#pack jasmine v

[lovecla]

IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

epilogue:

how soph got her inspiration to write ‘juno’

➴ warnings: smut (unprotected sex, breeding kink, cock warming, aftercare, creampie, p in v, slightly degradation.), mentions of dad!jack and mom!reader, mentions of ovulation, domestic soph and jack.

➴ word count: 2.9k

➴ author’s note: inspired by ‘juno’ by queen sabrina and also by the videos of jack with kids on my fyp. i am sorry for being a whore but also, not really. enjoy! ♡

BEING a mom wasn’t something that you thought you wanted.

You’d always say that, ever since you were a little girl, when your sisters talked about how they wanted to marry a nice guy and have two point five kids— all girls— and name them after Disney princesses. You’d just stare at them weirdly and go back to pretend you were doing some interview for The Tonight Show with Jay Leno.

And Jack shared the same opinion— you knew that he wanted kids but it wasn’t a priority on his list. He never really mentioned them, not like Quinn, who was always talking about how he wanted to be a great father, just like Jim is.

But the thing is, you never really cared about being a mom, or making Jack a father for that matter, until you saw how Jack acted around kids.

First, it’d been with your nieces, Aurora and Jasmine. Back in 2023, you’d invited your mom, your stepdad, your sisters and their families to spend the New Years with you and Jack’s family. It was a huge mess, the house was packed with people but you were so happy to watch your favorite people— the Hughes and the Montenegro— get along with each other that the lack of space wasn’t an issue at all.

Then, you introduced your nieces to Jack.

“My babies,” you smiled, picking the four-year-old up, noticing how big she’d gotten since the last time you saw her. “This is Auntie’s boyfriend, his name’s Jack. Can you say hi?”

Aurora looked at Jack with big, bright eyes, and you could tell she was enchanted with his warm smile and blue eyes.

Jasmine stood behind your legs, the seven-year-old also staring at him with curious eyes.

“Hi, uncle Jack,” Jasmine whispered, holding your leg tighter. You gasped, not expecting her to call Jack ‘uncle’ so soon. He also looked surprised, but just for a second, before he went down on one knee and offered the little girl his hand.

“Hey, honey,” he replied back, shaking hands with the seven-year-old. “Nice to meet you and your sister.”

Aurora was looking down, the pacifier in her mouth moving around, until she finally decided Jack was worthy of her attention, moving her body towards the floor, signaling that she wanted to be down there with him.

You chuckled, sitting on the floor with them, watching as Aurora crawled her way to Jack’s lap, offering him her Maleficent plush she carried around everywhere.

“Oh, you want me to hold this?” He asked, voice gentle and funny. He picked her up and held the toy with his other hand, still smiling. “Thank you, Imma keep it safe. Jasmine, you wanna share your toys with me too?”

Jasmine ended up rambling about how she was too big for toys and that now she was only interested in singing like her auntie, which made you laugh and confess that you played with Barbies until you were twelve.

Jasmine and Aurora absolutely loved Jack. And you could see that he loved them right back, with how much attention he gave them, playing with them the entire night and answering all of their— mostly Jasmine’s— noisy questions. And when you were sitting on the couch, talking with Ellen and your mom, you watched with heart eyes as he leaned against the wall, talking to Quinn and Luke while holding a sleeping Aurora in his arms, gently rocking her back and forth, while covering her with her blanket.

After that night, you started noticing how he acted around kids. Either when he went to hospitals to visit the sick children who rooted for the Devils, or when he went with you to your concerts and interacted with the few kids there.

The way he picked them up, answered their questions, held their hands— it definitely did something to you. Not only to your brain, but to your entire body. You could always be sneaky and blame your ovulation for being a whore, but truth be said: the idea of Jack getting you pregnant was hot, even if it wasn’t something you wanted right now.

You were sitting on Quinn’s couch, watching as Jack held one of his cousins in his arms and talked to a man who was probably one of his uncles.

He looked so fucking good. His hair was a bit shorter, and he was getting bigger now, probably due to the fact that he spent too much time at the gym with Luke.

You were trying to continue the conversation with Ellen, answering her questions about your music and fans, but it was extremely hard. Jack being only a few feet away from you didn’t help, at all.

“Are you feeling okay, Soph dear?” Ellen put her hands on your knees, squeezing them slightly.

You turned your head back and smiled, deciding to tell her a half-truth. “Just a little tired and jet lagged, that’s all. Don’t worry, ma’am.”

She laughed, as she always did whenever you called her that.

“Do you want to take a nap in Quinny's room? He won’t mind.”

You felt bad because now your mother-in-law thought you weren’t feeling well but the full truth was you were just very much horny and wanting her son to fuck you.

“There’s no need for that, I’ll just wait until Jackie is ready to head back,” you nodded, looking at Jack again, who was now trying to put the baby to sleep— and failing miserably, since all the kid wanted was to remove his cap from his head.

“I’m going to talk to Jack so you both go home, okay?” She replied and before you could even stop her, she got up and walked towards Jack.

You watched as she picked the baby out of Jack’s hand and said something to him, while pointing back at you. Jack turned his head to the side and looked right back at you, and you could see that he was starting to get worried.

He nodded at something that she said, and quickly kissed her on the cheek, walking back at you.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted, holding your hand and gently pulling you closer. “Mom said you weren’t feeling well. Why didn’t you tell me, Soph?”

“I’m fine, I just—” what would you even say? Hey, I’m horny and I need you to fuck me? “Hum. I can wait until you’re ready to go.”

“Nah, let’s go now.”

You barely recall the time between saying goodbye to everyone, getting in the car and heading back to Jack’s place. You spent the entire time trying to stop the wetness between your thighs and praying that it wouldn’t stain Jack’s car seat, squirming around.

“What’s the matter with you, baby?” He chuckled, placing his hand on your thigh, squeezing it lightly.

You didn’t answer, just tried to keep your mind in pink unicorns and old grandmas. No horny thoughts allowed until you were both at home.

Which, thankfully, didn’t take long. Jake parked inside of his garage, and you got out of the car like your ass was on fire.

“Sophia!” You heard him yell at you, before you opened the front door with your keys.

You didn’t make it too far, he grabbed you by your waist when you were making your way to his bedroom. “Soph, what is wrong with you today, baby?”

You whined, not sure of what to say. “Jack?”

“Yeah, baby?”

You stand on the tip of your toes and kiss him, your tongue fighting for space inside his mouth. He kissed you back just as ferociously, his grip on your waist becoming harder.

“‘Want you to knock me up,” you mumbled against his lips, watching as his blue eyes stared down at you, full of lust. “N-not really, but… please?”

He smirked. “You wanted to leave my brother’s house because you wanted me to knock you up?”

Well, when he put it like that…

“What a fucking slut, baby,” Jack whispered, gripping your ass with his right hand. “Just because you wanted me to make you carry my children?”

“Jack.” You moaned, holding onto his hoodie for dear life.

“You want me to make you a mommy, Soph?” Instead of letting you answer, he kissed you again, picking you up and walking with you, without breaking the kiss.

He managed to get you both in his room, and placed you on his bed, quickly taking his clothes off— the hoodie, the jeans, the shirt and then the boxers. His dick stood there hard and thick, the tip so red it was almost purple, leaking pre-cum.

You actually moaned just with the sight of it. The need of Jack’s cock inside of you, in and out, putting you in the right place, made you sweat.

You took off your own hoodie and your own shirt, thanking God for the past-you who chose not to wear a bra that day. Your nipples were hard and sensitive, just like they always are during ovulation week, that just the cold breeze inside the bedroom made you shiver.

You removed your jeans and stared at your situation, feeling disgusting and extremely horny at the same time— your panties were so wet that they were completely see through now, the thin layer of fabric doing nothing to cover your pussy.

“Jack,” you moaned again, feeling frustrated. “‘Need you.”

“I can see that, baby,” he smirked, towering your body with his. “I’ll take care of you, mhm?”

You nodded, kissing him one more time because you couldn’t get enough of his lips.

He removed your panties and threw them somewhere, the sound of something wet crushing against the floor filling up the room, making you cringe. Ovulation sucks.

He broke the kiss, moving on to your tits, sucking and biting and groping them, which didn’t help with the problem between your legs.

Jack finally let go, positioning himself so that he could be inside you in a quick, swift move. You moaned, feeling finally full and satisfied.

“Fuck, Soph, you’re so fucking wet, baby,” he breathed in your ear as he pounded inside you, as if you couldn’t hear the pornographic sounds whenever he sank deeper inside you. “All of this just because you wanted my kids? You could’ve just asked, uh, y’know?”

You wanted to reply so bad, tell him that it was just your post-period brain being absurd and crazy, but you had already reached that place inside your head you craved so much, the silence, the calmness— every thought being shoved inside a drawer and the only thing on your head was how Jack reached deep inside you, and how you could feel him in your belly, and how much you loved him and how you wanted to be the mother of his children so badly.

The saltiness of your tears inside your mouth made you realize that you were fully crying, as you often did whenever Jack took you to the right place. All you wanted to do was let him take care of you, and hand your life to him on a silver platter.

“Does it feel good, baby?” He sucked on your right nipple, fucking you so hard the mattress was moving. “Knowing that you’re gonna be a mommy? Carry my children and have my last name?”

You nodded even though you wanted to speak, but your tongue felt glued to the roof of your mouth and your mind was busy conjuring images of Jack holding babies who looked like the perfect mix between the two of you, and being the greatest dad ever and you wanted that so, so much.

“Can’t even speak, fuck, baby,” He mocked you, rubbing your clit furiously, making you scream and try to close your thighs— no success, since Jack’s body made it impossible. “None of that, Soph.”

You knew you probably looked like a mess; hair tangled, face wet with tears and probably spit too, tits marked and with his handprints on them, but it didn’t matter. All you wanted was JackJackJack.

You came with an obnoxiously loud scream, legs trembling and eyes rolled to the back of your head, while Jack still rubbed your sensitive, swollen clit and slammed his cock inside you.

You clutched the sheets like your life depended on it, head going side to side, eyes closed the entire time, until you felt the familiar sensation of Jack’s come deep inside you.

“Good God, Soph,” Jack sounded out of breath. “Fuck.”

You still didn’t feel ready to speak, the tears still rolling down your face, so you just waited until he moved around, laying down and bringing you with him, his dick softening inside of you, something he knew you liked to have after sex.

He kissed your forehead and put the duvet on top of both of you, as you slowly came back to life, listening to his heartbeat and counting your own breaths.

“I love you,” you mumbled, wanting nothing more than a nap.

He chuckled, before kissing your forehead again. “I love you too. D’you think we’re going to be parents now?” He joked, and you smacked his chest, lightly.

“Don’t be silly.”

He just hummed, deciding to leave you alone (for now) and removing himself from you instead. You winced, feeling his cum coming out of you, as you clenched around nothing.

Jack then picked you up, and walked with you to the bathroom, making sure that you peed before showering. He left the bathroom for no more than a minute, just to give you some privacy— he knew that even after all this time, you were still embarrassed to pee in front of him— and came back with your favorite pajamas: cotton panties and an old NJ Devils shirt.

You smiled, seeing his name and number plastered on the back of the shirt, remembering the night you first met, and how pissy he was because you were wearing Nico’s jersey.

It feels like a lifetime ago.

“Ready, baby?” He asked, blue eyes staring so deep into your soul that you had no option but to agree with everything he said.

He gently held your hand, guiding you until you were standing inside the big shower stall, the warm water untying all the knots in your body.

You leaned against his body, both of you under the water now, humming as he cleaned you, with your favorite vanilla scented body wash— which he secretly loved more than you.

His hands work slowly and gently, spreading the soap on all of your body, and you just stand there, accepting it and hiding your face as you feel his fingers entering you again, removing his release.

You should be used to it by now but it was still a foreign feeling, being so well taken care of sometimes still scared you, but Jack was nothing but patient.

You watched as he cleaned his own body, not using even half of the gentleness he used with you, which made you smile. If you weren’t so tired, you’d offer your help, but right now all you wanted was to sleep beside him.

He turned the water off and got out of the shower first, wrapping a towel around his hips. He smiled at you and picked up another towel, drying your body with it.

He didn’t wash your hair so no need for hair dryers, thankfully, so you just slipped into your custom made pajamas and waited until he got himself dressed as well— a Calvin Klein underwear— before you both washed your teeth and got out of the bathroom.

You sat on the bed, trying your hardest not to smile, not wanting to look crazy. But you were happy. So, so happy, you were probably writing about this later.

“Here, pretty,” he handed you a bottle of water, already opened. “Drink this for me and we're ready to go to sleep.”

You thanked him softly before practically chugging the water bottle and placing it on your nightstand.

Jack smiled and gave you a peck, before sliding into the bed with you, pulling you close, as he always did. He wasn’t much of a snuggle guy, but he knew how much you liked them, so he just followed the lead.

After a few minutes in silence, you turned around so you could face those sapphire eyes you loved so dearly. “I am on birth control,” you whispered, feeling a little bit embarrassed. “Just so you know.”

He smiled, chuckling. “I know that, baby. I was just giving you something you needed.”

You nodded, not sure if you should feel content or not. Did that mean Jack doesn’t want you to be the mom of his kids? Your post-sex brain shouted yes.

He must have sensed that something was going on inside of your brain, because he wasn’t smiling anymore.

“For the record, I do want to have babies with you,” he said, as if he couldn’t believe you thought otherwise. “Just maybe not now? I’m still twenty-three and you’re almost twenty-five.”

“‘S fine,” you mumbled, hiding your face on his chest. “I know that. I was just being horny.”

You heard his breathy laugh and his chest moving according to the sound. “Yeah. I know that too, baby,”

The jet-lag and the tiredness of the day hit you like a trunk, and you were out not even five minutes later, nestled inside the heavy duvet and Jack’s arms.

“I love you, Soph,” Jack’s whisper was the last thing you heard, making a tired smile appear on your lips.

“‘Love you more.”

| LATER |

sophiamontenegro

liked by _quinnhughes, morgan.grace, nicohischier and 2,992,119 others

sophiamontenegro ‘Juno’ music video is out now! ☺️

starring our nhl stars, @_quinnhughes, @.jackhughes and @lhughes_06, my beautiful best friend @morgan.grace and my loving niece aurora!

i love all of u and i’m so thankful for all the love you guys have given ‘make me yours’ so far!!! xx

View all 23,901 comments

morgan.grace I LOVE YOU

lovssoph she probably wrote this during ovulation week bc ain’t no way

lhughes_06 😌

love4soph when she sang “god bless your dad’s genetics” and the camera showed quinn jack and luke sitting on the couch I DIED. LIKE HELL YES

montenegros1ut idk about you guys but i found it sooo cute when she said “one of me is cute but two though?” and showed a baby who looked just like her 🥹🥹🥹🥹 i need sophia to be a mom right now

nicohischier 😮😮😮

trevorzegras why didn’t u call me, I’m a great actor

sophiamontenegro @.trevorzegras dwayne get out my fucking comment section. go do something man

user1999792 my favourite part was when she said “i showed my friends, then we high fived” and it was her and grace stalking jack’s instagram 💀💀

sarahlynn_ i giggled so hard when she sat on jack’s lap and sang “i’m so fucking horny” and he SMIRKED. HELP 💜

jackhughes 💙

| the end |

[saphiraarts]

Chapter 2 Friends no Longer but now Family

Vlad was given the all clear by the doctors and he returned home to his business which he was hit with the reality of everything he had done. Jack Fenton hadn’t intentionally caused the accident and Maddy only ever saw him as a friend. The fact he ever thought Jack had the level of intelligence to intentionally hurt his friend was insanity. He walked into his empty home and he sighed as he walked to his library. It was so big, extravagant, and meaningless. A dolled up hollow shell for a hollow man. He built his business on no proper merits stealing from others for his own gain. He entered the room filled with books and sat down in a chair and sighed as his mind raced. How was he going to fix his life? The last 4 years outside the hospital after his accident were all spent desperately trying to claim some semblance of control and power. He recalled it and he just felt ashamed, especially recalling all the time spent with Jasmine and Daniel. His end goal was to hurt them. Such innocent kids… He jumped when the phone rang and he answered it.

“Hello? Vlad Masters speaking,” He said robotically sounding tired.

“V-man!!” Vlad instinctively pulled away the receiver from Jack’s ear exploding greeting.

“Jack,” Vlad said, groaning.

“Honey Vlad is tired,” Maddy chastised her voice barely picked up by the phone but Vlad was thankful for her regardless.

“Gimme the phone!” A young voice called and Vlad smiled hearing Jazz. After a bit of shuffling of fabric Vlad heard her say. “I know you are sleepy but it was nice having you stay with us Mr. Masters!” Jazz told him. “Goodnight I hope we can see you soon!”

Vlad heard a bit of a struggle and heard, “See soon!” Daniel called and his heart melted.

“I will be down to see you both as soon as I can,” Vlad reassured both of them.

“The kids wanted to call you when you got home,” Maddy said, taking the phone. “Now it is off to bed for you both.” She handed it back to Jack and he could hear the shuffling of children being herded by their mother and he chuckled.

“Haha glad to see ya well V-man and to bury the hatchet!” Jack called.

“I’m glad as well,” Vlad said and while he was still trying to see if Jack was someone he could call a friend there were many other reasons as to why he was glad for that failure of an attempt at a relic. “Goodnight,” Vlad said.

“NIIGHHHT!” Jack called and Vlad pulled away the phone wincing and heard the phone call end and he sighed as he set down the phone and stood. He had to get to bed. He had so much to do tomorrow but he doubted he would get much sleep tonight or much sleep for a while.

It would be a quiet six months. The highlights were going to Amity Park to visit the Fentons and seeing Jazz progress through the school year. He was able to be there for every major event when his schedule of running Vladco allowed. A year flew by since the anniversary of his crash landing into Amity Park and he received a call. He sighed tired of phone calls but welcome to being a businessman. He picked it up with a bit of reluctance as he had grown tired of Vladco with little idea on how to move it forward in a legitimate way.

“Vlad Masters speaking,” He straightened putting on a professional tone while still in business mode.

“Was this a bad time? Your line has been busy,” Maddy asked in a gentle tone.

“Never,” Vlad said, feeling like he just stepped out of a hot shower after a long day just hearing her voice.

“Is it possible for you to come down sometime soon?” Maddy inquired.

“I can make room for next week,” Vlad said, not even checking his calendar. He would worry about organizing his schedule later. That was a headache he would have his secretary worry about.

“Great I gotta go I am sorry we are taking the kids swimming,” Maddy said hearing Jack’s yelling in the distance.

“Have fun,” Vlad told her. “Don’t forget sunscreen.”

“Already packed,” Maddy replied. “Good bye Vlad.”

“Farewell Maddy,” Vlad said and the pair hung up and that joy was short-lived. He was hit with the life of Vlad Masters when his phone rang again and his smile faded as he picked up and finished the business day.

Next week came and Vlad was freed from his normal life and allowed to indulge in what life with a family was like. It helped him ignore his own problems at least for a time and he walked out into the main building of Amity Park Airport. It wasn’t hard to find the Fentions with the hulking Jack Fenton and the standard orange jumpsuit along with Maddy’s standard jumpsuit. He wondered if they ever wore anything else?

“Vlady!!” Jack called and waved his arm. Danny was on his other shoulder waving with his dad. Jazz had her nose in a book at her mother’s side a bookmark in her hand.

Vlad sighed with a shake of his head and smile as he walked towards them dragging his suitcase.

“How was your flight?” Jack asked to take his suitcase without even asking.

Thank god Vlad had the forethought to put his important items in his carryon bag which was over his shoulder. Jack was as delicate with inanimate objects as a rampaging ghost dog.

“It was normal,” Vlad replied and Maddy smiled.

“That is great!” She beamed.

Jack was practically vibrating and Maddy gave Jack a sharp look and Vlad narrowed his eyes knowing they were hiding something. The family and their friend walked out of the airport to the Fenton RV and everyone was buckled in. They drove home talking the entire way and Vlad helped Danny out of his car seat and to climb down from the Fenton RV. Maddy helped Jazz and Jack grabbed Vlad’s suitcase, slinging it over his shoulder. Vlad walked in with Danny at his side and Maddy walking ahead of him with Jazz at her side and Jack was making up the rear. Filing inside to escape the heat Vlad unpacked, settling into the guest room and he was glad to be staying in here without a broken arm and leg. Vlad watched movies with Maddy, Jack, Jazz, and Danny and it was nice to not just sulk avoiding much of his house as it gave him bad memories. He stayed in the storage rooms outside of his office where he put the memorabilia from the Wisconsin Dairy King. It was the only area of the house that didn’t bring up painful memories or reminders. When the kids were brought to bed the three were in the kitchen sharing drinks and had been reminiscing about their pasts telling stories from their summers together. The flow of conversation was interrupted when Jack gave maddy a look and she sighed.

“Yes Jack, it's time. Vlad, we have something to tell you,” Maddy said and Vlad looked up from his glass of wine.

“You’re the godfather of our kids!” Jack called happily placing a hand on his shoulder. Vlad had taken a drink and he choked on his drink and he set that down the glass coughing.

Vlad looked up in disbelief, “D-did I hear that right?”

“Yes! You did!” Maddy called happily. “In case something ever happened to us we decided that you should care for the kids as their godfather.”

