t care about any of it.  

“I—ah,” you cry into him, unable to form a coherent thought as your stomach drops like you’re mounting the peak of a roller coaster. 

His fingers again change their angle and he finds the spot inside you that makes your legs spasm. Attempting to hold in whatever noises you were making is now futile—the whimpers and pants turn to full-fledged keening moans interspersed with taut silences as you fail to breathe properly.  

Your wrench your gaze and lips away from Spencer to watch through a blurry haze the rapid movement of his hand between your bare legs, the way your hips buck and twist and the way your leg bends as he hooks his free hand under your knee and hoists it toward your chest. 

“You’re doing so well, honey. Being so good for me.” 

Moisture spills over from your eyes, tracing down your cheeks and down your neck as you begin to come with no warning and a desperate, broken cry. 

A string of praise from Spencer underscores your pleading moans, but you can’t focus on anything other than the buzzing warmth emanating from your core, the bright, pulsing white that blinds you and the feeling of stardust flowing through your veins. 

Your boyfriend continues pumping his fingers slowly in and out of you for a blissful few moments, before sensing the tail-end of your orgasm and bringing his fingers up to rub lazy circles over your clit. Aftershocks resonate from the hypersensitive area and make you clamp your legs shut around his hand as your toes curl and you attempt to squirm out of his grip. 

“Done! I’m done,” you squeak, rocking your hips back and forth to try and escape his toying. 

“Okay, okay,” he soothes, relieving the pressure of his hand between your legs and moving it to run over your stomach as you come down. 

You lie in silence for a minute, enjoying the liquid sensation weighing down your muscles and basking in the warm afterglow of your orgasm.  

“Shit,” you breathe shakily after a moment. Spencer chuckles. You manage to turn yourself over, laying your cheek on his shoulder and slipping your arms under his waist. He looks down at you as he moves on to massaging your back and bare hips, eyes full of warm adoration.  

“Feel better?” 

You hum an affirmation, wiping your eyes on his shirt. 

“Oh, honey, did I make you cry?” 

You laugh into his chest and nod, a few stray tears leaking from your shut eyes. “It’s okay. Not sad tears.” 

“What kind of tears?” 

“Orgasm tears,” you mumble, a tidal wave of exhaustion you’d been fighting all day finally washing over you. 

“That makes sense. Orgasms can be cathartic or even therapeutic depending on your head space. Major losses and life changes are often associated with sexual dysfunction but the opposite is actually just as if not more common. A spike in libido can—” 

Spencer pauses, looking down to see that you’re either asleep or close to it, and smiles to himself. You’ll probably be mad about it when you wake up, but he had to get you to stop thinking about that paper somehow. 

[phoenixyfriend]

Weird Egg?

Okay so in theory, Obi-Wan was plausibly on Mandalore when Anakin was born, right?

(this is technically a variation on a few other fics and AUs I've seen, and I'll list the stuff that came to mind at the end.)

While on Mandalore, Obi-Wan finds An Egg while hiding in a cave with Satine. And he doesn't recognize it, and Satine doesn't recognize it, and even Qui-Gon doesn't recognize it.

Which makes it weird, at the very least, and probably rare. It's the size of his HEAD and even though there's no parent around, the egg is… warm, now? He didn't notice at first, but it's definitely producing at least some of its own heat.

So Obi-Wan brings the egg with him, which is a pain in the ass in terms of maneuvering, but they do seem to have better luck avoiding Death Watch than before, which uh. Given that the egg feels warmer when they're getting lucky, and seems to glow in the Force, they think might not be a coincidence. A lucky rock, except it's alive.

Mission ends. Obi-Wan plans to take the egg back to the temple for study in case they just discovered Something, and as he's saying goodbye to Satine… the egg Hatches.

It is a dragon.

The dragon can project words into Obi-Wan's mind. It's not quite capable of complex thoughts yet, but it's a he (probably), and has a name (Anakin!), and considers the person who's been carrying him and protecting him and keeping him warm for the past six months to be his mom!

Obi-Wan protests at this. Qui-Gon decides to make his life harder with the 'correction' that Obi-Wan would be a dad, not a mom.

So now Obi-Wan has a small dragon which will be growing to the size of a house, that imprinted on him and is following him home and calling him dad and insisting on sleeping in his bed

Idk if you've ever read Septimus Heap, but… the MC of that found a Fancy Rock, put it in his bag, carried it around for a YEAR because he kept forgetting to take it out of his bag, and then it hatched into a dragon. And I kept thinking about that the whole time I wrote this.

In Obi-Wan's defense, he does Have A Plan.

Until the dragon hatches, turns out to be a sapient as a toddler (with promise of growth), and calls him Dad.

And now the plan is gone.

He just wanted to bring a cool egg back to the Temple for study!

And now the Mandalorians are pulling out old books about whatever the fuck this is because these things APPARENTLY went extinct around the same time as the underwater dragon-adjacent thing that is the Mythosaur.

Obi-Wan learns that supposedly the eggs are inert until something with the Force interacts with it in a Purposeful Manner.

Which includes "probing it a little to see if whatever is inside is actually alive."

Anakin's a standard western dragon that can breathe fire because Flyte. Also this post.

Weeeee okay small text for the references I mentioned.

Obviously, first up is the Septimus Heap series by Angie Sage, specifically Magyk and Flyte.

The fic series I was thinking of initially that kind of jumpstarted the AU process was Boga Service Varactyl AU, but specifically Kenobi Kafé Service Animal Boga AU.

I've been seeing a couple of dragon shapeshifter AUs, including that post I linked earlier from @ahsoka-in-a-hood, @bubblew0lf1's dragon shapeshifter AU, and @squad-724's Dragon Jedi AU has been all over my dash for the past few days.

Stubborn to the Bones by @tideswept, which was part of what had me connecting the various dots of Obi-Wan Finding Animal Anakin on a mission, though our outcomes are admittedly very different lol. (Their fic is shippy, and mine is more decidedly gen/familial with a slight nod to Obitine.)

[shuacore]

svt & subspace (m)

1.4k a/n: again... idk where this came from.. just something i've been thinking abt the past couple days yippee!! (NSFW)

seungcheol — the first time you hit true subspace it turns him on to no end. loooves knowing he can make you feel so good your mind goes blank (he'll never let you forget it). you turn even more pliant, willing to do anything he wants you to do. he makes sure you know your safe word before anything else, sometimes repeating the question over and over until he gets a clear answer. despite how much he might want it, seungcheol will usually stop you from doing things just to please him, knowing your altered state might be urging you to do things you can’t fully consent to. seungcheol thinks subspace is hot, but only if you’re present enough to stop anything you don’t want to do. 

jeonghan — like seungcheol, jeonghan loves seeing you slip into subspace, loves seeing how you turn to putty in his hands, how willing you become to please him. with how eager and cocky jeonghan is, it’s not unusual for you to float away during sex right before an orgasm or after an intense one. unlike seungcheol, however, if you want him to face fuck you while you’re in subspace who is he to say no? will make sure you have a clear safe word/gesture, and will ask you to repeat it to him a few times before you start. always asks you a few times if you’re sure. it’s not the most productive when he has to drag answers out of you, but the last thing he wants to do is hurt his angel when you’re so ready to please him.

joshua — joshua cares about you so much and wants you to know that he’ll always be there to take care of you. he lets you know he’s there by slipping his hand into yours, grounding you. physical touch is a big thing for him, slowly bringing you back down to your body when you’re ready. joshua is so in tune with you and your body he knows exactly where to touch you and what to say to keep the good feelings going. subspace usually happens for you right before you come, and—like clockwork—as soon as he reminds you how much he loves you it sends you right over the edge where joshua is ready to catch you. 

jun — you’ve talked about it being a thing, but jun never thought he would actually get see it happen. the first time it happens, he sees the moment you feel pleasure so intense you lose the ability to speak. he never thought he’d be that good and he’s both a little surprised and also soooo turned on by the way you go limp, eyes almost rolled back in your head as haze overtakes you. the first time it happens, jun’s a little too eager and yanks you out of it a little too fast, leaving you a little disoriented. he feels really bad about it after, but jun is a quick learner and picks up on what you like and how to make the experience as enjoyable as possible for the both of you.

wonwoo — wonwoo’s thing is degradation, and after a particularly rough session of degradation and humiliation it sends you right over the edge into a floaty headspace. you don’t even have to come to get there. he’ll usually keep teasing you, dragging out your dumb state for as long as possible. he knows, however, that he can get intense during scenes so when you eventually come down he’s careful to give you lots of loving and praises for taking it so well. wonwoo loves to be mean, but he also loves you and wants you to know that none of what he says is true.

woozi — jihoon is split half and half. finds it hot, also not always the most patient. he loves to rile you up, watch you lean into it and inflate his ego. he loves making you feel good, but he also wants to good. when you linger in subspace for a long time he gets a little impatient and tries to bring you down before you're ready. he doesn't do it to be rude or mean, he just wants to keep loving on you. things to do (you) and places to be (work)!

hoshi — soonyoung loves to be the best at everything. whether that’s performing on stage or in the bedroom, he needs to know that he’s on top. (literally.) he loves to be mean and see you fold under his silver tongue—he loves to go back and forth between sickly praise and cold degradation and see you writhe and beg under him. seeing you sink into subspace goes straight to his dick and his ego. will always praise you after, letting you know he enjoyed it and wants to make sure you enjoyed it, too. you find it sexy how much soonyoung cares, which makes it that much easier for you to trust him so wholly.

minghao — minghao is all about trust, and he finds it sexy that you trust him enough to let him be with you when you slip into subspace. minghao isn’t a gentle lover, per se, but he is intense and prioritizes intimacy above all else. he knows it’s a delicate and deeply personal state to be in around someone else and will never make you do anything transactional. if he’s feeling extra mean, however, he’ll make fun of you for being so compliant...which usually goes straight to your core, leading to another round.

mingyu — mingyu is torn between finding it the hottest thing ever and trying not to panic (just a little) when you go nonverbal. on one hand yeah, he fucked your brains out and turned you ultra-dumb but on the other hey, are you okay baby? can you say something please? mingyu is sometimes too good with his cock for his own good that he’s always a little surprised when you enjoy it that much. he also secretly enjoys how needy it makes you and how you cling to him and love all up on him after a vigorous round.

dokyeom — short answer: freaks out. the likelihood of slipping into full subspace with a man who hates the idea of people being mad at him is… low. but once seokmin tried being meaner than usual with his words and his cock and it turned you on so much that after your fourth orgasm in a row you go nonverbal. seokmin stresses, petting your hair, asking you to breathe for him, to say something, “are you okay?? hey, what’s happening?” until you slowly come back to earth (after the fact you tease him a little for wigging out so much, but secretly you’re touched he cares just that much.) safe to say, the two of you don’t take it that far very often. 

seungkwan — seungkwan seems the type to be more gentle and doesn’t really like being mean to you, so it seems like it’d be rare. but maybe, like seokmin, he switches it up every now and then and the change in pace is so hot to you that you become more sensitive to his touch and his words. it leaves you feeling a little lightheaded, making it easier for you to slip into subspace. the first time it happens, seungkwan is a little stressed but lets you stay in it as long as you need to. when you come down he wants to talk about your triggers so he can be more prepared to keep you feeling as good as possible.

vernon — ever the silent support, vernon will stay with you the whole time, maybe petting your cheek or rubbing circles into your hips with his thumbs until you float back down to earth. he thinks it’s hot he can make you feel that good, but doesn’t ever want to yank you out of it, so he lets you feel what you need to for as long as possible. sometimes if it’s been a while, vernon will press a few kisses to your cheek and ask if you’re doing good. if you don’t respond he’ll leave you be, reminding you every once in a while he’s still here with you. once you come down he’s there with a few quiet praises and reminders how much he loves you. 

dino — likes knowing he can send you there. (a lot.) his favorite method is a combo of taunting and edging and watching you get completely lost in pleasure when he finally lets you come. chan looooves seeing you go all dumb, words jumbled as you tell him how good he makes you feel. unless you explicitly say it’s okay before a session, he’s not super keen on forcing you to do anything when you’re not entirely present in your head. the only thing chan loves more than making you feel amazing is taking care of you after, supplying you with plenty of attention and love to keep you warm.

--

come yell at me! tell me your fantasies and your fears!

other stuuuuff :P

[torialefay]

I love the way you write about Channie so here i come with a request!

Could you maybe write something, like a one shot idk, about how chan would propose to you?

I feel like it would be so perfect and im on my period so i really need a good romantic thing to cry on (maybe a bit smutty on the end cause…yk…👀👀👀)

🌊💍

Chris hid his hands behind his back as he realized they were a shaking mess. He was hoping you hadn't noticed... As if his voice hadn't been pitchy the entire night and he hadn't been acting totally bizzare for the past two weeks. To be honest, you weren't sure what was up with him, and you were slightly worried that it was because he'd regretted bringing you back home to Australia with him.

Considering the amazing (and very expensive) restaurant he'd just taken you to, you tried pushing those thoughts aside to just enjoy the relaxing evening with your boyfriend.

On the drive home, Chan had suggested taking a detour to have a walk on the beach.

"You're really pulling out all the stops tonight, aren't you baby?" you had teased, leaning in to peck him on the cheek as he kept his eyes on the road.

He'd let out a strained laugh followed up by suggesting a short drive to the first beach he'd taken you to when you'd come for your first visit. It was a place that had a lot of sentimental meaning to him as he used to come a lot with his family and friends.

You'd happily said yes, which led you to your current situation- trying to make small talk with your boyfriend who was a trembling, slightly sweaty mess.

"Babe, is everything okay?" you finally asked as your feet muddled through the water, one step at a time. The tides gently washed away each mark as you went.

"Of course... why?" he tried to cover up nonchalantly, but sounded more grand than he'd meant to.

"You just don't seem yourself... The past couple of weeks, you've seemed a bit... off," you looked away from him and out towards the sea, calming yourself a bit. "It's not because of me, is it? You're not regretting bringing me?"

"Oh god no, y/n, no," Chris said, scatter-brained now as he moved his body to stand right in front of you, forcing your eyes back on him. The crashing waves washed up against his legs, leaving the bottoms of his pants sopping wet.

"It's not that at all," he continued, reaching his hands for yours to hold you steady. "I just- jeez, I wanted to do this a different way," he nervously laughed at himself, looking off for a split second in his usual Channie embarrassment.

Your heart began to speed up at the sudden realization. Was he about to do what you thought he was about to do?

"But umm, here goes nothing," he bashfully smiled before clearing his throat and fixating his eyes back on you. "Y/n, every day I spend with you, I fall more and more in love." His ears turned the brightest shade of pink. "And I've known from the very moment I met you that you would be special, but I never realized-" his voice broke. You thought you could make out the tiniest glimmer of water in his eyes, which became more evident as his eyes and nose were slowly overcome with a slight red hue.

He shook his head slightly as if to shake it off while you felt tears start to well up in your own eyes. Your heart felt like it was swelling until it would bust.

"I never realized just how amazing life would be once you came into it. You truly make me a better man," his voice carried up, batting away tears. "And I, I just wanted you to know that I would move the heavens and earth for you. I am 100% certain that you are the love of my life," he sniffled, his eyes sparkling.

"Which is why-" he strained out, removing his hands from yours to reach into his pocket. He swiftly removed a small black box. "I have to ask you," he continued, slowly kneeling himself down onto one knee in front of you. The waves crashed behind him as they ran up along the shore, washing through his legs. His expression softened, admiring the way you looked in this moment with a single tear falling down your face.

"Y/full/name, will you make me the happiest man in the world and do me the honor of marrying me?"

--------------------

edited to add: i'm so sorry anon for the lack of smut (and missing your period 😭), but maybe a pt 2? if you'd like?

[asdfghjklmals]

Hii :)

I absolutely lovee your writings I've read each of them like 98688 times :)))

You asked for ideas so I thought maybe a fic that reader and satoru and the whole gang are still in school but they're not dating yet and reader and shoko are really close friends and satoru gets kinda jealous cause shoko hugs reader all the time and idk kiss her on chick or smth and satoru wishes he had the courage to do that????

Idk if you fell like it and were comfortable:))))

Thankss <3

THE COURAGE TO TRY✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff. WORD COUNT: 1.6k words. TAGS: satoru gojo x fem!oc. lovesick!gojo, a lil' jealous!gojo. bestie!suguru does what he does best and instigates for these two. one sided pining, but iykyk.

SYNOPSIS: satoru wishes he could be more than just friends with oc gojo girlfriend. AUTHOR'S NOTE: the first request to my milestone event (click here for more info). 💚 pre-dating oc gojo girlfriend and satoru, which i have a soft spot for hehehe. this is right after 'sleeping with the enemy', so click here to read it before you read this fic! REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions instead, please do!

“are you going to blink any time soon?” suguru asked his bestfriend, waving in front of his face, "—earth to satoru?"

“huh.” satoru grumbled in annoyance. “what are you talking about?”

in case you overheard, suguru whispered in satoru’s ear to save him from his own embarrassment, “i’m talking about how you haven’t taken your eyes off of (y/n) all day. you’re starting to look like a creep.”

satoru pushed him away as his face turned bright red, “oh, shut up, suguru!”

the two sorcerers watched from the other end of the classroom as you and shoko were practicing your reversed cursed techniques together. he saw shoko jumping up and down with joy, hugging you tightly, probably excited that you were starting to hone in on your skills. a twinge of jealously jabbed at the white haired sorcerer.

suguru started to pry, “are you and (y/n) going to have another sleepover tonight?”

“suguru, get to the point. what the hell do you want?” satoru snapped in annoyance.

“oh come on, you know for a fact that everyone including our muscle-brained sensei, knows that you have been sneaking into (y/n)’s dorm room at night—not to mention past curfew.” suguru sighed at how oblivious satoru thought he was. suguru was smarter than that. "everyone just wants to know if you two are dating yet!"

satoru’s flush of red in his cheeks did not fade away, instead he just got redder and redder the more his bestfriend talked about the two of you possibly becoming a couple.

suguru curiously asked, “how long as this been going on for?”

satoru gritted his teeth and sighed, “ever since we got back from our mission together.”

“are you guys—”

satoru quickly interrupted his bestfriend before he said anything else to embarrass him further, “i only go to her room to sleep—for some reason, i sleep better when i’m with her. i think it’s her custom futon.”

it wasn’t your custom futon at all. it was the comfort of your presence.

suguru knew that satoru had a difficult time sleeping ever since he started attending jujutsu high. satoru was the type of person to doze off for a couple hours here and there, but never got any actual decent rem cycle sleep. satoru was the total opposite of you. you needed well over 8 hours of sleep to function as a normal (and kind) human being. the first thing that sashisu learned about you was not to wake you up in the mornings. the two guys left shoko with that job when needed.

“sure, whatever you say, satoru.” suguru smiled, his eyes disappearing behind his sly grin, “so, you and (y/n) are…?”

satoru scoffed at his bestfriend’s bold assumption, “—we are just friends.”

there was no way in hell he was going to admit that he liked you without knowing if you liked him back.

suguru folded his arms, annoyed that he wasn’t going to get an answer out of his bestfriend, “uh huh, right—friends do not cuddle each other to sleep.”

satoru started to list actions that friends can totally do together, “well, shoko and (y/n) always have sleepovers, they hug and loop their arms together when they walk—and they’re just friends.”

suguru stated very clearly, “shoko doesn’t give (y/n) an arm pillow every night. and she doesn’t cuddle her just to be able to get some sleep either.”

“well, shoko hugs (y/n) and holds her hand. i don’t get to do that.” satoru barked back.

“you know, satoru… it’s starting to sound like you’re jealous of shoko.” suguru laughed, realizing that satoru definitely wanted to be more than just friends with you.

satoru shot a death glare at suguru, “—am not!”

later that night

“what did you and shoko do during class today?” satoru asked as he watched you brush your hair in your bathroom.

you hummed, “hmmm, shoko gave me some pointers on how to control my cursed energy so i could focus it into reversed cursed energy.”

“oh…” satoru mumbled, “i could’ve helped you with that.” he would never admit that he was jealous of his other bestfriend, shoko ieiri. he wondered what favors he'd have to do for yaga-sensei in order to get paired up with you for a mission again.

you giggled, “satoru, you can’t even heal yourself yet. how could you have helped me?”

“i would’ve found a way.” satoru said, dissatisfaction in his tone. he would have to get stronger and figure out this reversed cursed technique bullshit if he wanted you to stay by his side. he folded his arms across his chest as he sat in your bed, waiting for you to turn off the lights so he could sleep.

you took one last look in your bathroom mirror before turning off your bathroom light. you hopped onto your bed and crawled towards satoru. as you sat down next to him, you noticed that his face was turning pink, ears heating up to a crimson red—he was avoiding all eye contact with you.

“arm pillow, please.” you called out to him with a smile, ignoring his blushing face. you wondered what had gotten into him today.

he laid back and rested his head on your pillow, laying out his right arm for you. you nuzzled in between his chest and bicep. you turned to face him, his arm curling down your back.

“are you sure your arm doesn’t hurt at night?” you asked, patting his chest softly. he always teased you about waking up with a dead arm in the mornings.

“i’m sure.” satoru said softly, “i’m used to it.”

you lifted your head from his arm and glared at him, “used to it? do you give other girls arm pillows too or something?”

satoru rolled his eyes at you, removing his hand from your back to ruffle your neatly brushed hair.

“no, (y/n). you’re the only one.” he reluctantly admitted, “your big head is the only one to lay on my arm.”

you rolled your eyes before you gave him a self-satisfied smirk, attaching your head to his right arm again. that satoru gojo and his interesting way of flirting he always used to try to charm you. you wrapped your arm around his torso, holding him close to you.

the past week that satoru had spent sleeping next to you, he picked up on your interesting sleeping habits: you were usually the first to fall asleep between the two of you. you were a light sleeper. you preferred to sleep on your side (or on your stomach when you’re not curled up next to him). you grind your teeth in your sleep when you’re stressed (he found that out during your mission together). you snore when you’re exhausted (but you argue that you don’t). and lastly, whenever he would move away from you, you would always pull him back towards you.

within 5 minutes of shutting your eyes, you were out cold. satoru could tell by the way your breathing steadied and the way your cursed energy looked to his six eyes. a calm blue hue is what cursed energy looked like at a peaceful resting state.

tonight, satoru’s heart would not stop racing no matter how hard he tried to regulate his breathing. he thought he got used to sleeping next to you every night for the past week, but he was wrong. his thoughts about his feelings towards you was tormenting him inside.

satoru wished that he had the courage to try to be more upfront with you about his feelings. he wished that he could confidently hold your hand so that everyone knew you were his. he wished that he could hug you just because he wanted to. he wished that he could kiss you in hopes that you would kiss him back. this fear of not knowing how you felt about him crippled him.

how could the strongest sorcerer feel so weak in your presence?

he tilted his head towards yours. the scent of your orange hibiscus shampoo lingered in your hair, your head resting just below his chin. he slumped further down on your bed, trying his best not to move your ‘arm pillow’. like clockwork, he felt you unconsciously pull him back towards your body. satoru hoped that he wouldn't wake you up by all the moving around he was doing.

he sighed before he turned to face you. your lashes fluttering against the top of your cheek as he watched you inhale and exhale in your slumber.

how could one person look so beautiful while sleeping? this was so damn unfair.

satoru’s heart skipped a beat. was he really going to attempt to kiss you? hell, he was going to take a risk. he took a deep breath before leaning in to press a feather-light kiss on your forehead and then on the top of your head. the foreign feeling made you furrow your eyebrows in your sleep. he hoped that his pathetic attempt at a kiss wouldn’t wake you up. he wouldn’t know how to explain this to you if you woke up right this instance. he stroked your cheek with his palm before you immediately fell back into your sweet dream for the night.

and it was in that moment that satoru gojo hoped that one day, you could be his and all he dreamed of too.

