#which actually puts him in a really good position to understand Celia’s feelings towards the Kynoseur here

[professorlegaspi]

This line by Josh makes me crazy. Is that what he told himself every day when Celia wouldn’t talk to him, wouldn’t give him any way to help? Is that the ultimatum he gave himself? You either trust what she tells you or you don’t. At what point did he stop trusting her when she said ‘I’m fine’ and ‘I don’t need your help’? How long did he wait before going behind her back with Quiroz? And how does he feel now, making it black and white, a no nuance choice between having a relationship and having none?

[imherongraystairstrash]

So I want to first say that I am absolutely positively 100% in love with your fanfics. I am a huge sucker for anything remotely involving family fluff and you always deliver. I’m also very much loved your platonic Will and Gabriel fill that you posted so I’m going to give you maybe a little bit of a different ask.

It’s pretty clear that by the time of A Lightwood Christmas Carol Will and Gideon have settled into a brotherly relationship, I mean you can see evidence of that in Clockwork Princess even. What I want to see, and if you’re willing to write it, is the first time Gideon pulled rank, so to speak, over Will, by acting like an overprotective older brother, which Will would have no experience with, even if he has seen Gideon act that way towards Gabriel. Prompts 2 and/or 19 would probably be applicable for this, but if you think something else works better, or you don’t want to write it at all, that’s fine too, I know it’s a weird ask, I’m just in love with family fluff, especially from TID/TLH.

(It seems like all the attention gets put on the major pairings sometimes and everything else falls by the wayside, which is why I love your stuff)

Goodness! Where do you get these incredible ideas? Thank you so much for this wonderful request! I had a grand time writing it!

Prompts: “I don’t think so.” & “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

Characters: Will Herondale & Gideon Lightwood (platonic)

Notes: This takes place after someone insults Tessa in front of Will

Red hot anger pulsed through Will’s veins. his face flushed from the cold as he threw open the doors, stepped out of the threshold and strode down the street. The night air didn’t do anything to cool his anger. He vaguely recalled hearing the door open again and the sound of footsteps crunching on the snow. 

“Where the hell are you going?” He heard Gideon say from behind him.

“Out.” Will said, the wind howling in his ear and blowing his hair to the side.

“And what, might I ask, are you going to do while you’re out?” Gideon yelled out at him, so that his voice could be heard.

“Have a nice talk with a little someone.”

Will felt something grab him from the collar of his coat, pulling him back so that he was rooted to a spot. He turned and found Gideon’s intense green eyes boring into his own. 

“I don’t think so.” He said, quietly but not, by any means, weak.

“Release me.”

“Not until you promise to go back inside the second I do.” 

Will rolled his eyes. “I promise.”

“Did you honestly believe that would work on me?”

Will clenched his teeth. 

“Let go of me, Gideon.” 

“No.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do. You aren’t my father or brother or—”

“William.” Gideon said, his mouth set. “I may not be your blood, and I know I am not Jem, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. And it also doesn’t mean I won’t tackle you to the floor the second you try to go after that man after I release you.” 

Will didn’t understand why Gideon was doing this simply because “he cared”. It was annoying.

“He was asking for it, Gideon. He was provoking a fight, and you know it just as well as I do.” Will pointed out. 

“Does that mean you go after him? Does that mean you let him win?”

“You’re one to talk.” Will spat out. “How many fights have you gotten into in the past?”

“Too many.” Gideon said, looking down and then back up at Will. “That’s why I’m making sure you don’t make the same mistakes I did.”

“This isn’t a mistake. Did you even hear what he said?”

“I did.”

“And you want me to do nothing?” Will scoffed. Gideon was out of his mind.

“Do you think it doesn’t kill me when they say the same things about Sophie? Do you really think it’s easy for me to stand by? I despise it. But do you know why I ignore it?”

Will shook his head, feeling a tiny bit small.

“Because I would rather spend my energy with Sophie, then waste it all on those pathetic lots. Think about Tessa, Will. Do you think she’d want this? Do you think it will make her feel good about herself?”

Will didn’t say anything because he truly hadn’t thought about it that way. How could he forget about Tessa? His Tessa?

“It’s going to make her feel worse.” Gideon said quietly. “And if there’s one thing you and I have in common, it’s that if we caused them to feel worse, it would tear us apart.”

Gideon’s hand was still on his jacket collar, but it felt lighter. Almost like Gideon was placing his hand on Will’s neck.

“Why do you care, Gideon? Why now?” Will asked, still a bit angry, but less so.

“Why now?” Gideon released an irritated breath. “Will, I’ve cared since I began living in the institute after my father disowned me. I care more now. You’re like a brother to me.”

“A brother?” Will asked quietly.

“An annoying, impulsive brother who needs to be restrained before he does something he’ll regret.”

Will didn’t smile, because he wasn’t sure he could, but he held Gideon’s gaze steadily. Tentatively, the older boy released his hold on Will, as though he were afraid he would bolt. Will just stayed were he was, looking down at his shoes. 

“Thank you.” Will finally said.

“For what?”

“For caring.”

“Don’t thank people for caring, Will. Not only can we not help it, but we do it because you give us reason to care.” Gideon said.

Will considered Gideon. Did he truly think of him as a brother? That was perhaps the part that got to him the most from this moment. Having a sister was different from having a brother. Will had never had a brother; he used to play rough with Cecily when they were children, but his mother would always scold him. You can’t play with your sister that way Gwilim or you will break her, Linette would say. Will didn’t want to break his sister, so he stopped play fighting with her like he used to. And though he loved his sisters, he wasn’t allowed to have much fun with them. Of course, Cecily and he would sometimes run down the hills where their mother or the maids couldn’t find them, and play fight, but it wasn’t fun when you had to restrain yourself. You will protect your sisters when you’re older, won’t you Gwilim? Mrs. York, their neighbor, once asked him. Will considered her question, and almost asked but who’ll protect me? but didn’t.