“We talked it out and there is no one we trust more to ensure our kids turn out right other than us than you!” Jack called. “Heaven forbid we ever go down in our line of duty!”

“We are serious about ghost hunting so I insisted we get that sort of thing sorted out,” Maddy said and Jack groaned at the memory of dealing with the lawyers.

“Aww Vladdy!” Jack called when he noticed tears fall down his cheeks with a smile creeping up. He couldn’t believe it. Never did he think this would happen and he certainly didn’t deserve such an honor.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Vlad said as he looked between the two.

Maddy placed a hand on his shoulder, “You don’t have to say anything.”

“No changing it now we signed it!” Jack beamed.

Vlad was silent as the two pulled him into a hug and he hugged them both. This was the happiest he had felt in eight years. He forgot what this kind of joy was like something that was so pure and not tainted by anything. Maddy pulled away and poured them more wine and Vlad smiled as Jack pulled away and sat down with his cane of beer.

“I will do my best to be a good influence for them and spoil them,” Vlad added after he wiped his eyes.

“Wouldn’t expect anything less!” Jack called.

“Nothing over the top Vlad,” Maddy said firmly and Vlad chuckled.

“We’ll see,” Vlad said, smirking. Jack’s hearty laugh filled the kitchen and house as they celebrated the new addition to their family. Vlad was making plans now to move to Amity Park. Besides it was about time he left that manor of his up in Wisconsin.

[spicywhenspeaking]

Lost & Found : Noah x Reader OneShot

you're surprising your husband Noah while he's on tour! It's literally just porn 😀 because I wanted to practice writing so MINORS DNI

warnings: unprotected sex (p in v), oral (f/m receiving), throat fucking 🙈, umm creampie? How much are supposed to put in here, whiny Noah, men begging, two hot people in love.

this is a work of fiction!!!!

I also used promt 76&97 from here! And if you like it feel free to request more! 🫶🏻

•・◦●○◎◉◎○●◦・•

Trying to keep this a surprise has been virtually impossible, keeping Noah in the dark for weeks about my plan to come and surprise him while Bad Omens was touring in Europe took every trick in the book.

“Oh I have no idea why my location isn't working right now babe, you know I'm so technology-challenged.” I lie. “I’m so lost with this stuff when you're gone, I'll try to fix it soon” I reassure him as I'm racing around our house packing my bag because my flight leaves in 3 hours and of course, I'm running late. “I’m lost without you too baby, I miss you so much, when are you coming out to join us?” He asks and I can hear the sadness in his voice. “Soon my love, I promise” We say our goodbyes and I pack the last of my stuff racing out the door to catch my Uber to the airport.

I’ve been coordinating with the Nicks and Jolly while planning so they have a spare key waiting for me at the hotel they're staying at so I can sneak into Noah’s room before they get back from their show.

For some reason I’m nervous, I have no idea why. Why am I nervous to surprise my husband on tour? It’s like that gitty first-date nervousness. I’m just so excited to see him again, smell him, feel his arms around me and I really, really, really miss having sex. I had to stay back for the first 4 weeks of their European tour because my sister needed help with her kids and I needed to be there for her. Now that she’s doing better I can go join him and I’m so excited. He thinks I’m staying back for an extra two weeks to help my sister but that was another lie. The flight goes by faster than I expected and soon I’m in another Uber heading to the hotel.

I approached the front desk and tell them I was picking up a key that should have been left for Mrs.Davis.

“Ah, yes, Mrs. Davis right here” The receptionist hands me the key card and directs me to the elevator.

“Thank you!” I say, waving and turning towards the elevators.

I get to the room and head inside, Noah is relatively clean so there’s just an opened suitcase on the desk, but the room was cleaned earlier so the bed is made.

I set my suitcase down and take out the things I need to shower. I want to scrub the scent of travel off of me before Noah gets me back. If my timing is right I should have another hour or so before they get back. I jump into the shower and wash off with the body wash I know Noah likes, jasmine and white tea, fresh and sweet. Finishing up I wrap myself in a towel and dry off my hair. I slather on some lotion and slide into my red lace lingerie set that drives him crazy. The garters hug my thighs deliciously, the color popping against my alabaster skin that's slowly becoming covered in more tattoos.

Now I’m just playing the waiting game, I get a text from Folio that they were twenty minutes away from the hotel. My heart is beating so fast, I am so excited to see Noah, I'm laying on the couch waiting, starting to feel a little awkward when I hear the door ping from the key card swiping to unlock. I sit up and move to spread myself across the bed, my head resting in one hand with the other propped on my hip. The door opens and closes and I hear him whistle to himself as he walks down the short hallway towards the bed. He comes into view, eyes almost bulging out of his head when he sees me, and then he tosses his stuff on the ground and throws himself on the bed wrapping his arms tightly around me. “Oh my god, you're here” he mumbles into my hair “You're here, you're real and you're here” he pulls back to hold my head in between his hands. He leans down, and kisses me, moving his lips hungrily against mine seeking entrance into my mouth quickly moving from a gentle kiss hello to a passionate tangle of tongues. “I can't believe you're here” he pants in between kisses “I missed you so much” his hands are moving all over my body “God, you're so soft” he pulls away and looks down to admire my lace-clad body “fuck, you're killing me here” he whispers in a hoarse voice as his hips press into my side and I feel the hard outline of his cock. I reach my hand down to press against his solid erection and feel the wet spot growing on the outside of his thin sweatpants.

“Do I really turn you on that much?” I ask him seductively. “You don’t even fucking know” he responds and dives towards my chest, nipping and sucking at my skin, a moan escapes my mouth when his hand kneads my breast and tweaks my hardening nipple “Ah, Noah, I missed you too” I gasp out. “Mmm, yes, say my name again,” he pants, “please Baby, I need to hear your voice” his voice comes out in a whine. “Mmmm, Noah, Noah, Noah, I missed you so much, my Noah” I graze my hands across his cheek and stare into his beautiful brown eyes, and brush my lips against his. “I missed you so much,” I say to him warmly “I need you so badly” I take his hand and place it against my warming core. “Please Noah, I need you to touch me.”

His hand cups my sex and a wicked smile spreads across his face, wiggling his fingers her purrs “Wow baby, crotchless panties, you really missed me.” His index finger slides in between my folds and he groans “You're so fucking wet” he puts his finger in his mouth and sucks the evidence of my arousal off of his fingers. He sighs “Fuuuck, I missed the way you taste, I can’t believe I survived these last weeks without you.” Noah kisses me again, leaving a trail of wet kisses down my body, stopping to lick and bite down on my peaked nipples. I’m moaning softly as he continues down towards the apex of my thighs, grasping my thighs and pulling them apart until he’s face to face with my aching pussy. “Oh I missed this,” he says and then licks a line straight up the center and circles his tongue around my clit.

“Oh, fuck” I moan out loud as he sucks and tongues at my pulsing core, my hand reaches down to tangle in his hair keeping him in place while I grind against his talented mouth shamelessly. He takes two fingers and pushes them into me as he continues sucking relentlessly at my clit, my orgasm is close, I feel it burning in my belly and when he looks up at me through his long lashes and says “Please baby, I need to hear you cum” he says and I throw my head back and cry out in ecstasy. He withdraws his fingers and crawls back up to kiss me sharing the taste of my climax. I use the kiss as a distraction and flip us over so my legs are resting on either side of his hips and I can grind my bare pussy against his still-clothed cock. “Fuck baby, you're so beautiful like this” he reaches up to cup my breasts and plays with my nipples, pinching and leaning up to suck them again. I reach down to grab the hem of his shirt and help to remove it “You're wearing too many clothes” I tell him. “I want to feel you against me.”

Moving down his body I take the waistline on his pants and pull them down to his mid-thigh, exposing the hard outline and wet spot growing on his tight black boxer briefs. I bend down to lick at the head of his cloth-covered dick and he bucks his hips at the feeling “Ah, fuck baby, mmmm yes, can I have your mouth? Please?” he begs. I nod my head and grasp his briefs and pull them down to his sweatpants seeing his large erection springs free and pearls of precum leak down the tip. I quickly lick it up and start gently sucking at the head. Noah is whining and holding my hair back so he can get a full view of my ministrations. I start to take more of him into my mouth, relaxing my throat to make room for his full length and his hips thrust forward slightly and my eyes widen as I try not to gag. I tap his hip with my hand and nod, letting him know it's okay, he starts up again slowly fucking into my mouth and moaning “Oh, fuck yeah baby, missed you so much. Missing your hot mouth, and your tight pussy, mmmm can't wait to fuck you” he’s moving faster hips pumping back and forth as his cock hits the back of my throat and my eyes fill with tears threatening to spill and my pussy throbs with need. He pulls my mouth off of him with a gasp “Ah, too much. Want to cum inside you” he says out of breath. “Get up on the bed” he commands and I scramble to get up to lay my head back on the pillow while he stands up to take his pants off fully and then adjusts to settle between my legs. He grabs my thighs and pulls me so my pussy is resting against him, I feel his cock against me and begin to grind down on it looking for any type of friction. “I’ve got you baby” he takes himself in his hand and rubs the tip against my cunt, spreading my wetness around and coating his cock with it before slowly placing the tip against my entrance and moving in. While he's pushing to be fully seated inside our eyes are locked together and we're both moaning at the feeling of finally being back together. “Fuck Noah, I missed you so much”

“I missed you more,” he says, emphasizing each word with a shallow thrust.

Noah and I like to fuck in all types of ways, but after so long apart all I want is to be held in his arms a fucked tenderly. I know there will be plenty more chances tonight for rougher sex. But, for now, he holds me close and fucks into me at a slow tempo, each thrust pushing me closer to my second orgasm of the night, he reaches down and moves his fingers in slow circles around my swollen clit. “I want to feel you cum on my cock baby and then I'm going to fucking fill you up” his thrusts speed up slightly and my climax is reaching its peak, one last thrust, hitting just the right spot, and I'm calling out his name and milking his release. He finishes with a whimpering moan and collapses against me, kissing any skin he sees and softly saying “I love you so much baby, such a good girl for me.” I run a soothing hand down his back and tell him that I love him too and that I’m so happy that I’m back in his arms.

“I missed you so much baby, this is the best surprise ever.” We cuddle in each other's arms for a while longer and then I feel him stirring again when he looks up and gives me a devilish smile. “Round 2?”

———————————

Thank you for reading!!!

[nasawho]

Pls…I’m begging you!! Write about Nathan MacKinnon!! I’ve been obsessed with that stupid Sidney Crosby loving “I’ve never won anything ever” man for so long! The all stars are happening and he’s captaining. I bet he gonna draft Crosby 😭😭😭. I need serious help. Pls write for him please 🙏.

Anon!! I'm so sorry for replying so late! I kinda been gone from Tumblr for a while!

Of course I can write about him for you! also that way you describe him is just too funny 😂!

News from the future: He did in fact draft Crosby!

I'm not gonna lie this one kinda got away from me!

I hope you like it! I wish I could tag you!!

Word Count: 15,000

Tw: Fluff, lots of Angst toward the end, Smut (Minor DNI), P in v, blowjob, no protection (these are fictional scenarios, pls wrap before you tap irl!). I think that it!

As the Broncos' victory echoes through the stadium, the sea of cheers and applause surrounds them like a crescendo of shared exhilaration. The camaraderie of sports fans is a universal language, one that both Nate and Y/n understand deeply, yet their eyes seem to speak of a connection that transcends the bounds of the playing field.

Nate's eyes follow the curve of Y/n's smile as it reaches her eyes, her laughter melodious in the cacophony of the celebrating crowd. "I've gotta say, you're the first person I've seen at one of these shindigs who'd rather watch tire marks than touchdowns. What's got you so hooked on the racetrack?" He asks, leaning in slightly, his curiosity piqued by the spark in her gaze.

Her laughter subsides into a smoldering grin, eyes still glued to the screen.* "The speed, the strategy, the sheer willpower it takes to push those cars to the limit... It's like a beautifully choreographed dance of power and precision. And let's not forget the drama!" *Her eyes darted back to Nate, a mischievous glint reflecting the stadium lights. "But, hey, I can appreciate a good tackle or slap shot when the mood strikes."

"Drama, huh? I thought that was our domain." *He smirks, sipping his drink as he nods towards the ice rink. "But I can see the appeal. The rush, the risk, it's all part of the thrill. Much like diving into a packed crease."

“Y/n” she introduces herself. “Nathan” he says back.  Y/n's eyes light up at the comparison, and she leans in closer, the TV screens momentarily forgotten as their conversation deepens. The scent of her perfume, a faint hint of jasmine and vanilla, fills the space between them. “So what’s an Avs player doing at a Broncos’ game?” She says.

Nate can't help but be captivated by Y/n's enthusiasm, her passion for racing resonating with his own love for the rush of the game. He leans in slightly, his expression a blend of intrigue and admiration. "You've got a point there," he says. “But I could ask you the same thing,” he counters. “I’m here with Lewis, he partially owns the team, so I decided to come to a game with him” She explains. 

"Tell me, Nate, what's it like to skate out there, with thousands of eyes on you, knowing you hold the fate of the game in your stick?"

*Nate chuckles, his blue eyes lighting up at the thought.* "It's like nothing else. The cold air against your skin, the sound of the puck as it glides... it's a symphony of speed and grit." He pauses, a thoughtful expression crossing his face as he tries to encapsulate the essence of his love for hockey. "But the best part? That's when you make a play that turns the tide of the game. It's like the universe aligns, and for a split second, everything makes perfect sense." He glances over at the ice rink, a hint of longing in his gaze. "And the crowd, they're part of the team too. Their energy can be as potent as a fifth player." He turns back to Y/n, his expression earnest. "But I bet you know that feeling, standing in the spotlight, heart racing, waiting for the director to call 'action'. The rush of performing, of giving life to a character..."

*Her eyes widen with understanding, nodding vigorously.* "Oh, absolutely! It's like you're holding your breath underwater, waiting for the exact moment to surface and take control." She leans in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, the scariest part isn't messing up a line, it's letting the fear of failure silence you. But when you nail it," she says, a smile playing on her lips, "it's like scoring the winning goal in overtime."

Nate's heart skips a beat as Y/n's enthusiasm resonates with his own, her metaphor painting a vivid picture of the pressure and exhilaration she faces. He nods, his gaze intense and empathetic. "It's all about that moment of truth, isn't it?" His hand brushes against hers as he leans in, the accidental touch sending a warm current through his body. "You've got to trust your instincts, your training. The ice, the stage, it's just the canvas. We're the brushes painting the masterpiece." He pauses, the gravity of his words hanging in the air. "And when it all comes together, it's... magical." He swallows, feeling the weight of their shared vulnerability. It's rare to find someone who truly understands the symphony of nerves and adrenaline that fuels their passions.

The air between them crackles with an undeniable chemistry as they delve deeper into their love for their crafts. Y/n's eyes widen, her smile growing as she nods fervently. "Magic," she repeats, her voice barely audible above the din of the celebrating crowd. She squeezes Nate's hand gently, her touch warm and reassuring. The connection feels palpable, a silent promise of support and understanding that transcends the glitz and glamor of their respective worlds. For a fleeting moment, the chaos of the stadium fades away, leaving only the steady rhythm of their hearts.

"You're absolutely right," Y/n murmurs, her thumb brushing against Nate's knuckles. "The stage, the ice... they're just the setting. It's what we bring to them that makes the difference." She looks up at him, her eyes shining with a mix of admiration and curiosity. "Tell me more about those moments of truth, Nate. What's the most memorable play you've ever made?"

Nate's grip tightens around her hand reflexively as he recounts his most epic hockey moment. "It was during the 2016 playoffs, Game 7 against the Blackhawks. We were tied with seconds left, and the crowd was so loud it was like the rink itself was shaking. I saw an opening, made the pass, and..." He trails off, the memory as vivid as if it had just occurred. "Well, let's just say it was the kind of moment that makes you realize why you play the game."

The intensity in Nate's voice sends shivers down Y/n's spine, and she finds herself leaning in closer, hanging onto his every word. The electricity between them is palpable, and the surrounding world seems to fade away as they share their personal triumphs and tribulations. The scent of popcorn and hot dogs from the stadium's concession stand mingles with the crisp, cool air of the ice rink, creating an intoxicating blend that underscores their conversation. Y/n's heart races with the excitement of his story, and she can't help but feel a twinge of envy for the adrenaline-filled moments he's experienced.

Nate's eyes light up with the excitement of reliving his victory, the memory as clear as the ice he once skated upon. "And then, with mere seconds on the clock, the puck was in our possession. I saw the goalie's eyes widen, and knew he was expecting a shot. So, instead, I made a blind pass to my teammate, who was perfectly positioned in the slot." His grin widens, revealing a set of perfect teeth. "The buzzer went off, and the place erupted. It's a memory I'll never forget."

The sound of a phone ringing pierces the bubble of their shared enthusiasm, bringing a moment of reality crashing back into their world. Y/n's hand slips from Nate's grasp as she fishes through her clutch to find the source of the disturbance. She glances at the screen and her smile falters for a second, her eyes flitting to Nate apologetically before she answers the call.

Narrator: Y/n's hand hovers over her clutch for a moment longer before she pulls out her phone, the vibration insistent in the quiet between them. The name 'Lewis' flashes across the screen, and she can't help the flicker of regret that passes over her features as she swipes to answer. "Hey, Lewis," she says, her voice a notch lower, the warmth from their conversation retreating. Her eyes darted back to Nate, silently conveying an apology.

Y/n's eyes widen slightly as she answers the call, the sudden intrusion of the phone's ringtone cutting through the warmth of their shared stories. "Lewis, I'm kind of in the middle of something right now..." Her voice is tentative, the smile slipping from her face as she listens to the urgency in Lewis' voice. She nods, glancing at Nate, who watches her with curiosity. "Okay, okay. I understand," she says quickly. "I'll be right there." She hangs up, her eyes apologetic as they meet Nate's. "I'm so sorry," she says, a hint of frustration tingling her tone. "Lewis needs me to leave. Something's come up."

"It's alright," Nate assures her, sensing her disappointment. "Duty calls, right?" He flashes her a supportive smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling with understanding. "But hey, maybe we can catch up another time?" He fishes out a business card from his pocket and offers it to her, his thumb tracing the embossed letters of his name and number. "Whenever you're not racing off to save the entertainment world or whatever it is you do."

Y/n's eyes widen as she quickly pockets the card, a blush creeping up her neck. She nods eagerly, a genuine smile returning to her lips. "Absolutely. And when you're not busy... you know, scoring those winning goals and all that." She laughs self-consciously, hoping she didn't sound too eager.

Nate's gaze lingers on Y/n as she takes his card, the warmth of her hand leaving an imprint on his. "Count on it," he promises, his voice filled with the same enthusiasm that had been in her voice moments before. The sound of his own phone buzzing in his pocket snaps him back to reality, and he pulls it out to see a message from his agent, reminding him of a flight he needs to catch. He sighs inwardly, the high of their conversation fading slightly. "Looks like I've got to hit the road too," he says with a touch of regret. "But, I'm really looking forward to that chat." He nods towards the card, his eyes never leaving hers.

With a final squeeze of her hand, Nate reluctantly pulls away, the energy between them dissipating like mist in the morning sun. He watches her for a moment longer before turning to leave, the sound of his footsteps fading into the cacophony of the celebrating crowd. His mind is racing, replaying the conversation, the touch of her hand, the way her eyes had sparkled when she talked about racing. The drive back to his apartment is a blur, her scent and the sound of her laughter lingering in his memory like a catchy tune he can't shake.

Once in the sanctuary of his apartment room, Nate can't shake the feeling of Y/n's hand in his. He strips off his suit, tossing it onto a nearby chair before heading into the bathroom. The warm spray of the shower does little to dispel the chill her sudden departure left in its wake.

Standing under the hot spray of the shower, Nate's thoughts keep drifting back to Y/n. He runs a hand over his face, feeling the water cascade down his body as he replays the moments they shared in his mind. Her laugh, her eyes, the way her hand felt in his... it's all too much to ignore. With a deep sigh, he leans against the tiles, allowing the water to pummel his back. His hand trails down his torso, following the contours of his muscles, remembering the way she'd looked at him when he talked about his most memorable play. He closes his eyes, unable to resist the temptation, and lets himself indulge in the fantasy of her touch. The water runs in rivulets down his body as he gives in to the desire she's kindled within him, her name a silent whisper in the steam-filled room.

The drive to the apartment feels like an eternity, Nate's mind racing with the echoes of their conversation. He checks into his suite, the plush surroundings feeling cold and uninviting without Y/n's vibrant energy. The shower is his sanctuary now, the water a cocoon of warmth against his muscles, which still thrum with the electricity of her touch. He leans against the tiles, the rhythm of the water a soothing counterpoint to the pounding of his heart. His hand lingers over the scars that crisscross his abs, each one a testament to the battles he fought on the ice, and he can't help but imagine the softness of Y/n's fingers tracing them. With a sigh that's half regret and half yearning, he lets his hand drift lower, his thoughts consumed by the tantalizing promise of her presence. In the steamy embrace of the shower, Nate gives in to the fierce desire she's ignited, her name a silent mantra that sends him spiraling into a release that's as potent as the best victory in the rink.