EXTRA:

“was my hair all over the place or something last night?” you asked satoru as you watched him change out of his pajamas to throw on his school uniform.

satoru thought back to last night when he kissed your forehead and immediately blushed. he feigned ignorance, “not that i remember. why...?”

you connected your thumb and index finger to your chin. “hmmm, i swear i felt something tickling my forehead.”

satoru couldn’t hide his mischievous grin, “tickling your forehead, huh? i wonder what it could’ve been.”

© 2023 ASDFGHJKLMALS — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK.

DIVIDERS PROVIDED BY @/ANLIAN-AISHANG

[superblysubpar]

vampire!eddie munson x somekindofslayer!you / partner!steve

2,653 words

warnings: other than kind of like, illusions to some spicy things/slight implications of dubcon, not much in this little snippet | vampire things? Idk how to tag that ya'll? like weapons, blood imagery, etc? | oh also I think modern AU but also like ST things happened but also like the party is all in the modern AU except Eddie? Idk I haven't decided, don't think too hard about it

A/N: okay, so this is a little snippet of something I started *last* October and I lost the will and love to write and I've been returning to it frequently and I think I'll be posting the full thing soonish. I hope you enjoy it (and yes, I'm cheating and counting this as 3 days)

a blurb for the "Trick or Treat, Freak?" event

It feels wrong.

There’s no better way to describe the feeling that weighs heavy on your shoulders and pricks at the back of your neck as you weave in and out of the too loud crowd.

Spilled beer and red plastic cups at your feet further marking up and ruining what you’re sure was once beautiful wood floors. Spray painted images and words foul and rude against walls with chipped paint and frayed wallpaper that hold a history people have forgotten too quickly.

Your fingers glide over the banister, the tipped cup to your lips flashing red in the dingy mirror on the grand father clock as you ascend the stairs.

The celebration below softens to a dull murmur of a crowd, the low rumble of bass as you take the last step and your lungs deflate with an exhaled breath of relief. Each door you pass is open, revealing dust and cobwebbed covered furniture and art, rooms frozen in time as the world around it kept going. You were surprised to find that none of the pop culture clad couple’s costumes had made their way upstairs this evening to make use of the more private rooms.

Perhaps there were still some things here that people didn’t want to disturb.

The claims that this home held ghosts, made you see things, the history of what once happened in this town, hadn’t dissuaded the night from happening as you had hoped. The possibility of all the sinister and spooky things the home brought only served to be fuel for a Halloween night party and practically dared the teens to host it there.

Which is probably exactly what he wanted.

Your hand discards the now empty solo cup on a dark wood buffet, finger leaving a clean swipe to it’s surface as you tilt your head to listen for anything out of the ordinary while the heels of your boots slow, then stop in front of the only closed door on this level.

The knob of the door twists easily underneath your palm, and as the door creaks open, soft light flickers above from a room you can’t quite yet see. With a deep breath, you close the door behind yourself as quietly as you can, the noise of the party now almost nonexistent. The only clue to it the vibrations from below your soles as you carefully start the climb of this second staircase.

While equally stuck in the past, this attic is littered with frequent use.

Recent too.

Candle’s wicks flicker around the room, all of various heights with melted wax now solidified in drips down their sides, which tells you they’ve just been lit, but not for the first time ever.

There’s a dark line in the slat flooring, like it’s been ripped in half and then clumsily pushed and glued back together. Something inside jars glint in the moonlight shining in from the small window on the opposite side of the room.

“Nice costume,” a deep voice from the shadows calls. A flick of a zippo sounds before the flame sparks, illuminating a figure leaning against the wall. Broad shoulders long hair falls against and a cigarette dangling between plush lips just made out in its glow as he lights it. The metal clicks together, returning him to the darkness. The end of the cigarette burns red at his side as a puff of smoke floats into the air with his words, “Buffy, right?”

Your throat feels dry as you risk a glance down at the costume, as if you need to remind yourself what you’re wearing. Little black dress, emphasis on the little. Your tits shoved up and out with a cross hanging heavy between them and little left to the imagination between the short hem just covering your ass and the tall knee high boots.

“You’re just missing one thing, vampire slayer,” his voice makes you jump, an instinctual step back only to find you’re up against the banister and he’s right in front of you now.

He hadn’t made a single sound.

“Yeah?” Your voice betrays you, cracking as the weight of something inside of your boot scolds you for not having it out and ready as he leans in, eyes on the cross on your neck as you try to sound more confident than you are, “What’s that…sorry I didn’t catch your name? And who are you supposed to be?”

In a flash, he’s across the room, twirling something between his fingers you can’t quite see as he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and paces.

“Wow, you don’t recognize me?” The chains against his jeans click as he spins with a dramatic sigh, “It’s okay, I wouldn’t remember me either.”

His leather and denim clad shoulders rise then fall in a shrug, the devil on his chest pulled tight as he stretches his arms out as if to say “ta-da”, and his tone sounds like he’s doing just that when he says:

“I’m Eddie Munson. The guy who made this place famous.”

Your heart thuds in your ears, tongue suddenly taking up too much space in your mouth as your stomach clenches.

“Yeah? That your name or your costume’s?”

“Oh,” he laughs, “Think you already know the answer to that.”

He whistles to get your attention when you look down, now acutely aware of the empty space between your calf and boot.

He waves the wood stake in the air, teeth gleaming white in his smile that brings a dimple out you can see all the way across the room.

“Looking for this, princess?”

“I’m not a vampire slayer, Mr. Munson,” you start, fingers behind your back working at the discrete silver bracelet on your wrist.

Eddie’s lips purse, amused as he leans against the windowsill, completely at ease as he watches you take a cautious step forward then another.

He grins at you when you take a third step and nods his head, encouraging you, “That’s it. Get closer. Promise I won’t bite…” he winks, “ ‘Less you want me to, of course.”

“Lotta girls take you up on that offer Mr. Munson? That what you were hoping for tonight?”

His smile grows wider, his tongue pokes at a canine that’s suddenly grown longer.

“First of all, Mr. Munson is my uncle, please,” he sticks his hand out now that you’re close enough, like he intends to shake yours, “It’s Eddie. And second, you vampire slayers…” he sighs, “Always all business, never any fun, huh?”

“Right, Eddie,” you concede, whispering, now close enough that you know he could easily do what’s in his nature. “And I thought I told you, I’m not a vampire slayer.”

His eyes flash when your hand wraps around his in a firm shake. His adam’s apple bobs with a large swallow as you take a step even closer, body between his spread legs, your neck and chest right where he’d want it. Eddie’s eyes are tinged with red, but he starts to pull away, breathing heavily.

Your eyes are on your hands still locked, and your entire body warms, heartbeat racing as his thumb swipes over the back of yours and his eyelashes flutter when you moan at the tingle the contact of his skin leaves against yours. Like the good kind of heat from a bonfire, any closer and it’ll start to burn, and any further away you’d be too cold.

Static crackles in your ear, “Um…whatcha doing, killer?”

Eddie looks directly at your left earlobe at the sound, and it all snaps you back to attention. Your silver bracelet in your other hand quickly locks around his wrist in your grasp.

Eddie blinks at you, each drop and lift of his eyelids growing heavier by the milliseconds as his hand slips from yours.

“Fuck,” he laughs, like he’s a little tipsy, head knocking against the window behind him as he looks at you from under his lashes, smiling. “You got me, slayer.”

“Not,” you swallow, taking a larger step away from him while trying to fight the urge to take off the bracelet subduing him, “Not a vampire slayer.”

He hums, rolls his eyes like he doesn’t believe you as footsteps creak loudly on the stairs behind you and your partner’s winded breath calls out your name.

“You smell good,” Eddie mumbles as you pull him to his feet and sling his arm over your shoulder, his head falling into the crook of your neck makes your entire body freeze.

His nose drags along your pulse, his lips follow, and a chill races down your spine, skin on fire where he’s pressed against it and you have to stop your teeth from biting on your bottom lip too hard or you’ll draw blood and who knows what’ll happen then. Maybe he’d lick it off your chin, maybe he’d-

“Did I just witness what I think I just witnessed? Were you gonna let him-”

“Don’t,” you gasp as Eddie sighs against your throat. “Not another word, Harrington.”

He doesn’t say anything, just looks at you wide eyed and with his mouth hanging open as you shove Eddie’s weight to him and right yourself, fixing the hem of your dress and yanking your stake off of the ground. Doesn’t say anything while you check around corners and you pretend to be three drunk idiots stumbling to a car in case any one sees. Doesn’t say anything until Eddie’s passed out in the backseat and you’re looking in the rearview for the third time in less minutes, wheels spinning against wet black top and taking you past the: “Now Leaving Hawkins!” sign.

“What the fuck-“ he starts to hiss.

“I don’t know. Just…don’t. Okay? He touched me and…and…” your heart starts thudding harder. “I choked or something. It happens to the best of us.”

Steve licks his lip before it prods at his cheek as you grip the steering wheel tighter and he looks over his shoulder.

“Compulsion?”

“Maybe?” You shrug, though not believing it one bit.

“Imprin-“

“Don’t. That’s a myth.”

It’s quiet for a few seconds and then Steve’s lips twitch.

“Horny?”

He laughs when you groan and swat at his chest. “Shut up. You’re such an asshole.”

Steve snorts, looking out the window, mumbling, “That wasn’t a no.”

You flick his eyebrow that time.

“If that is the case, I mean, there are plenty of us who’d love to help you out. You don’t gotta stoop to being sucked on by vamps if you’re feeling-“

“You want me to use the stake on him?”

The car swerves at the sound of his voice, your heartbeat in your ears as you return to the correct lane safely and see Eddie sitting up in the backseat in your mirror.

“Fucking Christ,” Steve gasps, holding his chest and facing the back now.

Eddie visibly winces at the use of the name and Steve perks up.

“Woah. That’s real?” He leans forward, eyebrows raised, “Christ, Christ, Christ, Chri-“

Eddie’s fangs sharpen and descend and he starts to growl low from his chest, eyes flashing red. Steve’s lips twitch but he raises his hands in surrender when you hiss for him to knock it off.

“Of course,” he looks at you then the backseat, “I’ll stop bothering your little toy, honey.”

Your gaze slices over to him as Steve holds his silver stake over his chest, keeping his back to the dash and eyes on the now alert vampire in your backseat.

Eddie lifts his wrist up, “What the hell is this?”

Steve smiles. “That, is a Henderson original. Powerful enough to subdue even the strongest of ghouls, goblins, vamps and any other weird ass creatures we come across - quickly and temporarily in case of emergency. A smaller version of his version of that trap thingy and that gun thingy,” he snaps his fingers and looks at you, “What are they again? In Ghostbusters?”

“The Proton Pack”, you say as Eddie asks at the same time,

“The Super Slammer Muon Trap?”

Eddie clears his throat, adjusts himself in the back seat while rubbing his neck and your eyes return to the road after making eye contact in the mirror again.

“You, uh, you like Ghostbusters?” He fiddles with the rings on his fingers.

Steve’s lips twitch when you grumble to yourself though you know they both can hear it, “Of course I like Ghostbusters, what am I, a moron?” You frown as you sarcastically add on, “And nobody’s impressed by your use of the name of the trap from the video game. It’s just a ghost trap.”

It’s like you feel his laugh inside your own chest. Warm and flowing over you like sunshine on your face after a really long, gloomy day. You tilt your head into it, eyelashes fluttering.

“Yeaah,” Steve draws out the word, clears his throat. “Those. Cause she couldn’t really go in with the big, real deal. Good thing it worked on you though, fast, too. Hepburn here was about to willingly be your human juicebox.”

“I was not-“

“Hepburn?” Eddie asks as you start to protest something you’re not even sure you can. “Is that your name, slayer?”

“Not a slayer,” you clarify again.

“And that didn’t answer my question,” Eddie raises his eyebrows in the mirror, gaze on the back of your ear, your throat. If you couldn’t glance up and see where he was looking you were sure you’d be able to feel the heat of his stare anyways.

Warmth prickles at your skin, and goosebumps rise to the surface in a trail from your ear, down your throat, across your collarbone as you imagine his mouth following that same-

“Can we,” Eddie clears his throat, he pulls at his collar, “Can we open a window or something?”

“Did you…” your breath comes sharper, words caught in your throat before you can ask him anything about the sensation on your skin. You grip the steering wheel tighter when images of his mouth moving lower break up the two lane highway in flashes.

Steve’s lips twitch when your body shivers, and you beg through gritted teeth, “Steve. Put a second bracelet on him.”

“I’m not…I’m not doing, it’s you…I won’t hurt…” Eddie puts his head between his legs and groans, like he’s in the worst pain of his life, or like he’s in the best-

“Fucking hell. Sweetheart, relax. Your pulse is…”

Steve’s lips part as your head hits the back of the seat, your neck extended as your mouth falls open and your leg flexes when you swear you feel a prick on your neck and you whine.

The bright yellow lights of a familiar restaurant break up the dark sky and road and your speedometer drops quickly from the 90 it had climbed to as you signal your exit despite no cars being around, whipping the car onto the exit ramp.

“What are you…” Steve starts, stopping when Eddie sits up again and pokes at his teeth with his tongue, wincing as he grips the edge of the seat.

“Steve? That’s your name?” He gasps, blinking rapidly, “Put the second bracelet on me, man.”

The car slams to a stop in front of the Waffle House and you toss the burner that had been in the cupholder to Steve.

“Call Hop. Tell him he needs to send someone else to drive him or pick me up. Now.”

When you step out of the car and the cool Autumn air does nothing to soothe your skin that’s slick with sweat, you slam the driver’s door. The minute it closes, it’s like a switch is flipped and when you look in the backseat, Eddie’s shoulders visibly relax at the same time yours do.

Steve’s mouth moves, and you can’t hear it, but you know he said exactly what you’re thinking.

What in the actual fuck just happened?

thank you for the original request for "ghosts" with eddie - I know it's not *technically* about ghosts and the creel house is just barely a part of this, but I promise Jason and Eddie/reader/Jason things will be a theme in the full story

[crest-of-gautier]

how is it that i finished reload three months ago but it feels like a lifetime ago... ("some" thoughts about reload under the cut... spoilers obv)

reload is like a mixed bag for me. there's aspects of it that i hold near and dear to my heart (ryoji mochizuki my beloved), while some parts of reload... i'm kind of... "eh... whatever" about.

i think my feelings ultimately boils down to the fact that fes and reload are two very distinct experiences. the differences between them feels most obvious to me with the gameplay changes, and added social events (dorm activities + linked episodes).

because these two games curate a different experience, i feel awkward when i'm confronted with the question of, "what version should i play?" to me, the question kind of has the undertone of, "what is the definitive version of persona 3?"

even though reload is arguably the most convenient and accessible version of p3, i feel that when i recommend it... i internally have a bunch of asterisks that come with it. this hesitance mostly comes from my opinion that FES has more effective storytelling for the messages that P3 wants to convey.

FES's gameplay mechanics adds to minato's characterization in ways that reload doesn't. it's stuff like the tiredness system, and how it adds to the idea that death literally stole minato's chance to live life normally without complications. it's the way minato can adapt to any of the weapon types of the other party members. it's the way that the party orders/command system was designed specifically for FES and SEES really feels like co-workers for a good chunk. you don't really feel that in reload as much.

there's also some things about FES's visuals that feel better (to me). the palette of the dorms feels more somber and it enhances the atmosphere. and the half body portraits, oh, the characterization of it all that comes from body language (ryoji mochizuki you will always be famous to me). you don't quite get that when you only have a bustshot to work with.

i do realize that me expressing my grievances with missing these things from FES can be interpreted as "oh, so you don't like reload?" and i want to emphasize that this is not the case at all. i think that fes and reload are both valuable experiences, just for completely different reasons. (the same goes for portable as well, it very much has it's merits too!)

despite preferring FES' storytelling over reload's, i am hesitant to recommend it. even though the game mechanics can add to the story, they are also dated and i can see how this can turn people away. do i love how arduous the climb up tartarus feels in FES? yes. i really feel immersed in the minato-ism. but would someone else like it? no. and that's fine too.

this is where reload feels "better" than fes to me: updating it to modern gameplay standards makes it easier for players to enter a flow state. i do feel that the way they went about it did undermine some of the Vibes of the Climb™ (see my talk about the great clock on main).

theurgy is also another one of the mechanics that i'm a bit 🤔 about. i like looking at the characteristics that build the person's gauge (i especially LOVE LOVE how yukari's gauge builds), it's fun for characterization! and the visuals themselves are super appealing and fun to watch. junpei's 2nd theurgy, blaze of life, is one of my favorites because i really love how it represents his bond with chidori.

however i also feel that theurgy is... very overtuned. like, what do you mean i'm sweeping nyx avatar off her feet, i am facing death head on in the eyes and you're telling me she's a cakewalk? (this also applies to some of the other bosses.) of course you can just opt to... not use theurgy, but it feels weird for fights to be framed as "tough and unbeatable" within the narrative only to get through them with relative ease... (ludonarrative dissonance moment)

it feels really funny to write all of this out because i'm sitting here like, "you know, i don't think no one will care the way i do 😂" and that's fine, to be honest! i find it fun to think about how changes to a story can enhance or detract from the overall experience.

i do feel like i could elaborate on the story additions/removals and how some of it made me go "huh" and "whuh" but. i won't. because this post is long as is. but maybe another day. (but know that i am crying about the things they removed for aigis' storyline)

now that i'm done airing out my grievances with the gameplay, i want to talk about the things i liked about reload. even though some things had me go 🤨, i did sincerely have a fun time playing it, and i want to celebrate those things!

for one thing, the social links being voiced really added to the experience. i really, really felt myself immersed in the storylines of minato's classmates social links in ways that i didn't when i played FES. i just really loved seeing how charaters like yuko and keisuke would speak... and everyone's casting felt on point, to me!

reload is also very visually stunning. guy who doesn't play the game because they're too busy getting lost in minato's eyes. it's me. i'm guy. i really loved the animated cutscenes. it's fun seeing minato in a new coat of paint. he's so near and dear to me and seeing him in HD got me crying in the club. some things fell short (why does nyx avatar's face feel so low res...) but LIKE overall i was like, a yippee trail seeing minato interact with port island. i love seeing him walk around.

the story addition i liked the most (oh my god this is going to be such a surprise) (it's not). the ryoji episodes were everything i imagined ryoji to be. you can tell that sogabe worked on reload. i love how aleks le brought him to life. the music box drives me crazy. i love how special ryoji and minato's bond is and seeing them be like, explicitly, textually written the way they were? earth shattering, for me. they made new year's eve even more (oh no i've been flushed down the feelings lane). how the fuck did they do that!!!

i also still really love most of the ENG VA cast and what they brought to the table. allegra clark's performance as mitsuru was especially standout to me... so was zeno robinson as junpei... but GOD!!! SEES felt so lived in. i love the passion the new VAs had for the game and it felt evident to me in their performance.

and that's my reload thoughts :) i think it's nice that reload exists even if some things about it disappointed me. i do wish i didn't have a bunch of caveats when talking about it, but like... i find it very fun to dissect my feelings on it??? given that reload had some things that didn't land for me, it makes it all the more important to me to thank reload for what (i felt) it did well, and celebrate those parts of it. p3 is very near and dear to my heart and i will always cherish the bits that felt resonant with me.

speaking of which, i do think it's nice that reload has been an entry way for people to get into persona... even though i haven't been engaging with the community as much as i used to, i do like that there's been more fanwork to look at... even if not all of it is my cup of tea...! it makes me happy that there's a resurgence of ryomina, but also the entire cast is... so shapely. i cherish them dearly and seeing that others also like them as much as i do makes me really, really happy!

i hope p3 can continue to make others happy the way it made me happy! the message will stick with me for a lifetime, methinks.

oh that's a lot of gigabytes.

[lanadelnegan]

Can you do a pt 2 to your Negan and reader fuck buddies story where some guy gives a his jacket to reader because she gets cold and Negan is working outside and he can see them and when she goes over to him later he's like "who's jacket is that" and she's just like "idk some guys" and he's like "you don't remember his name?" And she's like "No, not really" and then he just whispers good and starts kissing her and then it hits reader that he's super jealous and she starts smiling and shit and they end up having rough sex (matting press pls 😈)

Anon request #2: I love your writing so much and i LOVED your latest post for Negan omg can you do a pt. 2 or something where Negan sneaks off with reader during the day and eats her out since she sucked him off before 🙏 again you're writing is absolutely amazing keep up the amazing work ♥️

___________________________________________

Gonna combine these two since they're similar! Thanks for the requests, ilyyyy 😘

Lip Gloss (Pt. 2)

S10/11 Negan x Reader

Part one here

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), semi-public sex, heavy breeding kink, mentions of future pregnancy, mention of death (negan threatening other men)

It's been a few days since I've visited Negan in his cell, so when I spot him across the yard doing some gardening, I can hardly pry my eyes off of him. They just started letting him help out around here, and I'm happy for him.

I try not to stare, not wanting others, or him, to catch me in the act. I just got back from dropping some supplies off at Hilltop, and I continue walking, eager to finally to get back to my own house. I shiver and grip the unfamiliar jacket closer to me as I walk past him, hoping he doesn't notice me. I can't risk someone seeing us.

"So that's how it's gonna be, huh?"

I walk slower but don't turn around.

"You've gotta be kidding, y/n. Not even a hi?"

I turn this time, walking over to him while glancing around. Luckily everyone is either in their homes or far enough away where they won't notice.