Now, he looked at Gideon. A brother. Jem had been a brother, more than a brother actually, but Gideon being like his older brother and not his equal felt different. A different kind of affection, but one he could still rely on. Perhaps he was thinking too far into this. 

“Will?” Gideon asked, looking questioningly at the stillness of the other. 

“Did you really mean it?” Will asked quickly, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “Do you really think of me as a younger brother?”

Gideon looked startled. “I–I do. Of course I do.” 

Will smiled despite himself. Maybe he could get used to having an older brother. “Does that mean I’m a pain in your arse?” He asked.

Gideon rolled his eyes. “I don’t know who’s worse, you of Gabriel. You both feel like my children. Barbara gives me less work than the pair of you.”

“Ah, well. At least you bring you joy.”

“At least you bring me joy.” Gideon agreed as they turned and walked back to the house.

...

Tagging: @livvyheronstairs @hitheresomeoneusingthus @tsccreatorsnet @aceofjesper @fictionally-fantastic @stxr-thxif @celias @atla-lok143 @rinadragomir @youngreckless @julemmaes @cupcakesandkittens @no-scones-allowed @forjordelia

Send me a message of comment on this fic if you want to be tagged in the future! You don’t have to like or comment if I tag you, it’s just so that you can be notified when I post a fic.

[amarabliss]

Galahdian Dreams - 3 (Nyx Ulric/Reader)

Synopsis: Your father was the king of Insomnia. He was good and just. You never thought you’d meet anyone like him after he was taken from the world. Your Uncle Regis, has taken the throne and followed through on your father’s plans. It was good to see the city in capable hands. 

Enter Nyx Ulric, refugee, Glaive, fighter…how is it he can see all your secrets? He knows how to set you off and he’s promised to not let you go…(AU for sure, Regis wasn’t supposed to take the throne, and our lovely Nyx has more of a past then we thought…)

Part One Part Two

“I beg your pardon?” Your eyes narrowed on his face.

“You can beg all you want but I won’t pardon you.” He put his hands on his hips smirking at you.

How could someone be accusing you of lying and act as if it meant nothing and everything all at once. It was infuriating, “I never lied to you, I would-”

“You said you stayed behind for your birthday! But your parents didn’t leave your side until you woke up. Then they went to Lestallum for talks.” He interrupted taking a step towards you.

“No, you assumed you had all the facts! You didn’t let me finish claiming you understood! I was going to tell you exactly what happened!” You stepped toward as well practically nose to nose with him, “I do not lie to people. I abhor the entire act.”

You only turned from him when he looked away dropping his arms. Your face was hot, and it felt like hot coals had dropped down the back of your sweater, “You’re right, I…I’m sorry…I thought…I assumed the rest. I shouldn’t have done that.”

You put a hand to your face as you shut your eyes taking a deep breath, “Why…why did you try to find out more? What’s the point?”

He stepped forward, enough that you could feel the heat coming off him before he spoke softly, “Because…I don’t want to fail you.”

You turned dropping your hand as you looked up to his face, it was full of sincerity, which surprised you. We’re you so numb to the , “Fail me? Don’t you mean fail King Regis?”

“No.” He shook his head staring into your eyes, “No, I meant you. I’m not protecting the king, I’m protecting you, and I looked everything up because without knowing who you are…I can’t help you.”

“I didn’t ask for help…” You threw your arms out feeling frustration bubbling up inside of you.

“I didn’t mean…” He raised his voice stopping to take a deep breath in looking away from you as he regained his composure, “I didn’t mean that you need help…I just mean I want to make sure you can do anything and not have to worry about feeling unsafe.”

“Why? Why would you want that?” You shook your head watching him turn away from you putting his hands to back of his head, “It’s your second day on the job, you know nothing about me, and it’s your job to protect me not-”

“Because I get it!” He turned back looking to you, his face falling as his eyes saddened, “I get being in your home but it not being yours. Then having to tip toe around everyone because you have a position to fill that you’re not even sure you want anymore. I guess I could be assuming, but two days ago the woman I saw in the throne room was ready to give it all up…I know because I tried to give up too…”

He raised his coat sleeve showing a deep scar. You felt yourself take in a sharp breath. Hesitantly you raised your hands up touching his wrist where the scar ended. You let out your breath slowly, “…you’re still here…”

“Yeah…I had a really good friend who recognized the signs.” You felt his eyes watching you carefully, “She saved my life that day…stuck with me until I could feel whole again by just being me.”

He went on as you pulled your hands away still feeling the burn of the scar on your fingertips, “I’m not here to just protect you from the world… well I am, but that’s the easy part…I’m here to help you rebuild yourself. Find a home inside you…”

“That’s not your job…” You shook your head turning from him tensing as he grabbed your arm gently.

“It is my job, and the sooner you accept that the less I’ll stop pushing.” Nyx let your arm go as you stared at him, “Now I’m really sorry for how I just acted. I shouldn’t have and never will again assume anything about you. But I need you to understand…I’m not going anywhere and the more I know about you, the more I can keep you safe.”

“…fine…” You barely whispered as you nodded slowly before turning from him. His words word oddly comforting. Glancing over at him you began to wonder how much he actually did ‘get’, “…thank you…”

“Of course, ma’am.” You heard him step in line behind you. You both walked in heavy silence for a long time. You knew he didn’t have any idea of where he was going so you took different routes as you fell deeper and deeper down a hole you had not been in a long time. Finally, you reached a decision as you slowed down stopping in one of the many empty halls.