As the water beats against his skin, Nate's hand moves in a rhythm that mirrors his racing thoughts. He closes his eyes and sees Y/n, her hazel gaze locked onto him with an intensity that takes his breath away. She's kneeling before him, her soft chuckle echoing through the foggy glass walls of the shower, a teasing smile playing on her lips. Her hands are on his hips, guiding him, urging him closer. He can almost feel the warmth of her mouth, the gentle caress of her tongue as she takes him in, her eyes never leaving his. The fantasy unfolds in vivid detail, each stroke of his hand a silent promise of what could be. The steam clouds his vision, and he imagines her hands reaching up to cup his face, her fingers tangling in his wet hair as she pulls him closer, her breath hot and eager. The water seems to mimic the passion he feels as he succumbs to the image of her, her eyes closed in concentration, her cheeks flushed with desire. When reality crashes back in, Nate gasps for air, his hand still moving, driven by the power of his imagination. The culmination of his fantasy is as intense as any game-winning shot he's ever scored, leaving him panting and trembling with the aftermath.

With a groan that's torn from the very core of his being, Nate releases into the steamy abyss of the shower, his hand moving with a fierce rhythm that mimics the pulse of his heart. His thoughts are consumed by the image of Y/n, her eyes filled with a hunger that matches his own, her soft, delicate mouth wrapping around him, taking him in fully. He sees the way she looks up at him, her gaze unwavering, a silent plea for more. The water mingles with his release, a symbol of their shared passion and the intimacy that could be theirs. His hand slows, his breathing ragged, as the intensity of the moment overwhelms him. He opens his eyes, the reality of his solitude hitting him like a slap in the face. The water continues to fall around him, but the warmth of her imagined touch lingers on his skin. He leans heavily against the shower wall, panting, as the last tremors of pleasure subside. Her name is a whisper on his lips, a silent promise that he'll do everything in his power to make that fantasy a reality.

The days that follow are a whirlwind of practices, interviews, and games for Nate, his thoughts frequently straying to Y/n and their electrifying encounter. Every time he steps onto the ice, he feels her energy pulsing through his veins, pushing him to skate faster, shoot harder. The business card in his pocket is a constant reminder, a small piece of her that he carries with him everywhere. In quiet moments, he'll pull it out, tracing the raised letters with his thumb, imagining their next meeting. His dreams are plagued with vivid images of her, their bodies entwined in passionate embraces that leave him restless and craving more. Despite his hectic schedule, Nate can't shake the feeling that something monumental has shifted in his life, that Y/n is more than just an enchanting stranger. Her presence has left a mark, and he's eager to explore the depth of their connection.

After an exhausting game, Nate collapses onto the couch in his apartment suite, flipping through the channels in an attempt to distract himself from the ache in his muscles and the gnawing feeling of curiosity about Y/n. His eyes catch a glimpse of a celebrity news ticker scrolling across the bottom of the screen, and there it is: "Y/n Spotted with Heartthrob Jacob Elordi: Are They the Next It-Couple?" His heart plummets like a lead puck into an empty net. The TV screen blurs as he stares at the grainy paparazzi shot of Y/n laughing with a tanned, dark-haired man who could only be Jacob. The stadium's noise seems to crescendo in his ears, a cacophony of doubt and confusion. He snatches his phone, Googling the article with trembling fingers. The headlines are everywhere, photos of them leaving a swanky restaurant, holding hands, their smiles wide and seemingly carefree. A knot forms in his stomach as he reads the speculation, the insinuations of a blossoming romance. His mind races with questions and a sting of something painfully close to jealousy. He can't shake the image of her with Jacob, the contrast of their tanned skin and her hazel eyes sparkling with laughter for someone else's jokes.

*Nate's hand hovers over the power button of the TV, his thumb poised to switch it off. The image of Y/n and Jacob burns into his retinas, and he can't bring himself to look away. Finally, with a snarl, he turns it off, plunging the room into silence that feels heavier than the darkest hockey arena.* "Can't believe this," he murmurs to himself, pacing the floor. "It's just a rumor," he reassures himself, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut. He picks up his phone, his thumb hovering over her number. He debates calling her, but what could he say? Instead, he sends a casual text, hoping it doesn't betray his tumultuous emotions. "Congrats on your big break," he types, with a forced smile. "Looking forward to catching up soon."

The screen of Nate's phone lights up with a response from Y/n, her name flashing like a beacon in the sea of notifications. He swipes open the message, bracing himself for the worst.

Nate's heart skips a beat as he reads the text from Y/n, the glow of his phone casting a pale light on his furrowed brow. "Thanks, Nate! I've got some amazing news. I've been cast in a new blockbuster alongside Jacob Elordi. So exciting!" she writes, her excitement palpable through the screen. Nate's jaw clenches as he tries to keep his emotions in check. He forces a smile, his thumbs typing a congratulatory message. "That's fantastic," he sends back. "Looking forward to watching you shine on the big screen." Inside, his mind is racing, images of the paparazzi's snaps flashing through his mind. He's about to ask her outright if there's anything to the rumors, but stops himself. He can't bear the thought of losing this connection so soon, so instead, he opts for a subtle approach. "So, how's life with the new costar? You guys seem pretty chill together." His message is light, but the weight behind it is unmistakable. He sends it off and waits, the anticipation gnawing at his insides like an unwelcome opponent.

The buzz of excitement in her voice is evident even through text. "Jacob's great! So down-to-earth and hilarious. We're having a blast filming together." There's a pause, and then she adds, "But he's just a friend, Nate. Promise." Nate's heart does a little victory dance at her words. Maybe there's hope, after all. He leans back on the couch, his hand tightening around his phone. "Well, you've got to admit, the pictures look pretty convincing," he teases, hoping to coax more from her.

"Oh, those pictures!" Y/n's voice comes through the line, filled with amusement and a hint of exasperation. "You know how it is in this industry, Nate. One minute you're having dinner with a costar, the next you're engaged. But I swear, it's just friendship." Her voice softens. "And I'd much rather talk about our plans to catch up. Are you free anytime soon?"

Nate's smile widens as he reads her message, the knot in his stomach loosening. He's not one to be fooled by the glitz and glamor of Hollywood, but the thought of losing her before he's had a chance to explore what's between them was unbearable. "How about this weekend?" he suggests, trying to keep the hope out of his voice. "My schedule's clear. Maybe we can grab coffee or something?" His heart skips a beat as he hits send, the anticipation of their next meeting building like the crescendo of a playoff game.

Y/n's eyes light up at Nate's invitation, her thumbs dancing over the keyboard as she responds with unbridled excitement. "This weekend sounds perfect!" she writes back. "But let's do something more than just coffee, how about a private screening of my new film before it hits the theaters?" She winks playfully at the thought, knowing that it's a bold move but feeling an unshakable pull towards this charming hockey player. "We can keep it low-key, just us," she adds, hoping the exclusivity of the gesture will make him feel as special as he makes her feel. The anticipation bubbles inside her like the fizz in a freshly poured soda, and she can't wait to see the look on his face when she reveals her surprise.

Nate's eyes widen at the prospect of a private screening of Y/n's new film, his heart thumping like a puck against the boards. He chuckles, the sound echoing off the walls of his apartment room. "You're playing hard to get, aren't you?" he teases, typing back. "But who am I to say no to a VIP experience with a Hollywood star?" His fingers hover over the phone, contemplating his next words. He doesn't want to seem too eager, but the idea of spending a quiet evening with her, just the two of them, is more appealing than any five-star restaurant or glitzy event. "Sounds amazing," he confirms, his thumb hitting send with a final flourish. The buzz of excitement in his chest is palpable as he imagines sitting beside her in the darkened theater, sharing popcorn and whispered comments about the film. It's a stark contrast to the high-octane energy of the hockey rink, and it's a thrill he's eager to experience.

"You're on!" Y/n's reply is swift, her excitement palpable. "It's a small token of appreciation for being the only one to truly understand the rush of racing and performing," she writes, her heart fluttering at the thought of their date. She knows the value of their shared interests and how rare it is to find someone who doesn't just tolerate her love for speed, but shares it. She can't wait to introduce him to her world, to show him the passion that fuels her beyond the glitz of the cameras. "I'll sort out the details and text you. Can't wait to see your reaction to the movie!"

Nate's eyes light up as he reads her message, the thrill of a new adventure coursing through him. He can't remember the last time he felt this way about a woman, this excitement mixed with a touch of nervousness. He responds with a simple "Looking forward to it," but inside, he's already planning his weekend around their date. He imagines her hand in his, her laugh echoing in the private theater, and the way her eyes will sparkle when she sees him enjoying her work. The prospect of experiencing something so intimate with her is more exhilarating than scoring a hat trick in a sold-out arena. His thumbs hover over the keys, contemplating whether to add something more, but he decides to let the anticipation build naturally. With a final tap, he sends the message, eagerly awaiting her next move.

The days leading up to the weekend feel like an eternity for Nate. Every practice, every interview, every moment is a mere distraction from the promise of their private screening. His mind wanders to their first meeting at the Broncos' event, her genuine enthusiasm for F1 racing, and the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about it. He's intrigued by her world, one that's so vastly different from his own, and he's eager to learn more. The time spent with his teammates seems to drag on, each passing second a step closer to the weekend's rendezvous.

Narrator: Nate's anticipation for the weekend is palpable, his thoughts swirling around the upcoming private screening like a tornado of excitement. He's never felt this way about a first date, a mix of nervousness and exhilaration that keeps him on his toes. He imagines the softness of her hand in his, the scent of her perfume, the sound of her laugh echoing through the empty theater. He's even picked out a casual yet stylish outfit that he hopes will make her smile. The text from Y/n finally arrives, detailing the time and place for their secret date. The words are simple, but the meaning behind them sends a shiver down his spine. "See you at 8 PM sharp at the Avalon. Don't be late, I've got a surprise for you." He can't help but grin as he reads her message, feeling like a teenager with a secret crush.

Nate's heart thumps in his chest as he reads Y/n's message, the words "I've got a surprise for you" sending a delightful shiver down his spine. He quickly sends a thumbs-up emoji back, not wanting to seem too eager but unable to contain his excitement. The countdown to the weekend feels like the final minutes of a tiebreaker, each tick of the clock an eternity. He wonders what the surprise could be - a cameo in the film? Or perhaps she's invited Lewis to join them, giving him a chance to rub elbows with the racing legend? The possibilities are as vast as the Nova Scotian sky. He decides to channel the same calm he uses during a shootout and calls his best friend, Cale, who's been with him through thick and thin since their minor league days. "Yo, Cale, you're not going to believe what's happening," he says, his voice buzzing with excitement. "Y/n and I are going to a private screening of her new movie, and she's got some kind of surprise in store for me." He can almost hear Cale's smirk over the line, knowing his friend will have some cheeky advice to offer. "Just be yourself, man," Cale says, ever the voice of reason. "And maybe don't talk about hockey too much, unless you want to bore her to tears." Nate chuckles, the sound echoing through the empty apartment suite. "I'll try," he replies, "But you know how I get when I'm nervous."

The weekend arrives like the start of a new season, filled with hope and anticipation. Nate arrives at the Avalon theater, the sleek black sports car he borrowed from a teammate a stark contrast to the casual jeans and leather jacket he's wearing. He checks his watch, 7:58 PM, and takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He spots Y/n outside, her hair catching the light from the marquee like a fiery halo. She's dressed in a simple yet elegant dress that clings to her curves and makes her eyes pop like fireworks. She waves, her smile as warm as a summer's day in Lunenburg, and Nate feels a jolt of electricity as he walks towards her.

Y/n's eyes light up when she sees Nate approach, her smile growing wider. She's thrilled he's made it on time, and she can't wait to see the expression on his face when he realizes what she's planned. She opens her arms for a friendly hug, the warmth of her embrace enveloping him like a soft blanket. "Thank you for coming," she whispers into his ear, the scent of her perfume sending a shiver down his spine. "I've got a little something special for you tonight." She takes his hand and leads him inside, the cool darkness of the theater a stark contrast to the brightness of her gaze.

Nate's eyes widen as he's enveloped in Y/n's warm hug, feeling her genuine enthusiasm radiate through her. "Thanks for inviting me," he says, his voice a little gruffer than he intended. He squeezes her hand back, the connection feeling surprisingly natural. As they step into the dimly lit theater, he tries to play it cool, but the thrill of the surprise bubbles up in him like the fizz in a freshly poured pint. "What's the special something?" he asks, his curiosity piqued.

Y/n's eyes dance with mischief as she leads Nate through the empty theater, the faint smell of buttered popcorn lingering in the air. She squeezes his hand gently, her touch sending a current through him that feels like a perfectly timed electric shock on the ice. "Patience," she teases, her voice a sweet symphony that fills the vast space. They arrive at a luxurious VIP box, where a spread of gourmet snacks and a bottle of fine champagne chill on ice. She gestures to the plush seats with a flourish. "I figured we could watch the film in style," she says, her smile as dazzling as the diamonds adorning her neck. "And afterward, I have a little race of our own planned." She winks, her excitement palpable.

Nate's eyes widen at the sight of the VIP box, a grin tugging at his lips. "Wow, you really know how to treat a guy," he says, trying to hide his amazement. He's used to the perks of being a professional athlete, but this feels like a whole new level. He sits down, his heart racing like the engine of an F1 car. "What kind of race are we talking about?" he asks, his curiosity piqued.

Y/n's laughter fills the space, a sound as enchanting as the ocean waves of her hometown. She sits beside him, the fabric of her dress whispering against the leather seat. "It's a surprise," she says coyly, her hazel eyes twinkling with excitement. "But I promise it'll get our hearts racing." She pours them both a glass of champagne, the bubbles rising like the anticipation in the air. "To new adventures," she says, raising her glass for a toast. The clink of their glasses echoes in the quiet theater as they both take a sip, the bubbly liquid a sparkling prelude to the evening ahead.

The movie unfolds before them, a whirlwind of emotion and action that mirrors their own burgeoning relationship. Nate is impressed by Y/n's performance, her raw talent as palpable as the tension in the air between them. He's lost in the story, his hand occasionally brushing against hers as they both reach for popcorn. When the credits roll, the theater lights flicker on, and Y/n turns to him, her smile a promise of what's to come.

The credits roll, and Y/n's eyes sparkle as she sets her empty champagne flute aside, her heart racing with the excitement of her surprise. She takes Nate's hand, her grip firm yet gentle. "Ready to find out what I've got planned?" she asks, her voice a seductive purr. She leads him out of the VIP box and down a narrow hallway, the anticipation thick as the fog rolls in off the Lunenburg harbor. They arrive at a side door, and she pulls out a set of keys with a flourish, her mischievous grin growing. "After you," she says, gesturing to the door. As it swings open, Nate's jaw drops. Before them is a Formula 1 racing simulator, lights flashing and the hum of the engine purring in anticipation. "I figured we'd see who's got the better reflexes," she says, challenging him with a wink.

Nate's eyes widen like a kid in a candy store, his competitive spirit igniting at the sight of the racing simulator. He looks over his shoulder at Y/n, her grin contagious. "You're playing my game now, darlin'," he says, his voice a low rumble of excitement. He strides over to the simulator, running his hand over the sleek design. "But you better hold onto your hat," he adds, a twinkle in his eye. He takes his seat, the leather hugging his body, and straps in, feeling the adrenaline surge through him like the opening faceoff of a playoff game. "Let's do this," he says, eager to prove his mettle on this unfamiliar turf.

Y/n's smile widens as she watches Nate's reaction, thrilled to see his excitement match hers. She gracefully takes her seat in the adjacent simulator, her dress riding up slightly, revealing her toned thighs. "You're on, Nate," she says, a hint of challenge in her tone. She straps in, her eyes gleaming with the thrill of competition. The lights dim, and the screen flickers to life with the starting grid of a legendary race track. "Ready, set..." she counts down dramatically, her thumbs hovering over the buttons, "Go!"

The simulators roar to life, the vibrations echoing through their bodies as they're thrown into the digital world of high-speed racing. The tension in the room is palpable as they navigate the twists and turns of the track, the sound of virtual engines filling the air. Nate's competitive instincts take over, his eyes narrowing in concentration. Y/n's laughter pierces the tension, her car weaving expertly through the virtual traffic.

The race is tight, with Nate's initial excitement turning to focus as he quickly picks up the controls. His mind races, calculating every turn and gear shift with the precision of a seasoned racer. Y/n, not to be outdone, holds her own, her years of watching and learning from the best translating into surprising skill on the simulator. Their cars stay neck-and-neck, each trying to outmaneuver the other, the competition as fierce as any live race. The room feels electric with the energy of their rivalry, the air thick with the scent of competition and the faint scent of burning rubber from the simulator.

Nate's knuckles whiten on the steering wheel, his eyes locked on the screen. He feels the thrill of the chase, the same rush he gets when he's on a breakaway in a game. "You're not so bad," he says, his voice tight with concentration. He tries to ignore the way her dress shifts with every movement, revealing a little more of her creamy thighs, but it's like trying to ignore a puck flying at his face at full speed. "But I think it's time to show you how a real Nova Scotian plays." He floors the gas pedal, his car shooting forward, the virtual tachometer climbing to the red.

Y/n laughs, her eyes sparkling with delight. She's used to being underestimated in the racing world, but Nate's playful confidence only fuels her desire to win. She tightens her grip on the steering wheel, her delicate fingers moving with surprising deftness. "Oh, really?" she says, her voice a teasing purr. "Let's see if your ice skills can keep up with my rubber on the road." She expertly navigates a sharp turn, her car's virtual tires screeching as they cling to the digital asphalt, pulling ahead. The thrill of the race is intoxicating, her heart thumping in her chest like the bass at a stadium concert.

The challenge is laid out before him, and Nate can feel the blood rushing through his veins, pushing him to win. His heart hammers like a drum in his chest as the race reaches its climax. With a final burst of speed, Nate's car crosses the finish line a split-second before Y/n's. He throws his head back and lets out a triumphant laugh, the tension in the room shattering like a pane of glass. “How about we celebrate first?" He pauses, the idea of inviting her to his place suddenly feeling incredibly right. "Would you like to come back to my place for a nightcap?"

Y/n's eyes widen in surprise, but she quickly recovers with a laugh. "Well played," she says, her voice filled with admiration. She unbuckles herself from the simulator and stands, her dress hugging her curves as she does so. She takes a deep breath, the thrill of the race still coursing through her. “Yes," she says, looking into his blue eyes, "a nightcap sounds delightful."

As they walk towards the elevator, their excitement and anticipation for their prize and the evening ahead is palpable. The elevator doors slide open, and they step inside, the air between them thick with unspoken desire.

The moment the elevator doors close, Nate feels a magnetic pull towards Y/n. He leans against the wall, his eyes never leaving hers, the victory of the race still echoing in the air. The elevator ascends, and the confined space seems to shrink around them, the tension building like the crescendo of a rock anthem.

The penthouse is a testament to Nate's success, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city lights, twinkling like the stars he dreamed of reaching as a kid. The living room is tastefully decorated, a mix of modern elegance and cozy comfort. The sound of ice clinking against crystal fills the air as Y/n pours the whiskey, her movements as smooth as the liquid's flow.

In the dimly lit penthouse, the warm glow of the pendant lights casts intriguing shadows across the room as they make their way to the bar. Y/n's dress clings to her curves as she bends over to grab an ice bucket from the freezer, the fabric stretching taut against her derriere. Nate, his heart racing like the engine of a Formula 1 car, catches a tantalizing glimpse of her bare skin where her dress meets her thighs.

As Y/n reaches for the ice bucket, Nate's breath catches in his throat, his eyes drawn to the tantalizing slice of bare skin revealed by her elegant dress. It's a moment frozen in time, as if the universe itself is holding its breath. The scent of her perfume, a heady mix of jasmine and vanilla, fills the air as she straightens up with the ice, her cheeks flushing ever so slightly at being caught. The tension in the room is as potent as the whiskey she pours into their glasses, each clink of the ice a staccato beat in the symphony of anticipation. She turns to face him, her eyes meeting his, and for a split second, their connection feels more intense than the roar of a packed stadium. She leans against the marble countertop, her fingers brushing against the cool surface, and whispers, "Would you like your drink with or without the ice, Nate?" The question lingers between them, loaded with a double meaning that sets his pulse racing.

Nate sets his jaw, trying to keep his composure as he watches Y/n's dress hug her curves. He swallows hard, his thoughts racing like a Zamboni on fresh ice. He tries to focus on the question she posed, his mind a whirlwind of desire. "Straight up," he finally manages to say, his voice gruff with restrained passion. He takes a step closer to her, the heat from their bodies palpable. "And while we're on the subject of things being bare..." he trails off, his hand reaching out to gently trace the line of her leg, revealing the secret she'd so artfully hidden. His touch sends a shiver up her spine, and she looks up at him, her pupils dilating with a mix of surprise and arousal. The room seems to tilt on its axis, the city lights outside the windows a blur as he leans in, his breath warm against her ear. "I think we should be... completely honest with each other," he whispers, the words hanging in the air like mist over a rink before a game.