"Negan, it's not personal. You know that. But we can't be seen being all sweet on each other."

He grins down at me cockily.

"Then don't. Slap me. Yell at me. Do what you have to fucking do, but don't ignore me."

When I don't respond, his face turns serious and his brows come together. "Whose fucking jacket is that?"

I look down, blushing a little. "I dunno." My hands slide in the pockets. "Some guy's."

"Oh, some guy? You don't remember his name?" He whispers down at me.

"No. I was just cold, Negan. I didn't even ask him his name." I look at him confused.

The side of his mouth raises into a smirk. "Good."

"Aw, is someone.. jealous?" I raise my eyebrows at him.

Without warning, he grabs my wrist out of the jacket pocket and pulls my body against his before pressing his lips into mine.

After a couple seconds, I jerk away quickly and look around. "Negan! What the fuck!" I whisper yell at him.

"No one's lookin', doll." His hand presses into my lower back, pulling me into him again. His other hand tilts my chin up to kiss me again.

"Someone could be looking from their window." I say in between our kisses.

"Then let's give them a goddamn show." He deepens our kiss, slipping his tongue in my mouth as I moan into him.

"Negan." I breathe out.

"Come see me tonight, baby. It's my turn to make you feel good."

"No. I need you.. now."

His smirk widens into pure arrogance as he looks down at me. "Hell baby, I am not gonna say no to that." He looks around to make sure we're still alone. "Come on."

He leads me to the side of one of the houses until we're out of sight before crashing his lips into me hard, pressing my back into the exterior wall.

His bulge presses into me firmly and I reach for him but he grabs my hands.

"Not so fast, baby. I am fucking starving." He whispers as he unbuttons my pants, quickly sliding them and my underwear down and off my legs. My eyes widen as I look around, hoping no one walks by.

"Negan.. maybe we shou-"

Before I can finish, he's on his knees in front of me, throwing my leg over his shoulder, and burying his face into my pussy.

My mouth gapes open as I stare down at him. He licks from my hole to my clit before stopping and sucking it lightly.

"Oh my god." I breathe out. "Negannn." My fingers lazily grip his salt and pepper hair as I moan out.

He pulls back for a moment to look up at me.

"God, baby. You gotta fucking come see me more. This pussy is my new favorite meal." He dives back in like a starving man, devouring me from the inside out.

"Negan.. Negan, I'm getting close." I whimper out, leaning my head against the wall and pushing his head closer to my center. His tongue laps at my dripping hole while his nose nudges my clit.

"Can you squirt, baby? Want you to spray those delicious juices all over my face."

I shake my head. "I’ve never, uh - I don't think so."

He chuckles before pressing his face back into my cunt.

"I do." His lips move against me as he slides his middle finger teasingly through my folds and slipping it deep inside my pussy. He curves it in a "come here" motion while sucking my clit simultaneously and my orgasm hits me like a tidal wave, almost knocking me from my feet.

Negan steadies me with his other hand under my thigh so I don't collapse.

"Fuuuck! Negan!" I suddenly feel a pool of warm liquid between my legs and he groans loudly, licking up every drop. "That's a good fucking girl!" His deep voice vibrates my center.

He pulls back once he's licked up every drop. I blush at the sight of my wetness glistening on his lips and beard.

"I knew you could do it, baby. So fucking proud of you."

He stands up and I slowly trace my lips over his, rubbing my own wetness from his mouth over mine.

The faint sounds of voices appear in the distance and I quickly throw my pants back but not before realizing my panties are gone. I look at his jeans to see them sticking out of his pocket.

He shrugs innocently when I look at him and I roll my eyes. Such a Negan move.

"You just gonna leave my blue balls hangin', sweetness?"

I grab his hand, leading him to the back of the house, which happens to be mine. "You have such a way with words."

"So I've been told." He grins as we enter the backdoor and I waste no time kissing him and leading us to the couch.

"Y/n, listen. We need to talk first." He interrupts.

"What's there to talk about? I need you in me." I continue kissing him while taking my pants off clumsily.

I quickly discard the jacket, then my shirt and bra, leaving me completely exposed to him.

"You are such a fucking smoke show, doll. Holy hell. Don't know what you're thinkin' givin' an old man like me the time of day."

I shrug. "Not a lot of options around here."

He chuckles before slowly walking towards me. "No? Maybe you should go live with your boyfriend at Hilltop, then."

"Maybe I will.." I whisper up at him before he picks me up suddenly, throwing me over his shoulder.

I yelp as I'm turned upside down. "Negan!"

He walks us towards the first door he sees, my bedroom, and kicks it open forcefully while smacking his hand on my bare ass and throwing me on the bed.

"Negan! You just broke my door!"

"Not the only thing I'm about to break, sweetheart.”

I lean up on my elbows and watch him undress. My mouth waters when his cock finally springs free.

I bend my legs, raising my knees and spreading my legs apart in front of him while my hand drifts to my aching center.

Negan watches me lustfully while he pulls his t-shirt off.

"Y/n. Remember when I said we needed to talk?"

I nod my head and slowly circle my finger around my clit. "Yes." I moan out quietly, keeping eye contact with him.

His eyes drift towards my pussy, watching me touch myself for a moment before meeting my gaze again.

"I care about you." He admits.

My finger drops lower to my hole before teasing it. "I care about you too, Negan."

He climbs on the bed on top of me, grabbing each of my wrists and bringing them above my head.

"I'm serious, y/n. I'm tired of sneaking around." His eyes search mine.

"So what does this mean? For us?”

"I don't want to hide what we have anymore."

"Negan - if they find out.."

"Then what? They cut off our heads as punishment?" He says sarcastically. "They'll get over it... Do you want this? To be together?"

"Yes." I breathe out.

That's all he needs to hear before crashing his lips into mine and kissing me passionately. My hands rub over his smooth back as our tongues explore each other's mouths.

“Told you you’d my girl eventually, baby.”

I'm so caught up in kissing him that I barely notice him positioning himself at my opening, until he rams into me in one swift motion.

I moan out as he stretches me open and thrusts into me fast and deep.

“I know how we can show them who you belong to.” He whispers lowly.

“H-how?”

“I could pump you full of my cum every fucking day until my baby grows inside of you.”

My eyes widen. “Negan…”

He smirks. “It’s okay, baby. We don’t have to rush it. You’ll want my baby.. eventually.”

“No.” I quickly blurt. “I want it. I want you to put a baby in me.”

“Yeah?” He smirks down at me as he fucks me faster.

He leans back on his knees for a moment before wrapping his arms around my thighs and bringing them up, spreading them as far as they’ll go before leaning back over me and fucking me harder than before.

He’s so much deeper from this angle and I moan out loudly as his heavy balls slap against me.

“Negan! I’m cumming!” I cry out and he growls, pounding me faster and deeper.

“That’s right, baby. Let go. Soak my fucking cock.”

And I do just that.

His hand reaches down between us to swipe up some of my juices with his finger before sucking them into his mouth. “Cant get enough of this sweet fucking cunt. Could drink you like water, baby.”

I kiss him, tasting myself on him and we moan together. “I could cum just from the taste of you.” He whispers in my mouth.

“So cum.” I whimper and his head falls lazily to the side of mine as he buries his face in my neck.

He groans in my ear as he stops thrusting, pushing himself deeper than I thought possible. My legs wrap around his waist and dig into him as I moan from the feeling of his cock pulsing and seed filling me to the brim.

His lips find mine again as he starts pumping himself in me slowly, deliberately pushing his load deeper and deeper.

“Cant wait to see this belly swollen with my fucking kid, baby. He says before finally pulling out.

I smile lovingly at him as he gets dressed. “Negan, it’s starting to get dark. They’ll wonder where you are soon.”

My heart hurts at the thought of him leaving and sleeping in that stupid fucking cell any longer. But now isn’t the right time. We need a plan.

“I know.” He drops his head while climbing off me and the bed and dressing himself.

“Fucking sucks. I wanna stay with you.”

“You will soon. We’ll find a time to tell everyone, but not tonight.”

Negan just nods understandingly. “I’ve waited this long. A few more lonely nights won’t hurt. At least I have these to keep me company.” He shoves my panties deeper in his pocket while raising his eyebrows at me.

“I’ll come see you tomorrow, okay? Come on, I’ll walk you out.” I lace my fingers between his as we walk the short distance to the living room and back door.

He picks up the strange man’s jacket from the floor on his way out, flinging it over his shoulder irritably.

“Don’t worry, doll. I’ll dispose of this for you.” He reaches for the door before turning around and placing a gentle kiss to my lips.

“Oh, and if another man offers you another goddamn article of clothing, I’ll hang him with it.”

The end. Xx

[bratbarzal]

On Your Side (NH13) / Chapter Five

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: 17k (holy moly)

Chapter Warnings: I tried to sprinkle some fluffy flashbacks and smutty references later in here just to lighten the mood but this is angsty!! probably cursing I honestly can't remember, and serious warnings rn mentions of hacking/gossip blogs/blackmail/cyber bullying/nudes being leaked, talia is her own warning tbh. I tried not to make a cliched ex comes in between them plot and idk how it comes across but yeah I was trying to toe the line between it being interesting/different and then going too far and not being able to write around it which is why the plot kind of fixes itself quick and is a leeeetle bit bad but there's some unresolved bitterness in that relationship for sure lmao she has a LOT 2 say!! did I mention there's angst in here? insecurity/self-doubt and miscommunication!!! in abundance!!! but!! luke is a cutey patootie in this I wrote his part with a lil smile on my face 💖 also a ridiculous conversation about huffing glue lmao

Series Masterlist

Previous Part (Chapter Four)

A/N: ok so in the grand scheme of things this is both a filler chapter and also like a pivotal point in the story to set something later up, but when I was planning this entire fic out, the only directive I gave myself for this specific chapter was insert angst. you wouldn't believe the amount of times I've written and rewritten and gone back and forth on what's in here. it's the kind of instruction only a complete melon would give themselves and I clearly just hate myself in ways that are spooky and strange to submit myself to this kind of torture.

and I hear your cries of hasn’t this fic just been angst so far??? yes!! you may be correct!! but you don’t get a rainbow without a bit of rain hun!!! grab an umbrella!!! I promise good will come of this lmao

I'm sorry this one took so long, it's the only chapter I didn't have any kind of plan or direction for obviously and I tried to come up with so many different options for the talia plot before I landed on whatever this is, but the next one I do have some scenes written out in my plan so shouldn't be as long in between. my goal has always been a chapter a week but like I said the other day work has been a lot for me the past couple of weeks so I am genuinely sorry for making you wait!!

you guys were very fun and very kind to me after the last chapter so please please please lets keep the good vibes going come chat to me about your thoughts about the fic about the weather about anything!! 💓

Nico

When Nico and Talia had first started dating, there had been an element of excitement to the dynamic. Nico hadn’t properly dated anyone in a while - had casual flings here and there, and for the most part spent his time swallowing down his burgeoning feelings for his best friend - and there was a novelty to starting something with someone new.

He had all the intentions of building something serious with her. She was fun, got on with his friends, had ties close to home that meant he wouldn’t be putting a wedge between the two of them should he want to travel back in his breaks, and sinking his teeth into the challenges of a relationship was something that actually intrigued him.

He liked planning dates, liked buying gifts to see that buzz of joy and gratitude it would elicit, and he liked the companionship - liked having someone there when he came back from a long roadie or a tough string of games. 

He liked it so much he never really opened his eyes to the fact that Talia didn’t. 

She didn’t like the dates he planned - didn’t like the restaurants he chose, the movies he wanted to share with her, the bars him and the guys frequented. She didn’t like America, didn’t like their coffee shops, thought their pastries were packed with too much sugar, their portion sizes were too large for her ever to enjoy going for lunch, always complaining about feeling bloated and sluggish after every meal. She hated Jersey - wanted to spend all her time across the Hudson, looking down on everyone she met and everywhere they went together. She didn’t make much use of the gifts he bought her - let every bouquet of flowers die a quick, careless death, said the watch he bought her didn’t go with enough of her other jewellery and turned her nose up at every effort he made to make his apartment feel more like her home. 

She wasn’t all that comforting when it came to companionship, either. Rolled her eyes when he came home aching and exhausted, went out without him on the days he was coming back from a roadie and returned home when he had long retired to his bed. She would always want to meet up with her girlfriends instead of hanging around the team, and only ever wanted to come to games if she could bring her own entourage - mostly to show off her connections and hardly ever to actually support him.

And so, despite the initial attraction, despite the excitement that first came with their blossoming relationship, Nico can only look at Talia with disinterest and frigidity now.

He barely greets her as he opens the door to his apartment, moving aside to let her in and waiting for her to trudge her small case in behind her before he closes it, leaning against the surface and watching her discard her bag and keys on the counter with familiarity.

When she turns to face him, running a hand through her hair and huffing out a big sigh, he takes in her dishevelled appearance.

Even when travelling, Talia usually takes great pride in her pristine exterior - hair blow-dried, outfit co-ordinated and steam-pressed to perfection, not a crease or stain in sight, and usually a light layer of makeup to cover the slight imperfections like the darkened under eyes and redness around her nose. This isn’t like her.

She looks like she’s been messing with her hair the whole 8 hour flight out and beyond, her eyes are rimmed-red with smudges of brown at the corners, her lips are chapped and swollen like she’s been crying, and her sweatpants don’t match her hoodie. It’s almost like she’d thrown on whatever she could find and caught the first flight out, fresh out of bed.

“What’s going on?” He cuts straight to the chase, losing all formality and courtesy. He should feel bad for his callous greeting, but she had broken up with him over text not even a month ago - she doesn’t exactly deserve outstretched arms and a warm embrace, he thinks.

“Hi Talia, how have you been, Talia? It’s nice to see you Talia.” She mocks, a frown overtaking her features immediately. “I’m absolutely amazing, thanks for caring, Nico!” Sarcasm spews from her tongue like pure venom, and his eyes practically roll into the back of his head.

Nico pushes himself off of the door, heavy footsteps leading him into his kitchen where he can make himself a coffee to get through this. His watch reads 6:05 - far too early for her antics - and rising to her nagging is only going to make things worse.

“Do you want a drink?” He asks, as he busies himself with his coffee press, unable to look at her too long without the pricks of guilt irritating him.  He doesn’t even know what he has to feel guilty about.

“I’ll get it myself,” she scoffs, venturing over to the fridge and pouring out some orange juice - her movements around his space eerily natural. She slams back most of the drink as he works out how to brew his coffee - but she sees right through him. He’s hardly ever used the press before, and he’s just doing so now to avoid her in whatever capacity he can. “I need money.”

Nico’s almost positive he hasn’t heard her right - that there’s some kind of mix up between her standard German and his Swiss - and he slowly turns to properly face her, brows slanting into a deep frown as he assesses her expression.

She has a hand on her hip, her jaw set and her eyes darkened and serious. 

“You have money.”

Talia comes from money - her father is some kind of film producer and her mother an artist, if Nico remembers correctly - and she makes good money, herself. She’s been a print model since she was scouted in some market in Munich since she was 15, has had her face plastered in ads in magazines and catalogues around the world. She’s hardly strapped for cash. She gets things gifted to her by whatever company she can get a hold of. What could she possibly need him to give her money for?

“Not enough.” Her tone is cold, her demeanour the same, and if Nico can still gauge her emotions correctly, there’s an element of blame that she is starting to shift towards him, and his whole body starts to feel tense.

“Not enough for what?”

He can’t quite tell what feeling washes over him - worry, at the thought she’s gotten herself into some kind of trouble, stress, at the thought this could be a recurring thing, and potentially pity, at the way she’s so clearly carrying the weight of something heavy - something she’s lugged all the way across the Atlantic on a long haul flight with her.

“Not enough to pay the guy who’s blackmailing me not to leak the videos that I sent to you.”

“What vide-“ he bites back, and the immediate arch of her brow tells him all he needs to know. “Oh.”

Shit.

“Oh? That’s all you have to say?” She sneers, fury in her gaze and dismay in her tone. “You’ve ruined my life, and all I get is an oh?”

“Whoa, slow down, I’ve ruined your life?”

Nico has never been one to shame any girl for sending explicit pictures - he’d been more than willing to receive them at the time - but he hadn’t ever forced her hand. He hadn’t even asked her for them, in the first place. 

She’d taken it upon herself to spice things up, as she had put it at the time, when the team had gone on the road in early December. It was just after he’d returned from his injury - a time in which he’d spent mentally distanced from her as he’d focused so much on getting back to the game, their relationship consisting mainly of not-so-passionate sex to avoid aggravating his injury and hardly of any kind of meaningful conversation - and she had thought that keeping him on his toes on a roadie would mean he’d come back more interested than ever.

If he’d been looking out for red flags at the time, he might have caught that blaring one; needing to try new things only a few months into a relationship to keep it fun and light.

He’d been in his hotel room in Seattle, freshly showered and ready to throw himself straight into bed when his phone had started to ping. It was suggestive texts at first, are you alone? And I’m thinking about you. Then it had been pictures, hands over lingerie and fingers between glossy, pouted lips.

And then videos, one after the other before he had any chance to respond - her phone set up far enough away that her whole body was in frame, touching herself while laying on his bed and calling out for him.

He had called her instead of sending anything back, and as he realises the severity of the situation, a selfish part of him is glad he did so.

“Talia, I didn’t even save those videos, and I definitely didn’t show them to anyone else.”

Nico could never. Not only for the fact that he was raised to be a decent human being, but he has a sister - if anyone ever did that to Nina, he’d tear them apart, limb from limb. 

“You’re the only person I’ve ever sent anything to.” She seems to have made her mind up, and Nico feels as if his heart plummets through his torso at the realisation. She’s travelled all this way because she genuinely believes he’s the cause of this - that he’s shared intimate videos of her without her consent, to someone who would extort her for them. “And he sent me some pictures as proof, had information about me like the address of this apartment.”

“Talia, I swear on my mother’s life, I wouldn’t do that to you - to anyone, not ever.”

Tears well in her crystalline eyes, and Nico waits with bated breath as she assesses the situation in her head. 

He isn’t a liar - he has never given her a reason to think he is one. In their time together, he had always been honest, always been loyal, and he hopes at the very least - despite her obvious distain for him now, and how little she ended up caring about their relationship in the end to cut it off in the way she did - she thought of him as kind. 

He can do nothing but be patient, let her come to whatever conclusion on her own, and it’s only when he spots the quiver in her bottom lip that he takes an apprehensive step forward, ready to console her if needed.

She practically throws herself into his arms, wrapping her own around his waist and bawling into his chest, and all he can do is hold her and wait. He tries to rub a soothing hand up and down her back, holding the other against her head as her body wracks with sobs. All he can feel is the pounding of his own heartbeat, pulsing throughout his entire body until it’s all he can hear, too.

Nico does his best to comfort her, shushing and cooing and whispering how it’s going to be alright, but it does little to help. She’s beyond relief.

“There’s a guy who said he can track whoever is doing this to me,” she sniffles as she pulls herself away. “He’s in Jersey City Heights, he’s some sort of ethical hacker, whatever that means, I’m going to meet him and he’s gonna go through my phone.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Nico doesn’t even hesitate to ask - if not to protect her, and make sure she isn’t unknowingly getting herself into an even more dangerous situation, then to protect himself too. If someone has Talia’s pictures, and she only sent them to him, there’s a possibility his phone had been hacked, and if this guy is as ethical as he says, maybe he can check Nico’s stuff, too, just to be safe.

She gives him an appreciative smile, eyes still glassy and cheeks flushed. “I’d really appreciate that.”

“I’m gonna shower, then we can go. You can grab whatever to eat while you’re waiting.” He backs away from her completely, only just able to acknowledge the ache in his muscles once the intensity of the situation has settled a little, and he just needs to stand under the steaming spray and clear his mind before he properly immerses himself in her company. 

He has a lot more than this whole mess that he needs to think about, and maybe a shower can bring him a little clarity on how exactly he’s going to explain himself to the beautiful girl whose bed he had abruptly left not even an hour ago. 

“Why are you dressed?”

Nico stops in his tracks.

When he had got back to his apartment, he’d made a little effort for it to seem like he’d been there all night. He’d gone through to his bedroom, mussed up his sheets to make it seem like he had been sleeping in them - and not with the anticipation that Talia was going to be entering his bedroom, but with her, he never knows - trying to retrace the steps of his usual routine before he goes to bed, he had closed all the blinds, had moved his gym bag by the door.

But he hadn’t changed.

Still adorned in his sweatshirt and jeans from the night before, the clothing feels all that much heavier on his body as she brings attention to it, and he quickly racks his brain to come up with a valid excuse that doesn’t rouse further suspicion.

“I fell asleep in these clothes.” As easy as the lie comes out, he doesn’t feel great saying it. Doesn’t feel like erasing the night he had shared with Poppy is for the greater good, even if it is just to Talia, but avoiding another difficult conversation is a must right now - especially when he’d already lied to her on the phone. “Was out late with the guys last night, Timo threw a party for my birthday.”

“Right,” she drags out, and when he turns back around, she casts a scrutinising glance over him, top to bottom. “Sorry, I forgot.”

“No worries,” he shrugs, genuinely not offended. She has no reason to remember his birthday. Not anymore. “Like I said, help yourself to whatever, I’ll try not to be long.” 

When he undresses for his shower, he’s thankful he hadn’t had the foresight to change in anticipation of Talia’s arrival. He probably would have donned a t-shirt and some shorts, oblivious to the visible indents on his thighs where Poppy had dug her nails in as she took him in her mouth.

His chest and torso are littered with scratches, some faint, some a little deeper, and he can’t get the right angle to see his back but he imagines they’re the same - the memory of her clutching at him as both of their climaxes approached is vivid enough for him to picture the marks she left behind.

He groans as the thought of her brings back that swirling feeling in the pit of his stomach, as he notices the blooming arousal pool there, and feels himself harden as he steps under the spray of his shower.

If his phone had been on do not disturb through the night, he could be in the shower with Poppy, instead.

He could have woken up to her in his arms, could have pecked at her sleep-swollen lips until it brought her out of her slumber, and spent his morning making up for lost time just like he had promised her last night. He could have made light work of the pleasure he had given her the night before - could have had her underneath him in her bed, tangled up in the mess of sheets and falling apart before they shared a morning shower, where he’d have held her up against the tiles and would’ve moved into her until they couldn’t tell where he ended and she began. He’d have made her breakfast, something sweet, so that as she sat and watched him atop the kitchen counter he had tasted her on for the first time not even 12 hours before, he’d press his tongue into her mouth after she had eaten and savour the flavour of strawberries that had settled between her lips.

Instead, he’s here, turning the temperature of his water down until any and all excitement in his body is dampened, and all he can focus on is the effect the cold has on all his other aching muscles.