His footsteps behind you came to a soft stop as concern laced his voice, “Ma’am?”

“It was my birthday….” You said quietly as you hugged yourself, “Being the Crown Princess didn’t allow for many close friends, but Celia and Aubrey…they were the daughters of my mother’s attendant. Twins…”

“Not to sound like a complete man…” Nyx cleared his throat attempting to ease the tension with his smirk, “they sound fun already.”

You nodded turning to him finally, “They were. They really were…anyways they convinced their mom, who convinced my mother, who convinced my father to let them take me out for the night. To which I begged for less security…the first twenty-four years of my life I had been monitored like a hawk could I please just have one night for my twenty-fifth?”

You looked at Nyx and smiled sadly as you took a step toward the window looking outside at the city, “I had a blast. I danced, I drank...got hit on by complete strangers…the whole night was magical, and I was completely enraptured by the spell. So much I didn’t see the signs I was trained to see. I trusted them, so why did I need my guard up?”

“They weren’t drinking…they walked out ahead of me, but behind the guard…” Your eyes dimmed as you went on, “Turns out I didn’t actually have two friends, but instead two very close enemys…Celia knocked out the guard and Aubrey turned a gun on me.”

“I-it happened so fast. God it was so loud and just felt like a sting before it…” You put a hand to your head shutting your eyes, “…and the screaming around me…a-and I couldn’t breathe…”

“Shh…” He stepped forward hesitantly reaching up with his hands as if he didn’t know what to do with them, until finally placing one hand on your shaking arm. You looked up at him seeing how concerned he was, “you’re safe…”

You sniffed brushing a tear away nodding as he moved his hand up and down your arm in a comforting motion, “I was told later that uh…they were part of a radical movement that believed…that believed those who were part of the Lucian line needed to be eradicated. Stop the line…stop the power of the crystal…return it to the people.”

You cleared your throat as more tears slipped down your face before looking at him at him again a sad laugh coming from your throat, “Funny thing is, I don’t even have the power of the kings. They Six deemed me unworthy…”

You saw his eyes widened as his hand fell away from your arm, “What?”

“Mmhm…” You nodded looking away feeling a little angry that the gods didn’t deem you fit enough, you weren’t too proud to admit that, “it’s why I’m no longer in line of succession. Can’t protect a city without the power of kings…Regis made sure that was the first thing to be taken care of after my father passed away. Him and the whole council actually.”

“But…I thought it was in your blood.” Nyx questioned as you stepped away.

“Yeah…it’s supposed to be…it brought up a lot of unnecessary questioning.” You glanced at him as he walked with you, “I am my father’s daughter, in case you doubted it.”

“I would never. It’s not my place.” He smiled a little as you both fell quiet again walking down the hall again. Finally he looked at you licking his lips, “Thank you for telling me all that…”

“I really don’t know how it could help you…but you’re…persistence has moved me to hear you out more.” You hugged yourself before looking at him again as he chuckled.

“Presistance…that’s one way to put it.” He bit his lips looking at you in that careful way he did. It was as if he was deciding if you were ready for what he had to say, “I could tell you if you want to know. I have to warn you it’s uh…based on some assumptions from the information you just gave me.”

“It’s alright, people always assume a lot about me…” You sighed giving him a small smile.

“Right, I bet. Feel free to correct me…” He nodded before putting his hands together like a prayer in front of him, “I bet you’re not fond of guns. Just hearing the noise of one still takes you back to that moment.”

“Go on…” You shifted a little bit impressed how good he was at this, though anyone would guess this first part.

“You’re also probably not fond of crowds…” He tilted his head a little bit, “Knowing just these two things, if say we’re ever at a ceremony that involves a gun salute…I may have some coping ideas to help you get through the noise and being in front of so many people. Or if we’re in a situation, Six forbid it, and a gun is involved…knowing how your first attack happened gives me a better idea of how may react next time.”

“However the most important fact you should know...” He stopped you to make sure you understood, “I will never carry gun to protect you.”

“You won’t?” You squinted at him skeptically, “How does that make sense?”

“I’m a Glaive. You know that our abilities enhance us and grant us the gift of kings. So, I’m not required to use a gun,” He told you before patting the kukris at his side, “and I prefer my homelands weapon.”

“A dagger?” You quirked an eyebrow watching his face contort.

“Excuse you…this is not a dagger…” He pointed at it protectively.

“Well, forgive me…I’m not an expert on exotic weaponry from Galahd.” You crossed your arms beginning to walk again around a corner, “I suppose I’ll have to try and read up on them.”

“Oh yeah? Where are you going to do…that?” You looked back at him and smiled as he looked around at the Citadel library impressed. Your last guard had no interest in reading and did everything he could to keep you from coming here. That or he’d simply let you stay here and require you to meet him after so many hours.

“You can start here, weaponry I believe is on the third floor…” You pointed toward the stairs before pointed to the back corner, “I’ll be in the political sciences, far right corner.”

“Uh…I think I’ll just stick with you for now.” Nyx snapped his attention back to you as he stepped forward quickly doing scan of the room.

You stopped and looked at him curiously, “I’m not going to lose my shadow for a while, am I?”

“No…” He shook his head a little a small smile reached his eyes, “Not until we get more comfortable with one another, ma’am.”

“Alright…fine. I surrender, but on one condition. One I’ve already asked you about…” You pointed at his face, “Stop calling me ma’am, Nyx Ulric…”

He rolled his eyes nodding, “Fine…on the amendment of the condition that I go back to ma’am in the presence of superiors.”

“Deal.” You held you hand out to him smiling as he took your hand giving it a firm shake. You turned heading back to your usual desk, “You really should find a book or something though, you’re not allowed to use your phone in here.”