Y/n's breath hitches as Nate's calloused fingertips graze her bare skin, sending a bolt of electricity through her. She turns to face him, the whiskey in her hand momentarily forgotten as their gazes lock. "Honest?" she echoes, her voice a soft purr. She sets the glass down, the sound of the liquid sloshing in the background a gentle reminder of the reality outside their bubble. "Alright, Nate," she says, her eyes never leaving him. "If we're playing this game..." She takes a step closer to him, her chest brushing against his, the friction sending sparks through the air. "I've had a crush on you since I first saw you on the ice." Her cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink, her heart thundering like the bass at a concert. She reaches up and traces her fingertips along the line of his jaw, feeling the stubble tickle her skin. "But I'm not here just to be another notch on your stick," she whispers, her gaze searching for him. "I want to know the real you, not the NHL poster boy."

Nate's hand stills on her leg as her words sink in, his heart skipping a beat. He's used to the adoration, but the idea of someone wanting the person beneath the jersey is a novel concept. He takes a step back, his hand dropping to his side, his expression suddenly serious. "You've got a deal," he says, his voice gruff. "But you have to be ready for all of me." He swallows, his eyes searching hers. "The scars, the long nights on the road, the pressure of the game." He reaches out, his thumb tracing the line of her lower lip, his eyes searching her face. "But I promise you'll be worth every moment."

The air in the penthouse is charged with a heady mix of desire and honesty. Nate's words hang in the air like the mist of a Zamboni freshly grooming the ice before a game. Y/n feels the warmth of his thumb on her lip, the calloused pad of his finger sending a shiver down her spine. Her hand, which had been resting on his chest, begins to move lower, her fingertips brushing against the fabric of his trousers. His eyes follow the movement, and she can feel the muscles in his abdomen tense as she traces the outline of his manhood, which is growing harder with each passing second. The sound of their breathing fills the room, as loud as the cheers of a stadium.

Y/n gasps as the cold air of the room hits her exposed skin, her eyes fluttering closed as Nate's mouth finds her neck. His kisses are a delicate dance along her collarbone, each touch igniting a wildfire of passion within her. Her hands fumble with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel the heat of his body against hers. As the dress falls away, she steps closer, pressing her breasts against the firmness of his chest, feeling his heart pound in time with her own. She arches into his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips as he teases her nipples. His fingers slip between her legs, and she can't help but let out a whimper of pleasure as they find her already drenched folds. She looks up at him, her hazel eyes dark with desire. "Nate," she whispers, her

Nate's eyes blaze into hers, a fiery storm of passion and want. His breath is ragged, his chest rising and falling with the intensity of his need. He gently lifts Y/n, setting her on the countertop, and steps between her legs, the cold marble a stark contrast to the warmth of her skin. He kisses her again, deep and demanding, as his fingers explore the slick heat of her arousal. The taste of her is intoxicating, and he can't get enough. He kisses along her neck, his teeth grazing her sensitive flesh, making her squirm. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice hoarse with desire. He slides a finger inside her, and she gasps, her hips bucking against his hand. The sight of her, so open and eager, drives him wild. He can feel his own desire straining against his pants, begging for release. He breaks the kiss, his eyes never leaving hers as he asks, "Can I have you, Y/n? All of you?" His hand stills, giving her a moment to consider his words, the air thick with anticipation.

Y/n's eyes are hooded with lust, her body trembling with the promise of what's to come. She nods, her voice a breathy whisper. "Yes, Nate." She wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. She reaches down, her hand fumbling with his belt, urging him to give in to the passion that burns between them. "But I want all of you too," she says, her voice a seductive challenge. She can feel his pulse racing against her thigh, the evidence of his arousal pressing into her. She kisses him again, her tongue tangling with his, the sweet taste of victory mingling with the whiskey on his breath.

Nate's eyes darken at her words, his resolve shattering like a pane of ice. He unbuckles his belt and unbuttons his pants, freeing himself from the confines of his clothes. His erection springs free, and he groans against her mouth as her hand wraps around him. He's thick and hot, and her grip is firm and sure, sending waves of pleasure coursing through him. He pulls back, his eyes never leaving hers as he guides himself to her slick entrance. "Hold on," he warns her, his voice gruff, and then with one powerful thrust, he's inside her. The sensation is like nothing he's ever felt before, a perfect mix of tightness and wetness that makes him feel like he's coming home.

Y/n's eyes widen as Nate fills her completely, the feeling of him inside her more exhilarating than any race she's ever experienced. Her nails dig into his back, her legs tightening around his waist as she adjusts to his size. The initial shock of penetration gives way to a deep, pulsing need that makes her hips rock against his. She whispers his name, the sound lost in the cacophony of their mingled breaths. Her walls clench around him, the friction building with every movement. Her mind swims with sensation, the cold marble beneath her contrasting with the fire building within her. "More," she gasps, her voice a needy plea, her eyes never leaving him. Nate's movements become more urgent, his hips slamming into hers with a rhythm that matches the pounding of their hearts. She can feel the climax approaching, a storm gathering on the horizon of her consciousness.

Nate groans at her desperate whisper, his strokes deepening, each one more demanding than the last. The feel of her tight around him, the sound of their bodies slapping together, is like music to his ears. His muscles flex with the effort of holding back, of drawing out the moment, savoring every second of their connection. "Look at me," he commands, his voice low and authoritative. She obeys, her eyes meeting his, and the intensity of the connection sends him over the edge. He kisses her hard, swallowing her cries as he pours himself into her, the release more powerful than a breakaway goal in a tied game.

Y/n's eyes lock with Nate's, the depth of his passion mirrored in hers. Her breath comes in ragged gasps as she feels him pulse inside her, the warmth of his release mingling with her own climax. She clings to him, her nails digging into the flesh of his back as her body quivers with pleasure. Their hearts pound in unison, a testament to the raw intimacy that's taken them both by surprise. As the waves of ecstasy subside, she nuzzles into his neck, whispering, "That was incredible."

Nate gently withdraws from her embrace, his eyes never leaving hers. He can see the dazed contentment reflected in her gaze, and it fills him with a sense of triumph and adoration. He takes a moment to appreciate the beauty of her flushed cheeks and the way her chest rises and falls with her rapid breaths. With a soft smile, he lowers himself to his knees, his hands sliding down her thighs. He kisses her gently, moving from her hip to the juncture of her legs. His tongue flicks out, tasting the sweetness of their combined pleasure, and she gasps, her hands coming up to tangle in his hair.

Nate feels the tremble of her thighs as his mouth finds her sensitive spot, his tongue delving into the warm, wet heat of her. His movements are slow and deliberate, savoring the sweetness of their union. Her grip tightens in his hair, and he knows she's close again. He presses his thumb into her clit, and her body arches off the counter as she cries out, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave. He laps at her, relishing the sound of her pleasure, until she's trembling and boneless. He kisses her inner thighs, his eyes meeting hers with a smoldering look. "Ready for more?" he asks, a wicked grin tugging at his lips.

Y/n's eyes glaze over with passion as she nods vigorously. Her breath is still coming in gasps, her body still quaking from the intensity of her climax. She watches as Nate stands, his muscles rippling with the effort of holding himself back. She reaches for his hand, pulling him closer, her voice a soft purr. "I could never get enough of you," she whispers. Her legs wrap around his waist again, and she feels the tip of him at her entrance. She tilts her hips, inviting him in, her eyes never leaving his. As he sinks into her, she throws her head back, her hair cascading down her back like a waterfall. She gasps, her nails digging into his shoulders as the sensation consumes her. The room spins with the force of their love making, the only constant the beat of their hearts and the rhythm of their bodies joined in ecstasy.

Nate's grin widens as he feels her body welcome him back inside, the heat of her enveloping him like the warm embrace of a sauna after a long, cold game. He takes his time, savoring the feel of her around him, her wetness coating him. He moves in a slow, steady rhythm, their eyes locked as they climb the peak of passion once more. The penthouse fades away, the only reality the sound of their breathing, the scent of their desire, and the feel of their skin sliding together. His hand moves up to cradle her neck, his thumb resting gently on her pulse point, feeling it race like a car chasing the checkered flag. He whispers sweet nothings into her ear, their bodies speaking a language more profound than words could ever express.

Y/n's eyes flutter shut as she feels the waves of pleasure build once more, her body moving in tandem with Nate's. Her breath catches in her throat as he hits just the right spot, a spot she didn't even know existed. Her nails dig into his shoulders, leaving a trail of half-moons on his skin. She can feel the tension coiling in her core, tightening with every stroke, every whispered word, every kiss. Her heart races, her body alive with sensation, the penthouse spinning around her. The world outside no longer matters; there is only Nate, only this moment. She whispers his name, a chant, a prayer, as she feels herself getting closer to the edge.

Nate's eyes never leave hers, watching her intently as she succumbs to the pleasure he's giving her. Her body's responses are a symphony he's eager to conduct, each gasp and moan a note that tells him where to take her next. He speeds up, feeling her tighten around him, her walls clenching and releasing in a delicious rhythm. His own need is building, the pressure at the base of his spine growing unbearable. He leans in, capturing her mouth in a deep, hungry kiss as he feels her body start to shake. He knows she's close, and he's determined to take her over the edge.

The taste of her is addictive, the scent of their arousal intoxicating. He can't get enough of her, his tongue delving into her mouth as his hips piston in and out of her. His hand moves to her clit, pressing and rubbing in time with his thrusts. He feels the tension in her body coil tighter, her legs quivering around his waist. He kisses along her neck, his teeth grazing her sensitive flesh, and feels the moment she tips over. She cries out, her body arching, and he follows her into oblivion, his own climax hitting him like a body check against the boards. He holds her tightly, their bodies entwined, as the aftershocks of their shared release ripple through them.

The night has passed in a whirlwind of passion and whispers, the early morning light filtering through the blinds, casting a warm glow over the disheveled penthouse. The sound of distant city traffic and the faint hum of the air conditioner serve as the soundtrack to their quietude. Nate stirs, the warmth of Y/n's body a comforting presence beside him. He rolls over, brushing a strand of hair from her face, and can't help but smile at the sight of her peaceful, sleeping form. He gently traces the curve of her cheek with the back of his hand, feeling a sense of protectiveness and affection wash over him.

Nate's eyes follow the curve of Y/n's bare shoulder as the morning light kisses her skin. He leans in, pressing a tender kiss to the hollow of her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of their mingled cologne and perfume. He whispers, "Good morning," his voice a gravelly rumble that tickles her ear. She stirs, a lazy smile playing on her lips as she opens her eyes to meet his gaze. The room is alive with the electricity of their newfound connection, the air thick with the promise of the day ahead. He runs his hand along the soft curve of her waist, feeling the smoothness of her skin. "How about a shower?" he suggests, the hint of mischief in his eyes as he playfully nips at her earlobe. She giggles, nodding in agreement, and they both swing their legs over the side of the bed. He stands, pulling her to her feet, and leads her into the en-suite bathroom, the marble and chrome gleaming in the early light.

Y/n stretches languidly, the fabric of Nate's shirt, which she's been wearing from last night, sliding up to expose the tautness of her midriff. She nods sleepily at his suggestion, her eyes still half-closed, the smile on her face a silent agreement to the unspoken invitation. She allows him to guide her into the spacious, gleaming bathroom, the sight of the oversized shower sparkling with the promise of warm water and intimate moments. She reaches for his hand as they step into the shower, the cool tiles a sharp contrast to the heat of their bodies. The water cascades over them like a waterfall, and she gasps as it hits her back, the sensation both soothing and invigorating. She turns to face him, her eyes sparkling with excitement, the droplets catching in her lashes like diamonds. "Race you to the shampoo?" she teases, a glint of challenge in her voice.

Nate chuckles, his eyes lighting up at her playfulness. "You're on," he says, the competitive spirit flaring in his gaze. He reaches for the shampoo bottle, squirting a generous amount into his palm, and they both laugh as they attempt to lather their hair. The soap bubbles up, mixing with the water to create a frothy veil around them. They playfully shove and bump into each other, the tension of the race giving way to a more tender moment as they help wash away the remnants of the night. Nate's hands glide down from her hair to her shoulders, gently massaging the tension out of her muscles. "You know, I could get used to this," he murmurs, his thumb tracing the outline of her collarbone.

Their laughter fades into a contented silence as Nate's touch sends a shiver down Y/n's spine. She feels his eyes on her, and the heat of his gaze is like a brand, leaving a trail of fire wherever it goes. She bends down, her knees hitting the cool tiles with a soft thud, and takes him in her hand. His gasp is music to her ears as she looks up at him with a smoldering gaze. She licks her lips, the anticipation palpable, before leaning in to take him in her mouth.

Nate's eyes widen with surprise and desire as he watches Y/n drop to her knees. Her mouth envelops him, her tongue swirling around him in a dance as mesmerizing as any she's performed on the screen. His hand automatically reaches out to cradle her head, his fingers tangling in her wet hair as she takes him deeper. The sensation is overwhelming, a delicious mix of pleasure and vulnerability that has him groaning her name. Her eyes never leave his, the hazel pools reflecting the steamy ambiance of the shower, her cheeks hollowing as she applies suction. He feels the tension build in his body, his legs trembling slightly as she expertly teases and pleasures him. The sound of the shower's water mingles with his labored breaths and the soft wet sounds of her mouth working him.

Y/n savors the taste of Nate, the salty sweetness of him mixing with the scent of his cologne. She loves the way he feels in her mouth, the power she holds in bringing him such pleasure. She continues her rhythmic motion, her hand gently squeezing the base of his cock in time with her bobs. She feels his hand tighten in her hair, the pressure increasing, and knows he's close. The knowledge fuels her own arousal, and she can feel the throb between her legs, a testament to their unbridled passion. She moans around him, the vibration sending him over the edge. He bucks into her, his body tensing, and with a shout, he releases into her mouth. She swallows every drop, a satisfied smile playing on her lips as she looks up at him.

Nate's knees almost buckle at the intensity of his climax, his eyes squeezed shut as he tries to hold onto reality. He can feel the last tremors of pleasure rippling through his body as he opens his eyes to look down at Y/n, who's still on her knees before him. He can't believe she's real, that this incredible woman is here, with him. He reaches down, gently helping her to her feet. "You're something else, you know that?" he says, his voice husky with emotion. He pulls her into his arms, kissing her deeply, the taste of themselves mingling on their tongues.

The shower turns into a gentle embrace, the steam wrapping around them like a warm blanket. They wash each other's bodies with the same tender care they had shown in their lovemaking, the warm water cascading down their skin as they reconnect in a more intimate way. Their kisses are soft and lingering, their touches gentle and explorative. They're learning each other's curves, each other's hearts.

Y/n's eyes dance with mirth as she looks into Nate's, feeling the warmth of his body pressed against hers under the steady stream of water. She reaches up, her hands sliding over the planes of his chest, the droplets of water tracing paths down his muscular frame. "I could get used to this too," she murmurs, her voice a soft purr. She reaches for the body wash, the scent of the ocean filling the air as she squeezes a dollop into her palm. She spreads the soap over her hands and begins to glide them over his body, her touch feather-light yet firm, her eyes never leaving his. As she washes him, she can't help but feel a sense of awe at the power and beauty before her. His body is a testament to years of discipline and hard work, a canvas of muscles that flex and tighten under her touch. She pauses at the scar on his cheek, tracing it with her thumb before kissing it softly. "What's the story behind this?" she asks, her voice a mix of curiosity and affection.

Nate's eyes crinkle at the corners as he looks down at her, his heart swelling with affection. He takes a moment, the warm water washing over them both as he recalls the memory. "That?" he says with a small smile, his voice a little softer, a little more serious. "It's from a game a few years back. A high stick that got a little too close for comfort. Reminds me that no matter how good you are, the game can be unforgiving." He pauses, his gaze drifting to the ceiling before coming back to hers. "But it's also a reminder of the camaraderie in the locker room, the guys patching me up, making sure I was okay." His eyes hold hers, the intensity in them unmistakable. "It's a part of me, just like all the other scars and bruises from the ice. Each one has a story, a piece of my journey." He leans down, his forehead resting against hers, the water beading between their faces. "But right now, the only story I want to write is the one with you."

Y/n's heart swells at his words, feeling the weight of his past and the depth of his passion for his sport. She kisses the scar softly, her eyes never leaving his. "I can't wait to hear all of your stories," she whispers, her voice filled with genuine interest. "But for now," she says, her tone turning playful, "let's finish this shower before we're prunes." She grabs the shower gel and starts to wash herself, her movements sensual and mesmerizing, her eyes never leaving Nate's.

Y/n's departure to film her next movie is bittersweet, leaving a void in Nate's life that only the adrenaline of the impending Stanley Cup playoffs can begin to fill. As the Broncos' event fades into a cherished memory, the buzz of the NHL season crescendos. Nate throws himself into training, pushing his body to its limits, each stride and slap shot fueled by the memory of Y/n's touch. Meanwhile, Y/n immerses herself in her role, the vibrant colors of the film set a stark contrast to the starkness of the ice rink. Despite the distance, their bond strengthens with each shared moment, every video call a bridge spanning the miles. Nate's excitement for her new project is palpable, his eyes lighting up when she tells tales of the set, and her voice hushed with wonder as she describes her scenes. Yet, the ache for her presence is a constant reminder of their newfound love.

Nate's phone buzzes with a notification as he walks into the Avalanche's locker room, a gossip article titled, "On-Screen Sparks Between Y/n and Jacob Elordi Heat Up!" The room fades into the background as he clicks on the link, his heart racing. Photos of Y/n and Jacob in passionate embraces on set flood the screen, the headlines painting a picture of a blossoming romance. Nate's stomach twists with a mix of anger and jealousy. He tries to shake it off, telling himself it's all for the cameras, but the doubt lingers, a pesky fly buzzing around his head. He glances around, hoping none of his teammates noticed, and quickly locks his phone. He doesn't want to admit it, not even to himself, but the thought of Y/n with anyone else sends a cold shiver down his spine. He grits his teeth and heads to the ice, channeling his turmoil into his game.

The game that night is intense, the pressure of the playoffs magnifying every move. Nate plays like a man possessed, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts about Y/n and Jacob. Each hit on the ice feels like a blow to his ego, and every time he looks up into the stands, his gaze unconsciously searches for her. She's not there, of course; she's on a different continent, living a life that he's only a part of through a screen. He scores a goal, the roar of the crowd briefly drowning out his thoughts, but as the game ends in victory, the doubt returns with a vengeance. He dresses quickly, eager to escape the arena, the cold shower doing little to cool the heat of his jealousy.

After a grueling practice session, Nate sits on the bench, wiping sweat from his brow. He pulls out his phone, the weight of the earlier article still lingering in his mind. He opens it to find his inbox flooded with articles about Y/n and Jacob, each one more intrusive than the last. He scans the headlines, his jaw tightening as he reads about their "intimate" scenes and "off-screen chemistry." He tries to focus on the upcoming playoff games, the smell of the ice and the echo of skates a comforting reminder of his own world. But the doubt is like a slow burn, a persistent whisper that nags at him. He texts Y/n, trying to keep the inquisition casual. "How's filming going?" he asks, his thumb hovering over the send button for a beat too long before finally hitting it. The wait for her response feels like an eternity, his thoughts swirling with images of her in Jacob's arms.

Y/n, on the set of her movie, is bombarded by the same articles. Her cheeks flush as she reads the fabricated narratives, knowing the truth behind the scenes. The kisses and touches are just part of the script, a dance they perform for the camera. Yet, she can't help the sting of guilt that pricks her conscience. She quickly responds to Nate's text, her thumbs flying over the phone's screen. "Filming's amazing, but tiring. Lots of long days. How's your game?" she writes, her heart racing. She tries to keep the conversation light, hoping her words can be a beacon of truth in the fog of doubt that's starting to form between them. She sends a selfie with a cheeky smile, her hair in messy curls from the day's filming, the glitz of the movie set just visible in the background.

Nate's phone buzzes in his pocket, the sound piercing through the fog of his thoughts as he exits the shower. He pulls it out, his heart jumping at the sight of Y/n's name. Her smile on the screen feels like a warm embrace, but the set behind her is a cold slap of reality. He smiles back, trying to keep his anxiety at bay. "The games are intense," he types, his thumbs moving with forced casualness. "Just scored the game-winner. But it's all a bit hollow without you here to celebrate." His eyes dart around the empty locker room, and he wonders if he's fooling himself. He hits send, hoping she can't feel the weight of his unspoken words.

Y/n's eyes light up at Nate's message, a welcome respite from the sea of scripts and lights. She takes a moment to breathe in the quiet of her trailer before responding. "Aww, you're too sweet! And a game-winner?! That's incredible, Nate!" she writes, her heart swelling with pride. She adds a series of celebratory emojis, trying to inject some of her usual vibrancy into the digital conversation. "Send me a video of the crowd going wild. I wanna see that magic!" Her mind wanders to the thought of their hands entwined, her cheering echoing through the arena, but she keeps it to herself, not wanting to add to his stress.

Nate's face softens at the sight of Y/n's message. He quickly pulls up the video of his winning goal and sends it to her, the roar of the crowd still echoing in his ears. "Here's the moment," he says, his voice filled with both excitement and the tension of unspoken words. "It's nothing without you here to share it, though." He watches the video again, remembering her cheers from the Broncos game, and wishes he could hear her again. The silence in the locker room feels like a vacuum.