Once he has showered and gotten dressed - and has come to the conclusion that any further thoughts about Poppy need to wait until the Talia problem is resolved and out of his hands, he finds his ex girlfriend sprawled across his couch, music playing from the speaker in the corner, and taking helping herself to a whole new level. 

Her case is opened where she had left it by the door, and she’s set herself a little vanity up on his coffee table, fixing her appearance before they leave.

She’s changed out of her mismatched sweats, has dressed herself in jeans and a sweater, and has found an extension cable long enough for her to plug in whatever hot tool she’s currently running through her hair.

“You take the longest showers in the history of man,” she rolls her eyes, not even casting a glance his way as she focuses on her own reflection in the little mirror she must have brought with her. “I do not want to know what it is you get up to in there.”

“I was barely 30 minutes, are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, almost,” she runs the tool through her bangs until they flick out at the edges on either side of her face, and it reminds him of all the times he had watched her while waiting for her to finish getting ready. It makes him feel uneasy how familiar it all is, how she’s so quickly made herself at home again in his space.

He wants to tell her she needs to pack her stuff back up, that she won’t be staying here and needs to give his keys back, but the weight of the situation at hand dawns on him before he can open his mouth.

He’ll wait until they get back later, his decision depending on the outcome of their visit to her hacker friend.

As much as he doesn’t want her around, he isn’t going to kick her out with no place to go if her life is still shrouded in unsafe circumstances. 

Talia unplugs her stuff, wraps the cord around the handle of the brush she was using, and places it on a mat she must have brought with her so it doesn’t burn through the surface of the table. “Kay, let’s go.”

She marches ahead of him, picking up her bag and keys on the way out and leaving him to lock up while she calls for the elevator. They wait together in silence, his heart thudding an anxious rhythm in his chest as he anticipates the arrival of the elevator - and thankfully, it arrives empty.

He tries to distance himself from her as they enter, him standing in one corner, and hoping she takes the other, but she doesn’t quite get the memo, standing obliviously in the centre as she types away to someone on her phone and he presses the button to go to the basement.

Nico watches the numbers go down with bated breath. His floor, the next, the next one after that, and he uses any good will he has left with the universe to hope and pray it skips the floor coming up - but, as is just his luck, the elevator comes to a stop with a soft thud, and the doors open to reveal the very situation he’s been hoping to avoid. 

Jack walks straight in, eyes cast down to the phone in his hands, distractedly typing away and not even noticing the button for the parking level has been pressed before he pushes it, himself.

Luke notices straight away, halting in his movements to enter the space as his gaze flickers between the two people already occupying it. 

He diverts his eyes when they meet Nico’s head dropping as he steps in and stands beside his brother, uttering a quick greeting of, “Hey, Cap.”

Jack’s attention is captured immediately, spinning at an almost dizzying speed to face his captain, phone disregarded into his back pocket. “Schao! I thought you’d be at-,”

He’s thankfully able to tune into his perception before he carries on with his train of thought, a subtle movement in his peripheral diverting his gaze to the figure stood to the side of Nico. 

“Talia. Hi.”

“Hi, Jack.” Nico cringes inwardly at how disinterested she sounds. “Luke.” Talia had never really cared for Nico’s teammates - especially not the younger guys like Jack and Luke. She was quick to pass judgement, making comments on their maturity, or apparent lack-thereof, and wasn’t the biggest fan of how close Nico was with the pair. Didn’t like the time or attention he gave them considering the close quarters they lived in, and had always been resentful. She always claimed her English wasn’t good enough to hold a proper conversation with them, but he’d seen her enough around her American friends to know it wasn’t true.

“We’re just meeting up with some of the guys for breakfast.” Jack says, cautiously, in an attempt to fill the silence. The invitation remains unspoken, but Nico can tell in the way the younger boy cocks his head and meets his eye that he’s gauging his current situation for the morning.

“We have plans.” Talia must be able to tell what he was getting at, too and Nico can see Luke’s eyes narrow as soon as the word resonates in his head. Plans. Pre-meditated. Made before she had sprung all of this on him within the last hour or two. Panic stirs within him, and his throat itches to speak the truth, but it’s just not the right time to do so with Talia stood beside him. If he starts getting defensive, she’ll start asking questions, and the boys will have to bear witness to him skirting around the matter of Poppy. 

It’s not a good look no matter which way he swings it. He’s stuck in a thick, dark, tarry mess of not wanting to hurt anyone’s feelings but making all the wrong decisions. A minefield of not knowing how to explain himself without raising a million questions on either side, and hoping one of the brothers might toe the line of the boundaries of their relationship and just straight up ask why Talia is here.

He knows he has fucked up without the way neither of them are looking him in the eye.

He knew it the second Poppy’s door had locked behind him this morning - he doesn’t need Luke refusing to meet his gaze, doesn’t need Jack’s shifting side eye to tell him he’s made a mistake. 

“I’ll text you later.” Nico says, mainly to Jack but still trying to meet his brother’s eyes with no luck. It’s an attempt to say something, without saying anything. A silent beg not to jump to conclusions about what they’ve seen - and, although he knows they wouldn’t, not to tell anyone else. Not whichever of the guys they are meeting up with, not anyone else on the team, and definitely not Poppy.

“Yeah, sure,” Jack mutters in a poor attempt to hide his discomfort, and an even worse attempt at masking his relief when the doors ping open on the parking level.

“Have fun with your plans,” Luke huffs out, his tone like a tight fist clutching at Nico’s chest despite his courteous choice of words.

“We will,” Talia forces a smile. Nico gets the feeling she isn’t as oblivious to the tension as he hopes she is.

The four of them separate into their pairs with mumbled goodbyes, Jack and Luke heading off to Luke’s car on one side of the garage, and Nico and Talia heading to his on the other, and Nico can’t even let out a sigh of pseudo-relief before Talia jumps on him.

“That was weird.”

“We broke up, they weren’t expecting to see us together.” He quickly excuses as he starts the car up, turning on the heat and hoping the soft buzz of the air will fill the silence enough that she doesn’t feel the need to talk. 

“It’s been like 3 weeks, most couples get back together after their first breakup.”

Has it only been 3 weeks? He thinks, shuddering at how little time had actually passed between her sending that text and him restoring balance to his life.

“We’re not most couples,” he shrugs, shutting that train of thought immediately as he starts to make his way out of the parking garage, ascending the ramp where the doors open up to reveal the dull beam of the winter morning sun. “You dumped me over text a week before Christmas, we’re not getting back together.”

“Oh yeah, I bet you were real cut up about it,” she jibes, sarcastically. “Probably landed straight in the bed of some desperate puck bunny more than happy to take your mind off of how awful I was to you.”

His mind immediately goes to Poppy, to last night, to her bed - and despite the complete bullshit Talia has fabricated in her head, despite how much he wants to tell her she has it all wrong, he can’t bear to twist himself even further into knots to skirt around mentioning the girl who did make him better.

“We’re not having this conversation right now.” He decides, tapping at the screen in the console of his car until he brings up the navigation. “Put in the address you need, we’re not too far from The Heights.”

The location she enters into the system is for an unassuming condo in a quiet, suburban area. The neighbourhood itself is picturesque, the buildings colourful, the paths lined with trees that seemed to flourish even in the midst of winter, and when Nico pulls up across the street, he notices the amount of families around - parents walking their kids to school and couples with dogs getting their morning steps in. It’s the last place he imagines some hacker to be shacked up, but maybe that’s the point.

He still doesn’t entirely understand the ethical part.

“It’s the one with the red brick and the balcony,” Talia points to the other side of the road as she unbuckles her seatbelt, and Nico looks over at the building as if he’s going to be able to see all the secrets stored within it.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, number 414.” She shows him the messages she has exchanged with the guy, and sure enough, the address matches up. “C’mon, the sooner we get in there, the sooner we can figure this out.”

He follows her across the street, adjusting the cap he wears atop his head and making sure it conceals his identity from anyone with eyesight good enough to catch it, trying to shrug off the discomfort of the whole situation as he waits for someone to pick up the buzzer Talia relentlessly presses.

He hears a different kind of buzz, lighter, like the manual zoom of a camera, and cranes his neck to assess their surroundings as they wait, before he catches sight of the device in the top corner of the porch, facing directly onto them.

He hears the click of a lock as soon as his eyes make contact with the thing, and cautiously tries the handle on the door until it pushes all the way down, letting them into the building. 

The door to the ground floor condo is open, and stood in the entrance is a guy no older than 20, dressed in all black with dark, beady eyes framed by wire-rimmed glasses. If Nico could find it in him to see the humour in the situation, he’d laugh at how he looks like Luke - a mop of curly brown hair, tall with a slim build and ever so slightly poor posture.

He straightens up as the two of them approach, Nico keeping Talia behind him as he assesses the safety of the situation. If they’re being lured into some kind of trap, he could definitely take this guy - he can’t even maintain direct eye contact, never mind manage to subdue a man of Nico’s stature.

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing someone, Talia.”

He’s soft-spoken, his voice ever so nasally, and despite the fact that he’s talking to the girl behind him, his gaze has settled on Nico’s chest.

“My name’s Nico.” He introduces himself, holding out a hand to shake. He thinks he can write him off as a threat, for now, and if making him feel comfortable encourages him to help them, he wants to put him at ease. “

“I know who you are.” He doesn’t shake Nico’s hand. “I’m Myles. Come in.”

Myles doesn’t wait for the two of them, marching back into his place and leaving the door open for Talia and Nico to enter and close behind them. 

Nico isn’t surprised by the space - from his brief encounter with the resident so far, it fits him to a tee; neat, impersonal, furniture that looks fresh out of a catalogue. He follows him over to the corner of his living room, a PC set up with several monitors that he can’t tell are on until they’re standing straight in front of them.

Myles throws himself down into the large swivel chair, spinning until he’s facing the two of them and crossing his arms over his torso with disinterest. “So, nudes?”

Straight to the point. Nico can’t exactly be mad at it.

Talia steps out from behind him, handing her unlocked phone to Myles. “The messages started last week, just after New Years. Straight to my number, not in DMs or anything, but the number doesn’t even come up for me to call it from another phone or anything, just says unknown.”

Myles takes her phone and plugs it into his setup without even looking at whatever she has opened on it, and Nico watches as the screens come alive with mirrors of the device and some other apps that launch as soon as it connects. 

“That’s more helpful than you think, they have to use an app to be able to anonymously text you, makes it easier to identify them.”

The way Myles talks is monotonous and detached, but the way he works is anything but. His fingers move quicker than Nico’s eyes can track on his keyboard, typing away at whatever as different things flash up and leave his screen. It like something straight out of a spy movie.

“So we can find out who it is just from that?” He asks, arms folding over his chest as he watches in almost-awe.

“Not exactly. If it is a hacker, I could identify their signature. Doesn’t mean I could identify them, but we can work around it potentially.”

Talia throws herself down on the couch behind them exasperatedly, sighing loudly and making her displeasure known. “You told me you could track them down, that’s what I’m paying you to do.”

“I told you I could help you, I didn’t say I could specifically track anyone, that’s not how this works.”

“How does it work then?” Nico asks.

Myles wheels his chair to the side to make room for Nico to get closer, and starts walking him through the process, pointing through the different apps he uses and explaining how he uses them. One deciphers which app the person used to message Talia. Once that’s been deduced, he uses another to enter a backdoor into that app’s servers, perusing through them until he finds the account that sent the text, making sure the date, time and then content line up. Once he’s found the account, he can see the other texts sent from it, and a gallery spreads across two screens, with maybe hundreds of pictures, videos, messages and transactions all to or from that same account.

“You’re telling me you have the power to do all this and you don’t use it to like rob banks or something?”

“Ethical hacker, clue’s in the name.” Myles shrugs. Nico looks back to Talia, her jaw set as she picks at her nails out of boredom. It’s probably taken about fifteen minutes for this guy to work an absolute miracle, and she looks like she couldn’t care less. “We use all this information, and the access I have on the server, to shut this dude down and cut his con before he can do it to anyone else.”

“Whoa whoa,” Talia shoots up, “Won’t that make him mad? Make him just post all the photos?”

“I doubt it,” the hacker comments, bringing up a couple of the photos on the screens, some of Talia, some of another girl, making Nico divert his eyes. “They’re not even real.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Excuse me?”

Talia and Nico both question at the same time, leaning in to get a proper look to confirm what is being told to them. The other pictures Myles had brought up, the ones of other girls, are actually kind of the same. The same poses, the same backgrounds, the same outfits, or lack thereof, just different faces and different hair.

“They’re called deep fakes. Photoshop, essentially.” He has that aloof tone to his words again, and Nico can’t quite believe how simple it seems for him to say. “They put a bunch of your pictures into an AI generator and give it instruction, like put this face on a body posed like this or wearing that. I’d assume the video they have is the same.”

“How is that even possible?” Talia gasps, pushing herself forward and snatching the mouse from Myles’ grasp. She clicks into what she assumes is the video, and it starts playing before she can think better of it, thankfully without any sound. 

It’s Talia - that much is obvious from the initial close up of her face - but Nico doesn’t recognise anything else about it. He doesn’t recognise the room she’s in, the bed she’s on, the things she’s doing. He’s never seen this before. It’s definitely not one of the videos she had sent him, and when he looks closer, he realises the little moles on her ribs aren’t even there.

None of it is real.

“You said he sent you the photos? You didn’t realise they weren’t the ones you took?” He can’t conceal the bite in his tone, his brows furrowing as he looks at her in disbelief. She’s flown out here, disrupted his peace, blamed him for blackmailing her, and she can’t even recognise what is or isn’t her own body. 

“They looked real, I-,” Her shock disappears as quickly as it had come about, her mood shifting and a glare all of a sudden being directed at her ex boyfriend. “I wouldn’t have accused you if they didn’t look real, Nico.” She snaps, frowning at him like this is his fault. “You have no idea what it’s like to be threatened like that, I won’t have you blame me for panicking.”

Slivers of guilt seep into his subconscious, and he takes a deep breath, diverting his gaze uneasily and letting out a big sigh.

He knows he should be a little more compassionate, but there’s panicking, and then there’s this.

She had accused him of ruining her life.

“What about the rest of it?” Nico asks, “Like how did he get her number or have my address? You said he had other information?”

“He did,” Talia nods, looking over to Myles.

“The address he probably got when he got your number, and he could have got that from anywhere. Could be something as small as you ordering something online and the store having a data breach, or clicking a link that shared your IP address, and getting your phone information from that.” Myles starts his typing again, keeping a tight grip on his mouse so that it can’t be snatched again. “I could probably find out actually, they’re pretty easy to spot, do you clear your history often?”

“I wouldn’t even know how to do that,”

“Perfect,” Again, his fingertips work at lightening speed, and Nico watches as instagram opens on one of the screens. “Yeah, a DM sent to you from… Devils_tea. You opened a link to a shared drive to upload some pictures, the drive probably had malware and the pictures have location metadata.”

Nico rolls his eyes, that small ebb of pity washing almost completely away, and before Talia can stop him, Myles carries on. “Some of the pictures you sent them are the ones they used for the AI photos, look your face in this one is the exact same as this photo they threatened to leak.”

Nico recognises these photos. The ones that had been plastered all over social media when their relationship had leaked. Pictures of them back in Switzerland, on a weekend trip to Ibiza, selfies of them in his apartment, and even a picture of the two of them with his parents back at his family home in Valais.

He has been far too oblivious to Talia’s games for far too long, he realises. 

Of course she had been the one to leak everything - who else would have had those photos - but he hadn’t even considered it would be her; she had faced the harshest aftermath for it, why would she subject herself to all the subsequent grief that came with people knowing about their relationship?

Thank God for this guy’s lack of social cues, Nico thinks, or he would never have known that for as long as they had been together, she had been violating his revered privacy and trust.

“Nico, that wasn’t-,” Talia’s panic is evident, wide eyes, trembling hands raised in defence, “I must have been hacked,”

“Actually, there’s no-,” Myles begins to interject, fingers working again to fact check, but Nico doesn’t need him to validate what he already knows.

“Shut up,” Talia snarls, with a finger pointed at him, “You don’t know what you’re talking about, we’re done here.” She reaches forward to snatch her phone back, yanking out the wire that connects it to his monitors and throwing it onto the desk. “We’re leaving, and if you think I’m paying you anything, you’re deluded.” 

Talia marches past them and straight out of the condo, slamming every door she possibly can behind her. Nico can only cringe as the sounds of her stomping footsteps echo until they fade out - until she’s probably outside and waiting for him back at his car.

“Doesn’t she want me to shut this thing down?”

“I’ll pay you.” Nico sighs, reaching into his pocket for his phone and trying to push down the feeling that arises when he’s met with a blank lock screen.

Poppy hasn’t messaged him. 

Not that he deserves for her to make it easy, to let him off the hook and pretend he hasn’t royally fucked things up with her.

“If you stop him, does he still have all the photos? He could still release them?”

“Yeah, but they’re pretty easy to validate as fakes, especially when you have the source material. I don’t think this guy is sophisticated enough for a full blown hack into her phone for the real thing. I couldn’t find evidence of any breach of her cloud or her device.”

Nico nods, but the information does little to quell the anxiety that squeezes his chest in a vice-like grip. 

This whole morning has been nothing but a giant waste of his time. From the second his eyes opened, to this moment right now, he’s made nothing but mistakes.

Not putting his phone on sleep mode before he and Poppy went to bed had been a mistake. Taking Talia’s call had been a mistake. Not waking Poppy up had been a mistake. Leaving without a note, without a text, leaving at all - it had all been one error after another, and all he has left to do is face up to the fact.

He can’t do anything to dwindle the panic rousing in every fibre of his being, the scarring marks left by torturous lashings of regret that whip at his skin.

He’s never felt so ashamed of himself, in such disbelief at his own decisions.

Why didn’t he just wake her?

She’s the most level-headed, acceptable person he knows. She would have understood. He hadn’t had a reasonable explanation at the time, and he doesn’t really have one now - but she would have accepted it, whatever he could have told her, she would have listened, waited until he could give her more.

He needs to see her, to explain, before it’s too late.

If he thinks about the feeling settling in his stomach, if he can compare it to anything, it’s like running from a blazing inferno of doubt and insecurity, licks of fire racing to catch up to him, the soles of his feet pressing into the sizzling ground - and Poppy is the cool embrace of safety.

She is light cracking through a window he just needs to break through to make it out.

If he can get to her quick enough, if he runs, and runs, maybe he’ll make it before he’s jiggling at a red hot handle that won’t move, won’t give, won’t budge.

If he can just talk to her, maybe the morning from hell will be outweighed by the days of resilience, weeks of efforts, years of loving her in whatever capacity, and the promise of something better.

He just needs to get rid of Talia.

The car journey back to his apartment is carried out in a deafening silence. She had tried to talk to him when he’d made his way out of Myles’ condo, when he had found her waiting by his Mercedes with crossed arms and a sour look on her face, but he’d told her he didn’t want to hear it, that they’d deal with it in private.

He hardly wanted a showdown with her in the middle of the street.

And so, she sat in his passenger seat, jaw set, glaring out the window and letting out the occasional huff or puff for attention that he wasn’t entertaining.

The elevator ride up to his place had been the same. Silent, filled with the type of tension you could cut with a knife, and all he could do was ignore her continued petulance and take deep breaths to calm himself down. In through his nose, out through his mouth, overlooking the way she tapped her foot in his peripheral vision, and almost audibly rolled her eyes every few seconds. 

“Would it have killed you to defend me in there?” She scoffs as soon as the door closes behind them in his apartment, “You just let him accuse me of all that stuff and completely invade my privacy!”

Nico screws his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose.

He can’t blow up, can’t stoop to her level. He won’t feel good after the fact. He knows how Talia operates, should have known she’d immediately play the victim card, and he isn’t falling into the trap of arguing to the point of being in the wrong.

He’ll say something he regrets and she’ll use it to her advantage, somehow.

“You asked him to go through your phone, Talia.” He sighs, making his way over to the kitchen and getting himself some water. Chugging at it does little to soothe the burning feeling prickling at the back of his mouth, or the itch of his tongue to spit out a scathing retort. “He’s shut down the guy behind it, he can’t message you or anyone else with any more threats, you should be happy.”

“I should be happy?” She follows him wherever he tries to get away, crowding his space and jabbing a pointed finger into his arm. “You have no idea what I’ve been going through this past week. I thought my career was over! How was I supposed to know it was fake?”

“You didn’t even look at the pictures-,”

“Because I was panicking! I was upset, you can’t expect me to be able to recognise what’s been photoshopped when I’m scared like that!”

“But you can fly straight over here and pin the blame on me for ruining your life? You weren’t too upset to point the finger, Talia,”

“Don’t be an asshole, Nico, it doesn’t suit you.” 

“I’m being the asshole? You don’t even care about the trail of destruction you leave behind you, do you? You send private pictures of us, of me, of my family to random people online who you don’t even know, for what, Talia? For money?”

“I don’t need their money-,”

“So it was just for the attention? You get to parade our relationship around like it means nothing more to you than a title, and once you get your fifteen minutes and a few more instagram followers, you just jet back home and dump me over a text?”

“Oh my God,” she cries, flailing her arms dramatically, following him yet again as he makes his way into his living room, picking her stuff up after her that she had discarded here before they left and throwing it into her travel bag. “Stop playing the victim, for Christ’s sake, you’re hardly heartbroken over it. I know for a fact you’ve been hooking up with someone, one of the girls messaged me that they saw you leave a party with her on New Years!”

“So that’s what this is?” Nico snaps, pointing to her, to her stuff, “You think I’m moving on so you fly back out here and spring this bullshit on me, try to make me feel bad?”

“You have some nerve, Nico,” Talia scoffs, folding her arms across her chest and levelling him with a darkened glare.

“I have nerve? You’re the one who broke up with me out of nowhere and think that you can just march back here and make demands, Talia, blaming me for something that was entirely your own doing.” He’s getting sick of walking on egg shells around the topic. If she hadn’t have been messaging people she wasn’t supposed to, this would never have happened - it’s no one’s fault but her own, and as harsh as it may be, he wants to wash his hands of the whole thing. “Calling me in the middle of the night, telling me I ruined your life, saying I need to give you money?”

“Out of nowhere?” Of course she would only pick up on that, he thinks. “My God, you are so self-absorbed.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Do you think that dating you is easy?” She questions with a measured step toward him. “Do you think I want to spend my life waiting around for my boyfriend, only for him to only ever come home grumpy,” another step, “Or whiny,” and another, “Or too tired and achey to do anything? And that’s when you do come home at all and aren’t half way across the country with the communication skills of a candle. It’s a constant uphill battle trying to get even a second of your attention, Nico, so God forbid I tried to gain some kind of advantage from being with you.”