Nyx surprised you as he helped you find books on the topics you were looking for which was next to non-existent. International relations was only just beginning and when your country was constantly at war with the rest of the world it made it hard. Your father had breached the wall successfully branching out across the sea to Altissia and had just begun extending a hand of friendship to Galahd.

You looked over to Nyx at the thought. He was leaning back thumbing through a book. Taking a breath in you finally worked up the nerve to speak, “Uh…can I ask you a question?”

“You certainly can.” He glanced up closing the book, “Though I don’t think I can be much help to your current topic.”

“No, it’s not about this…” You pushed your computer away from you, picking up your pen twisting the cap, “I was wondering if you’d tell me about Galahd.”

Surprise rippled over his features as he put the book down on the table, “Galahd…um…why? I mean I’m happy to answer what I can, but…”

“But what?” You leaned forward slightly.

“I guess I’m just surprised you care at all.” He looked down to his hands, “I mean no disrespect, but most Insomnians have very little interest in us.”

“I do.” His eyes rose up meeting yours and you smiled a little, “My father did…He would often speak in admiration of Galahd. Your home is a strong successful sovereign nation and while many people considered it foolish to stay apart from Lucis he was always on your side.”

“Was he?” Nyx eyes widened when you nodded, “I didn’t know that.”

“Mmhmm…” You nodded smiling more as you talked about your father, “The last time he was there was about 4 or 5 years ago. He was meeting with your queen and her advisors. He was hoping to open trade routes…”

“…and then Niflheim happened…” You watched as his features became rigid.

“I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have-” You began to apologize but he stood up shaking his head.

“It’s not your fault…” He wiped a hand over his face before turning from you. He was obviously shaken suddenly, “I’m not the only one they’ve taken people from…ask your questions…”

You swallowed before looking to the pen in your hand focusing on it, “It’s not really a question…more conversation…My father said it was beautiful. A place full of wonderful colors and a culture that was not just rituals and statuses…but a daily lifestyle.”

“Pro aris et focis.” You looked back to him as he turned around slowly, “It means, for hearth and home. Anything we do…we do with purpose to preserve the future.”

“I’ve never heard that language before…” You pried as he took a seat again having calmed down.

“It’s old…really old. No one actually speaks it anymore believing it to be the dead language of Solheim.” Nyx told you as crossed his arms putting up that barrier you knew all too well, “Which is just one more reason to love Galahd. We probably had the most ruins of the old world.”

“I’ve heard, I didn’t realize someone had accessed their lexicon.” You smiled a little, “My father only really told me about the Boral Bay. He wanted to bring all of us with him, but Clarus and Cor advised him against it.”

“Boral was beautiful and full of excitement.” Nyx smiled as he took his seat again, “It’s great place to hold talks. Relaxing, but still showcasing everything Galahd has to offer.”

“He wanted to go to your capitol in Gaeris to not inconvenience Queen Selena, but she insisted on making the journey to Boral.” You looked down smiling as you thought about it, “He was disappointed, he was hoping to see more of your land.”

“Well…the queen…she was always cautious of strangers.” Nyx sighed as he spoke quietly, “But from what I understood she was hoping things would have worked out with King Malcolm. Border patrols had begun to catch Niflheim spies collecting data, scavenging dig sites…the day we lost the queen was the day Galahd was truly lost to the world.”

You reached across the table placing your hand on his arm. He looked at you and there was this silent moment between the two of you. A small connection and you imagine this was what he meant when he said ‘I get it.’  

You visibly see it in his eyes the loss of home and people. He did get it, he understood, and it was a nice feeling to have someone to share it with. He cleared his throat looking away, “How does talking about my homeland help your with your paper?”

“Oh…uh…” You looked back to your laptop seeing your paper on the screen cursor blinking in a taunting way, “I’m doing my dissertation on international relations and how they are necessary for the success of peace. I want to continue my father’s dream to become united as much as possible.”

“Sounds like just that, a dream. The worlds been fighting longer then we’ve been alive.” Nyx tilted his head letting his eyes trace over your face, “You really think talking can bring everyone together?”

“No.” You shook your head before looking at him again, “There’s a time and a place for it though and it begins here…”

You pointed between you and him as you went on, “…between two people. Perhaps if you can help me understand your home, how you think, how you respond…then just like you need to know about me…together we will react for the better outcome.”

“You know…” He smirked looking away, “You’re pretty smart for a princess.”

“I’m not a princess…” You scowled looking away from him closing your laptop.

“Maybe not by title anymore.” He stood up as he grabbed the books you had borrowed giving you a smile, “But you still care like one.”

[ixchel-sketch]

TITLE: Christmas Puppy GENRE: Crime & Romance FANDOM: Mayans M.C. SHIP(S): Coco & Original Female Character  STATUS: Complete LENGTH:  2, 861 words

@fcundwings​ asked for #24 from here for Maya and Coco (alt. timeline) “Buying animal-proof fairy lights, confusing their S/O, but it all makes sense when there’s an ENTIRE puppy in their living room on Christmas day.”

There wasn’t much that Maya and Coco shared when it came to growing up but one thing that the both of them shared was a streak of shitty holidays. It was usually a challenge to get Coco to open up about his past and she’d long since given up on trying to pry anything out of him. His mother had apparently been terrible, una sucia, and even with her second generation conversational spanish she could put enough together to understand what he meant. Coco had never really had much of a Christmas before his time with the M.C. and rooming with Angel, and even then the actual day had often been spent alone when most of the guys had a girl or family to spend their time with. 