Y/n's heart skips a beat at Nate's admission. She wishes she could be there to celebrate with him too, but the world of Hollywood waits for no one. She looks at the clock on her wall, the hands ticking away the precious minutes she'd rather spend talking to him. "You're amazing," she texts back, her voice filled with warmth and pride. "But I gotta run. I promised Jacob I'd grab lunch. Just two friends, you know?" She adds a winking emoji, hoping to ease the tension she feels through the screen. Her eyes flick to the door of her trailer, where she knows the paparazzi are lurking. "It's all part of the job, babe," she reassures him, trying to keep her voice light despite the heaviness in her chest.

Nate's smile fades slightly at the mention of Jacob's name. He nods to himself, trying to keep the jealousy in check. He knows it's just work, but the thought of her with anyone else is a thorn in his side. "Yeah, of course. You go enjoy," he responds, his voice a mask over the turmoil inside. He forces a grin into his tone. "Send me a pic of you two, will ya? Maybe I'll photobomb your next set." He laughs, trying to play it cool, but his heart feels like it's in a vice.

Y/n can almost hear the tightness in Nate's voice. She knows he's trying to hide his feelings, and she can't blame him. The distance and the nature of her job make things complicated. She sends a quick photo of herself and Jacob on set, both of them in costume, surrounded by the bustling crew. They're laughing, their friendship as real as the love scenes are fake. "Here's one for the road," she writes, her thumb hovering over the send button. She's careful with her words, not wanting to stir the pot any more than necessary. She adds a heart emoji at the end, hoping it's enough to remind him that she's his.

Nate's eyes widen as the photo comes through. The sight of her with Jacob does nothing to ease his jealousy, but he forces himself to appreciate the humor in the situation. He laughs awkwardly, trying to play along. "Looks like you two are having a blast," he writes back, trying to keep his tone light. Inside, he's torn. He's happy she's living her dream, but he can't help the green-eyed monster that rears its head every time her name is linked with another man. He puts his phone down, trying to push the thoughts away. He knows she's with him, but the doubt still lingers.

Y/n's stomach flutters as she and Jacob return to set. The PR manager, a stern woman named Margaret, beckons them into her office. The moment they're behind the closed door, she wastes no time. "We have a situation," she says, her voice tight. "The tabloids have picked up on your... friendship, Jacob's popularity is soaring, and we think it's time to announce your relationship to boost publicity for the film." She slides a mock magazine cover across the desk, Photoshopped images of them looking like the perfect couple. "What do you think?" Y/n looks at Jacob, whose expression is unreadable. She feels like she's on thin ice, not sure if this is a good idea for Nate and her relationship. She takes a deep breath, the smell of the set's fake snow and the buzz of the film's lights filling her nose. She glances at her phone, a silent reminder of Nate waiting for her reply. "I know you're dating Nate but the public doesn't know that." Margaret says. "I think if you both were on board we could play up the whole Y/n and Jacob, the new Hollywood sweethearts image".

Y/n feels like she's been hit by a freight train. "I...I need some time to think," she stammers, her heart racing. She sends Nate a quick message, her hands shaking. "Something's come up, baby. Nothing bad, I promise. Just need some time to sort through some work stuff." She looks back at Margaret and Jacob, the gravity of the situation setting in. She thinks of Nate's smile, his gentle touch, and the passion they shared. "I'll get back to you," she says firmly, walking out of the office, leaving the fake magazine cover behind. She retreats to her trailer, the walls feeling like they're closing in. She paces back and forth, her thoughts a tornado of doubt and fear. She needs to talk to Nate, but she doesn't know how to begin.

Nate's stomach twists when he reads Y/n's message. He can feel the distance growing, and it scares him. He tries to focus on packing his gear, the familiar motions offering a semblance of normalcy. "Take your time," he texts back, his voice cooler than he intends. He throws his bag over his shoulder and heads out into the night, the cool air a stark contrast to the heat of his emotions. He needs to clear his head, to figure out how to navigate this minefield of emotions and expectations.

Y/n's eyes are glued to her phone, her thoughts racing. She knows she needs to tell Nate the truth, but she's terrified of losing him. She takes a deep breath, her chest tight with anxiety. "I can't lie to you, Nate. They want me to go public with Jacob for the movie, but you're all I want." She pauses, the silence of the trailer pressing in on her. "But if it means keeping us a secret, I don't know if I can handle it." She sends the message and waits, the seconds stretching into an eternity. The scent of her trailer's artificial flowers is a sad reminder of the artificial world she's trapped in.

Nate's heart stops when he reads Y/n's text. He understands the pressures of her career but can't shake the fear of losing her to the spotlight. "It's okay, babe," he replies, his thumbs trembling. "Do what you need to do for the movie. I just want you to be happy." He tries to sound reassuring, but the weight of his words is palpable. He leans against the cold brick wall outside the arena, the chill seeping into his bones. "But I need to be honest with you, too. This isn't easy for me."

Y/n feels a pang of guilt as she reads Nate's response. She hates that she's putting him through this. She sits down on the edge of her bed, her costume a stark contrast to the softness of the comforter. "Nate, I know it's not easy, and I'm sorry. But I promise you, it's all just for show." She pauses, her voice cracking. "You're the only one who makes me feel like this." She sends the message, her heart in her throat, hoping that her honesty can bridge the gap between them.

Nate's eyes scan the empty streets outside the arena, the distant honks of cars and the occasional shout of a fan echoing in the stillness. He takes a deep breath, feeling the cold air fill his lungs. He types back, "I trust you, Y/n. I just don't trust them." His eyes flicker to the photo of her with Jacob on his phone, the fake smile on her face haunts him. "But if this is what you need to do for your career, then I'll support you." His voice is steady, but his hand is shaking. "Just don't forget who you're coming home to." He hits send, his heart hammering in his chest.

The world seems to spin faster than ever as the news breaks. Headlines scream "Hollywood's New Power Couple!" and Nate's phone is bombarded with notifications. His heart feels like it's been run over by a Zamboni as he reads the articles, seeing picture after picture of Y/n and Jacob, looking every inch the perfect couple. His teammates pat him on the back, whispering congratulations that feel like knives. The arena is alight with excitement for the love story playing out in the glossy pages of gossip magazines. Meanwhile, Nate is left in the shadow of their newfound fame, his own victories on the ice overshadowed by the glitz of Hollywood romance.

Nate's heart sinks as he reads the headlines. He tries to focus on the upcoming game, but the words on the screen keep pulling him back. He sends Y/n a message, trying to keep the pain from seeping into his tone. "Looks like the world's pretty excited about your big news. Congrats." His thumb hovers over the send button, his mind racing with what he wishes he could say, but doesn't dare.

Y/n's hand shakes as she reads Nate's message, the weight of the situation crashing down on her. She takes a deep breath, the smell of her trailer's vanilla candles offering a semblance of comfort. "Nate, please, you know it's just for the movie," she writes quickly, her voice desperate to be heard over the din of the set. "Jacob and I are just friends. You're the one I love." She sends the message, the words feeling both true and hollow in the face of the glaring spotlight on her and Jacob. She can't help but wonder if Nate will ever truly believe her, or if the illusion the tabloids have spun will overshadow their reality.

Nate's eyes narrow as he reads Y/n's text. He nods slowly, his jaw clenched. "I know," he responds, his voice tight. "But it's hard to ignore the whole world thinking otherwise." He turns his phone off, unable to bear the onslaught of notifications. He throws himself into training, the cold steel of the rink a stark contrast to the heat of the rumors. His thoughts are a maelstrom of doubt and anger, the ice a reflection of his tumultuous emotions.

The set of her new film is ablaze with excitement over the "relationship announcement," but Y/n's heart is heavy with the weight of her secret. She tries to keep her composure as she's bombarded with questions and congratulations from her castmates, all while her thoughts are with Nate. She can feel the distance growing between them, stretching like a taut line of barbed wire across the country. Her eyes well up as she thinks of his pain, and she retreats to the solace of her trailer. "I love you, Nate," she whispers into her phone, "and I'm sorry." She takes a deep breath, the scent of her favorite lavender lotion a sad reminder of their stolen moments together. She sends the message, hoping it can serve as a bridge over the chasm that threatens to swallow their love whole.

Teammates slap him on the back, congratulating him with smirks that feel more like punches. Nate forces a smile, his heart feeling like it's been scored by the skate of his own stick. He retreats to the shower, the water scalding his skin, trying to wash away the doubt. His phone vibrates with Y/n's message. He reads it, his heart in his throat. He whispers back to the cold tiles, "I love you too, Y/n. But this...this isn't what I signed up for." The hot water turns cold, but Nate can't find the strength to move.

Y/n reads Nate's response, feeling the chill of his words. She knew this would be difficult, but she didn't anticipate the ache in her chest. She sends another text, her thumbs moving almost of their own accord. "Nate, I need you to trust me. It's all just an act. I'll tell them the truth when the movie wraps. I can't live a lie." The silence of her trailer feels like a vacuum, sucking away the joy of her victory. She clutches her phone, willing him to respond, to understand.

Nate stands under the cold shower, letting the water hit him like a thousand tiny hammers, trying to dull the pain. He reads Y/n's message and sighs heavily, the steam from the water obscuring his vision. He steps out, grabbing a towel, his skin pink from the heat. "I do trust you, Y/n. But it's hard to ignore the headlines." His voice is quiet, echoing in the empty locker room. "I'm going to bed. Let's talk when you're done with... whatever you need to do." He hits send, feeling the finality of his words.

Nate's words hang in the air, a stark reminder of the turmoil their relationship has been thrown into. The locker room feels colder than the ice rink outside, the silence a stark contrast to the cacophony of the game that just ended. The scent of sweat and disinfectant fills the space as Nate towels off, his shoulders slumped with the weight of his emotions. He glances at the clock, wondering if it's too late to call Y/n, to hear her voice and feel the warmth of her reassurance. He dresses in silence, his mind racing with scenarios, each one more troubling than the last.

Nate's phone buzzes with another article. His hand shakes as he clicks it open, bracing himself for the onslaught of images. The sight of Y/n and Jacob holding hands, laughing, sends a knife through his chest. He closes his eyes, willing the pain away. When he opens them again, the headline reads, "Y/n and Jacob: The Love Story of the Year!" His breath catches in his throat, and he sends her a text, trying to keep his voice steady. "I need you to tell me this isn't real." His thumb hovers over the send button, his heart pounding in his ears.

Y/n's eyes widen as she reads Nate's message. Her heart squeezes in her chest like a fist. She quickly responds, her voice raw and desperate. "Nate, it's all for the movie. You're the real thing. The one I love." She looks at the script on the table, feeling sick. "Please, I need you to trust me. This is almost over, and then we can be together, really together." She sends the message, her pulse racing.

Nate's heart skips a beat. The weight of his gear feels heavier than usual. He takes a deep breath, trying to shake off the images in his head. "I want to believe you, Y/n," he types, his eyes never leaving the screen. "But it's hard to ignore what everyone else sees." His thumbs hover over the phone, contemplating whether to say more, to express the depth of his feelings or to give her space. He opts for brevity. "Talk to you soon." He sends the message with a heavy sigh and tucks his phone away, trying to focus on the upcoming game. The smell of the locker room's pine-scented cleaner does little to ease the turmoil in his gut.

The game starts with a roar from the crowd, but Nate's mind is elsewhere. He plays on autopilot, his eyes searching the stands for Y/n's familiar smile, his heart heavy with the burden of doubt. The final buzzer sounds, and the Avalanche emerge victorious, but Nate feels no triumph. In the locker room, the celebration feels hollow as whispers of his personal life reach his ears. The words cut deeper than any slap shot. He retreats to the quiet of the shower, letting the water drown out the taunts.

The locker room buzzes with excitement, the victory shower spraying cold water over the players. Nate's usually vibrant blue eyes are now a stormy gray, his thoughts consumed by the whispers and glances. The laughter of the wives and girlfriends reaches his ears, and he overhears a comment about Y/n and Jacob that feels like a punch to the gut. He grits his teeth, the pain fueling his decision.

Nate's grip on his towel tightens as he hears the casual conversation turn into a discussion about Y/n and Jacob. He can't ignore the sting of jealousy and the ache of doubt any longer. He storms out of the shower, water dripping from his hair and down his muscular back. Grabbing his phone, he calls Y/n, his voice laced with a mix of anger and pain. "I can't do this," he says without preamble. "Everyone's talking about you two, and it's like my heart's being squeezed by a vise." The sound of her voice is like a slave to his wounds, but he pushes through the hurt. "I think we need to take a break. Maybe... maybe it's better if we just... end this." The words feel like shards of ice in his mouth, but he can't deny the truth in them. The locker room noise fades into the background as he waits for her response, his heart pounding in his chest.

Y/n's heart plummets as she answers Nate's call, the sound of his voice filled with pain. She sits on the edge of her bed, her hair still damp from her own shower, her eyes brimming with tears. "Nate, no, please, it's all a lie," she begs, her voice trembling. She runs her hand over her face, smudging her makeup. "You're the one I want, you're the one I need." The set of the movie seems to spin around her, the glitz and glamor suddenly a prison. "If we end this now, it's like admitting defeat to the paparazzi. I can't let them win." She takes a deep breath, willing the tears to stay put. "Please, Nate, just wait for me. The movie wraps in two weeks, and then I'll tell the truth. I promise." Her voice is a desperate whisper, her heart racing in anticipation of his answer.

Nate's chest tightens as he listens to Y/n's pleas, his heart torn between love and doubt. He paces the locker room, the sting of the cold water still lingering on his skin. "Two weeks is a lifetime in the spotlight," he says, his voice gruff with unshed emotion. He glances at his reflection in the mirror, the bruises from the game stark against his tanned complexion. "But I don't know if I can handle watching you with him, knowing it's all for show." He runs a hand through his wet hair, the towel sliding to the floor. "I don't want to be the guy who can't handle his girl being famous." His eyes meet hers through the screen, searching for the truth. "But this is too much for me; I can’t share the woman that I love with someone else. Goodbye Y/n" The words hang in the air—a promise and a challenge all at once.

[omgkalyppso]

Random OC questions coming in! OCs of your choice 😁

What do they smell like? 

If they could only take one bag of stuff somewhere with them: what would they pack?

Who looks great in the color red?

Who's the most physically affectionate?

Who enjoys dancing?

Lake, river, or ocean?

Thank you for the ask! ;v;

What do they smell like?

Okay, I was having so much trouble remembering if or where I'd said this, but I found: Étoile's favorite scents are cold, pine and patchouli, their tent smells of cold and sage, and so optimally in their resting time they smell "clean" / like light soap / fresh laundry, pine and cold.

Faedolyn: wildflowers and river water, or spiced cologne.

Borgakh probably smells most strongly of whatever she was doing last, from blood to gun powder to engine grease to spices, and more. Optimally, in her resting time, cinnamon, snow lilies or cactus apples.

Meabh's smell of blood can never be fully banished, but if they were trying to hide it for an event for some reason where they didn't want to smell of nothing, then they might try to smell of jasmine and hawthorn.

Voriya smells of stone fruits, and people have a hard time placing the scent, whether peaches, plumbs or even mangoes, and this is because he smells of an Underdark mushroom few on the surface are familiar with.

If they could only take one bag of stuff somewhere with them: what would they pack?

All of these characters are extremely practical and so besides the essentials (clothing, rations, toiletries, weapons) I'll give them each one personal item:

For Étoile I'm imagining them having to take their one bag alone into the Hells to set Gale up for the hopeful destruction of Raphael's Crown of Karsus; or otherwise just without Astarion because of uncertainty about sunlight in Baator. If Étoile could stomach the humiliation of asking and if Astarion could go through with the heartache of accommodating — then Étoile's one item would be a "favor" like the knights of old, a handkerchief sprayed with the perfume Astarion uses to cover his lingering scent of undeath.

Faedolyn who is Jeralt's child carries around their father's journal.

Borgakh's item rolled as a "useless" magical trinket in one of her dnd iterations and I still love it. A sewing needle that will never break. From her late seamstress mother.

If Meabh is packing one bag it's probably not a good sign for anyone and all the items in it aren't even things she's used before. Less for people to scry on her with.

Voriya packs some indulgent make up that can't be found in a standard disguise kit.

Who looks great in the color red?

Who doesn't? gdfhdfgh Of the oc's I've been talking about I think Meabh looks best in red.

Who's the most physically affectionate?

Of the oc's I've been talking about, Étoile, Fae and Borgakh are all rather physically affectionate. I think Étoile might be the most.

Who enjoys dancing?

Meabh and Voriya would be unpracticed entirely, but I think given time to explore different styles of dance that they'd enjoy it too. Borgakh is the most fluid dancer of the oc's I've mentioned. Faedolyn actually has two dancing scenes in modern settings with their partners, and one in canon setting at their wedding with Claude in fic, that I can think of. Étoile is a little heavy footed, but they have fun and enjoy the bridge it can build between people. They succeeded on their dancing check with Wyll, and I gave them a short dance with the player character (or whoever) and Sozican in their "as a companion" questline.

Lake, river, or ocean?

Étoile: river. Ice water straight down the mountainside.

Faedolyn: river. Across every conceivable landscape in Fodlan and Almyra.

Borgakh: ocean. All Many of the important bonds of her life have been strengthened within a stroll of salt water: durotar, the isle of thunder, the broken isles, etc.

Meabh: sea. The sea of swords holds the core of their black heart.

Voriya: rain. Water free of any basin.

[zdbztumble]

Yet Another Kingdom Hearts Revisit, Part V

This playthrough has been a blow to my pretensions of having a good memory. I'd completely forgotten that King Triton isn't the only good Disney character from outside Disney Castle who knows something about Keyblades and Keyholes. It makes perfect sense for the Genie to have some insight into them, but I really like that he knows less than Triton does. It's better for pacing reasons that he doesn't, but it also fits his character - I can't imagine that a magical being who spends so much time contemplating mid-20th century American pop culture while stuck in his lamp would keep his ancient legends straight.

Of all the Disney worlds in the series that try to condense their source films into the game, KH I's Agrabah is the most successful IMO. It's really the only level in the game that did so. Olympus Coliseum, Halloweentown, Monstro, and Neverland feature original stories, and Wonderland, Deep Jungle, and Atlantica use only pieces of their films (to greater and lesser degrees) in their stories. Agrabah has almost all the major elements of Aladdin in it: Aladdin's street rat origins, Jasmine's escape from the palace (albeit under entirely different circumstances) and her love affair with Aladdin, Jafar's scheming to take over Agrabah, the quest for the lamp in the Cave of Wonders, Genie's comedy, his freedom, and the three wishes. Even "Prince Ali" gets worked in. The only thing left out from the film is the finale where Aladdin and Jasmine get together.

Why it works here compared to later worlds in the series is that, despite using so much of the film, all of those elements are re-contextualized to fit the time frame that KH I had to work with and, more importantly, were modified to fit the needs of KH I's larger story. There's no room to fit the "Prince Ali" element proper into the plot, and if the attempt had been made, it would've been an abridged version lacking the comedic texture that makes it work in the movie, and it would have distracted from Sora's story and the plot of the League of Disney Villains. It was much better to make that a brief mention and have the three wishes applied to the battle with the Heartless.

And speaking of battling Heartless - Aladdin's in my Top 3 for Disney world battle partners in the entire series. The dude rocks. And Jafar makes for one of the more challenging two-part bosses in the game. Kurt Zisa is, for my money, the most difficult secret boss in the game, Sephiroth very much included. And that's (usually) a good thing! I like having to shift between physical and magical strategies, and I like that he's a boss that let you get good value out of the Summons (sadly, I wasn't able to duplicate my last playthrough, where I beat him with multiple Summons instead of just Tinkerbell and dumb luck at dodging his vertical spin after she bought me a free life).

Part of me wonders if Monstro and Agrabah shouldn't have been reversed in order. On the one hand, Riku nabbing Jasmine makes for a good shock and a sense of foreboding; the player knows how far gone he is at that point, but Sora doesn't. But why does Riku need the quest for the seven princesses explained at the end of Monstro when he's already captured one of them?

And I might as well cover Monstro in this post, as I don't have too much to say about him. This is one world where I agree with the complaints about KH I's platforming. I appreciate that the bowels of a space-whale should be a claustrophobic place, but the chambers are too small and too packed with crap to make the concept work in an enjoyably challenging way. Instead, it's just tedious.

Storywise, however, Monstro is a great turning point for Sora and Riku. Taking a cute Disney character hostage might be an easy way to sell moral decline, but it's so much more effective than three minutes of lore gibber-gabber by one-note pricks in black coats. And whichever executives at Square and Disney are responsible for giving the final OK to these games' plots should have made the staff re-watch this scene ahead of every scripting session since KH I. The first game as a whole works against later characterizations of Responsible Riku being the one to clean up after lazy, do-as-he-pleases Sora, but that scene and this world demonstrate most clearly how big a retcon that change was.

[jjungkooksthighs]

He remembers that gown she'd worn. It had lived in his dreams for weeks and months after he had seen her in it that night. Sometimes, when he's alone, he still imagines her standing in it with that same coy gleam in her eyes that she'd used to beckon him that night.