Her words are starting to cut, but he tries not to react, tries not to bite back. He can count several ways in which she gained an advantage being with him, just off the top of the head - a girl like Talia is never shy of attention. Her courting gossip blogs and sending them private information is probably just scraping the barrel of the ploys she made for exposure while she was with him.

“I didn’t break up with you out of nowhere, I put up with you and the whole circus that comes with you for months, but God, is it exhausting being with you.”

“You knew what you were getting into, Talia. You knew my job, knew my life.” They had met initially through mutual friends - hockey friends of his back home, even - and she has other friends who happen to be wives or girlfriends of athletes. She can’t say she came into the relationship completely oblivious to the downsides of dating a professional player.

“Not really,” she shrugs, “All the other guys can find some sort of balance, but not you. All the other girls get a proper boyfriend, someone who spends time doing what they want to do, who sticks up for them when their psycho fans start to turn on them, who doesn’t keep them hidden away like some dirty secret.”

“That isn’t fair, I can’t control that stuff, Talia, it’s not my fault.” He wants to point out that she was the one engaging in their gossip and riling them up, but he can’t keep harping on about something she refuses to acknowledge. He doesn’t have the time, patience or energy for it anymore.

The initial ‘leaking’ of their relationship had caused their first major fight. Fans online had somehow - although Nico can now hazard a guess as to how - found out about the two of them, had dug into Talia, her background, her family, her job, and had found some pretty toxic posts on her social media. They had been old posts, and she had told Nico that wasn’t the kind of person she was anymore - and he had no reason not to believe her, had never seen or heard her act in the ways she had online in what she called her misguided youth - but someone in the PR department at the Devils had cottoned onto the topic, and had warned Nico of speaking out in her defence when the pitchforks started to raise.

He’d told her he supported her, but he couldn’t do so publicly - not without upsetting people within the organisation he had worked so hard to gain the respect of - and she had told him she understood. They hadn’t been together that long, it would have been a little unreasonable for him to put her above his work in the ways she was expecting, but she clearly doesn’t see it that way, now.

“Maybe not, but if I’d have known that being with you meant having my life invaded, my career ruined, I never would have followed you back here, Nico.” She sounds more solemn now - regretful, even - and as deep as her words cut, she says it like a piece of advice, “I just hope whatever poor girl you’ve got tangled up in your mess this time knows what she’s getting herself into.”

“And what’s that?” His throat feels tight as he speaks all of a sudden, his resolve in defending himself fading, and he tries to gulp down whatever lump is forming there but the feeling doesn’t budge.

This is what she’s good at.

Turning the tables. Reducing him to uncertainty of himself, of his actions, of his memory of their time together.

“A one-sided relationship with a guy who will never be able to put her first.”

There’s a point in every game he has ever had the misfortune of losing, as the seconds count down in the final third, where he has to come to terms with the fact that there’s no possible way for him to win. It’s sort of comparable to the way his insides churn when he’s on a plane and it drops into descent, like his body is falling at a different speed to his surroundings, or the feeling he gets in his gut when he’s hiking, and he dares to take a peek over the edge of whatever mountainside he’s trekking up, where his body can predict the fall, and his mind has set on there being nothing he can do about it.

This feels like all those feelings.

“Whoever she is, and I know she exists, she doesn’t deserve that. It’s not fair.”

Nico’s heart pounds in his chest, echoing and thrumming in his ears until all he can hear is the beat reverberating, ricocheting around his skull.

He can put Poppy first.

So many parts of their lives are intertwined, it would be so easy to make it work. They work together, they live close, he speaks to her more than he speaks to anyone else in his circle. They’ve spent more time together as friends than he has with any other girlfriend he’s had.

He’s wanted her for years, of course he can do it.

Except, deep down, he knows he can’t. Being in a committed relationship with someone is an entirely different ball game to a friendship, no matter how close he and Poppy have been over the years.

He knows there’ll come a point soon into the season where he has to knuckle down and focus, can’t let anything or anyone distract him, and he’ll close himself off. It’s what he has always done. He gets in his head, starts to carry too much weight that he can’t shift until that final buzzer blows - and he can only hope that it happens with his team in the playoffs. Winning, thriving, succeeding. And for that to happen, he can’t prioritise anything other than the game he’s already dedicated his life to, his training, and most importantly, his team.

It isn’t about what he wants.

What have you done? He thinks, his chest aching.

Talia is right.

Poppy doesn’t deserve that.

She doesn’t deserve him only being there in the physical sense, if she even gets that at all. Doesn’t deserve him getting snappy and stressed, doesn’t deserve him not being able to give her time, or give her attention or affection like he wants to, or like she’s worthy of.

“I need to go.” He manages to choke out with a shake of his head, shouldering past her to pick up his jacket - needing to be out of this conversation and away from Talia. “Leave the keys, I don’t want you here when I get back.”

He needs to see Poppy.

He never should have left her - he wishes with everything in him that he had soaked up the time he had with her before everything came tumbling down around him. And somewhere deep within him, there is a fragile, wilting piece of hope that clings to the belief he can make things right. He just needs her to hone in on it. If anyone can reach into the deepest cracks of his insecurities, can show him he’s overthinking things and everything is not as hopeless as he has made it out to be, it will be Poppy.

Poppy

The first time Poppy had ever fallen asleep beside Nico was at a movie night in Jack’s old apartment he shared with Ty Smith. Jack had invited more people round than could reasonably fit in their living room, and so everyone was smushed in - each chair and every inch of floor space used to its full capacity. 

Nico had attempted to save Poppy a space, to give him credit. He had scowled at each of his teammates who tried to throw themselves down in the tiny slot beside him - prime space, corner of the comfiest couch, facing the tv directly, a small table to the side where one could keep their drinks and snacks - only, by the time Poppy got there, he had barely gotten away with man-spreading to make room, so the small section of the couch between Nico and the arm rest had become her designated spot.

It was cosy, to put it nicely. He had to swing his arm over the back so that she wasn’t being assaulted by the hard dig of his shoulder with every laugh, and her closest leg was pretty much on top of his for most of the film.

She’d known the guys for almost a year - had been working in media, attending every game, home and away, and had integrated herself into the group pretty closely - and she felt pretty comfortable around everyone.

It wasn’t the kind of dynamic she had anticipated falling into when she first got the job with the Devils. She was supposed to start getting serious about her life - cracking down on mingling with co-workers and throwing herself into new social circles, and focusing on building a career for herself, climbing through the ranks and attaining the kind of success and happiness she could shove in her family’s disapproving faces - but the guys had charmed her.

Jack had been somewhat relentless in his pursuit of Poppy’s friendship. He rarely took no for an answer when it came to inviting her out. He was new to New Jersey - a much younger player in a slightly older team - and his rookie season had been rough, so it came naturally to Poppy to want to provide comfort. She introduced him to some of her friends, showed him her favourite spots close to his apartment, found him a decent barber, picked up extra fruit whenever she went to the farmers market near her parent’s house and took it over to his and Ty’s place when she came back home so she could mother him into having his 5-a-day as if he didn’t have access to the best nutrition coaches in the country. Despite her best efforts, Jack had weaselled his way under her skin in the way only a brother could.

Nico’s charm was entirely different.

Nico’s charm came in the form of convenience at first - in the oh I live that way, I can drive you and I have some time, I can do some media stuff for you type of way. Convenience blended into companionship - I haven’t eaten either, we should go for lunch together and I’ve been wanting to watch that movie, do you want to watch it with me?

It turned into grabbing food together, even on days neither of them were working - breakfast, brunch, lunch, dinner, even coffee or sometimes drinks if they could meet up with the rest of the team. It turned into him spending time at her place, whether it was helping her paint her apartment, putting up her new wardrobes, or just binging whatever crazy long series Poppy had decided to start over from the beginning - she provided him with a sense of familiarity and calm he couldn’t really find in anyone else he had met in his time in the states. She became his person, his home away from home, away from home.

And he became hers. 

There wasn’t as much she had to escape; her job not as strenuous, the expectations of her not as high, but when things built up for her - when her mother became overbearing, or her latest endeavour into a relationship crashed and burned - Nico was there. He’d make sure she had a distraction, made sure she was looking after herself, and, in turn, would look after her as well. He made sure she got home safe on nights out, or when they returned from a roadie and landed late - he would always make sure to see her off into the comfort of her own home before he went back to his own. 

And that first time she’d fallen asleep beside him, he’d done the same.

He’d wrapped an arm around her to make her as comfortable as possible for as long as he could, and when the movie had finished - when her face was burrowed into the side of his chest, soft snores falling from between her lips - he gently drew her back to consciousness with his hand stroking at her cheek.

She’d been a little startled, hand shooting up to wipe at her chin and thankful she hadn’t been drooling on him - although with the easy smile he was giving her, she had thought he of all people wouldn’t have minded. 

“Movie’s done, do you need a ride home?” His voice had been low and soft as not to worsen her apparent disorientation, and his hand was still lingering by the side of her face.

She had nodded, blinking away her sleepiness, and working her way up from the couch and onto her feet, stretching out her muscles as Nico did the same.

The two of them bid their goodbyes to the rest of the guys, made their way together to Nico’s car, and he had driven her back to her apartment, chatting on the drive about work and training. 

Poppy had been cramming to prepare for her interview for the Foundation at the time - had been getting herself seriously worked up, staying up late, getting up early, barely allowing herself any time for anything fun - and Nico had seen right through her. 

He’d stopped her before she got out of the car, had held her hand, rubbing at her knuckles with his thumb, and had told her that she should get some proper rest, and that she was going to absolutely rock their world in her interview in a few days time. And, knowing she was going to ignore any instruction he gave to make herself some decent dinner and go to bed early, had ordered her favourite Japanese takeout to be delivered a good half an hour after she got inside, with a text that followed telling her to sleep straight after she had finished.

She’d never expected to drift asleep with him on Jack’s couch - had never expected to open her eyes to the sight of his looking so warmly back at her.

And she hadn’t expected the same thing this morning, because, as her eyes drifted open to the intrusive light peaking through the cracks in her curtains, it wasn’t the first time she had woken up.

The first time had been to subdued movements, a slight groan of her bed frame, and the soft pattering of footsteps leading away. It had been to a hushed voice, the creak of her bathroom door, the flush of a toilet and the uttering of a name she had hoped she would never have to worry about again.

Talia.

The rest of his words had been uttered in his own language, but that she could understand.

She had acted purely on fight or flight instinct, laying back and pretending she was asleep - although as soon as she did, she regretted it, her mind racing at the million and one other possibilities she could have gone with. Sitting up, waiting for him to come out and asking him what was going on being the most rational.

But when had she ever gone with the most rational thought?

She tried not to react as she felt his presence, felt the soft press of his lips to her skin, or the placement of her bunny in her arms. Tried not to follow him as soon as he departed her bedroom, beg him to come back and whatever was going on could wait until the proper turn of the morning. Tried not to get up and go after him when the click of the lock to her main door echoed throughout the empty apartment.

And she tried not to cry as she laid in bed, overthinking herself back to sleep, thoughts racing to the point of exhaustion, and hoping when she woke up again it had just been a god-awful dream.

But it hadn’t.

The spot beside her in bed is empty, not even a crease in the pillow to prove he was ever there - only the t-shirt of his she still adorned, the one that when she takes a deep inhale, still smells like him, and the distinct aching between her thighs.

She finds more evidence of their night together in the bathroom, where she undresses herself with sore muscles and glances in the mirror to see the spattering of purple marks forming on her chest and neck. Her fingers trace over them lightly, her fleeting touch bringing vivid images forth of his lips pressing to her skin, practically able to feel the pressure of her flesh being nipped and bitten again.

He had been so attentive to her - so in tune with what she needed and wanted, and so ready to give her whatever that may be. He’d been gentle at some points, and purposeful at others, and every little thing he did, he did it with sweet disposition.

The kind of man who treats a girl like that doesn’t just leave her in the dead of night with no good reason, right?

Her mind races despite her body going into auto-pilot throughout her morning routine. Her shower is over in the flash of an eye, she strips her bed, starts her laundry, makes herself some tea and gets herself dressed - all the while weighing out all the possibilities of what could have taken him away from her, and what she would be able to understand. 

That quickly turns to her imagining the worst, and a tight, constricting feeling starts to consume her chest. 

There isn’t a single part of her apartment she can get away from the thoughts buzzing around her brain - her kitchen marred with the memory of what had happened on the counter, her couch, her bedroom, her bathroom - all carrying distinct memories of Nico that she needs to bench until she knows the truth.

She mistakenly thinks her escape might lie in her phone. There might be a text there waiting, explaining everything and relieving all the anxiety that has welled up in her very core.

Nia’s warnings from the night before don’t ring quick enough in her mind as the screen comes to life, the immediate barrage of notifications flooding in.

2 missed calls from Mom

Mom: Just calling to remind you of proper table etiquette in case it has slipped your mind, I won’t have you embarrass me in front of a Lyon.

Mom: Cutlery going from the outside in, hold your wine glass by the stem and dab with your napkin, don’t swipe!

Mom: Also let the man tuck your chair in and pay the bill, this 21st century woman nonsense is very unbecoming!

Mom: And I don’t want to have to bring this up but for the love of God, Poppy, have some class. I don’t want to hear mutterings of your promiscuity at the next luncheon.

Whoever taught her mom to text deserves a prison sentence, she thinks.

Tucker Lyon standing a girl up and ghosting her attempts to contact him is what’s unbecoming, not her trying to pay her half of the meal.

She can picture her mother as she reads the texts, sipping on her Manhattan on the couch in the great room, her dad already having retreated to bed at that time, and her having nothing better to do than sit and stew on her daughter’s sex life.

If she knew what was really going down last night, her mom would probably have a conniption.

Knowing she’ll no doubt be getting a call later that evening, Poppy swipes away at her text thread with her mom, immediately checking the notifications she hasn’t long received from her best friend.

Nia: hey if you happen to release yourself from Nico’s wandering hands at all today me and Kelsey are grabbing breakfast by my work!!

Nia: if you need refuelling we’ll be at Marco’s at 9 😘 

Perfect. Therein lies her escape. Breakfast with her best friends, where they can hopefully talk her down from the ledge she’s precariously placed herself on.

A catch up with her girls, and then she can distract herself with work.

Poppy: I’ll be there!!

“Hasn’t he text you or anything?” Nia asks, covering her mouth as she chews on her breakfast bagel, the three girls sat around a table inside their favourite cafe close to Nia’s office.

When Poppy and Nia had first moved in together, they rented an apartment in Hoboken, not too far, and their tradition of grabbing breakfast at Marco’s carried on despite Poppy living further down the river and working even further away in Newark. 

Kelsey had lived in Manhattan at that time, but she stayed over so often with the other girls that she practically spent majority of her week there, and so Poppy and Nia’s routine became hers.

Poppy had given the two of them a brief rundown of her night with Nico, a safe-for-work version of events, all leading up to the mysterious early morning phone call and swift departure.

“Nope,” she sighs, swiping to refresh her messages as if she hasn’t put her phone on loud just to be alerted when he does reach out.

“Have you text him?”

“Nope,” she repeats, putting the phone down and leaning back in her chair, running a hand through her already messed up hair. She’s going to have to throw it up if she wants to look any sort of presentable when she gets to work later.

“Is he usually this pathetic at communicating?” Kelsey asks, manicured nails swiping at a bunch of Sweet’n Lows like she’s trying to play Tetris with the packets. 

Kelsey hasn’t met Nico before, not that Poppy can remember.

Despite considering her one of her closest friends, their personal lives have never quite intertwined like that - not like hers and Nia’s.

In college, things were different. They were coming into their own together, figuring out just what they wanted their personal lives to be, and so Kelsey, Poppy and Nia would all share pretty much everything, just to have someone there to validate their feelings.

But that changed once they graduated.

Kelsey moved in with her boyfriend, Liam - who just so happens to be Poppy’s idea of hell-spawn.

The kind of guy her mother would probably love.

Liam worked on Wall Street, couldn’t go five minutes of conversation without talking about stocks or investment funds. His native language was risky money moves and belittling remarks, and he treated Kelsey like an accessory to parade around in public and discard in private.

Poppy had tried a few times to open Kelsey’s eyes to the way that it was, but it soon became apparent that she had to let her friend make her own mistakes, and some parts of their lives didn’t have to cross over.

They broke up around Thanksgiving, and Poppy had tried with all her might not to show her relief, but it has made her somewhat resentful when it comes to other relationships - like no one can be happy if she isn’t.

She knows it isn’t malicious, but she restrains from letting Kelsey all the way in, all the same.

“Not really,” Poppy lies, not wanting to clue her in on the Big Freezewhere he didn’t speak to her for months on end. It doesn’t entirely help her case. “I just don’t get why he’d sneak out to see her of all people, he told me they weren’t ever that solid, that he wasn’t happy with her.”

“Ooh, what if she’s pregnant?” Kelsey is entirely oblivious to the horrific realm of possibility she has just opened Poppy up to, evidenced by the casual chuckle and subsequent sip of her coffee. “Maybe she’s back to baby-trap him.”

Poppy thinks she would have to flee the state.

Nico is a family guy - if Talia is pregnant, he’d force himself to love her again, if he ever even stopped, for the sake of their gorgeous brown eyed, floppy haired baby, and push Poppy to the side just like he had before. And she’ll have to watch him from the sidelines, yearning for what she had just managed to touch the tips of her fingers to before it was violently yanked from her grasp. 

Maybe she’d have to flee the country even - move somewhere remote where she doesn’t even have the chance of being reminded of hockey, let alone of him.

Somewhere with no coffee shops that she’d enter, and the smell of fresh pastries would remind her of all the breakfasts they had together. No railways, where she’d be reminded of his love for model trains every time she came across the tracks. No weird club music that he loves so much, or dorky wizard franchises he chastises her for never having seen.

Maybe Antarctica. They only have penguins there. No real civilisation that she knows of. No brown haired, dark eyed Swiss Gods with deep, honeyed voices that make her knees weak and dimpled smiles that do even worse.

She wouldn’t be able to cope with losing him like that, living her life in an endless mental cycle of what ifs and maybes.

“Kelsey, I beg of you to read the room,” Nia chastises, swatting the girl on her arm before taking Poppy’s hand in her own. “Don’t listen to her, she just wants us all to be single at the same time.”

“Sue me for wanting to have fun! It would be just like college, you and me full-body plunging into the dating pool. Imagine the chaos, Pop, you don’t wanna be tied down to a guy hung up on his ex right now.”

“Dating pool?” Nia scoffs, turning to glare at her, “You’re hardly dry from your last relationship.”

“I’d rather be a grape than a raisin, Ni.” Kelsey chides back, and Poppy can’t help the twitch of her lips at the horrific comparison. 

“You’re really gonna listen to a girl who says that?” Nia asks, unable to mask the glint of humour in her eyes, and Kelsey bites back a smile, too.

Despite the ache in her chest at the thought of any of it - of Nico leaving her this morning, filling her up with empty words and false promises, potentially knocking up an ex girlfriend he is still secretly hung up on even though he told her otherwise - she manages to crack a full smile.

“You are terrible at analogies, Kels,” Poppy tries to hide the grin behind her cup, sipping at her tea and letting the warmth of it soothe the pain in her throat. 

“I’m trying to encourage you to be a strong, independent woman here!”

“She is a strong, independent woman,” Nia defends, “She also happens to be a chronic over-thinker with a deep seated fear of confrontation.”

“I don’t fear confrontation.”

“Then why are we here chit-chatting about hypothetical scenarios when you could just text him and ask what’s up?”

“Maybe ‘cause that’s scary?” Poppy scoffs, only half joking. “What am I supposed to say, hey I just so happened to eavesdrop on your private conversation before you fled my apartment this morning, and despite me not understanding most of it, I definitely heard you mention someone, so could you just let me know if your gorgeous model ex girlfriend is pregnant with your perfect specimen baby?”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out, you don’t even need us.”

Poppy rolls her eyes.  

She could text him. Could be casual about it, a good morning or even an are you okay? Those don’t warrant the alarm bells she’s afraid of raising - the ones that blare out with the siren sound of run, this girl is unhealthily attached to you already!

But she doesn’t want to be the pathetic girl chasing after the guy sending her clear messages that he doesn’t want her.

It’s easier said than done not to overthink the whole thing - not to second guess everything he had said, or everything she had done last night.

She feels like she had rushed things. It was so impulsive, so charged, and after spending the majority of her week away from him, she just hadn’t been able to help herself. And that makes her feel like a hypocrite. She had told him that night he had first kissed her that things between them had gotten intense. It had been the whole reason for spending a few days outside of each other’s company, and in the first possible instance, she had thrown herself at him.

It was desperate.

And maybe that scared him.

It sure as hell scares her.

“I don’t know what to do,” She groans, throwing her head into her hands and scrunching her eyes shut to try and drown out the endless doubt. 

She feels two hands rub at either sides of her back, “Listen, Pop,” Nia is the first to attempt to console her, as always, and Poppy holds her breath for the harsh reality check she’s about to throw her way. “You know I am the one person who would usually be trying to convince you to cut your losses and run when it comes to guys who are no good, but this is Nico. I’ve watched the two of you ignore your feelings for far too long to let you get in your own way, now.

“And you’re forgetting I saw him last night, before you got there, there isn’t a chance in Hell he would have left you like that without a good reason. I don’t for a second think he’s still hung up on her.” Nia casts a side eye to Kelsey.

The only problem is that Poppy isn’t sure there’s a reason good enough. Not when it comes to Talia. Not when the memory of those months of radio silence is still so fresh for her.

“I have to go to work in a building where his face is plastered everywhere, Ni, I can hardly forget his entire existence until he deems me worthy of an explanation. Who leaves after a night like that without even a note or a text?”

“An idiot,” Kelsey mutters around her drink, rolling her eyes when Nia sends her another death-glare.

“I’m not asking you to forget, I’m telling you to wait.” Nia frowns, but her tone remains consoling and warm. “You need to stop letting what this thinks,” she flicks at Poppy’s forehead, “Get in the way of what this knows.” She points to her chest on the left side. “You know him. You know how much he likes you.”

She does.

She knows Nico, she trusts him.

She can only judge him based on his actions so far - the ones that tell her that he cares. He leads with his heart, it’s his most attractive attribute. He’s gentle and loving and she needs to focus on those things over anything else.

“Ugh, corny,” Kelsey drags, and despite her repeated efforts to discourage her, Poppy knows she isn’t being entirely serious. “If he has any non-stupid hot athlete friends though, I’m first in line when the two of you kiss and make up for double dates.”