Maya’s family had always been a mess as well, but the tight budget she grew up on was nothing compared to the cruelty that Celia had shown her son. Her parents may not have been able to provide her much but at least they had tried. She’d had birthday parties and sleepovers...even a dog. Weeks after the conversation and she still couldn’t quite get over a story that he finally felt comfortable enough to share about how things were for him as a kid. Though she’d managed to keep a straight face at the time. 

“So...you ever had a pet?” Maya had been laying with her head in his lap while music played in the living room. There was a whole tray of pizza rolls cooking in the oven and the two passed a joint while lounging and waiting for the timer to go off. 

Coco shrugged and leaned his head back so that for a moment he was looking up at the ceiling instead of down at her. One of his hands which had been idly playing with her hair stilled before resuming his actions in a more controlled fashion. “Had a dog, not for very long though.” 

“What happened?” 

“Got hit by one of my mom’s johns.” The joint is held to his lips for a long inhale, and for a moment she thinks that’s all he had to say. So she stays quiet, nearly holding her breath in the hope he might add more. “Bitch was pissed, said it was my fault for letting him get out.”  

“Oh.” Maya stayed silent before pushing herself up to sit curled up at Coco’s side. His  expression was far off and she had a feeling if she gave any sort of condolences it would just push him away. In an attempt to stop the mood from getting dark she tried her best to find a relevant non sequitur. “What’s your favorite kind of dog?” 

He side eyes her for a moment, surprised at the way the conversation turned. “I never really thought about it. The fluffy kinds I guess.” 

Her eyebrows shoot up and it's a challenge to stop her jaw from going slack. The image of Johnny Coco Cruz curled up with a small furry puppy is almost too much for her to handle. To stop the grin from teasing her lips she directs her attention to playing with some of the hair at the base of his neck, appreciative of how long he’s let it grow. Coco leans back into the touch with a sigh, any tension from the earlier memories draining away. “But do you like dogs?” 

“What kind of question is that? Of course I like dogs.”

“Then how come you don’t have one?” 

As far as she knew Coco’s landlord didn’t have any rules against pets. His house wasn’t big but  it was more than she’d ever dreamed of having, and much more space than she really needed. But staying there was fulfilling in a way that vending and attending festivals couldn't quite match and despite her reservations Maya had become comfortable in his space. Though not enough to give up travelling just yet. 

“I just never thought about it. It’s not like I’m home a whole lot.” Maya’s hand lowers from carding through Coco’s hair so that she can snake her arm around his shoulders and place a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. His lips quirked up into a half smile before he wasted no time pulling her even closer, nearly into his lap. The arm that had been resting along the back of the couch settled against her lower back and his hand sank into her shorts pocket to cup her ass. 

“I kinda like it here though.” She muttered in between kisses, one of her legs swinging across his lap so she could properly straddle him. A thrill going up her spine at the soft groan that Coco lets out against her neck, rolling his hips up against her in a slow teasing motion. 

“I like it when you’re here.” 

She smiles against his hair as Coco continues to nip and kiss down her neck, nosing the strap of her tank top aside and pressing an open palm to her breast as Maya arches against him. The next time he moves his hips against hers she makes sure to grind back down onto him, eliciting another noise and pushing their ascending lust closer to desperation. Right as the tempting thought of slipping off her shorts and having her way with him right there enters the brunette’s cloud of thoughts, the alarm on the oven dings and signals that their forgotten snacks are finally done. 

“Fuck…” Coco complains, leaning back against the couch as Maya bolts upright with the alarm. Her anxiety and his PTSD always in competition for who is more alert. 

“I’ll take out the tray and meet you in the bedroom?” Her heart is still racing but logic fights to the surface, hunger not nearly as important as what they had just been doing. 

He agrees, giving a quick nod as she rises from his lap and heads towards the kitchen to perform her task with the added goal of not burning herself in anticipation. They’ve only been together for a few months, split up by weeks where she’s out of town or days where he’s doing some kind of business for the M.C. It makes their visits all the more sweet, and provides just a bit of justification for the two locking themselves away for days at a time. By the time she gets back to the bedroom her top is crumpled up in her hand and the top button of her shorts is undone. 

“¿Ya no tienes hambre?” His eyes were dark, tracking her across the room as she entered, slipping off her shorts and climbing over him once more. The warmth of his palms caused shivers to race up her spine as they settled on her thighs, thumbs smoothing over sensitive skin. 

“Nah.” Coco answers, pulling Maya down for a kiss as they resume their earlier actions. It doesn’t take long before the tent in his boxers is pressing insistently up against her thigh. The air between them gets hot and thin, leaving them panting between kisses and his hands caress and grope for any purchase as she arches against him. Black painted blunt fingernails leave only the lightest marks up his back and before long Coco is leaning so he can shimmy the boxers off his hips and legs. Maya follows suit with her own underwear, tossing them off to an empty corner of the room and enjoying the way he lets out a small huff of arousal at the view. After she climbed back on top one of the hands that had been gripping her thigh moved to slip a couple of fingers inside, feeling how wet she was. “Damn you feel good.” 

Her answering moan cuts through the space between them as Maya rocks against him, enjoying the feeling of his fingers stretching her, his thumb finding her clit and rubbing small circles against it. It doesn’t take long before she’s nearly shaking, thighs clenched around him and her own hand fumbling to make him pause so she can finally move and lower herself onto his cock.  Coco nods wordlessly against her shoulder and reclines, groaned when she places an open palm on his chest for balance and tightens around him. There’s some added pleasure to the sense of control in their position and she sets the pace, encouraged by Coco’s harsh pants and occasional grunts. His grip on her waist tightens, urging her to move faster until her orgasm tears Maya’s attention away from everything else in the room except him. The brunette doubled over, crying out into her lover’s shoulder as his thrusts became uneven and he followed close behind. Maya pressed a kiss to his lips one more time before rolling off to curl up at Coco’s side, the pizza rolls on the kitchen counter completely forgotten. 