It had been the night of the Iaeila. The night in which all members of the pack would celebrate the coming of another bountiful spring and show the goddess, Iaei, their appreciation for another blessed season of fertility both in the crop and in the females. Iaei was the goddess that presided over fecundity and femininity, and it was custom to honor her when the spring handed its reins to the summer. He'd spent the entire day overseeing decorations and preparations for the ceremony and events that would be held in Iaei's honor, and his mate? He'd made sure she spent the entire day with the dressmaker and her attendants. She had been with them still when he'd returned home to her, the smoky scent of the fires fresh on his clothes.

He'd followed the swirls of jasmine and pine to their washroom where his mate had been surrounded by four other women, each of different sizes and builds. They'd been chittering about which color would pair best with her eyes, their gowns twittering about as they circulated around her. He'd been amused by it at first. Their womanly chatter had been entertaining to listen to. As if it mattered what color her lips were when he would wipe it all away with his kisses and tongue before the night's end.

He'd ended up leaning against the doorframe waiting for them to notice him in his own little game. It had taken one of them to come around to her front, who had had the phial of red lip stain, to notice him. She'd just finished daubing the stain onto his mate's lips before the young, vociferous woman had seen him, her eyes widening in shock before she'd bowed her head and curtsied to him with apologies on her lips. The other three had followed just as quickly, their chatter quieting as they'd shuffled out with apologies under their breaths.

His mate, however...

She had remained in her chair, her ebony-rimmed lids lowered in submission as she had looked at her hands in her lap. Her cheeks had been dusted in the faintest of reds, and her lips had been painted in the color of the freshest strawberry in the fields. The dress she had chosen for herself was red as blood, the straps on her shoulders thin as twine yet they were wound thicker as they travelled down her chest. The sides and partial undersides of her small, pert breasts had been on full display for him, and gods, what a sight that had been. A wide, sharp v-line bodice was cinched at her wast by a thick band the same color. Her beautiful long, thin legs were crossed and on display with the slits cut into the skirt that began along her upper thigh to open into a wider 'v' on either side of her legs. What little modesty the gown did offer was between her legs with the strip of fabric that travelled between her legs.

There had been so much to admire, and so much to look at.

In the fire that burned hotly in the many candles scattered in the room, she'd looked like a temptress sent straight from the Lord of the Succubi.

"I hope you know you won't be going anywhere but our bed tonight if that is what you plan to wear to Iaeila. No other male will be able to keep his eyes off you, and I can't have others staring at what is only mine to see." He'd said with a whistle.

She had twisted her hands in her lap nervously before asking, "You don't like it? I...I wanted to try something new."

He had pushed off the doorframe at that one, his feet bringing him nearer to her as he ogled her possessively. "My love, you misunderstand." He had continued toward her, his irises focusing on the way her breasts had begun to swell irregularly with her quickening breaths with the weight of his heavy stare on her. "You look too tempting to go out in that. I won't be able to keep myself off of you. And I do not like sharing. What I see now belongs only to me, and I should be the only one to see this."

The words had been all the affirmation she needed, and when she'd peered up at him from her seat, he'd seen the burgeoned, blooming mischief in them.

She'd been able to smell his desire as much as he'd been able to feel it between his legs.

Both had been enough for her impishness to return.

The same impishness that he'd seen in her eyes when she denied him in front of his alphas not too long ago. The same impishness he'd seen in her eyes when she would consort with Jin at her side.

He had not missed that thought of hers that had dashed through her head. Of course Jin had fucking been involved in that. He must have had some input in her selections for that night. He'd never seen her wear anything like that since, and nor had she used the same oils since. He'd been on her like a moth to a flame.

The impishness that had danced in her eyes that night does not dwell in her now as she scrabbles back from him while he prowls toward her prone body and begs for mercy.

Mercy that will not come.

He pulls back his lips to reveal his teeth as he portends, "If my presence during your heat mattered that much to you, you would not openly disobey and disrespect me as you do." His hand flings the brass candelabra off the perch of the fireplace that they stand near as he growls, "If my position as leader of this fucking pack and that of your mate mattered, you would not be on your fucking back groveling for forgiveness." The candelabra rolls against the ground as her own nails scratch at it as she scrambles back and he follows. "You dare ask for mercy, but how many times have I given it to you and been given nothing in return but more defiance?"

She has nothing to respond to him with. She grows quiet, her apologies dying down the more he prowls towards her, the clatter of the metal ornament clattering against the floor rupturing the silence, his growl following not soon after. She pushes herself further back, her heart stuttering as it tries to race away, her legs tensing up at the thought. His hand that is wrapped around her wrist tightens in its hold all the more, and it draws out of her a loud whimper, her other wrist scrambling off the ground to grab ahold of his hand, trying to get him to loosen his hold in vain. He doesn't try stopping her either. He enjoys seeing her weak struggle all too much to really stop her for he knows she isn't any match for him. While her arrogance and disobedience do ire him, her small and timid efforts to get away from the consequences serve to amuse him. Small whimpers and whines leave her hesitantly, her weak muscles giving up the struggle quicker than he expected. A smirk makes its way onto his face, and the sight has her pussy throbbing, and yet, intimidation crawls its way through every corner of her being. "P-please.. alpha.." she starts, trying to push herself back. He follows after her, letting her move further away, knowing it'd be much, much easier to get her to stop with her goddamned rebellion if she were pinned to the fucking wall. The thought doesn't comfort him, however. It only tears through his resolve all the more, his urge to get her to fall to her knees in utter submission and apology clawing its way out, his wolf nearly ready to pounce at her. He lets the last thought seep into her mind, satisfaction blooming in his chest when he sees her freeze for a moment, her breath hitching as she tries collecting her thoughts. Her thighs tense up, but, before she can even think about running, he is onto her. His grip on her wrist gets tighter again as he leans down, teeth merely inches away from her neck as he stares at her, his gaze saying all there is to be said.

The fingers he has on the floor curl inward as he draws in the breaths she suspires. So close are they that his lips almost brush hers, her ragged, uneven suspirations evident of the intimidation she feels. That same intimidation has more slick collecting between her thighs.

It would be too easy to take her like this right now. On her back, with her legs spread for him and her neck proffered to him in submission. Even her kicks are weak and measly when she tries to strike his abdomen when the grip on her wrist grows tighter.

"What in the seven hells are you fucking begging for?" He glares angrily at her. "Do you beg for me to stop? Because we both know you are fucking enjoying this." He emphasizes his point by taking one knee and slotting it between both of hers. It knocks against her crying cunt, and any hope she has of refuting him is thrown to the fire when the evidence of her arousal is spread over his knee. "So what do you fucking plead for now? For me to put my cock in this pussy of yours and fuck you? Is that it?"

Before she even releases what she's doing, she tips her head back, her mottled neck arcing beautifully in accession to him, her lids fluttering as she releases a shaky breath.

It's too much. She needs him. Gods, she needs him.

She doesn't even try to hide the thought from him. Her body betrays that.

His irises scintillate as he attenuates his vision on her. "You really have been fucking ruined by me. It doesn't matter what you do anymore so as long as you get a nice, good fuck." He pushes his knee into her sex, her legs closing around his thigh to urge him into her more. "You want it that badly, whore?"

He pushes his knee downwards against her clit, and without a second thought, she rolls her hips against him in search of friction.

He frowns, unappeased with her silence that she knows better than to have. "Perhaps you would have been fucked already if you knew how to behave." He shakes his head as the memories of her disobedience swim through his mind. "But not this time. This time, you'll wish for it, you'll cry for it, you'll beg for it. But you won't get it, omega. You need to understand what real fucking consequences are."

[yxkhei]

@jvngwcos​

Happy Valentine’s Day, my handsome, striking, loveable, adorable, heavenly hubby!

I can’t believe this is officially our third V-Day together, but I’m so ready for all of the other Valentines Day’s to come in our future. I know lately, things have been all over the place for us but in between all of that, I’ve loved that we’ve found little moments to enjoy eachother. That we’ve had those little moments of time reserved solely for us, and time to appreciate one another. There aren’t enough words to describe just how much I love and adore you, baby, but I’ll spend the rest of our lives together trying to figure them out! Anyways, I love you and cherish you, my darling husband. I can’t wait to continue spending forever by your side.

Yours always and forever,

Xuxi.

A nice bouquet from the lovely florist we always love to visit!

Next, I got you the Maison Francis Kurkdijan Baccarat Rouge 540 Travel set so you can be smelling spiffy wherever you are!

The Fragrance Story: luminous and sophisticated, Baccarat Rouge 540 lays on the skin like an amber, floral and woody breeze. A poetic alchemy with a highly graphic and condensed signature with notes of jasmine, saffron, cedarwood, ambergris

Polaroid Now+ i-Type Analog Instant Camera to capture all our memories from here on out.

The Polaroid Now+ camera is your new partner in creativity. An autofocus feature makes it a great pick for beginners and easy to use.

Some items from Valentino.

Items from the new Loewe Howl’s Moving Castle collection.

The APOTHEKE Signature Candle in Sea Salt Grapefruit.

The tang of sea salt, black pepper and ripe grapefruit is balanced by dew drop accords and tarragon, for a fragrance like summer by the sea.

A Cable Band Ring made with 18K Gold from David Yurman.

Finally, pack your bags just for a couple of days, baby! I’m stealing you away for a private little Valentine’s day home away from home trip where we’re gonna be wined, dined, and treated like kings. We’re staying tonight through Thursday at the Josun Palace here in Seoul in the Grand Master Suite. 

And then, we’re eating dinner tonight at the Great Hong Yuan, which brings authentic Cantonese cuisine right to Seoul.

[catonablog-blog-blog]

Tea v. Coffee: Caffeine Clash Greetings and salutations, dear readers! It's your ever-entertaining and coffee-loving pal, Rufus T. Flywheel, here to have a spirited discussion on a topic that has been the subject of debate for ages: Tea v. Coffee! That's right, we're diving headfirst into the caffeine clash to explore the virtues, vices, and all-around awesomeness of these two beloved beverages. Now, before we unfurl the banner of battle, let me make one thing clear: I adore coffee. The aroma, the flavor, the pick-me-up it provides—coffee is my faithful companion through thick and thin. But that doesn't mean I'm blind to the charms of its rival, tea. So, join me as we traverse the meandering pathways of taste, tradition, and caffeine content on this epic journey of Tea v. Coffee! Let's kick things off with a hotly debated topic: caffeine content. We all know that both tea and coffee contain caffeine, but the burning question is, which one packs a more potent punch? While coffee is renowned for its high caffeine content, with an average of 95 milligrams per 8-ounce cup, tea isn't a slouch either. Black tea boasts around 40-70 milligrams of caffeine per cup, while green tea hovers around 20-45 milligrams. So, if you're looking for an intense caffeine hit, the coffee camp might be your best bet. But if you prefer a milder lift, tea could be your cup of, well, tea! Moving on to flavor, both tea and coffee offer a delightful array of taste profiles that cater to a myriad of preferences. Coffee aficionados relish the robust, bold flavors of their favorite brew, with undertones of chocolate, nutty, or even fruity notes. On the other hand, tea connoisseurs savor the nuanced complexities of different tea varieties, from the floral notes of jasmine tea to the smoky richness of oolong tea. Each sip is a journey of discovery, a symphony of flavors that tantalize the taste buds and soothe the soul. But taste isn't the only factor in this caffeine clash—health benefits play a significant role in the Tea v. Coffee debate. Coffee has long been touted for its antioxidant properties and potential health perks, such as reducing the risk of certain diseases like Alzheimer's and Parkinson's. Tea, on the other hand, is celebrated for its array of health benefits, including boosting heart health, aiding in digestion, and even promoting weight loss. So, whether you're Team Coffee or Team Tea, you can rest assured that your beverage of choice is contributing to your overall well-being. Let's not forget the cultural significance of tea and coffee. Tea has a rich history steeped in tradition, from Japanese tea ceremonies to British afternoon tea rituals. It's a symbol of hospitality, relaxation, and camaraderie in many cultures around the world. Coffee, on the other hand, has its own vibrant culture, with coffee shops serving as hubs of creativity, conversation, and community. Whether you're sipping a cup of chai in India or enjoying an espresso in Italy, tea and coffee are more than just beverages—they're cultural touchstones that bring people together. Now, let's address the elephant in the room: caffeine jitters. We've all experienced that shaky, heart-pounding sensation after one too many cups of coffee, a side effect of caffeine overload. While tea contains less caffeine than coffee, it also offers a gentler, more sustained energy boost that avoids the crash and burn associated with excessive coffee consumption. So, if you're prone to caffeine sensitivity or are looking for a more balanced buzz, tea might be the way to go. In the realm of versatility, both tea and coffee shine bright. Coffee can be brewed in a multitude of ways—espresso, French press, pour-over, cold brew, you name it—each method yielding a unique flavor profile. Tea, too, offers a wealth of brewing techniques, from steeping loose leaves in a teapot to brewing matcha in a traditional whisked bowl. With endless possibilities for experimentation, tea and coffee cater to the adventurous spirit in all of us. As we near the end of our caffeine clash, it's clear that the Tea v. Coffee debate is far from settled. Each beverage has its strengths, its loyal following, and its place in the pantheon of beloved drinks. Whether you're a die-hard coffee connoisseur or a devoted tea aficionado, one thing is certain: the world would be a duller place without the aromatic allure of these soul-soothing beverages. So, dear readers, I invite you to raise your mugs in solidarity with your chosen brew, whether it's a steaming cup of java or a fragrant pot of tea. Let us celebrate the joys of caffeine, the wonders of flavor, and the camaraderie that comes from sharing a cup with a friend. After all, in the grand scheme of things, Tea v. Coffee isn't just a clash—it's a celebration of life's simple pleasures. Until next time, keep sipping, keep savoring, and keep the caffeine clash alive! Cheers, Rufus T. Flywheel

[themovieblogonline]

Get Ready to Shout "Amen!" to the Hilarious "Not Another Church Movie"

Yo movie lovers, get hyped for a comedy that's about to have you saying "Hallelujah!" with laughter. We're talking about "Not Another Church Movie," a laugh-out-loud flick starring Jamie Foxx, Vivica A. Fox, Kevin Daniels, and even Mickey Rourke! This ain't your mama's church drama, folks. This movie is about to serve up a side-splitting good time with a story that's both funny and thought-provoking. Mark your calendars, because "Not Another Church Movie" rolls into theaters nationwide on May 10th. Briarcliff Entertainment just snagged the rights for this domestic release, and trust us, you won't wanna miss it. Kevin Daniels Becomes Taylor Pherry The film stars Kevin Daniels as Taylor Pherry (yes, the P is silent, just like in the movie!). Taylor's a hardworking dude with big dreams, but things ain't exactly going his way. That is, until he gets a divine intervention... literally! Yep, God himself (played by the one and only Jamie Foxx) appears to Taylor and gives him a mission: to share his family's stories and inspire his community. Sounds like a pretty noble calling, right? Wrong. Because as Taylor gets ready to answer his holy calling, the Devil (played by the ever-so-charming Mickey Rourke) decides to throw a wrench in the whole plan. Looks like a heavenly battle is about to go down! A Star-Studded Family Reunion But Taylor ain't gotta face this holy mess alone. He's got a whole crew of family and friends by his side. Vivica A. Fox is sure to bring the drama (and maybe some sass) as a family member, and the cast also includes Tisha Campbell, Jasmine Guy, Kyla Pratt, and Lamorne Morris. Basically, it's a family reunion that's gonna be equal parts hilarious and chaotic. This flick is directed by Johnny Mack, and let's just say, with a cast like this and a director known for his comedic timing, "Not Another Church Movie" is a recipe for side-splitting laughter. The producers are already praising the film, calling it one of the funniest experiences of their lives. And hey, if it's good enough for them, it's gotta be good, right? Briarcliff Entertainment is the company bringing "Not Another Church Movie" to the big screen. They've got a knack for picking out films that'll have you rolling in the aisles. Just recently, they released the crime thriller "Marlowe," and they've got a whole slate of upcoming movies that look action-packed and thrilling. But for now, let's focus on the hilarious chaos that's about to unfold in "Not Another Church Movie. Whether you're looking for a movie with a message or just want a good belly laugh, "Not Another Church Movie" has something for everyone. With its stellar cast, hilarious script, and unique blend of comedy and faith, this movie is a must-watch. So grab your popcorn, round up your crew, and get ready to shout "Amen!" (and maybe a few other things) when "Not Another Church Movie" hits theaters on May 10th! (Source: Deadline) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OupH2LOFM4g Read the full article

[aduelbetweenkingdomsafreshstart]

ADBK: Leopard Girl

Epithet: The Deadly Double-Agent

Voice Actor: Jennifer Hale

Tribe: The Kindred

Biography: Originally a human ballerina and gymnast, Jasmine Katarina was originally from Earth proper, before a chance-encounter with the Time Wizard sent her to the Duelscape! It seems she had gained a reputation for being both strong and inventive, having invented a superhero costume to don at conventions known as Leopard Girl.

With some minor modifications, Jasmine's costume heightened her senses, and gave her claws that packed quite a sting! Now that didn't mean Jasmine was keen on saving the world at first, even wondering why she of all people was chosen for the job.

As it turned out, she had ancestry dating back to ancient Egypt, roughly around the time of the Nameless Pharaoh's reign. As such, she was able to tap into similar energies as her ancestors.

After some debate, Jasmine agreed to stay and don the mask of Leopard Girl, with the promise to be able to return home iof she so desired. Currently, she serves as the unofficial third sister to the Nekogal Twins, as well as working with Orgoth the Relentless as a kind of purple duo.

(Note: Credit to https://www.deviantart.com/ray-v-xyz/gallery for creating this commissioned pic.)

[iconsunion]

Like if use/save

Give credits to @lookngfryou on twitter!

Headers aren’t mine.

Don’t repost or claim as your own

[simsphonysims]

Hi, my fellow simmers! ♡  

Today I’m sharing with you my mermaid's temple home in Sulani (The Sims 4 Island living).  A temple is inspired both by fantasy and historical architecture. I wanted to create a home that would be a perfect fit for the Jasmin from Aladdin or for the little mermaid. This is my first summer creation of this year! Enough with winter already! XD

♡ Check it out here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FsVRHxCcrsM

Hope you like it!

♡ CC needed:

Simsphony’s CC LIST - complete! (Here is the whole list of packs with their links that I’m using in my game)  

Felixandre (Colonial, Greece, Gothic, Candalabra Leto, Egypt, Petit Trianon, Pedestal regency, Kyoto, Schwerin, Gatsby, Paris, Florence, Versailles, Berlin) The clutter cat (Spring spirits, Winterfest wonders, Mermaid mansion) Plumbob tea society  Awingedllama (Apartment therapy, Blooming rooms) https://zx-ta.tumblr.com/ (Sinks, Tray, Under the sea, Peasant, Statue)   Harrie (Heritage, Candle set, Brownstone) House of Harlix (Kichen, Orjanic, Livin'rum, Jardane) S-imagination Maxus (Classic kitchen, Cozy backyard, Dining room kit) Charly Pancakes Pierisim (Calderone, Coldbrew) RVSN  Syboubou Simsational designs (Graciously Georgian, Atwood dining) Leaf-motif (Vintage Crockery) Myshunosun (Luna, Freja) Linzlu King Falcon Strange storyteller sims Brazen Lotus

♡ Tray file:  Mermaid’s temple

Happy simming!  ♡

[harlowsbby]

I didn’t mean it

Here you were locked up in your shared room that you shared with Jack on the floor crying your heart out how did you get here ? Well let’s just say things turned left and you never thought you’d have to be afraid of Jack but yet you are now.

Jack has been going out a lot lately especially at night and you didn’t wanna assume that he was cheating on you but why else would he be gone from 7pm till 3 in the morning all signs lead to cheating at least in your opinion.

Urban reassured you that Jack would never cheat on you but you have your thoughts and you were known for overthinking so it got the best of you.

You decided to wait up for Jack that night and ask him where he was or who he was with because you’ve honestly had enough and you didn’t want your time wasted anymore.

Jack came back home around 2am and that’s when everything went south.

“Y/N I can’t believe you’re accusing me of of cheating ?!” Jack said while running his hands down his face and messing up his curls while packing back and forth.

“Well what am I suppose to expect Jack when you’re out almost every damn night and I’m left alone wondering where you’re at or who you’re with I’m tired of it Jack.” You yelled back you could tell your face was getting red and your throat was starting to hurt from all the yelling but you could care less.

“We’ve been together for 5 years already Y/N trust me if I wanted to cheat I would’ve already.” Jack mumbled back but you heard him loud and clear.

Your eyes widen you starting to feel tears sting your eyes but you weren’t backing down.

“Oh really Jack so you’ve got whores lined up is what you’re saying Mr. Jackman Harlow the heart throb of the century.” You stated sarcastically while waving your hands in the air. Jack’s jaw started clenching and unclenching he was starting to get annoyed with you.

“Don’t let me stop you Jackman Harlow from fucking every bitch in the world clearly you have your options right Jack?!!” You yelled back.

Before you knew it Jack was stomping over to you fast he pushed you against the wall and raised his hand at you. But you quickly covered your face with your hands and whimpered ready for the impact but felt nothing.

You heard the jingle of keys and the front door slam shut.

You looked up and Jack was nowhere you let out a sob that was hiding in the back of your throat truly not believing that Jack was really going to hit you.

You went upstairs and locked the door not wanting Jack to come in whenever he got back. You slid down the door and pulled your knees to your chest and just cried you cried your heart out till you eventually fell asleep on the floor.