Guilt pricks slightly at Poppy’s chest - for making her recently single friend sit here and listen to her complain about something so monumentally small compared to the breakdown of the long-term relationship Kelsey had just endured. Even if it was perceivably toxic.

“You’d make such a good WAG, Kels.”

It’s a poor attempt to make up for it, but it seems to console her friend all the same, a giant grin breaking out and flashing her perfect pearly whites.

“I know.”

Poppy tries to distract herself with work. Tries to make her way through her inbox of seemingly never ending emails and her list of ever-growing tasks. She types up lengthy responses, puts together a presentation, makes a bunch of phone calls she’s been putting off for God knows how long, sorts all her invoices out - she even sends a fax. In the year 2024. It’s her most productive work day she thinks she’s ever had.

She zeroes in on the ground every time she moves through the building. Ignores the pictures that line the walls of the Rock, pushes down the memories of all the times she’s walked these very halls by Nico’s side, and she thinks she’s done just about enough to clear her mind for the time being.

She hasn’t thought up some heart wrenching scenario in at least an hour by the time she’s wrapping up for the day.

She’s making her way back to her office after dropping some files off for Elaine when she catches sight of a mop of curls over the top of the chair by her desk.

Luke is sat in her chair when she enters, swivelling around and staring at the ceiling.

“You’re gonna make yourself sick doing that, you know.”

“You’re such a mom,” he scoffs, standing up and clearly trying not to sway, “You ever tried having fun? I think I saw a glue stick on a table out there,” he points through the door into the wider office space, where there are a few, less private cubicles and a common area. “We should go sniff them, let loose a little.”

“Is that why you’re here on your day off? To huff glue?”

“Yeah, I don’t get to let loose enough. Being a rookie in the NHL is hard, Poppy,”

“Bummer for you.” She pouts, mockingly, swerving past him as he rounds her desk and sits on the other side, flicking at the bobblehead version of his older brother that stands by her computer. “If you’re chasing a high can you do it with one of the other departments, it’s not a good look for the Youth Foundation.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

When Luke had first joined the Devils, she hadn’t expected that she would warm to him the way she has - but, surprisingly enough, considering the fact they’re brothers, their relationship recently has started to mirror her and Jack’s.

Luke is funny. He’s sarcastic and a little silly, and it can be nice to have him around when work gets a little stressful. He doesn’t let the pressures of his own career outweigh those of hers, and, despite the gap in age, she actually enjoys his company.

But he never seeks her out like this.

Their interactions have always started through other people. Group conversations that dwindle to just the two of them, or he usually accompanies Jack to bug her and carries on when Jack’s ever-so-busy schedule takes him elsewhere.

She can’t think of another time he’s just shown up in her office alone.

Especially on his incredibly rare day off.

“Why are you actually here?” She asks, casting a suspicious but half-playful glare his way as she starts to pack up her things. 

“Came to see if you wanted to join us for dinner.”

“Aw Lukey,” she reaches over her desk to pinch his cheek, “I’m flattered and all but I’m a little too old for you.”

“Ha ha,” he swats her hand away, “Us. Me and Jack. Maybe a couple of the others if they’re free but you can pick where we go if you make a decision quickly, we were thinking a steakhouse.”

She narrows her eyes at him, expecting him to crack a joke about her being old, but he just looks back at her awaiting a response. “Why?” She drags out the question, her movements stopping completely.

“Maybe ‘cause humans need sustenance to live? What do you mean, why?”

“Why would you want me to tag along on your bro date?”

“Don’t call it a bro date,” Luke cringes, “Just remembered you were working today and we were in the area, don’t know why you’re being weird about it.”

“You’re being weird. You guys never let me choose where we eat. Don’t you remember that time we grabbed dinner when you guys drove me home and Jack told me to stop being a pussy about my seafood allergy ‘cause he wanted sushi.”

“Don’t blame me for the crimes of my brother, Poppy, he was obviously joking.”

“I had to eat tofu, Luke, I don’t find that very funny.”

“Are you coming or not?”

“That depends, how do you have your steak?”

“Well done.”

“Oh! Then absolutely not.”

“Remind me never to try to be nice to you again.” He scowls as they make their way out of her office, and she locks up behind the two of them.

“Gladly, it’s creeping me out.” She grabs at his elbow before he can carry on, stopping him in the otherwise empty common area where she knows no one is around to listen in. “Is something going on, seriously?”

Luke rolls his eyes, but she knows him well enough that it’s only done in an attempt to avert from her gaze. 

Bingo. He’s hiding something.

“I just thought you might want some company.” He shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets and twisting his lips to keep from saying much more.

“Why?”

If Poppy wanted to spend her life getting a straight answer out of people for a living, she’d have become an interrogator. What is it with these guys and their inability to answer a simple question?

“Jack said you left the party last night with Nico.”

Poppy’s eyebrows scrunch so close together that she can feel a deep crease form between them. What on earth does that have to do with asking her to dinner? Or being overly nice to her?

Unless-

“You’ve seen him?”

“This morning.”

“Oh.”

All of her efforts from throughout the day seem to have been for nothing - an immediate rush of insecurities flooding her mind.

Where did he see him? What did he say? Was he okay? Was Talia there?

She feels like she can gauge an answer from the way Luke looks. Sheepish, almost, like he doesn’t want to say something he knows will hurt her feelings.

She had to have been with him. He wouldn’t just show up to her office like this if it wasn’t something that would seriously hurt.

She wishes she wasn’t the kind of person who did this - who filled in the gaps of conversations and always came out with the worst possible outcomes - but she can’t help it. She’s been doing it all her life, and there’s rarely ever an instance where her instincts have led her astray.

She knows it’s some weird part of her mind protecting her, but she needs to do something here. Nia’s words from earlier ring like a warning. Don’t let what her brain thinks get in the way of what her heart knows.

Her heart knows Nico wanted her. Knows Nico liked her. Knows Nico wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.

She needs to figure things out for herself and stop running, stop letting her mind fill in the gaps of a situation it can’t even comprehend to begin with.

She reaches her arms around Luke’s shoulders, stretching up on her tip toes to pull him into a hug before rubbing her knuckles into his curls, affectionately.

Luke Hughes is sarcastic and silly, and he cares enough about her to not want her to be alone if she’s going through something.

“Thank you for the offer, Luke, but I’ll be alright.”

“Are you sure?”

She nods, a tender smile tugging at the corners of her stubborn lips. It takes over her face, eyes glinting fondly and cheeks warming. 

“Yeah, you can walk me to my car if you’re that worried about me though.” She loops her arm through his elbow as they make their way to the parking lot, and when they get there, he makes sure she’s in her car and has set off before him and Jack leave.

As if her day can’t get any worse, the elevator in her building is cordoned off with tape and a sign when she gets home, and she has never regretted moving up a floor as much as she does when she’s trudging up 6 flights of stairs.

She’s exhausted. Emotionally and physically, and she just wants to throw herself into bed and pretend the last 24 hours were a terrible dream.

Only, as she rounds the final corner to get to her door, any hopes of that go straight down the pan when her eyes land on Nico, standing in front of her door with his hands buried in his jacket pocket.

He looks tired too - hair messed where he’s no doubt been taking his cap on and off for however long he’s been stood here, running a hand through the tresses until they’re all askew. 

His shoulders are slumped, and he doesn’t even greet her with that pretty smile he usually gives her.

His lips do curve up a touch - limp and half-hearted, not even enough for a dimple to form - but it doesn’t provide the comfort she had thought it would.

She feels anxious. A culmination of the day’s emotions washing over in one go. Sad, regretful, nervous, disappointed - all things she shouldn’t be used to feeling when it comes to Nico, but are all too familiar when she takes the last few months into account.

“Hi.” She gives a weak smile of her own.

“Can we talk?”

She wishes he’d have just said hi, back. That might have relieved the tightness in her chest just a little.

Nothing good ever comes of can we talk?

He steps aside as she approaches, maintaining a safe distance as she opens the door and enters her apartment.

The Nico from yesterday might have brushed past her, the graze of an arm or a lingering hand, but this Nico doesn’t. He barely even meets her eye.

He closes the door behind himself, watching as she discards her bag and keys to the console table on the side, and while she’s turned away from him, she tries to let whatever emotions need to come out cross her features where he can’t see them.

She needs to be cool about this, she thinks.

If she doesn’t get her back up, doesn’t get agitated, she won’t scare him off.

“Are you okay?” She asks once she’s turned to face him, not liking how he stands unmoving by the door. He hasn’t made any effort to settle in - his jacket still on and his hands still hidden in the pockets.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”

She realises now that she can get a good look at him that the expression he wears is one of shame. Guilt. Apprehension. She needs to be careful and toe the line before he gets consumed by it, she realises.

She steps toward him a little, and he doesn’t back up - not immediately, not obviously - but he hardly welcomes her approach, either.

She doesn’t like feeling this way when it comes to talking to him - feeling uneasy and unsure, but there’s a part of her that’s tired of having to prompt him for answers.

He had been the one to leave this morning. Why can’t he just come out and tell her why?

“I’m alright,” she shrugs, not wanting to scare him off with the truth. “Super tired, though, can we sit?”

She wonders if he thinks about the same things she does as they make their way to the couch. Wonders if he can feel the scratch of her nails on his torso, or the brush of her lips against his, as they sit in the spot where not even 24 hours ago, their bodies had been intertwined.

He doesn’t sit right beside her as he normally would, and she finds herself missing the way his thigh usually brushes against her own.

She doesn’t know where to start or what to ask, and so she basks in the silence for a little - finding comfort in the fact that, despite the mess they’re currently in, they aren’t quite at the end yet.

But a part of her feels it coming.

She’d known it this morning if she lets herself listen to the rational voice in her head. As soon as she’d heard him say her name, as soon as he’d left, a part of her knew that was it, and maybe if she’d let herself believe it at the time - hadn’t talked herself down and convinced herself she was being irrational - she could have protected herself from all the ways this is going to hurt.

“I’m sorry.” He says, and when she looks up, he’s looking down where his large hands are now clasped together in his lap.

“For what?” She manages to choke out.

“Last night, I,” she digs her nails into the palms of her own hands to stop herself filling in the gaps as he figures out what he wants to say, but it’s no use.

He’s sorry for last night.

Last night, he made a mistake.

Last night, he was drunk, he was confused, he was just looking for something or someone to keep him occupied.

“I care about you so much, Poppy.”

That sentence shouldn’t be the one that fills her with dread, but it is.

“You’re my best friend, and I love you,” he does look up as he says this, eye meeting hers in an attempt to convey his honesty, but she sees more of the truth in his glassy gaze than she hears in his words. “This morning, I panicked, and I just needed some time to figure out what I want.”

No, no, no.

She’d rather he tell her what actually happened than do this. Than pretend he left because he doesn’t want her.

“I love you-,”

“You said that, already.” She can’t help the bite in her tone as she prepares herself for the hit. The I love you, but.

“You’re so important to me. Being your friend, it’s like it’s what keeps me sane lately.”

She chews at the inside of her cheek as she feels the tears start to well at her lash line.

“Poppy, I don’t want to mess up what we have,” he shakes his head as his gaze drops, dark eyes darting to focus anywhere but on her own, pleading and watery as she watches him slip away. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You don’t think this is hurting me?” She feels weak as her voice breaks, “You don’t think this is already messy?”

She reaches out to take his hands in hers, digging in to unclasp them, to try thread her fingers through, but he doesn’t make it easy.

“Nico, I love you, too, you know I do, we can figure it out, you don’t have to run away from me.”

It’s a desperate attempt and she knows it is, but she needs to know she tried. When she’s sobbing into her pillow and crying herself to sleep tonight, she needs to know she didn’t just let him go without a fight.

“I can’t give you what you want, I can’t be in a relationship, I’m no good at it.” 

Regardless of what she had told herself earlier, about taking what he says at face value, and trying not to fill in the gaps like she does so often with everyone else, she can’t help herself. When he says, I can’t be in a relationship, he means with her. He can’t be with Poppy. He would be no good with Poppy.

“Why are you doing this?”

“I told you-,”

“No, you said before that you’ve wanted this for as long as you’ve known me, you don’t just wake up and change your mind, not after-,” Poppy starts to feel panic building within her like a flipped over sand timer. Rising and rising until she starts to feel nauseous, getting harder with each second not to jump to conclusions. 

The voice inside her that tells her he got what he wanted and decided it wasn’t for him sounds caustic and bitter, and if she hadn’t wound herself up so much about this whole situation over the course of the day - the past week, even, or the months before - she might have been able to fight off the way it so easily convinces her.

“I have to put the team first, it doesn’t matter what I want, I have to focus on them, on hockey.”

She’s too caught up in her own emotions to notice how weak he sounds - glassy eyes unable to catch the glint in his. All she can hear, all she can see, is the minute hints of a cover-up - that she isn’t getting the whole story, that he’s lying to her, and that the excuse he’s giving is cowardly.

He still hasn’t mentioned the call, hasn’t mentioned Talia, hasn’t explained why he left her, why he didn’t say anything, why he didn’t come back.

“And you didn’t know that before?” She scoffs, pushing herself up off the couch and stepping away from him, “I can’t believe you would do this to me.” She wipes the tears from her cheeks as soon as they fall, but she can’t rid her skin of the feeling that they were there, her flesh damp and sore.

“I know we took things a little too far last night, but that doesn’t mean-,” She almost thinks he notices how bad that hurts her, referencing the night they shared as a mistake - an instance where they got carried away, and not where they followed through on years worth of built up tension and adoration for one another. She doesn’t even have to fill in the gaps, this time. Took things a little too far is clear enough. “We can still be friends. I want to be friends.”

“Friends?” Poppy jeers in disbelief, turning completely away from him now and missing the tears that drop from his own cheeks - missing the way his chest cracks and stretches open in a last ditch demonstration of his vulnerability, his desperation not to lose her completely. “You should go.”

“Poppy,”

“I can’t,” she tries so hard not to cry, knowing she won’t be able to stop, but the words come out in a choked sob, and her voice carries on in the whiney way she always hates. “You told me you wanted more, you said I was yours, and I’m supposed to just act like it never happened? Just accept you didn’t actually mean the things you said?”

“I meant them,” he says, defiantly, so sure of himself that it makes her head spin. “I wouldn’t-,”

“No, you didn’t. You’re a liar. You were either lying then, or you’re lying now. I don’t know which is worse. I can’t be your friend. I can’t pretend like you can that I don’t feel the way I feel.”

“Please, Mohn,” His fingertips just manage to reach out to land on her forearm before she shucks him off, wincing as if his touch has pained her.

“Don’t.” She takes an immediate step back, arms crossing over herself as a defence mechanism, body language screaming at him to go away, and she watches his pleading eyes drop to her arms just as she feels the cold of the metal there - so in tune with her every thought despite his denial of their true connection. Her arms move before her mind can make the decision, before it can remember what even sits on her skin, and her shaking fingers fumble to unclasp the jewellery adorned on her wrist. “You should take this back.”

Nico shakes his head, stepping back and away from the outstretched hand that holds her gemstone bracelet like it’s an actual danger to him. “No, that’s yours, Poppy.”

“I don’t want it.” She knows she’s the one that’s lying now. She wants the bracelet. She wants him. She doesn’t want him to leave. She wants to be his friend over being nothing. 

But she doesn’t want to hurt.

Looking at him hurts.

Remembering last night, remembering their kiss, the things he has said, the things he has done, it all hurts, and she can’t keep hold of a constant reminder of the pain, can’t wear it on her person at all hours of the day just to know deep down that the man who gave it to her will never want her the same way.

“I want you to leave.”

“Please,” he begs again, head tilting as devastation floods his features, brows pushing together, tears welling at the corners of his eyes, “We need to talk about this-,”

“No, you were right, we went too far, it was a mistake.” Her voice breaks as she says things she knows she doesn’t mean, but he’s already put it out there, so she doesn’t see the harm in echoing his own opinions. “There’s nothing more to talk about.”

She can’t look at him anymore, and so she drops her gaze to his hands, stepping and reaching forward and forcing him to take the bracelet from her before she rounds the couch and heads to the door.

If he isn’t going to give her the whole truth, she isn’t going to entertain part of the story, and she needs him gone so she can give in to the way her body wants to fold in on itself.

It takes him a minute to gather himself, but she refuses to look his way, waiting by the open door to her apartment and staring at the floor in front of her until his shoes appear.

“I do love you, Poppy. I’m leaving because I don’t want to upset you any more than I already have, and I’ll give you space if that’s what you need, but I’ll be here when you want to talk about this. I mean it when I say I can’t lose you.”

 She doesn’t say anything. She can’t say anything.

There’s a stabbing pain that’s building and building in the centre of her chest, and she doesn’t even think she can breathe in his presence.

He clasps a hand around her upper arm, and leans into her, his lips pressing a firm kiss into the crown of her head, and he lingers there for a moment before he retreats. 

She manages to push the door closed behind him, the click of the lock louder than ever, and waits a good few minutes in silence before her body is wracked with a silent sob.

The one time she had tried to be brave and fight her own intuition, and this is where it gets her.

So much for Nico wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.

Next Chapter

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

[charmedreincarnation]

Sorry, y'all, for the random spam, but I had a lot of things I was doing and exploring, and I now finally have the motivation to share a lot of changes that have happened in my life. Okay, so my life is pretty great, and I've been actively manifesting for a while now. But I had a problem. Outside of shifting when it comes to my manifestations, for the most part, I like them to happen in a "realistic way.” (I wasn’t like this at the beginning ofc but now I am). I know that sounds stupid, but for example, when I manifested a car, I didn’t just have it appear on my driveway. I like to be a part of the process and watch it blossom into my reality (very quickly, may I add, because I'm impatient and a "now, now, now" type person), but I like to see my creations, you know?

So I was talking about my friends about some revisions I'd like to see in my state and life, more so bigger manifestations outside of myself for my community, you know? I've been feeling very grateful, and outside of manifesting, I love to dabble in philanthropy and other hobbies, and I'd like that to intertwine with manifesting as well!

There were a few things I had in mind, but again, I'm picky and annoying, and I was like, "Hmm, how will this come to fruition in my way?" I tried to plan it out, which is like (?? Rule number one of manifestation: don't worry about the how), but I actually do like to plan things out sometimes because I'm annoying, and when it happens, I'm like, "Hehe, that was me, go shawty."

Anyways, here were a few things I wanted:

* I visited Vienna, Austria in the summer, and I found the concept of their homeless shelters very admiring. In Vienna, they have emergency flats provided by the city for safe housing in emergency situations. I wanted something like that in my state, but living in America, which is very anti-homeless, it seemed challenging. I mean they spend more money on funding anti-homeless architecture than solving the ever so rising mental health and housing crisis but that’s a topic for another day. However, I was inspired by the Vienna Women's Refuge Association and their efforts to support women in need and I wanted something like that here.

* I wanted many restaurants that I've seen in other cities I've visited to be established in my city. My city is pretty big, but for some reason, it's often ignored when it comes to those corporations. I wanted to visualize all my favorite restaurants and make a list of where I want them, downtown, by my house, etc. It wasn't coming together, and I couldn't find the desire to script it. I also wanted more unique clothing stores because I’ve gotten more into fashion these past few months.

* I wanted my city to have more of the vibes of LA and NYC, without actually moving there. I love my city, but I wanted it to have that same energy. However, I didn't know how to get to that end point like I normally do with my other desires.

Honestly, I kind of put these desires on the back burner and just forgot about them, knowing that my life is already going in the direction I want it to. Then, we began getting a lot of news about how gentrification is about to occur, and how the prices in my city are going up. There's a lot of new construction happening for seemingly no reason. It turns out a huge tech company is establishing companies in my city, which will bring in new jobs, money, and people. At first, I was annoyed, thinking these people need to stay away, but then I remembered that I literally asked for this. Gentrification and all the other things that come along with migration, jobs, and a rising economy tie into what I wanted for my city to be like NYC and LA. I'm already seeing the renovation reflect what I imagined, and I am a happy girl.

Then, the next like week or so idk, my state gave funding to my fav mall and they received a couple billion dollars for a massive renovation. At first, I thought it was irrelevant, but then I saw a list of 300 establishments, clothes stores and restaurants that will be around my mall area. Every restaurant I desired, even the ones I only thought about for a second, were on that list. It's so funny when you forget about your manifestations and they come together even better than you could imagine. The mall getting renovated is one that I visit all the time, and now I can have all my favorite indulgences in one space. I'm super excited for everything to be done.

* On that same day, I saw that my state's very conservative governor (btw I went to school with his grandson and he was asintelligent as a bag of rocks) Is opening very affordable housing for human trafficking victims. This cause is close to my heart. Though i don’t personally know any victims myself I have read of many cases on the news and trials like cyntonia brown would make my blood boil. I’m surprised I didn’t think of this of myself but I’m m glad to see steps being taken to support these survivors.

So, sometimes, when we put our desires on the back burner, they can still manifest in unexpected and amazing ways.I seriously forgot about all of this and was just living my life, not even consciously trying to manifest it, and it happened anyway. Also, this may seem very stupid, but hey, all desires should be manifested no matter how small or stupid. There's this kind of big influencer at my school, and she seems really sweet and someone who I'd get along with. She's really political and speaks her mind, and has a bunch of reels about spirituality and feminism which is really dope considering how people act on social media, especially Instagram.

Anyways, I just thought one time, like a week ago, it would be nice to be friends with her or meet her or something, and out of nowhere, she slid up on my story yesterday and messaged me 😭😭😭. It was so funny to me, but yeah, we have plans to hang out. So yeah, even though sometimes I like planning my manifestations to see them happen in color, the same thing can happen without you planning either way. It will work out better than I expected, I promise don't worry.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I told my dad how I feel about my stepmom?

🐍 ✨ <- For finding later

I (18X) have had a bit of a strained relationship with my father (54M) for the last few years. Part of this is due to political differences, my father is very right wing, and I am not. Recently however, we've agreed to stop discussing politics as it just ends up upsetting both of us. The other thing that has been getting in the way of my father and I's relationship is my stepmom, Jenny (fake name obv).

For context, my father is a military veteran and suffers from severe PTSD. And when I say severe, I mean severe. He is also physically disabled, and Jenny helps him a lot with day to day life. I know they love each other, and my dad wouldn't be able to do nearly as much without her around. However, her and my dad's relationship was a bit of a sudden thing. My dad and I were very close (we hung out one-on-one whenever we were able), then Jenny came around and seemed almost glued to the hip with my father. My dad was constantly around her, and even when I asked for us to have time alone together, he either ignored the request or had Jenny there anyway.