After that Maya didn’t think about the conversation they shared for months. It wasn’t until Coco asked her if she was going to be in town for Christmas or whatever that the beginnings of a plan started to form. It takes just a few more randomly timed queries for her to figure out whether or not her present is actually a good idea and not just her constant underlying impulse to finally get a dog. However once she brings up the potential of it to Leticia there seems to be no more room for debate. It was no longer just a present for Coco, but also something that her and Letty would be able to bond over. A harmless secret that brought them closer. 

“I haven’t seen Leti come out of her room in a couple days.” Coco remarked as Maya rabidly opened a box of fairy lights. She’d never had the experience of owning a christmas (though she preferred to call it Yule) tree before but her Jewish mother had always decorated their porch with tiny blinking lights. Now she was decorating theirs with ones that would be safe against small canine teeth that would be freed to roam the house soon. 

“She has a test after the break.” Her face heated with the lie and she couldn’t meet his eyes. It was pure luck that he hadn’t become suspicious of their scheming up until this point. 

“She told you that?” 

His tone is full of disbelief and Coco comes to sit behind her and she automatically regrets not coming up with a more realistic excuse. Not to say they hadn’t been working on fixing Leticia’s grades since she moved to Santo Padre but… Maya tries to keep her voice steady even as his warm palms land on her shoulders. She absolutely does not jump (just a little).  “Yep.” 

“Hm..” For a moment she’s worried that he’ll press the issue. Or worse, go and confront Leticia about the fib right away. Instead Coco reaches past her to pick up the line of tiny bulbs going around the tree. “I thought you liked them blue and white ones?” 

“I do. But they were old, like half of them didn’t light up anymore. And these are more...festive.” Really it was the only color scheme left made in sturdier materials. The yellow, green, blue and red fairy lights were lifeless in their tangled judgement, but her excitement at actually being able to pull off the surprise rivaled any guilt that she had over lying. 

"Well you didn't have to do any of this. Not that it's not nice." Maya turned to place a soft kiss on his lips and giggles against him as Coco pulls her forward until she's nearly cradled in his lap. She gets a better read of where his mind is at as his arms circle her waist to hold her against him. 

"Leti is still home though," She muttered, her face hot from more than the earlier fabrication. It seemed like whenever the two of them got enough time together it usually ended with them wearing significantly less clothes than when their time began. And it was a point of pride for Maya that in all that time Leticia had not caught them in the act once.  Though Coco's hand rubbing circles on her back nearly caused her to forget her point. "She could come out of her room."

His ministrations didn’t stop there though, his other hand snaking through her hair to cup the back of Maya’s neck and pull her back into a kiss. Coco didn’t seem nearly as bothered by the danger of his formerly estranged daughter catching them heavy petting in front of the Christmas tree. Perhaps he was just cocky enough that the challenge of getting caught was more a thrill than abject turn off. Either way he moves them so that now he’s looming over her, her back pressed against the couch and she gasped loudly against his shoulder. Maya’s legs loosely pressed into his sides and his eyes go dark when she pulls him closer, one of her hands caressing his chest in invitation. His voice tight with lust. “Then you’ll just have to be quiet.” 

She grins and wraps her arms around his shoulders to pull him closer, the tangle of wires and bulbs forgotten in a heap somewhere in the midst of their affections. He goes back to press a trail of kisses against the side of her throat, nipping at her pulse without leaving too much of a mark. The way that his breath switches from silent to steady and heavy huffs against her skin sends shivers running up Maya's spine.

"Me encanta tus besos," He chuckles a bit at her ever improving spanish but places another open mouthed kiss on her shoulder in answer. For the hundredth time that day she's grateful she chose to blow off the festival to spend time with him. "Feliz navidad." 

Maya had expected some kind of reaction, whether a legitimate laugh or roll of his eyes but instead Coco goes still. At first she's not sure what's caused the sudden change, deep dark eyes going alert and darting to look off in the distance. "You hear that?"

She doesn't have time to answer, mind struggling to come out of the fog of arousal he'd created when the realization of what he'd probably heard slams into her. Coco is already on his feet and halfway to the door of Leti's room before Maya has time to stop him, the soft cursing and pleas coming from the other side of the door gave a bad impression and she can’t blame his suspicious reaction. 

"I told you ---the fuck?" 

Her heart almost stops with the sudden rush of anxiety. At least that's how it feels with Coco standing in the doorway with an unreadable expression on his face and Leticia’s room tossed as though a small tornado came through. One of the pillows Maya had bought her to decorate is strewn across the room as well as papers and anything else that the puppy in the middle of the room could get it’s mouth around. The soft thump of the it’s tail hitting the floor was the only sound that anyone made, Leti’s eyes wide and her jaw hanging open. It’s obvious what happened from the steam that’s still coming out of her bathroom and the towel wrapped around her head. The teenager’s shoulder’s slump when her eyes lock on Maya’s and she shrugs in a silent my bad. 

“Shit, okay, okay. This is my fault.” She’s not the bravest person and the way that Coco’s intense gaze swings in her direction for further explanation makes Maya feel like she needs to hide. Fighting past that, the brunette takes a deep breath and turns to face him. “Merry christmas! We got you a puppy!” “You did what?” “Remember a few months ago when I asked if you liked dogs, then a few weeks later when I asked if you ever thought about having one?” “...Sure. I guess.” 