[azenkii]

 ATLA Fic Rec 

because I've been spending way too much time reading it. Btw, this is a rec for gen fics and zukka fics.

Note: an asterisk after the description means that the fic or series is incomplete. (Sadly, this is a lot of them, but I'm pretty sure most of these fics are still currently updating.)

GEN:

Anything by MuffinLance is a must-read. my personal favourites are Salvage (where Hakoda ends up with one (1) grumpy new prisoner/crewmate/adopted son) and Little Zuko v the World (where Zuko is 12, and it's adorable).

The Family You Choose by TunaFishChris is a god-tier platonic soulmate au about zuko and the gaang, so like...go read that right now

The kintsugi series by discordiansamba is an AU where Toph's parents hire Zuko-as-Lee to be a bodyguard for her, and I love it so much. It has some of the best Toph-and-Zuko sibling bonding I've ever seen. *

Dragon Moon by Satirrian is a Dragon! Zuko AU and it's incredible. It also features Bounty Hunter Zuko, so do with that what you will. *

The What We're Given series by Haicrescendo is *chef's kiss*. It's an AU where Zuko flipped his father off early on into his banishment and started living his best life with Iroh. Enter the Gaang. Shenanigans ensue. *

The Internment series by Hannahmayski is another Zuko breaks free from his dad early AU, and it's also really good. Basically, Zuko was never given the option to capture the Avatar, making his banishment indefinite. He sails around with his crew fighting the Fire Nation and it's great. *

The best way to solve your problems (is to help someone else) by hewwodarkness is an AU where kids start disappearing in Ba Sing Se during Book 2, and Zuko takes it upon himself to do a little vigilantism. It's fantastic. *

The Blue Spirit AU series by H_Faith_Marr is an AU starting from, surprise surprise, the Blue Spirit episode. The Gaang takes in Zuko without knowing who he is, and the Power of Friendship™ goes to work on Zuko. *

The the first rule of earth kingdom fight club... series by ohmygodwhy is an AU where Zuko, among other things, fights in underground cage matches, meets Toph early, and realises that his dad might be wrong. It’s pretty funny and really good. *

The The Non-Existent Twin series by FoiblePNoteworthy is hilarious. It's an AU where Zuko poses as his own twin, Li, and the Gaang buys it hook line and sinker. *

The Guilt (The Jet Adopts Zuko AU) series by FoiblePNoteworthy is also really good. Like the title says, it’s a Zuko joins the Freedom Fighters AU. *

The new ways series by blueseam is just a Zuko and the Gaang bonding fic, mostly set in the Western Air Temple, with a side of Zuko not taking care of himself and the Gaang stepping up to the job. If you’re like me and am an absolute sucker for Zuko and the Gaang, go read this.

The Family Matters series by WinterSky101 is a really good fic if you’re looking for Hakoda and Zuko. That’s all I have to say: Hakoda and Zuko.

a nation, held by snowdarkred is a GREAT Fire Nation & Zuko fic - set before and during canon, not after it. Go read it, right now.

Notable mentions: a lot of works by naggeluide are gen and pretty funny, though if you don't headcanon any of the characters as LGBT+ you might not like some of them.

ZUKKA:

anything by Haicrescendo and dickpuncher420. For Haicrescendo, my personal favourite is the Carry On For You series, and for dickpuncher420, it’s love language.

sirens & sleepless nights by Satirrian is a modern AU that just borders on dystopian. Ba Sing Se has been overtaken by the Fire Nation, Zuko is a soldier who broke away from the Fire Nation and got shot for it, and Sokka finds Zuko on the street and brings him inside. It’s amazing, go read it!

do you take this jerk to be (your one and only) by jatersade is a fic that I’m 90% sure is on every zukka fic rec list, and it deserves to be. It’s an arranged marriage AU where Zuko is engaged to Yue, and Sokka is his cultural guide. *

midnight runs and other things by isamagicdragon is a modern AU where Zuko keeps sleepwalking into Sokka’s apartment. Shenanigans ensue. Also, top-tier Zuko, Mai and Ty Lee interactions. *

Unchained Melody by avocadolove is another fic that I see a lot on rec lists, and it 100% deserves it. It’s a long fic (as of now, it’s at 63.8k) and is an AU where Sokka, after getting taken to the Spirit World by Heibai, ends up as a ghost that only Zuko can see. Ft. great enemies-to-friends-to-lovers and an incredible plot. *

Ozymandias, King of Kings by Think_of_a_Wonderful_Thought is SO good. It’s an AU where, instead of being banished, Zuko was sent to work in a coal mine/prison, which eventually becomes the target of a Water Tribe raid after Aang’s return. It can get pretty dark, so watch out for that, and it’s really long (as of now, 168.8k). But trust me, it’s worth it. *

Heart Beat Here by thefangirlingdead is an adorable Modern AU oneshot where Zuko, while shopping for engagement rings with Katara, freaks out when Sokka lies about where he is. It’s a happy ending, don’t worry. One of my favourite fics.

feels like we only go backwards by oldpotatoe and A Certain Slant of Light by JustGettingBy are both amnesia fics where Sokka loses his memory several years after the war. They’re both so, so good. A Certain Slant of Light is finished, but feels like we only go backwards is not.

reality strikes, so bring back the night by zukkababey is a time-travel oneshot where Western-Air-Temple Sokka wakes up in the future to find his older self married to one (1) Fire Lord Zuko. Fluffy and funny. 

maybe i just see you (in everything) by epicbubbles is a really cute Modern AU oneshot with love confessions and just fluff all around. 10/10 go read it!!

it’s the illusion of separation by argentoswan is a fic that has legendary status and it absolutely deserves it. God-tier Modern AU where Sokka ends up working at the Jasmine Dragon alongside his former high school bully, Zuko. (Kind of) enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, and it’s just...SO good. *

say you like your shirt soggy by crosspin is a reallyyy nice 5+1 fic. It’s Modern AU, and it’s pretty short (3.7k), but the amount of yearning that gets packed into that 3.7k,,,,*chef’s kiss*

and they were roommates by flydunes is another Modern AU where sokka puts up an ad for a roommate. Zuko moves in, and Sokka gets a crush. It’s just good vibes all around :) *

like blood from a stone by catalinacat is a Soulmate AU that took a completely different direction with the soulmate trope. The summary does a better job of explaining it than I can. *

absence of heat, excess of destiny by theycallmesuperboy is one of the best soulmate AUs out there. it’s not too long, only 4.3k words, but it covers the entire series and then some. Seriously, go read this.

it isn’t strange, but it’s true by theholyterror is a 5+1 post-canon fic with some of the best pining I’ve ever seen, ft. Ambassador Sokka and Fire Lord Zuko. The 5+1 is times Zuko went out of his way to touch Sokka.  *

like the sun inside of you by ofherlionheart is another post-canon fic, and it’s incredible so far. the first chapter alone is 23k, so it’s already a decently long read. *

the stemverse: earth science zuko au series by acezukos is a REALLY good Modern/University AU. So far, it only has one work (earth system history) but that work is already *chef’s kiss*. The series is incomplete, but earth system history is complete!

rebellion’s such a hushed affair by zeitgeistofnow is a fantastic Modern AU that, like sirens & sleepless nights, borders on dystopian. Actually, I think it is dystopian, but it hasn’t been tagged as such. Anyway, 10/10, go read it right now immediately

Mark Time by foil is a Modern AU where Sokka ghosted Zuko years ago, and they get brought back together by Aang and Katara’s wedding. It’s really good, but the fic has some pretty heavy content, so make sure you read the warnings. *

That birds would sing and think it were not night by HisMomoness is a Modern AU that has Zuko tutoring Sokka, with absolute top-tier pining. Like, seriously, the pining is insane. Superr good

this love burns so yellow (becoming orange and in its time, exploding) by meliebee is one of the best post-canon fics I’ve ever read. It features a civil war in the Fire Nation (that gets resolved about halfway through) and some great Toph and Zuko interactions, as well as some Grade A pining. 

boy problems by burnt_oranges is FANTASTIC post-canon and has sokka and zuko in an accidental arranged marriage, plus some attempted assassinations. It’s great.

zuko vs the homie sexual agenda by parmigiano has Zuko and Sokka pining for each other in Ikea. Do I need to say more?

Friendship Bracelets by peachcitt is a Modern AU best friends to lovers. Pretty short (4.9k), but the pining is immaculate.

isn’t this the vision that you wanted by nebulastucky is INCREDIBLE, I read it recently because it just got completed and it’s *chef’s kiss*. It’s post-canon ft. mutual pining and some reallyyy good ‘and there was only one bed’ scenes.

Real Slow and no one knows anything but us by surveycorpsjean and quidhitch respectively are two of my favourite post-canon Ambassador Sokka and Fire Lord Zuko fics. Go check them out!

The Duke’s a Hazard by naggeluide is a really nice AU starting from the Western Air Temple, where the Duke decides that Sokka and Zuko are now his new parents. They bond over coparenting, and the (kind of) enemies-to-friends-to-lovers is really good. Plus, it’s funny.

Those Who Favor Fire by CSHfic and VSfic is a really good fic of the Spymaster Sokka AU. If you don’t know what that is, it’s an AU where Sokka fakes his death and goes undercover in an organisation that wants to kill Zuko.

Fics I added after posting (so far, all Zukka):

The Road Between Action and Inaction by Donvex is a fic that I can't believe I left out the first time?? It's a modern hitchhiking AU and it's great.

Rituals of the Ocean Floor by Donvex is a nice one too. It's only around 2.2k words, but it's a Fox Spirit!Zuko and Sharkman!Sokka AU, and I just really like the writing style.

by the stars above, i knew we were in love by theycallmesuperboy and The Fate of Nations in Our Hands by sapphic_ambitions are both top-tier post-canon fics. Be warned: by the stars above is a liiiittle bit angsty.

blue's clues by parmigiano is a really good Modern AU where Sokka, a university student journalist, gets ahold of the phone number of the Blue Spirit, a new campus vigilante. He ends up talking to the Blue Spirit to get an interview out of him, and it's really cute!

Honourable mention: the Avatar Zuko series by the_cloud_whisperer is one of the best series I've ever read, and it's really long - it got completed about a month ago, with 493.6k words in total (415k if you ignore the extra work made up of author's notes). It develops all the characters really well, especially Lu Ten, but the main ship is Zukaang. Personally, my biggest problem with Zukaang is the age difference, and Aang is aged up to be Zuko's age (or older, I think? I don't really remember) in this. I kept reading it because the plot was too good to give up, and I do highly recommend it, but yeah.

I’ll add more fics if I remember them, but this is what I had bookmarked. Also, shameless self plug here because I also write ATLA fic @ azenki on ao3

[consumedkings-archive]

THE LAND OF GODS AND DEVILS, a sequel.

—part i.

word count: 6k

rating: m for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop, tags will be updated accordingly.

warnings: naughty language, massively canon-divergent, roman gets his own tag because he's a fucking nutso, canon-typical violence, established relationship that might not be the healthiest, age gap, domestic murder family. for this chapter in specific, roman likes to take things to the Extreme (i.e., "i'm going to fucking kms if you say this word one more time") but if you're here i imagine you know exactly what he's about.

notes: it's here! i know that most of my followers and friends on here are my friends through my far cry 5 content, but my return to the fic-writing world was inspired by my first longfic in a decade after watching birds of prey. you could say, perhaps, that i have a Type(TM), given that roman sionis lives rent free in my head forever and always. this is the sequel to my work carry your throne, though i like to think it's fairy user-friendly, especially once we really get into the thick of it.

special thank you goes to my beta and the loml, @starcrier; the first person to ever truly recognize varya for the wretched little beast that she is and love her anyway. thank you for being my beta and for loving my girl!

and, of course, another special thanks goes to @shallow-gravy, @vasiktomis, @faithchel, @tomexraider, and @belorage for being so supportive of my foray out of the far cry fandom and back into one that, in a way, brought me here in the first place!

summary: —by dread things, compelled.

roman sionis is the closest he has ever been to having everything that he wants; a perfect wife, a perfect family, a perfect international black-market arms dealing business signed over to him in its entirety. unfortunately for him, there are people in the world who would prefer to see him without, and that has never been a thing that roman has accepted for himself: being without.

(or: a fic wherein the devil spends his time rebuking sin.)

“If one more person says the word ‘chandelier’ in my presence,” Roman announced, drawing all eyes to him, “I'm going to blow my fucking brains out. Got it?”

There was a brief moment of silence that lapsed before the murmured acquiescence of the workers marked their return to their work. Blowing hot air from his mouth, Roman raked his fingers through his hair and turned back around to where Zsasz was watching him expectantly.

“What?” He demanded. “It’s my wife’s birthday.” Emphasis on the my, not the wife; it was not a favor Roman was doing for Varya, it was something he was doing for himself.

“V told them she wanted it.” Zsasz gestured to the offensive piece of lighting, which continued to haunt Roman’s waking and dreaming hours with its garish crystalline drippings and expensive bulbs. Ever since Varya had found out his fluctuating approval of the chandelier, it had been in and out of the Black Mask Club more times than he could count. Not that he needed to; he could very well put in or rip out a stupid fucking light fixture as many times as he wanted.

“Well.” Roman pulled a glass out from behind the bar, setting it on the top and dropping an ice cube into it. “She does so love to torture me.”

“It's just a—”

“Do you want my fucking guts on the floor, Zsasz? I mean it. Say the word and I’ll do it.”

The blonde regarded him drily. “No, boss.”

“Blood and guts everywhere.” Roman gestured widely with his free hand. “All over the floor. The bar top. You’ll have to clean it up. Maybe wipe down some of the bottles.”

“I won’t say it.”

“I don’t have to tell you how hard it is to get blood out of the carpet.”

Zsasz’s mouth quirked up in a smile. It said, without saying anything at all, no, you don’t. More agreeably, and with the flash of pearly whites and the capped tooth: “Sure.”

Roman poured well over what would have been considered the polite amount of expensive scotch into his glass, capping the bottle and setting it aside. It had been exactly twenty-four hours of making sure the club was perfectly polished and styled for Varya's birthday; though she was shrewd, she was so preoccupied with the twins and the lawyers and overseas business associates that she barely seemed to notice whatever was coming in and out of the Black Mask Club. He didn’t think she’d had a baby nor a phone out of her hands in over two days, and truthfully, it was starting to become tedious. Now that the twins were a little over a year old, they were supposed to be scheduling their honeymoon.

The delay of it hadn’t been a big deal, at the start. But everyday with you feels like my honeymoon, Varya had demurred months before the twins’ arrival, fluttering her lashes and gliding her fingers along the lapel of his jacket—and not even an hour after she’d curtly informed him that any more chatter, while she was nursing a headache, would be met with a swift and efficient extraction of his vocal cords by her own hands. Motherhood was supposed to have domesticated her, Roman thought, and had done the exact opposite; now, she was more assured of her status and power than ever.

So, yes; Varya had been busy, and he was almost certain she’d forgotten her own birthday. Never mind that everything had to be perfect. Never mind that it had to be immaculate. Never mind that Varya had deigned to order a brand new fucking chandelier from the same place they’d gotten one last time, knowing full well that he had made the executive decision to gut the fucking thing and get it out of his club.

“Tell you what, Zsasz,” Roman muttered, taking a swallow of the amber liquid in his glass, “don’t ever get fucking married. You want someone knowing all the shit that pushes your buttons all the time?”

“Maybe you just got a button pusher for a wife.”

Roman grimaced and took another swallow. It was true. “Fuck off.”

The blonde opened his mouth to say something else—and hadn’t he gotten confident in himself too, since Varya had become such a permanent fixture in their life, constantly goading and coercing him to voice his opinion on things, things that normally he would just defer to Roman on—when the doors to the stairwell and the elevator opened.

Eclipsing the doorway was Armazd, Varya’s hand-picked-from-the-batch-of-Russians-left-over-guard. Armazd had to be easily cresting six-foot-five, his dark beard neatly trimmed and peppered with silver, a scar breaking the color of his top lip. Roman had only ever seen the man swathed in dark clothes, like a fucking mourner on parade. His wife had been the one picked to be the twins' nanny, despite the fact that Roman felt like she barely did anything.

Also hand-picked. Thoroughly vetted. Interrogated for hours. No stone left unturned, when it came to Yuli and Ro.

“What are you doing down here?” Roman barked, coming around the side of the bar to make his way across the room. “You’re supposed to be going up and keeping—”

“She is coming down,” Armazd clarified. “In the elevator. Irina called to tell me.”

“Instead of stopping her?”

“She was—”

The elevator dinged in the hallway, and Roman quickly ducked around Armazd and closed the door into the club behind him. As soon as the doors slid open, he planted a smile on his face and closed the distance between himself and his wife.

Nobody would know, looking at Varya, that she not only barely utilized the nanny that they had furiously vetted and now paid handsomely, but that on top of juggling their twins she was actively in the process of getting a massive, international gun-running business signed over in his name. There was not a single hair out of place, not a single crease or rumple in the sapphire-blue silk of her blouse or skirt; the scent of her preferred jasmine perfume followed her like a cloud. She looked as put-together as the day he’d first seen her standing in his club.

And now, he desperately needed her to stay out of it.

“Kitten,” he greeted warmly, his hands—though gloved—immediately scratching the itch by reaching for her; they captured hers to carefully still her procession to the club’s main room. “What are you doing down here? I thought you’d be busy for hours.”

“Yuliana has been fussing nonstop,” Varya replied, her voice light despite what could only have been an expression of frustration quickly following, “all while I listen to grown men fussing nonstop at me on the phone.”

Roman feigned a sympathetic noise, bringing her hands up to his mouth to kiss them. “We have a nanny, V.”

“You know better than anyone else,” the brunette murmured, brushing her nose against his as their hands dropped, “that she is inconsolable without you.”

He tried not to look too pleased. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Don’t be modest, Romy.”

“Well, I’ll come up, of course.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “And console our princess.” Another kiss, to the other corner. “So that you can continue letting grown men fuss at you.”

She beamed at him prettily, and finally they met in the middle for a real kiss—nothing coy, nothing demure, but lingering warm and just between the two of them.

“I love you,” she purred. “Go on, then.”

And then Varya pulled away, as though to go around him and into the club, and Roman blinked rapidly. He had only just caught her around the waist before she could walk in and pulled her in a full one-eighty until she was facing the elevator again.

“What are you doing?” she asked, a laugh bubbling out of her. “I was just going to make myself a drink.”

“Encouraging productivity,” Roman replied, hitting the button for the elevator doors to open again. “Ready for all this paperwork to be done, aren’t you? It’s been over a year.”

A year of wading through mafia-esque bureaucracy. A year of listening to Varya say, these things take time. A busy year, to be sure, jam-packed full of things—the biggest wedding in Gotham since its founding, the twins.

A funeral.

Roman tried more and more every day not to think about his (now) brother-in-law’s funeral, the double burial of the only man that might have stood a chance at being loved by Varya more than Roman himself and the only man who had ever been anything like a father figure to her. Family is tedious, he’d wanted to say, brothers and fathers and mothers, the whole lot of them, cut them loose why don’t you? Why should anyone matter to you outside of the twins and I?

Varya glanced at him over her shoulder. “These things take time.”

He rolled his eyes. “Mhm.”

“Not to mention, we were a little busy,” she added, eyes narrowing playfully as he nudged her into the elevator, “you know—having children.”

“And what beautiful children they are.” Roman hit the button without looking, the doors sliding shut behind him.

“Well, how am I supposed to suffer through those phone calls without a stiff drink?”

He quirked a brow upward. “I’ll make you a stiff drink, Mrs. Sionis.”

The brunette propped herself up against the back rail of the elevator as it whirred into motion. The corner of her mouth, painted ruby, curved and her head tilted inquisitively. “Oh?”

“Of course,” he demurred, sidling forward and boxing her in against the wall. “I’ll make you a stiff drink—”

He dropped his head to the slope of her jaw to plant a kiss there.

“—you’ll finish up with the lawyers, and put on the dress I bought you—”

Varya hummed and sighed sweetly.

“—we’ll go out to dinner for your birthday—”

He dropped his hands to her hips, planting a kiss on her temple so that he could rumble, “And we can get to work on baby number three, hm?”

A sweet laugh billowed out of her just as the elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open to bring to Roman the oh-so-sweet sounds of a caterwauling infant. Over the distressed crying was Irina’s voice, shushing and cooing dulcet words in Russian; he could see her swaying to and fro with a swathe of fabric bundled in her arms.

“I almost forgot about my birthday,” Varya said thoughtfully, completely unrattled by the sound of their daughter’s distress. She stepped out from between him and the elevator wall; Roman fell into step beside her easily, the sound of her heels clipping against the floor enough to draw Irina’s eyes to them.

Roman said, “I know you did,” and did not bother to hide his smugness as he held out his arms for the shrieking baby in Irina’s arms. The redhead regarded him with a sort of weary amusement before she acquiesced; with Yuliana safely in his arms, he watched Varya cross the room to turn the automatic rocker that held their son back on to a slow, lulling pace. The freckled infant babbled happily—ever the quieter of the twins—and as Varya said something to Irina in Russian that inspired the woman to depart to the kitchen, she absently picked up a baby blanket from the couch and wandered over to him.