Jenny and I have never really gotten along. We've had several fights over the years (one of which ended with her having a fight with my dad for being on my side of the argument, where she left home and stole my dad's dog before returning the next day), and I still somewhat resent her for taking away my time with my dad. She has also said that she never wanted kids, so I don't think she ever liked my siblings and I very much. My dad always seems to be on her side as well, after the aforementioned fight where she stole his dog, he accepted her back home seemingly without much of a fuss (despite being very sad/upset after the fight the night before). They fight more than the average couple as well IMO, but maybe that's just how they function as people (idk). I understand that she helps my father a lot, but it was a rough adjustment when she came around. I've had almost zero one-on-one time with my dad in the last five-ish years (and yes, I've asked for it, multiple times), so that combined with our political differences has led us to not speak for a good while.

Recently, my father reached out to me and asked to reconnect. He apologized for things he did in the past, and asked what he could do to make things better. I was mostly honest with him, except for everything I've said here about Jenny. I want to tell him how I feel, but I think I'd be TA if I said I really dislike his wife and main support system. I definitely think it'd be unfair to make him choose between me and her, as no matter how you slice it, he very likely will still need/want her around. If I ask my dad to hang out (again) without Jenny there though, I feel like that'd be inviting that question. Still, I cannot stand having to hang out with her, and don't want to meet with my dad if I know she will be there.

So: WIBTA if I told my dad how I feel about my stepmom?

[bingbongsupremacy]

Maybe Someday

Pairing: Joel Miller x older!Reader

Warnings: Idk anything about horses or how to prep them for rides.

Summary: You've been hardcore crushing on your neighbor Joel Miller since the day he, Tess and Ellie arrived in Jackson. Rumor has it he's in a relationship with Tess. Maybe someday he'll finally return your feelings.

*Not Proof Read* TLOU Masterlist

I did my best not to mention anything very descriptive in this. Nothing about looks, gender, race, etc. If I messed up on anything please let me know. Thank you!

*****

" Stop day dreaming about Joel and get back to work, will ya? I'm trying to be out of here before I turn 90. " Maria's tone is laced with amusement.

I snap my eyes away from the man across the street. A warm rush crawls up my cheeks and I quickly turn my attention to the horse in front of me. " I'm not staring at anyone. " I argue, making sure Maria's horse's stirrups are secured properly.

" Sure, Y/N. " Maria chuckles slightly before getting up on the horse.

A small gruff laughter snaps my attention right back to Joel. He pats Ellie on the head before hopping onto his horse. Our eyes don't meet as he walks past the stall, his attention fully on the kid walking besides him.

" You know, there someone new in town I think you'd get along with. " Maria hums. " He's one of the new ones we brought in last week. "

I shake my head. " I'm good Maria. "

" What? Why? " Maria asks while we walk out of the stalls.

My nose scrunches at the thought of the last blind date Maria set me up on . The man was anything but a charmer, insisting on asking uncomfortable questions the moment we met up at the bar. Todd still winks at me whenever we happen to run into each other. " You don't have the best record for blind dates. "

" That's not true. " Maria shakes her head. " Sure, a few of them were misses, sure. But what about Jimmy? He was definitely a looker. "

I roll my eyes. " Maria! "

" What? I'm married, not dead. " She chuckles. The early morning sun sends a small glow over Jackson, making the normally bustling town seem slightly abandoned. Most people aren't out of their homes yet.

" He's only about 10 years younger than me. He was attractive though, I'll give you that. " Maria's obsession with setting me up on blind dates is at times, irritating. I understand she wants me to feel the same happiness she feels with Tommy, I'd just rather find it on my time. Besides, it wouldn't be fair to date someone while my mind's stuck on Joel.

I shouldn't be this flustered at the thought of our past conversations. They've always been polite and...normal. No romance in sight. Nothing worthy of replaying in my head over and over.

Somehow my heart doesn't seem to understand. When I look at Joel I feel like a teenager with a strong crush on a kid in their class. It's...ridiculous. I'm not a teenager and I haven't been for years.

So why doesn't this stupid crush understand?

" Just give it a shot, will you? One last time. If this one ends badly, I'll let go of all this forever. "

Maria and I arrive at the gate where Joel, Tommy and one of the newer residents are waiting.

" Fine. One shot. " I sigh.

A grin breaks out on Maria's face. " I'll let him know. "

I really don't understand why I agreed. Every blind date I've ever gone on has ended up in either heartbreak or disappointment. I guess part of me hopes she's finally setting me up with the one man I really want her to.

He has a girlfriend.

Maybe. They haven't fully come out as a couple. The lingering touches are hard to ignore though.

It's never going to happen. I need to drop it.

" Safe trip guys. " I smile at the patrol groups around the gate.

I watch as the group disappears outside of the gates. With a sigh, I turn around and head back to the stables.

Maybe this date turn out okay.

+++++

I was wrong.

I'm going to kill Maria.

It's been half an hour and I'm already thinking of ways to lose this guy.

" I'd protect you. With me, you have nothing to worry about. " Ryan states confidently while taking a swig from his moonshine. " I've killed so many of those freaks, it's child's play now. "

This man has spent the last ten minutes raving about his excellent infected killing skills.

We're in a world surrounded with infected every day, what on earth makes him think I want to think about it more?

" Mhm. " I hum while taking a sip of my own drink.

I glance around the very busy bar. It's a Friday night after all, everyone and their mother is here. My eyes land on Joel's familiar form. He's seated a few feet away at the bar, his back completely to the table Ryan and I are at.

I was so preoccupied with drinking enough alcohol to help me tolerate the man across from me that I hadn't realized he'd sat down.

" I've had a really good time with you. " Ryan smiles widely.

Wish I could say the same. He spent the entire time talking. I could hardly get a word in. I've never seen a person with so much to say. Now that I think about it, I've never met someone with such a big ego either. You'd think this guy saved humanity or something.

Stop. Be polite.

I force a smile. " I completely agree. " I lie through clenched teeth. I'm counting down the minutes until it turns 10. I told Maria I'd stay an hour and I intend to follow through with that but man is this guy making it hard.

A short, gruff chuckle softly fills my ears. I glance over at Joel. He takes a swig of his drink, trying to hide the fact he was laughing.

He's listening.

" You know, when Maria said she was going to set me up with an older person, I have to admit, I was a bit hesitant at first. "

" Oh? " I raise an eyebrow at Ryan's remark. Where is he going with this?

Maria hadn't told me she was setting me up with another younger guy. She'd probably thought I would've immediately shot the idea down. She wasn't wrong.

Ryan nods. " Yeah, I've had my fair share of fucking old timers and I usually get stuck doing all the work but I have a feeling you're different. "

What the actual fuck.

I stare at the man across from me in shock. " Excuse me? " What the fuck am I supposed to say to that? Thank you?

" What I'm trying to say is, I think you're hot. We should go back to my place. Have a little fun, if you know what I mean. " Ryan smirks while making a gesture with his hand.

Well, that took a turn.

I shake my head, pushing myself away from the table. " I'm not interested. Thanks for the drink, but I should be going. " I grab my jacket and begin to pull it on.

So much for trying to make it to an hour. This guy is insane.

" Wait, you don't have to go. We could have fun. You look like the type to need a little more fun in your life. " Ryan stands up after me.

" Seriously, I'm ok. You have a good night. " I turn to leave.

Ryan quickly grabs my arm, trying to prevent me from leaving. " I literally gave you a fucking compliment a few minutes ago. You should be grateful I'm even willing to sleep with someone like you. I fucking lowered my standards for this. "

" Please let go of me. " I attempt to seem less shaken then I am.

Ryan doesn't listen. " You owe me. "

" Let go. " Joel's suddenly right next to Ryan. " Or I'll help you let go. "

Ryan glares at Joel. " What's your deal, man? This is a private conversation. Butt the fuck out. "

Joel ignores him, wrapping his hand over Ryan's. He yanks Ryan's arm off of me. " My 'deal' is you're a complete asshole who doesn't understand when someone is saying no. "

Ryan pulls his arm away from Joel, his face turning red from rage. " Fuck you, man. "

Joel's eyes darken. " Get the fuck out of this bar. If I see you around Y/N again you're a dead man. "

The threat sends a cold shiver down my spine. He's serious. There's no way he's not.

Ryan looks like he's about to say something else when Joel sends him a sharp look. Without another word, Ryan pushes past me, completely ignoring me in the process. "

The drama caused a few people to tune into the conversation.

Slightly embarrassed, I try to focus on Joel. " Thank you. " I mumble, rubbing my arm slightly. Even though his hand is gone, I can still feel how hard he was holding onto me.

This could've gone so badly tonight if Joel wasn't here. Thank god he was here.

" No need to thank me. That guy was a fucking asshole. Here, let me buy you a drink. I'm sure you're shaken up after that. " Joel gestures to the empty barstool near his abandoned seat.

I hesitate for a moment. Part of me wants to go back to the safety of my home. The other part is eager to have a chance to talk with Joel again. Deep down, I'm also slightly afraid Ryan might be waiting outside to get back at me.

" Sure. " I agree, taking a seat. The counter is sticky and cool under my arms.

Now that the drama is over, everyone's returned back to their previous conversations.

" Are you alright? " Joel asks.

I let out a sigh. " Just a little shaken up. And...confused. " let out a small uncomfortable laugh. " That was the most fucking confusing date of my life. I can't believe Maria tried to set me up with someone who talks like that. "

Joel grunts. " She's so invested in playing cupid that she's completely forgotten some people shouldn't be dating. "

" You've got that right. I'm pretty sure she's just setting me up with anyone who's available at this point. " I shake my head and gently swirl the alcohol the bartender handed to me. " I am never dating again. "

" That's a shame. " Joel takes a sip of his cup, his eyes trained in front of him. " I would've liked to take you out. "

What? My heart pounds.

My eyebrows furrow in confusion. " Aren't you dating Jess? "

Joel's eyes widen as he looks over at me. " Jess? "

I nod slowly. " Yeah, aren't you guys dating? "

Joel shakes his head. " No. We're...we're not dating. We used to for a brief while before we came to Jackson, but things didn't work out. She fell in love with another guy. "

Whoa. I really read that wrong.

" Oh, I'm sorry. I had no idea. "

Joel shakes his head. " It's all good. We weren't right for each other. " Joel is silent for a moment. " I'm sorry he treated you like that tonight. "

I shrug. " It's alright. It's what it is. "

" No, it's not. Nobody should be treated like that, especially you. " Joel turns so he's slightly facing me. " Look, I know you're not interested in dating again right now, but if you ever change your mind I'd love to take you out. Show you how a date should really go. "

Butterflies begin to flutter in my stomach. This is like a dream come true.

" I'd love that. " I reply with a grin. " I might have to take you up on that offer. I think I'm just not interested in blind dates anymore. "

A small smile breaks onto Joel's face, a rare sight. " Sounds like a plan then. How does tomorrow night sound? "

" Perfect. "

[catboybiologist]

March 2024 documentation and transition journal

Just got my levels results back, meaning that the doc is fully updated for March:

This is possibly one of the most exciting and interesting months of HRT since starting, because I've experimented around a lot with injection doses, so let's talk about that! I'm also slapping a couple of old pics in here for reference, so I'll slap some selfie tags on this.

So, lots of interesting HRT stuff. At my last levels check, I was on 4mg injectable EV a week. And… my E actually went down, even though that’s an effectively higher dose than my previous regimen (6mg sublingual/day). Because of this, I talked with my provider, and essentially she told me to fuck around. I probably was way looser with it than she wanted me to be, but she told me to go to 8mg/week maximum, and try and settle on 6mg/week minimum. So….. here’s what I did.

1 week of 8mg.

2 weeks at 7mg.

2 weeks 6mg, during which my levels were checked at mid.

I… can’t really advocate for this. Basically, my logic was that I wanted to see what it felt like to max things out, but have my actual levels check reflect what I’m like at 6mg to know if increasing or maximizing the dose beyond that is necessary at all. Ultimately, I’ve concluded that 8mg feels too high- I start getting a bit of headache and nausea at peak. 7mg feels very comfortable. 6mg, I felt fucking miserable at trough. When I was on 4mg/week, I used a couple of sublingual pills to try and get through that, but I tried to see if I could stop doing that. It went okay for the higher doses, but on 6mg… ugh. Felt like complete shit. I’ll def be using a couple this week to get through that, probably just 4-6mg sublingual on wed/thurs to make sure I’m feeling okay.

Oh. Also. I ditched Spironolactone, against the advice of my provider. 

I was getting really, REALLY irritated by the diuretic effects, so I quit it when I tried to 8mg dose just to see what would happen. I figured that 8mg would be more than enough to suppress T on its own (likely true), and so I thought it would be the best time to try that. And… when I stopped spiro, a depressive haze that had been in my head lifted very quickly. I thought it was just depression based on a rough past couple of months, and that’s probably true, but it also felt physical. The diuretic effects have also stopped, and I genuinely can’t imagine going back on spiro.

I’ve heard a lot of theoretical stuff about spiro potentially being able to inhibit growth and development. It's possibly a growth hormone inhibitor, but should be a more potent antiandrogen than anyone else. It’s…. Really hard to say whether spiro actually inhibits growth. As with a lot of transfemme physical developments, there’s never been a comprehensive, conclusive study on it, which is why its relegated to miscellaneous anecdotes that everyone will swear one way or the other on. I’ll have some opinions on this later.

So what improvement to my levels did I get out of all of this?

Well…. Good, but nothing radical. My midcycle estrogen is 159 pg/mL, which is about my target for trough. It’s a good step up from the 4mg dose, but I’m probably going to increase to 7mg/week- that felt fine to me, and I’m pretty confident that that’ll be the dose that nails it. I’m pretty deadset on going forward with that, I would just need a levels check to verify we’re all good there. (Side note, I’m a bit frustrated that my body literally seems allergic to just… stuff. Idk if I have an overactive liver or what, but my T crashed super easily, adderall consistently lasts shorter than it should, and my E is really struggling to go up.)

And did this result in any physical improvement? 

I actually think that this last month has been the single fastest month of physical development I’ve ever had. Here’s some things I’ve noticed:

My breasts have become much larger and more developed in relation to my chest, with a much better shape. Comparison pictures to even just the end of January show a wild difference (sorry, not posting that publicly). To be fair, though, I’m still pretty clearly in tanner 2, and I maybe want to wait for just a bit more development before I start progesterone. 

Waist measurement is still going down, and hip measurement is still holding steady. This means that, in effect, my hips are getting wider.

And this is one of the most exciting ones- my upper body seems like its getting smaller. I’m floored by this. My underbust is less, my chest looks noticeably less barrel-y, and my ribcage kind of “flows” into my waist better. I wrote a bit about this on reddit just now, but I think I know what’s happening here. Not only is fat burning from the sides of my chest as it builds on the front of my chest, I actually think my costal cartilage might be getting “tighter”, effectively pulling my ribs a bit closer in to my sternum

I have…. No way to confirm the hunches of that last one, other than the images I can show. So for educational purposes (and y’know. Making the funny women in my phone type funny syllables) Here’s a quick timeline where I think you can see the “barrellness” of my chest decreasing:

From left to right, we have September (0-1mo), December (3-4mo), March (6-7mo)

Don't worry, my shoulders are just as wide and athletic dyke-y.

Am I delusional? Is this anything? Maybe. Pictures are hard to make consistent with changes this small. But I do feel like its noticeable, and it seems like women’s cut shirts and tanks have fit me in a way that’s a lot more consistent with a cis woman’s body. Again, there’s also nsfw images, and I think they show a lot of progress, and I think I can pretty definitively say that this has been the single month with the most physical changes since, well, my first month back in September. 

Why did this happen? Well, I’m working with a sample size of one here, and multiple variables have changed at the same time. There’s really three things that could be happening: increased injection dosage, ditching spiro, or the general come and go of physical changes. It’s impossible to completely know what’s going on because of this, unfortunately- I’d need way more data. That said…. This is the first new “wave” of development I’ve had since I started, and my actual blood levels didn’t increase that much. I really, really don’t want to conclude anything, but I’m kinda thinking that spiro had something to do with it. It has broad effects on physiology which aren’t entirely characterized, that could easily theoretically be inhibiting generic growth and development. That said, I think starting with a strong antiandrogen is basically necessary for HRT. It’s extremely difficult to get E levels up without robustly inhibiting T first. Obviously don’t take this as medical advice, or even a scientific opinion. This is nothing more than a hunch.

Idk. I’m happy. I feel like I finally am starting to break through the progress stall I’ve been growing increasingly frustrated with. And I think getting the proper injection dose actually worked to break through it. I’m feeling a lot better with my transition in general too. I won’t elaborate much here, but I’ve been coming out to a lot more people, and its been tentatively going about as well as I could ask. We’ll see what the future holds, but I’m excited about it.

[enterwittyjokehere]

hii, i’m soz idk ur request rules i couldn’t find them 😖. if any of this is out of boundaries lmk! I was wondering if I could request an angst/comfort-> smut on Gale?

Professor!Gale with his student (afab!reader) at wizard college yk. the student is super good with the work but they get depressed and miss class. Gale is concerned bc he adores all his students! he checks up on reader and helps them into a better headspace. one thing leads to another and reader opts to “return the favor” yk.

Gale is not Mystra in this!!! College professor! The groomed does not become the groomer! everything reader does is not because Gale has sum sort of power over them. they just like him! teacher crush fr!

anyways! sorry for ranting. if I could write for shit i’d do it but ur stories are SOOO good!

Sorry it took a bit to get out, life got in the way, I'm gonna be trying to update more frequently I have two more requests to push out and ab three drafts that I've started and haven't finished.

You didn't mention what gender or pronouns to use so I assumed afab, sorry if that's incorrect. I did have some fun with this one, the more I get into my Baldur's Gate playthrough the more I adore this man lol.

So enjoy~

After Class

Professor! Gale (of waterdeep) Dekarios x Afab! reader smut

⚠️Warnings⚠️

[College professor x student]

[Mutual pining]

[Dealing with issues via self isolation]

[Hurt > comfort]

[Alluding to masturbation]

[Teasing]

[No foreplay]

[Doggy]

[Breeding press]

[Mention of aftercare]

[18+ only]

“Deep breaths, you can do it.” Your professor, Gale Dekarios, stood behind you, holding your arm up.

-He had offered to help you practice a difficult spell you've been having trouble with. After class was over you had approached his desk and explained what spell you had been struggling with. 

Like the kind man that he was he accepted, telling you that while it was a troublesome spell you had enough mettle to learn it-

You said the incantation and with the added power of your professor you successfully casted the spell you had been having a bit of a hard time with. Your eyes widened as you beamed, looking up at your professor who had a sparkle in his eye.

“See, I told you, you could do it!” he smiled down at you, you stared into his eyes and your heart raced. You enjoyed the tenderness in the moment, before a small magickal ringing gained both of your attention. It sounded from Gale’s desk, he sighed, looked past you and turning the ringing off, “Sadly, that marks the end of our after class session.”

He put a couple scrolls he had laid across his desk into a small bag, you spoke in a small voice, “it's a little early, yeah?” 

“Umm yeah.. I have a few things I need to take care of.” Gale stumbled over the question, his eyes traced up your body and gave you a small smile, “But you did wonderful, like always, you'll get it yet.” 

A smile pulled at your lips, face heating from the remark, “I hope so.”

You had turned to grab your bag, being halted by Gale's voice, “Don't leave yet, I'll walk you out.” 

You nodded your bag falling onto your shoulder, the scrolls inside ruffled as you moved. Gale finished gathering his things, wrapping a small amulet around his neck before walking up to you.

He opened the door for you, smiling as you walked through. Walking through the hallway of the college, Gale seemed on edge but made small talk well enough to hide his obscured feelings.

“You've studied for that upcoming exam, yeah?” He asked, opening a larger set of doors. 

“Yes, sir. My arcane lock is the best in the class.” You cheered, smiling up at him.

For the first time all day Gale didn't have a smile on his face, usually his tied back hair was accompanied with a goofy smile and a kind demeanor. Your heart ached, you wanted to know what was going on, your fear for your professor sprouted little seeds of worry into your mind.

Both of you arrived at the waypoint, you went your separate ways. That was the last time Gale had seen you, when the next day arrived and you weren't in class, he had shook it off to you weren't feeling good. 

Day after day, until the day of the exam, you still had not shown face. Gale was worried and you being absent the day of the exam on the best spell in your arsenal only made his fear more present.

He had asked other students if they had heard from you, all only shook their heads, meaning you've basically disappeared without a trace. 

The professor's fear only grew as days went by, you had still not returned. Gale's fear trickled into full blown paranoia as the days went on, keeping him up at night and making him sick to where he couldn't keep food down. Gale had a soft spot for all of his students, even the naughty ones, yet you were one of his prized pupils. You were older than most of the rest of the class, eager to learn and listen, good at taking criticism, Gale was by no means a divination-heavy wizard and, yet even, he could see that you would go on to achieve great feats. 

Perhaps that was why he did it, Gale just needed to rationalize what part of him initiated the idea. Here he was fully in action, knocking on your door, away from the university, in his regular clothes. His face was deep and tired, stress had begun to sink into every fiber of him.

His knuckles knocked sharply against the dark wood of your door, a deep sigh released as he nervously waited for an answer. 

Almost perking up when he heard the soft, “Just a second.” that you had yelled in response. Scattered scuttering noises sounded from inside the apartment, Gale had no idea what you were doing, but hearing your voice brought a smile to his tired face.

When the door finally creaked open, your eyes widened in shock, “Professor-?” 

You looked behind him, seeing that he was alone, “What are you doing here?” 

Gale couldn't speak for a moment, he took the sight of you in. Before he frowned and began to explain, “You've been absent from your classes, at first I assumed you had fallen ill but after a few more absences and no hide nor hare of you, I became… Worried.”

A small smile shown as your face lit up, “Well, I'm fine, just going through a ‘rough patch’.” You turned slightly, welcoming your professor into your home.

He followed suit, walking in, “I really shouldn't stay long, I've quite a lot of work to do.”

“You should at least stay for a cup, I just put the kettle on.” You followed your professor deeper into your home.

Gale glanced around the small rooms, taking in all of your decorations, finally coming to a small couch. He sat on the edge of the couch, waiting as you sat in an armchair across from him.

“Is it pointless to ask for you to come back to class?” Gale asked, leaning forward.

“... No.” The word was released in a breath, “I just can't… not right now.” 

“Why not?” Gale asked, but slowly retracted leaning backwards, “I don't mean to pry, I just want to help, your education is important to me… You are important to me.”

“It's just hard. Right now, I have a lot going on.” You said, sighing.

Gale opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a stout whistle from the kettle, you lifted a hand, “Excuse me.”

Standing to your feet, you left Gale in the room by himself. Coming back with a small metal tray of fancy cups, setting it down on the table that separated the two of you. 