“Well,” The brindle coat terrier perks up from where he’s been sitting, completely oblivious to the tension. Strolling over to pick him up so that Coco can look into it’s small brown eyes. He still looks surprised but the edge to his stare has softened, one inked hand coming up to rest on it’s small furry head. “I know he’s not exactly fluffy but…” 

He takes the chubby puppy into his arms, eyes a little bit shiny though neither Maya or Leticia would dream of commenting on it. “Nah, el es perfecto.” 

Finally the expression on Leticia’s face relaxed and she went back to her frustration at the mess that had been made of her room and Maya knew she was going to have to get her another throw pillow in apology.  But even that annoyance didn’t seem to distract from the rare moment of peace and joy that was shared between the three of them. Unable to resist any longer Maya wove her arms around Coco and pressed a kiss against his shoulder, grinning through her own misty eyes when he returned a kiss to the crown of her head. 

“You still gotta name him.” 

[kriscme]

One Life to Live

Hi, here’s the latest chapter.   Almost at the end.  This is also on A03 and will be easier to read.    I’m Kris22 over there.  I’d link if I knew how.  As always thanks for Ronja for allowing me to write fanfic of her Hunger Games fanfic “The Chance You Didn’t Take”.  You can read it on AO3 and FanFiction. Chapter 36 “. . . and so Blake’s wedding was called off.   And in the meantime, Celia’s been attending a therapy support group for sex addiction.  They think it’s caused by a fear of emotional intimacy or something like that.   I guess it’s because she’s been hurt.  You know, by Blake.  And that’s all I know.  I haven’t watched it in a while.” “And who’s that guy?” Peeta asks.  He’s referring to a man in overalls and a straw hat crouched in a field of what looks like withered lettuces.  He appears to be examining the soil.   “That’s Celia’s father, Mulch Chastely.” The camera zooms in and ominous music builds.  His hands are stained with a black, greasy substance.  “Oil!” he screams, as the music reaches a crescendo. He shakes his fist at the heavens. “The Knights will pay for this barbarous act!  You’re a dead man, Rigger Knight!”   Then it segues to Rigger Knight who is seated on the porch of the Knight family home as if in wait.   Across his lap is a firearm.  It looks like a bazooka. The scene ends with Mulch Chastely selecting a pitchfork from his arsenal of agricultural tools and marching with grim determination in the direction of the Knight property.   Peeta bursts out laughing.  I can’t help laughing at the ridiculousness of it either. “I told you it was stupid,” I say.

Next, we’re in a large room, mostly empty except for a circle of nine chairs spaced at regular intervals.   People start to trickle in and each of them takes a seat.  Celia is among them, wearing denim trousers and a blue sweater, her long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail.  She looks tired and dejected.  Last to arrive is a gaudily dressed middle-aged woman with bright yellow hair carrying a clipboard.  She’s accompanied by a younger man in expensive sports clothes.   When he sees Celia an expression of deep longing passes over his face.  Celia doesn’t look up. The woman with the yellow hair starts the discussion.  “Good afternoon, everyone.  We’re in for a big, big session!  We have new a member joining us.  I know you’ll make him welcome.  Blake, would you please introduce yourself and share with the group what’s brought you here today.”  

Celia starts at the name and her eyes widen with shock.  As Blake speaks, his gaze never leaves her face.

“My name is Blake Knight and I am an addict.  My addiction is Celia Chastley.  I was a goner from the moment I first laid eyes on her in her family’s orchard when were eleven years old.  She became my best friend, my confidant, the object of my adolescent masturbatory fantasies and my great love.  I didn’t understand you then, Celia, when you broke my heart when we were sixteen.  That you were sacrificing your happiness for mine.  That you recognized the impossibility of our situation when I did not. I shut my eyes and tried to forget you in the arms of another but I was deceiving myself.  I was a coward – too afraid to confront the reality of my undying love for you.  Please forgive me.  Give me a chance and I will prove my constancy and devotion.  To hell with our families. To hell with everything.  Our love is the only thing that matters in this crazy world.  Even now, as my father waits for yours to fall into his trap so he can shoot him dead and plead self-defense, our love will endure.  Will you, Celia?  Please say yes.  I love you so much.” The other members of the group are transfixed, eyes darting between Celia and Blake in mounting expectation.  Celia’s eyes are awash with tears.  She lurches to her feet and throws herself into his arms. “Oh, Blake!” she cries, “If I have only one life to live, I want it to be with you.”  They kiss.  The group stands and cheers.   It then goes to a commercial break for romantic getaways in District 4.  I look at Peeta.  He looks at me.  It’s as if we’re each looking to the other for how to react.  It was funny.  So why aren’t we laughing?  Plutarch’s words ring heavily in my ears, “You and Peeta are Celia and Blake.” “We’re really not like that, are we? “I ask.  “I mean it’s so . . . dumb.”   “No, not quite us, but there are a few things in common.  What Blake said to Celia is pretty much what I’ve been trying to say to you.” “Oh.” I say nonplussed.  Is that what he’s been doing?  “Um . . . which parts?” Peeta shifts closer to me on the sofa so that our thighs are touching.  “Adolescent masturbatory fantasies.” I pull back, frowning, hot words ready on my lips.  