“Yuli,” she murmured, waving her finger at the already-content infant, tucking the blanket around her “is that all you wanted, hm? Just for your papa to hold you?”

“What else could she want for?” he replied confidently. Soothing Yuliana’s fury had become old-hat for him at this point. And, certainly, it pleased him to know that sometimes, the only thing that would make his daughter stop screaming was being held by him. Not even Varya—who had taken to motherhood like a fish to water—bothered when she was in a fit.

Still, the brunette sighed dreamily, her finger captured by their daughter’s tiny hand before she said, “What a perfect little gem.”

Roman hummed his agreement. “Finishing that call with the lawyers?”

“Perhaps tomorrow,” Varya replied. “They’re in a mood today.”

“They’re in a mood every day.” Russians, he thought venomously.

“Yes.” She smiled, flashing pearly teeth at him. “But only today is my birthday.”

She had him there. Still, he was itching for the whole thing to be done—Ilarion had dragged his feet through the process of even drawing up the original contract, which had only been a spit in his face (“You are the only person who gets to fuck Varya Astakhova, that is as exclusive as it gets”) and by the time all of that nasty business had been wrapped up, Ilarion was dead.

Ilarion, and Nikita—leaving only a single living soul to be in charge of the Astakhov empire: Varya herself.

Which, she had expressed time and time again, she had no desire for; not in the public way that her father had done it, and Ilarion after them. She much preferred the clerical work of it all. Paperwork and public relations. Let the men do men’s work, she’d demurred one night, tangled up in their sheets, when he’d asked her what she was going to do with it. I don’t mind. They like me better as their madonna, anyway.

“You know,” she continued, breaking him out of his thoughts as she made her way to the bar cart, pouring herself a drink, “they will like you more if it’s you they’re talking to.”

“I don’t give a fuck if they like me or not,” Roman replied, lifting Yuliana with both of his hands so that he could look at her. “Isn’t that right, princess? Mommy gets to do all the paperwork so that your papa can spend all of his time with you, instead of listening to some dumbfucks bitch and moan on the phone.” He glanced at her. “Well, anyway, since it’s your birthday we can let it slide.”

“Very generous of you.”

“Get dressed, won’t you?” he prompted, depositing his now-content daughter in the mobile swing with her brother. “The table’s been ready for us since noon.”

Varya watched him, dark eyes glittering amusedly. “And why, my darling, did you make the reservation for noon? It’s nearly six now.”

“Because,” he replied, “I wanted to make sure they held it, regardless of how long it took us to get there.”

“Ah.” She lifted her chin a little, lashes fluttering with contentment when he reached up and brushed the hair from her face. “Or else?”

Roman flashed her a grin.

“Or else.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

They held the table.

“Good for them,” Roman said as they followed the server out onto the balcony. The table had clearly been refreshed—a new candle, a new vase, a new bucket of ice and bottle of champagne. He’d heard the waitstaff whispering furiously among themselves as they idled in the lobby to be taken to their table; now, settled across from the birthday girl, Roman was content with the way they had squirmed.

“Quicker than the two-hour wait last time,” Varya noted by way of agreement, smoothing her hand along the edge of the tablecloth.

He scoffed. The only reason they had waited in the lobby for two hours was because Varya had asked him to stay for the table she wanted. If it had been his way, they would have left with a bloody warning and gone somewhere else. “I can’t believe I finally convinced you to leave the twins home for a night and we got stuck sitting in that fucking lobby because they gave our table away.”

“In my defense, they are good babies, Romy. Hardly ever cry. Certainly not too much trouble.”

“But there’s two of them,” he replied, “and toting two babies around is a lot of work. All I’m saying is, what’s the point of paying her that much fucking money if we’re just going to—”

The waiter came by the table, clearly a little stressed; the lines of concern on his face were clear as he cleared his throat and said, “Should I come back?”

Varya, perusing the menu: “No, my darling, you may stay. You were saying, Romy?”

“I just don’t know why we’re shoveling money into her bank account for her to be a glorified accent chair in our house rather than a nanny.” Roman gestured to the champagne bottle expectantly. “Open it.”

The waiter did as he asked, having been standing there uncomfortably for a moment during their exchange. As he worked to carefully open the champagne bottle, Roman turned his attention back to Varya; her eyes remained on the menu, absently twisting the engagement and wedding band on her finger back and forth.

There was no way, he thought, that she was putting off getting the business signed over to him on purpose. Surely, there was no way; even when Ilarion was alive, even when she had anticipated no further problems, it had always been, if you’re going to be my romantic partner, it seems only right you’d be my partner in business too, don’t you think? And yet—

And yet, Roman could not push down the strange, hazy doubt that occasionally flickered through his mind. He had always wanted Varya, had always found himself wanting and wanting and wanting more and more often, and Varya had always seemed content to indulge him. There was, it seemed, nothing she enjoyed more than indulging him. One more kiss, one more minute in bed, one more lingering glance across the room. She was the absolute pinacle of his hedonism, in every sense of the word, and had proven time and time again that she would give him anything that he wanted.

The business had always been for her and Ilarion. He wanted it, and told her he did, and she said, you can have it, if you like, but like in all things, there was a slyness about his wife—a cruelty—that he found endearing and dangerous. Dangerous, because it wouldn’t have been the first time he’d been on the other end of her cruel nature, playfully poking and unwinding and tugging the thread loose until she had pushed him to the limit.

Something echoed in his head, and he realized that the waiter was asking him what he wanted to eat. Varya had handed the menu over and steepled her fingers, watching him with dark, curious eyes and red painted lips, sooty lashes fluttering. A pretty, painted little snake.

“I’ll take whatever she’s having,” Roman said after a moment, setting his menu aside and returning his attention to the brunette across from him. “Something interesting, kitten?”

“Can I not just appreciate my husband?” Varya demurred. “You’re wearing the suit I like best, after all.”

“It is your birthday. What greater gift is there than me?”

She laughed, delighted by him—as she always was—and took a sip of her champagne. “You were away from me, for a moment.”

He watched her, gauging her carefully. Even I know not to drop my pants when a viper opens its mouth, Bianchi had said, just before Varya had unloaded six rounds into his face and chest less than two feet away from him.

“Just thinking,” is what Roman said finally.

“Hm. A dangerous past time.”

His expression flattened, deadpan. “It’s taken a significant chunk of time to secure your father’s business in my name.”

Something flickered across Varya’s expression. at the word father. “To secure my business,” Varya replied, her voice abrupt and cutting, her eyes narrowed, “in your name.” Absently, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked to be composing herself, like she’d spoken on a knee-jerk reaction rather than with thinking.

Then, glossy and silken again: “You know your patience means the world to me, Romy.”

There was nothing that he loved more than watching her pull back her venom for him. Drumming his fingers against the top of the table, Roman bridled his own irritation to say, mildly, “I’d do anything for you. Even wait...” He made a thoughtful noise. “Over a year to finally take on the responsiblities you wanted handed over to me.”

“Of course.” Varya smiled prettily, absently straightening out her silverware. “And we will speak no more of my father on my birthday, or any day after this.”

He knew what that meant. She phrased it pretty, wrapped it up in silk and velvet and presented it to him as unassuming as a doe, but he knew what that meant. There is my button, she was saying, there is my trip wire. Don’t push it, Roman. The name Nikita had all but been banned in their household, even when funeral arrangements were being made; any time he’d heard one of the lawyers mention her father’s name, there had been a sharp rebuke. Not in my presence, she would tell him later, I do not want to hear that fucking name in my presence.

“At any rate, there is nothing that I want more than for this whole process to be done,” she continued lightly, reaching across the table to take his hand. “It was always what I wanted, you know. Ilya was better suited to be a functional piece of the business; he was the face because he had to be, not because he wanted to be, and I am better suited for the nitpicking and the details. Being the overseer is much more in your circle of talents, Romy.”

Her words assauged something unsettled and prickly in him, the sweep of the pad of her thumb across the back of his hand returning that doubtful monster in his mind back to its slumber. He sighed.

“You’re right,” he acquiesced after a moment, “it is more in my circle of talents.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“I always got the impression Ilarion wasn’t happy with it,” he added. “Though you two certainly enjoyed making work of me that first night, didn’t you?”

Varya smiled demurely. “It was never meant to make work of you, only to make a good impression.”

“Hm,” he replied, eyes narrowing playfully, “but you enjoy pushing me, V.”

She looked pleased. She always did, when he remarked on something that felt like he was really seeing her, beneath the glossy veneer. His girl did so love being seen.

“Only,” V demurred, “because you so enjoy reining me in.”

“Guilty as charged.”

Roman brought her hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it before relinquishing it and glancing around. He would just have to exercise patience, of which he had the most; patience, modesty, and humility, all excellent qualities that he could participate in at will, at any given time. Without any restraint.

“Did the men get the chandelier installed?” Varya idled, snapping his attention back to her. He narrowed his eyes.

“I told you I didn’t want a chandelier anymore.”

She looked at him across the table, dark doe eyes wide and innocent. “I thought you liked how polished they make the club.”

“No, you little viper,” Roman replied, clicking his tongue, “Paolo has a chandelier in his club, and there’s no fucking way I’m going to have people comparing it.”

“Ah,” she murmured, “the drama of the chandelier goes on.”

“And while we’re at it, might as well gut that one from the estate, too.”

“There’s more than one chandelier in there.”

“Then the men will be busy, won’t they?” He tsked his tongue. “I know you dream about watching me blow my top, V, but I’m making an executive decision on gaudy light fixtures.”

A smile flashed across her expression, pearly teeth and delighted eyes. She sighed, almost dreamily, like there was nothing more that she liked than to be doing this exact thing, and with him.

“Oh, Romy,” the brunette said sweetly, “you are the only thing I dream about.” And then, almost as an after thought: “Gaudy light fixture terrorism included.” She waved her hand to dismiss any protest or rebuttal he might have given her and said, “Now, since it’s my birthday, tell me all of the things you love the most about me.”

Roman sucked his teeth, eyeing her for a moment as he leaned back in the chair. Wicked little thing, waiting to preen and glow under his attention, a feline seeking him out. Her little bout of cruelty before was already forgiven. He said, “We’re going to be here for a while, if I do that.”

“They held the table for over six hours,” Varya demurred, “I’m sure they’ll hold it for as many more as you need.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

By the time they got to the club, Varya was acting as though nothing had happened.

Truthfully, Roman preferred it that way. It just also left a lot of room to wonder—his wife was a talented actress, adept at smoothing his ruffled feathers out and not divulging her own feelings on the matter. And he wouldn’t ask, of course. If Varya wanted to express herself, she would, and had, quite openly in the past.

“I am so happy to be home,” she announced, gliding past the door to the club once Roman had opened it for her. “Do you think the babies are asleep, yet? I always miss putting them...”

Her voice trailed off, pausing a little as she seemed to realize that the club was cloaked in inky darkness, freezing just a few steps past the threshold. Roman let the door swing shut behind him, nudging her forward with a hand at the small of her back. He was met with some resistance; she steeled, stiffening against his insistence, before taking a few steps forward.

He said, barely keeping the delight out of his voice, “You’re holding up the line, V.”

“Roman,” Varya said, her voice pitched oddly soft and tight, “why—?”

The lights flashed on to a loud, unified cheer of Happy Birthday!; the club had been packed with vases of flowers, the tables donned with food and drink, and everyone worth their salt within a fifty-mile radius had made their way there. Not a single thing was out of place—everything exactly where he had instructed it be placed, and not a fucking chandelier in sight.

Roman came around in front of the brunette, grinning. “Happy—”

He stopped. Varya’s expression was not happy, or even surprised; it was something else, something that he couldn’t read, the pupils of her hot-whiskey eyes blown wide and the normally Renaissance-soft lines of her face sharpened and hardened into an expression that was more vicious.

“V?” he asked. Her eyes snapped to him, and for a second she looked the same way she had that night in the loft, her hands drenched in blood and the kitchen knife clutched in her fist with bodies at her feet: like she didn’t recognize him.

It took a heartbeat, but her expression smoothed out and she smiled, almost sheepish—like she’d been caught doing something naughty, instead of being caught being somewhere else. Someone else, more the wolf than the girl.

“The lights,” she explained, hands resting on his chest, “they startled me, is all.”

A frown creased his expression. He brought his hands up to hold her wrists, thumb pressed against her pulse point. It fluttered unsteadily. Unconvinced, Roman pressed, “The lights?”

“Just the lights,” Varya assured him. She tilted her head up and kissed him, one hand departing his jacket to go to the back of his neck—and when she kissed him, he could feel that strange little flicker of energy, like she’d been stamping something out before it could catch, but it still vibrated under her skin.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but she disentangled from him and swept around to the crowd of people waiting, beaming prettily and playing at bashfulness, as though she did not enjoy their eyes on her and did not soak their attention up like a flower did sunlight. Whatever had been plaguing her in that moment was now gone, and she was awash with attention and love, thanking people profusely and accepting each hug and cheek-kiss directed her way.

Roman brushed off the odd feeling that she wasn’t being as forthcoming with him as he would have preferred—no secrets anymore, isn’t that what they’d agreed on?—and instead waded into the crowd. Music kicked on overhead; chatter picked up to a warm humming around them; there was nothing else to think about except letting his girl enjoy her birthday celebration.

By the time Varya had made a suitable number of rounds (which tended to verge much higher than one, much to Roman’s chagrin—what tedious work, to share her with everyone else), she had barely sipped the glass of champagne someone had planted in her hand. She circled back to him eventually; like always, there was that pinprick tugging in the cavity of his chest, like they were bound by a single thread that kept them from parting too much and too quickly, and when she drew closer to him again it oozed relief, warm and vibrant, through his ribs.

“Sufficiently loved on?” he asked as she neared, hand reaching up to slide around her waist.

“By them? Certainly.” The brunette’s hand smoothed along his shoulder, the pad of her thumb gliding across the velvet of his jacket. “By you, though, not hardly. Not ever.”

“You are insatiable,” Roman agreed in a rumble. He splayed his fingers against the small of her back, tugging her in closer and brushing their noses together.

“Just for you,” Varya murmured, and the words brushed their lips together just a little—but everything with Varya, like this, felt like almost-kissing, enough to push him to some kind of edge where his stomach twisted and wrenched with want when she added, “And only for you.”

“You know I can’t resist you when you talk like that.”

She laughed, leaning in to set her glass to the side and curl her fingers into his shirt for a kiss; everything for a second felt normal, and good, and right again, the strange way she’d gone-away back in the doorway having disappeared, the dark cloud over her having cleared, her wretchedness from dinner dissipated.

And Roman kissed her, with the sound of the party chatter ringing in his ears, and kissed her with the faint taste of champagne flooding his senses when she parted her lips against his, and kissed her while his hand fisted the fabric of her dress and he managed out in a voice rough with want, “So you’re trying to rile me up.”

“I always,” Varya murmured against his mouth silkily, “want you riled, Romy.”

“Varya?”

A stranger’s voice filtered through the haze—the rose-colored one that usually accompanied Varya saying anything like she wanted him riled up—and Roman felt the irritation spike straight through it. He turned to look at the interruption at the same time that Varya did, only to find a young, handsome blonde standing just a foot away.

Varya said, sounding faint, “Maxim?”

“It has been a while,” the blonde said, and he sounded sheepish. “I called Armazd, asking after you—”

“Sorry,” Roman interjected briskly, fingers still curled—now possessively—into the fabric of Varya’s dress against the dip of her spine, “but who are you?”

His wife started to say, “Romy, this is—” at the same time that the man began, “I am sorry, my name—” and they both stopped at the same time, a strange little silence stretching between them.

“Maxim,” Varya said after a second, turning to look at Roman now. “This is Maxim. He is Artyem’s son.”

Roman stared at her, more to buy himself time than anything; she said the name like he was supposed to know who that was. Artyem, but it didn’t sound familiar. Almost any Russian name sounded like gibberish to him, and if Varya had said it to him, it had been in passing, an afterthought, nothing but a whisper of information passed between them before it was gone again.

Until it did. Until he remembered that the person Varya had thought was her father had actually been Artyem, that she’d poisoned him, let him bleed to death on the carpet while she had mentally checked out of the moment. That she had watched him die, but she had been somewhere else—someplace else, the way Ilarion had described it, very far away where she couldn’t even enjoy what she’d done fully.

And Maxim—golden, and polished, and clean-shaven—looked awfully pleasant for someone whose farther had choked to death on his own blood because of Varya.

“I see,” Roman said, even though he didn’t. His gaze turned to Maxim. “And you’ve—shown up without calling ahead?”

“I have been in Turkey,” Maxim explained, “finishing up some business, and I did not know how to get in touch—”

“Well, you spoke with Armazd, didn’t you?” Roman’s head tilted. “The man practically sleeps in our bed, I imagine he would have been happy to get you in contact with us.”

“Admittedly,” Maxim said, “I wanted it to be a surprise—”

No, Roman thought absently, venomously, that won’t do at all.

“—Varya’s birthday—”

“So you slunk in,” Roman elaborated tartly, “like a little street dog, hm?”

“Maxi,” Varya interjected, fingers absently tracing the stitching on Roman’s jacket, “why don’t you go get a drink and acquaint yourself with our friends? Armazd is just there—you see?”

Maxim’s eyes darted between her and Roman for a minute. He shifted on his feet, tilting and giving a little smile that might have liked abashed if Roman didn’t think he saw a little squirm of self-satisfaction in his gaze. Fucker.

“Of course,” the blonde replied after a moment. “C dnyom razhdyenyem, Varushka.” He took a step forward, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Varya’s thumbnail dug into the lapel of Roman’s jacket. “Thank you, Maxi.”

Once the blonde had departed, linking up with Armazd in the crowd to get introduced, Roman straightened up from the bar. It was impossible not to stare at this newcomer—he glowed with an easy charisma, flashed bright smiles that were all teeth. Roman hated him already.

“Maxi?” he asked her, eyes narrowed, and Varya sighed. He waited for her to elaborate. Perhaps she’d say they had dated once, perhaps they were literally nothing. That would be ideal, after all. Ships passing in the night.

She said, “We grew up together.”

Even worse. Roman twisted a loose, dark curl of hers around his finger. “And you killed his father.”

“Well—” She paused, mouth pressing into a thin line. “He does not know.”

“He doesn’t—” The notion that she was keeping secrets, and not from him, coiled high and happy in his throat. He tried not to sound too delighted when he said, “V, surely he knows.”

“Surely he does not, that I did it. Only that it happened. And I will keep it that way,” she added firmly, picking up her champagne glass from the bar top. “Maxim was incredibly loyal to my father because Artyem was, but more than that—he was mine and Ilya’s friend. I’m sure he is missing Ilya almost as much as I am.”

“As we all are,” Roman agreed sagely, planting a kiss on her temple in spite of the dry look she gave him. It was hard to tell, to get a read on this Maxim. What was it he’d dragged himself out of the trenches for? Just to fly halfway across the world to wish Varya a happy birthday? Above all things, Roman understood that his wife was a desirable thing, and knowing that he kept her out of the reach of others was part of her appeal—but that much? Could someone who was just a friend want that much?

He continued, “So what is it that Maxim offers to the business, hm?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Varya demurred, which didn’t sound at all like the truth. “Artyem was the one who sent him out on jobs. My father kept things tight around the top, you know. If anyone would know what it was Maxim was up to in Turkey who wasn’t my father or Artyem, it would have been Ilarion.”

“I find it hard to believe you have no idea what your father was using someone for.”

The sound of delighted commentary drew both of their eyes away; Irina had come down, both dark-haired infants in her arms, and was walking them toward Varya and Roman. Murmured remarks on what could only be their cuteness passed throughout the crowd of party-goers.

“I am putting them down for bed,” Irina announced as she approached, “and I know you like to say goodnight.”

“Oh, you are an angel,” Varya murmured, glass set aside once again. She leaned in, pressing a kiss to baby Ro’s cheek. Yuliana babbled, and she sighed dreamily, “Have you ever seen more perfect babies, Roman?”

Perfect babies, a perfect wife; soon, he would even have the perfect grip on Gotham’s neck, throttling it until it was nothing but dust and ash. Soon, but not soon enough; he’d be content when it was just done and settled, when there was nothing else standing between him and everything that he wanted. Varya, and the guns—what an odd thing, to know that a year ago he’d set out for this and it was just falling into his lap.

“Romy?”

“Never,” Roman replied, smiling and glancing back at his wife, reaching and cradling the back of Yuli’s head. “I’ve never seen more perfect babies, V.”

Across the room, Maxim watched them. There was something about it that Roman didn’t like—the way his eyes flickered, the way he looked between the children and Varya, the way their eyes met and he didn’t deflect away. Like he didn’t mind getting caught. Where had he come from? What little shithole had he crawled out of, over a year after Nikita’s death and Ilarion’s death—longer, still, since his father’s death? Hadn’t he wondered what had happened to his father?

What are you doing here, he thought venomously, that you think you can just come in here like nothing? Like I won’t root you out like the little rat you are?

Maxim smiled. It was a polite smile, unassuming kind of smile.

Roman picked up his drink from the counter, taking a heavy swallow. Suddenly, the evening seemed to stretch out endlessly in front of him, no finish line in sight.

Nothing else standing between me and everything I want.

And he was going to keep it that way.