“Sugar is in here, please, take what you want.” You instructed, lifting the top off of a small ceramic container.

“Thank you.” Gale said, looking at you instead of the tea.

“We would really love to have you back in class, you can take the exam you missed and make up the work.” Gale started, ignorant to the way your heart sank as he muttered on, “with your natural talent, you'd have no issues getting back on track.”

“Yes. My Talent.. is why I'm not going back to wizard school, Professor Dekarios.” You paused from your explanations, taking a long sip of your tea, “I've recently felt like my whole world view has come crashing down around me, my whole life I've been naturally so good at spells and magick. I thought I had to be a wizard… I didn't know any other way…”

Gales eyes peered into your own, “It's not the magick you have a problem with… it's you, you think you may be…”

“A sorcerer… it's only a theory, however.”

“My class would still be open to you. I will help you grow however you see necessary and I'm sure a couple books and scrolls wouldn't hurt your newfound identity.” Gale's smug simper helped ease your pain.

Hells him just being there helped you feel immensely better, “if I was to come back to class and still go my own path, wouldn't it be like betraying the weave?”

“The weave is something we utilize, you cannot simply betray it and I'm sure the magick you hold will not mind what path you go down.” Gale said, reaching out to hold your hand.

“Thank you, professor.” You said, smiling at him. 

Gale stuck around and talked with you for a while, not all about magick, but he does have a large interest in the subject. Once the sky had turned dark purple and was littered with the freckles of stars, he thought it best to head to his own home. He chuckled as he walked out your door, turning to give you a small smile, his eyes beaming, “Thank you for having me… And thank you even more for sharing your troubles with me. The fact that I was able to help means more to me than you could ever comprehend.”

“Please, professor, I should be the one thanking you… I was really going through it…” you spoke, rubbing the back of your neck.

After your exchanged goodbye's Gale left, and once again your home was silent, you were alone. Only your thoughts to keep you company now, you thought back to how his hands fit around the small teacup he was holding. How comforting it felt when he grabbed your hand, how for once, his eyes were solely focused on you… You wished it could be like that more, how you craved him deep at night. 

But fantasies are usually just that, fantasy, fiction… fake. Tonight, however they were your comfort, you writhed beneath the covers imagining Gale giving into you. You wondered what pet names he would give you, what habits he would have when he loved you deeply. 

The next day you went back to school, sitting at your abandoned desk, your satchel fell from your shoulder and students began to whisper. Looking over at you and facing one another once again, pointing and speaking indistinctly. It was to be expected it didn't affect you in anyway… however, when Gale stepped up to his pedestal, looking straight at you and fighting to keep a smile down, then you felt something. 

The fires of the nine hells burned inside your stomach, a hand found its way to your cheek, to prop your head up and hide the reddening that quickly spread over your face. Gale went on with class like usual, teaching, talking, rambling, whatever way you chose to say it, it was always the same. You enjoyed it, being such a well learned man was attractive and the way the words rolled off his tongue like a liquid nectar made the experience much better.

Once class was over and you had tucked a couple of your scrolls into your satchel, Gale spoke up, “Ms. (Y/n)” 

You quickly turned to face him, locking eyes with him, “stay after class and we'll discuss your make ups, yeah?” 

You nodded, “Yes, sir.” 

“Wonderful.” He said, you stayed at your desk as students piled out, after the last one you stood up approaching his own desk.

“You're feeling better, I hope.” He spoke, his voice now softer, than when he was teaching.

You nodded, smiling, “Yeah, you helped me a lot, professor, I'm very thankful.”

“Please, as I stated before… I'm just glad I could help.” His large hand once again found your own, giving a reassuring squeeze. It was a kind gesture, but it was one that ignited that fire in you.

“I'll have to repay you, some day..” You spoke, smiling slightly at the thought that popped into your head.

“No, no, no need, You being here is repayment enough.” He spoke smiling, only to cock an eyebrow at the blush you now wore.

“Yes, but it would help me feel better about the whole situation…” 

Gale paused before speaking again, “what did you have in mind?” 

“I could always help you out… You know… to return the favor?” Your eyes flickering up to meet Gale's own. Your teeth latched onto your lip, pulling it into your mouth looking at his hand on your own. For a moment Gale's eyes widened before he pulled his hand away.

A myriad of  inappropriate thoughts flooded the professor’s mind, evident only by the red hue his face took on. A small smile played at his lips a sweet contrast to the simper that littered your own plush ones. Shaking his head, Gale's big brown eyes bore into you, “As much as I would absolutely adore that…” He paused, wincing at the words he was about to say, “ I cannot. If anyone found out I wo-” 

“No one has to know, Sir.” You interjected, keeping eye contact, your confident facade faltered for a moment. Beginning to move away from your teacher, you nodded slightly, “-but I understand, you do have more at stake here than I do..” 

Gale's eyes flickered through emotions at lightning speed, confusion seeped into his features followed by shock and finally he landed on regret, “W-Well. Let's not be hasty now..” 

His hand reached out to you again, as you raised an eyebrow, curiously, at your teacher, “Professor, what exactly are you getting at?” 

“If it's strictly a one time thing and no one would know then… I assume it would be okay to-” softly stumbling over his words Gale's eyes landed on your soft figure, biting his lip, praying that you understood his incessant ramblings.

You nodded slightly smiling brightly, “Just tell me when and where and I'm there, professor.”

“I have two more lectures today, you can meet me after and we can go to my tower, if you would like.” 

“Yes!” You said, loudly, your excitement causing gale to Shush you. Apologizing you still nodded, “Yes, I would love that, sir.”

The rest of your day dragged on as your mind found itself hoping for what was to come, when the time had arrived you met Gale outside of his room. Leaning against the wall, you hadn't even noticed him, you were reading a scroll and focusing on the movements it instructed. Only for gale to grab the parchment and gain your attention, “A bit of difficult Magick, right here… where'd you get this?” 

He was so close to you, leaned against the door frame, his body facing you as he glanced over the spell. Absentmindedly taking his lip between his teeth, his eyes pensively traced the scroll. Before he glanced back over at you, handing it back to you.

“A little shop near my house, just a goal I'd like to set for myself.” You explained as the two of you began your walk, tucking the parchment back into your satchel.

“I could always help you..” Gale offered.

“I would like to figure it out on my own, I think.” 

“That's understandable, when you get the hang of it you'll have to show me.”

“Of course, professor.”

“Please, for tonight, call me Gale.” Your heart skipped a beat. 

“Okay, Gale.” A small and nervous laugh left with the name.

Once the two of you arrived at his door, ending the short commute, he flicked his hand and the door swung open. The candles lining the walls all flicked to life as you walked in, it was like a fancy library, bookshelves lined the walls and little trinkets sat on top of them. You were taking the scenery in as Gale dropped his bag, it fell to the ground with a thump.

“Before we begin, I can make some tea, if you would like.” He said, “and I have some biscuits.” 

You nodded, following him into his kitchen, you sat in a small chair as he paced around the kitchen collecting small items and preparing the water. He was speaking to you about magick, but not in his usual teacher way. Now he was more like a friend indulging you in his interests, “but surely to a student as talented as you, my experiences probably seem trivial.”

“Of Course not, professor.” You said, replying without even thinking.

“What was that?” He said, stepping closer, now towering over where you were seated.

“Sorry, Gale, but it doesn't seem trivial, not in the least..” You spoke, swallowing deeply.

A simper had crawled onto his face, smirking down at you, before the whining tea kettle called for him. He quickly glanced over his shoulder before looking back at you, “Just one second, love.” 

You nodded the word ‘yeah’ ghosting on your lips, but breathlessly, no words could escape you. It felt almost as if he enjoyed teasing you, between the moment with the scroll earlier now this, blissful agony one could call it.

Gale poured water into the two cups of tea, letting them steep. He walked back over to you. A finger ghosting on your chin, lifting your chin slightly, looking in your eyes, he smiled, “ready?” 

Your heart skipped a beat, “F-For?” 

“For tea…” He spoke, placing a kiss to your lips, “what else?” 

He smiled as he brought a small tray closer to you, two tea cups and a plate of pastries sat on the tray. 

You hastily drank your tea, meanwhile Gale sipped his, watching the ways you moved around in your seat. When he drank the rest of his drink he stood to his feet clearing the dishes away, “I'm going to clean this mess up, the bedroom is through the stairs and to the right, you can't miss it, get comfortable.”

“O-okay.” You said, scampering up the stairs, you walked into his bedroom, the bed in the center was huge, you laid down on it, the plush blankets were soft and cool. You began undressing and crawled under the blankets, laying down comfortably. 

After a few moments of you laying there, the door swung open, Gale was also undressed, he crawled over the bed, laying over the blankets on top of you. 

Placing small kisses on your lips and trailing them down your neck, “Get up, and on your knees.” He growled.

You did as he said, standing on your knees, he pushed you down onto your hands and knees, getting behind you he slowly stroked himself before pressing into you. You moaned painfully, inhaling sharply, Gale did not give you time to adjust. He was driven feral by how warm and wet you felt, just for him. You were all for him and Gale was loving every part of it, his pace increased with every moan you gave him. 

Roughly pushing into you, “Yes, take it just like that, such a good pupil.” 

You moaned out beneath him, unable to form words as he ravaged you, placing kisses down your back, his hands held onto your forearms. The two of you rocking against one another, it wasn't long before your legs began to shake. 

“Gale, please.”

Your quivering voice was clouded by your ecstacy as you constricted around Gale, who groaned as he continued to pump into you. Your legs gave out, falling onto the bed, Gale lowered too, laying on top of you, “Damn, already?” 

Gale didn't stop, he milked your orgasm, rocking into you, stopping only to pull out and pat you on the leg. His hand traced your thigh. Before he rolled you over, you helped him, and Gale moved to stand up, still panting he pulled you closer to him. 

You were now on your back, Gale leaned down over you, placing your thighs on his shoulders, he placed another soft kiss to your lips.

“Is this what you think about during class?” Gale asked, pressing back into you.

“S-sometimes…” you admitted, Gale began to rock into you, “Ah-! Gale.” 

He pressed your legs to your chest, his face buried in your neck, kissing and biting at the sensitive area. The easy access to the sweet spot made your mouth water as Gale audibly moaned into the crevice of your neck.

His moans were loud and breathy, chasing his own release, his thrusts became sloppy and delayed. 

“Kiss me.” He demanded, you obliged, taking his bottom lip between your own. Kissing him as he rocked into you, “Yes, Gods, look at what you bloody do to me.” 

Finally, Gale thrusted, gripping the sheet beneath you tightly, and with a prolonged groan, he came. Chasing his orgasm, he sloppily rammed into you as your body milked him, clenching around as your orgasms met each other. Both of you gasping for air and mumbling swears beneath your breathless demeanor.

“You know, that was nice,” Gale said, pulling out and moving to lay beside you, “I appreciate it,”

Gale looked over at you, still panting, “I'll go run us a bath.” 

“Umm… sir,” you spoke up catching your professor's attention, “this was just a one time thing, right?”

Gale nodded, “yeah.” He mused as he walked into the bathroom.

It was most certainly not a one time thing.

[kitashousewife]

we're in trouble now

an: Halloween vibes? but not really? idk sort of kind of based on bad, bad, bad by LANY

pairings: geto x fem!reader

warnings: MANGA SPOILERS (vol 0, geto's past/high school years) mentions of: killing, curses, death, blood, police, crime, throwing up/gagging. sorcerer au, reader is not a sorcerer. established relationship, pet names, angst to comfort kinda? geto is just a little troubled, lowercase intentional

-

geto has been...off lately. and you're not sure why. he's been coming home later and later each night, causing you to lie awake in your shared bed, staring up at the ceiling, worried out of your mind.

it must be his job.

you've been dating for three years now. you knew before you started to date that he was a jujutsu sorcerer. he told you one night at the fanciest restaurant in tokyo, flushed cheeks and stuttering over his words. you couldn't care less, though. if anything, it was fucking hot to have a sorcerer as a boyfriend.

his job never got in the way of anything, though. he had amazing friends, who you've spent lots of time with. he was always home before dinner, never leaving on missions any longer than two days, even offering to take you along.

the last time that happened was about five months ago.

now it's 3:30 am, and you've found yourself in bed by yourself. again. calling him again, the line goes to voicemail almost instantly. you huff and throw your phone on the bed, watching it bounce before it lands face up. to your surprise, he's calling you back. rushing over, you leap onto the mattress, answering as quickly as possible.

"s-sugu? baby, are you alright?" your voice shakes. you're not sure why your chest feels so tight, why your breaths seem harder and harder to take.

geto feels the same way. he always does after he finishes off another one.

phone between his ear and shoulder, geto stands in front of a public restroom sink, scrubbing his hands for the third time in a row. the cheap soap does nothing to get rid of the blood that stains his fingers, deep in every crevice of his skin. looking at himself in the mirror, he feels an incredible sense of guilt.

"yeah, i'm fine baby. hey can you do me a favor, sweetheart?"

you can hear his voice echoing, almost as if he's in a pool.

"s-sure, where are you?"

geto feels guilty. he doesn't mean for you to be this upset. he also doesn't want to lie to you.

the four bodies behind him in the open stall are making it a little tough.

"oh i've just been finishing up work," one of the bodies, eyes still open, stare right at geto through the reflection of the mirror as he speaks. "i'll be home soon though, darling. i promise."

he hits mute as a shaky sigh leaves his lips. he peeks at his reflection once more, watching as the shirt worn by one of the dead bodies soaks up more blood. one of the bodies lets out a liquidy gurgle that echos off the tile walls. geto can almost see the last bit of life escape them, floating up into the air to join the rest of those that died the same way these ones did.

"what was the favor you needed?"

geto feels sick now. your voice so sweet, so innocent and airy. he can't you're with someone like him.

a killer.

sneaking out of the bathroom and to his car, he unmutes himself.

"could you grab a couple suitcases from the closet? pack up enough for a few days, and could you pack a little for me as well?" he buckles himself in and just as he starts his car, the sound of sirens appear in the distance.

"yeah, i can do that," you stand up, heart still racing. did you have a trip planned?

turning down different back alleys, stalling for a second as the sirens get closer, geto takes a deep breath.

"you're an angel. i'll be there soon. i love you, my perfect girl."

you end the call and begin to do as you were asked. filling the suitcases as quick as you can, you don't pay much attention to the outfits you've created. you don't even know where you're going, anyway. you smile, picturing in your mind a quick little getaway for the two of you. sightseeing, sleeping in, and spending time away from work.

you still feel a little off.

where was he?

the door bursts open, presenting a very flustered geto. his bun is almost out, dark tresses barely hanging at the nape of his neck. the pieces that fell out stick to his face from what looks like sweat. his pupils are blown wide, mouth slightly agape as he breathes heavily. you drop the t-shirt of his out of your hands and scramble to your feet.

"s-sugu? oh my god, what happened to you? did you get mugged? d-did someone try to kill you? oh my god," you gasp, hands reaching for every part of his body to make sure he was in one piece.

geto swallows back the guilt induced vomit that sits at the back of his throat. "no, baby, not at all," he coos down at you, but his eyes look anywhere but your face. they check each window and door, before eyeing the suitcases. "thank you so much for doing this. we're going away for a few days, is that alright?" he says with a smile. cupping your face ever so lightly with his slightly stained fingers. he's thankful you forgot to turn on the lights.

"of course, suguru. are we going far? let me make something to eat," you pull him towards the kitchen, but he tugs you back.

"we can eat when we get there, i promise. let's just get going," he speaks quickly, eyes still checking the windows.

"is everything okay?" you say, copying his stares out the window. he notices and grabs his suitcase and yours, before heading towards the door. he almost throws up again, torn between telling you everything and keeping you in the dark. he swallows hard.

"the car is on, i can explain everything later. we'll be just fine, i promise." you smile, feeling a little more at ease. with a nod, you grab a jacket and head out the door.

as soon as you get to the car, geto opens the passenger door for you and puts the suitcases in the back with speed. you haven't even buckled your seatbelt by the time he starts to drive away.

"it's 4:30 am baby, we don't need to race! it's not like anyone is on the road," you laugh and reach your hand to hold his. he jumps when you touch him. "i'm sorry! i didn't mean to scare you," you mumble, and he gives you a small smile, which fades as soon as the faint sounds of sirens fill the air. his stare jumps up to the rearview mirror, and he takes a sudden sharp turn that has you jumping in your seat.

"suguru! what is going on?"

he turns down another street and speeds up a little bit.

"angel, i've gotten myself into a bit of trouble, okay? everything is gonna be just fi-"

"what did you do?" your voice is stern, but geto gives you a smile, eyes softening as he drives down a back road.

"i'll explain everything later, just like i promised. for now, i need you to trust me, okay?"

your mind and stomach scream no no no at you, but your heart takes over.

"okay, i trust you."

-

you must have fallen asleep at some point on the drive, because when you open your eyes you're met with sunshine and costal views.

"there she is, good morning darling. we're almost there."

blinking a few times and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you realize that you have pulled into a small town next to the ocean. geto appears to be more relaxed. you reach around for your phone, but you can't seem to find it.

"are you looking for your phone?" you nod. "i put it in my bag for you. i thought it would be good for us to stay off of our phones for the next couple of days. just time with each other, how does that sound?" his face beams at you from the driver's seat. you can't say no, especially not when he's being so kind and sweet.

"i think that sounds lovely."

you pull up to a motel, which looks as if it doesn't get a lot of business. you start to feel a little uneasy, and geto can sense that.

"wait right here, i'll get us checked in," he kisses your cheek and walks towards the motel office. now that you're a little more awake, you start to become hyper-aware of your surroundings. based off of the looks, you're at least four hours from home. you start to think a little more. was he running from the cops? what type of trouble is he in?

he returns quickly, room key in hand. he grabs the suitcases out of the car and you follow close behind him all the way to your room. as soon as you enter, he quickly shuts the door and locks it behind him. you have a seat on the old motel bed without a word.

feeling a little more relieved, he sighs and looks at you. worry all over your face, wringing your hands that are placed in your lap.

"isn't this nice? our own little place, right on the ocean. i know how much you love the ocean, we could even go check out the shops later!"

you don't say anything. geto begins to panic.

"are you hungry? would you like me to get some food for us? if you want, we could go-"

"why did you take me here?" your voice is nothing more than a whisper. you feel sick, you know something is terribly wrong. he kneels in front of you on the floor and grabs your hand.

"sweetheart, do you think humans are good people?"

you give him a confused look. "maybe not everyone, but most people i know are good people," you think out loud. geto's stomach feels a little uneasy.

"your asshole manager? you think that guy is a good person?"

"no, not him. but my other coworkers are great people, remember? you've met them!"

of course he has. he's been to many work dinners and events.

he also killed one of them last night, but he won't tell you that.

"darling, why do you think there is so much crime in the world? so many good people like you say, having their lives ruined by these terrible humans. wouldn't the world be a better place if they just...went away?"

your mouth opens slightly and you blink at him a few times. you start to sweat a little bit, and the room feels like it's caving in on the two of you.

"what are you suggesting?"

he comes to sit next to you on the bed and holds you in his arms.

"do you know what i do for work?"

he feels you nod into his chest. "you fight curses, right?"

"that's right. do you know why curses exist?"

you shake your head.

"because of humans. regular humans, like you, who can't fight or see curses. curses only exist because of them. they are able to flow through people and hurt them, which makes my friends and i come in to save them. that doesn't seem very fair, does it?"

you disagree. you know deep down that this isn't right, what he's implying is evil.

"w-well no, but-"

"do you know hard it is to fight curses? to even be around curses?" he stands up, voice raising. hot, angry tears fill his lash line. "do you know how disgusting my cursed technique is?"

your mouth opens and shuts, unable to form any words at all. you want to speak, but you simply cannot find the words to say. you know there is nothing. you can say to help him feel any better.

"i don't know but i want to, i want to understand you better," you mumble, lip quivering and voice cracking slightly. you feel terrible, you had no idea how much pain geto has been in. he paces back and forth in front of you, wiping his tears with his hands. suddenly he stops.

"you'll think that i'm gross, that i'm a monster," he rambles. you stand up, grabbing his hand and holding him close.

"i promise i won't. i love you,"

he takes a deep breath and backs away, leading you back to the bed to sit down. you continue to hold his hands in your own, attempting to provide any sense of comfort.

"i can summon curses. i can call them to help me fight, whenever i need them," he starts, glancing at you to see your reaction. to his surprise, you're completely neutral.

"that sounds really cool, sugu. what do they look like?" you ask, eyes wide and full of curiosity. geto can't help the smile that grows on his face at how innocent you are.

you are exactly why he wants this perfect world.

he raises his hand and a small curse appears. something kind of silly looking, much like a kids drawing with wings. you look at it for a second, before he interupts.

"can you see it?"

you nod. "that's good. some humans can see them, and some can't. this little guy is harmless," he waves his hand and the curse flies away, out the door and into the world.

"can you make bigger ones?"

he chuckles. "yes, some ten times his size, maybe even bigger. they all have different abilities, some are stronger than others," he looks at you once more, relieved to see that you're smiling.

"how do you get them, do you make them?"

geto doesn't say anything, but continues to stare at the carpet at his feet.

"i swallow them," noticing your confused face, he elaborates. "it turns into a ball, fits right in the palm of my hand, almost looks like a crystal ball," he swallows hard. "then i just...swallow it."

you nod and stroke his back. he shivers a little at the thought.

"it tastes so vile, so disgusting. i can't even describe the taste," he shakes his head, tears brimming his eyes once more. "tastes like death. which make sense," he sniffles.

"why, sugu?"

he looks at you, tears streaming down his face at this point. you brush them away with your thumb, but they keep falling.

"i'm a killer. you don't deserve me. i try to make this world a better place, one where i don't have to watch my friends die. one where i don't even have to worry about curses, one where i don't have to think about ever losing you," he raises his voice, each word coming out through choked sobs.

"i want to keep you safe. i want to be away from this, from everything. i want to protect you," he cries, and you pull him close. "god, everyone probably thinks i'm so fucked up. they probably thing im ruining your life,"

you shake your head. "people can think whatever they want." with a nod, he lays back down on the bed. you push the fallen strands out of his face, playing with them a bit to help him calm down.

"how long do you want to stay here?"

he wipes his face and props himself up on his elbows. "i dunno, couple of days at least,"

you nod. the two of you sit in silence. geto has run out of things to say, as have you.

it’s light outside, sunny and bright. the exact opposite of the mood inside of the dingy motel room. seagulls sing outside as they perch, happy tunes that almost make you laugh. you’re not sure what to think, what to feel.

“are we gonna be alright, sugu?”

he sighs. “i think so.”