He nudges my shoulder with his.  “It’s a joke.  Well, actually not quite a joke.  You did feature in them quite a lot.  But I was Blake.  Going around with my eyes shut, too scared to open them in case I remembered how much I love you and then to find out that you didn’t love me back.” “You love me?”  I don’t dare look at him. It’s been an impossibility for such a long time, I can scarcely believe it.  He was engaged to marry another woman not so very long ago.  How can this have happened so quickly?  “Since when?” I ask dubiously. If he was expecting a more positive reaction, he doesn’t show it.  He takes one of my hands in both of his. “Since I was five years old and you stood up in music assembly to sing the valley song.” I attempt to pull my hand back but he keeps it in a firm grip.  He can’t just whitewash the past two years like that.  Lace happened.  “Then what has Lace been about then?  She was just a figment of my imagination?” “No.  She was more like a figment of my imagination.  I don’t want to discount what I had with her.  She’s been a good friend and I’ll always be grateful but a lot of what I felt for her wasn’t real.    I’ve gone over this with Dr Aurelius, to make sense of it.   She was a coping mechanism in the same way my reluctance to deal with my past was also a coping mechanism.  I could give her the feelings I didn’t think you wanted.   So, she was sort of you, in a way.  I didn’t exactly have a high opinion of myself then either and she didn’t hold back on telling me how wonderful she thought I was.  I think I just wanted to make myself feel better.”

Sort of like a rebound then.  I want to believe him, I really do.  He’s turned to sit sideways, our knees touching, his face close to mine.  I look at him beneath my lashes.  He’s watching me carefully, with a mixture of hope and uncertainty.  Everything that I’m feeling. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he says. Be honest. “I’m scared.  What if what you’re feeling now isn’t real either?’ “I’m scared too.  Scared you’ll reject me and there’ll never be another chance. Katniss, I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life.” I turn away momentarily to collect my thoughts. As I do, the television screen comes into my field of vision.  Rigger Knight fires the bazooka at Mulch Chastely.  It misses his head by inches and zooms past to hit one of the oil rigs in the distance.  It explodes into flames and sets off a chain reaction until every one of the oil rigs is a massive ball of fire and thick black smoke.  Mulch’s face is a picture of glee until the billowing smoke is picked up by the wind and headed over the border towards his prized apple orchard.  The drama hasn’t ended for Celia and Blake.  And I know it hasn’t for Peeta and me either.  We still have things to work through.  And there’s also the television special and whatever fallout there might be.  But at least we can do it together.  

I let out a breath.   “Okay.” “Is that yes?” “Yes,” I answer, more firmly this time.  We both lean in and meet somewhere in the middle. A slow, getting-to-know-you-all-over-again kiss.  Soft, tender, shy.   This is real.   Not a daydream, not the reliving of a cherished memory, but real.  In between kisses he tells me he loves me.  And when I get the chance, I tell him I love him too.  Somehow, I end up lying on the couch with him half on top of me. The kisses have long ceased to satisfy either of us.  My t-shirt and bra are hitched around my neck, the nipples wet from where he’s sucked on them, and there’s something iron-hard pressing into my lower belly. “I think we should have an early night,” he murmurs into my ear. “I think you’re right.”  Our first time together should definitely not be on the couch. The television is still blaring and I grapple for the remote to turn it off but not before catching a glimpse of Celia and Blake writhing like eels on a bed with red satin sheets.   We make our way upstairs and down the hall without touching but immediately upon entering the bedroom we fall on each other and start peeling off each other’s clothes.  There’s a struggle pulling off my slim-fitting trousers and he grumbles that I shouldn’t have changed out of my dress.  I fall backwards onto the bed and then, with a final tug, my trousers with underwear still inside them, are sent flying.  I close my eyes and put out my arms hungry to feel his warmth and weight along the full length of my body.  But instead, my foot is lifted high into the air and kisses trailed down my leg until he gets to the juncture of my thighs.  The first brush of his tongue is a jolt of electricity, the final one a lightning bolt.  “Oh,” I say, when I eventually come down.  I hold out my arms and he’s inside me, filling a space so completely, so perfectly, I didn’t know there had been a void until now.   Nothing has ever felt so right.  When we fall, it’s within seconds of each other.  We share a slow, lazy kiss before he rolls onto his back and I nestle into the cradle of his arms.  My head rests against his chest, the strong and steady beat of his heart in my ear, and it feels like home. I wake before he does.  He’s on his back, his face relaxed in sleep.   I rise up on one elbow to watch him. The long lashes resting against his cheeks, the curve of his lips.   It seems such a miracle that he’s here, in my bed, and that he loves me.  I was convinced he was lost to me forever.  That by this time, he’d be in his own bed, in his own house, with Lace beside him as his wife.  And I would be . . .   Well, I don’t know where I’d be.  I don’t think I could have stood living across from them for very long.  So probably searching for someplace else to live like I once planned to.  Certainly not having dinners with them, or having Lace drop by for neighborly chats.   I still don’t really know why the wedding was called off.  That they both lied is the only explanation I’ve been given. Lied about what?  I should ask him.  And other questions I have too.  

I put out my hand to brush a lock of hair back from his forehead and it’s seized and brought to his lips.  “How long have you been awake?”   “Not long.  I didn’t want to interrupt. Do I pass?” “With flying colors,” I say, and lean down to give him a kiss.  His arms go around me and I’m rolled onto my back.   The kiss goes on for a long time.  

“We should start getting ready for work,” I say, although I make no effort to get up. “Not yet,” he says.   And he says it again when we take a shower together.   There’s no sign of Haymitch at breakfast.   Probably slept in after the excitement of last night’s episode of “One Life to Live.”   But we figure that now that we’re genuinely in love, no one needs to tell us how to act.  So, we walk into town together as we’re inclined to do anyway, and then meet for lunch again at the park near the school as it’s conveniently situated for both of us.   Haymitch is nowhere to be seen at dinnertime either.  We delay eating for half an hour in case he turns up but after checking first to see if he’s home – the lights at his house are on – we conclude that he’s decided to leave us alone from now on, and start eating.  And delicious it is too.  Roast pork with crackling to die for.  I guess I’m just a carnivore at heart.   Following dinner, we sit down to watch some television.  One channel is covering the mayoral elections in 7.  Johanna is well ahead in the count and early predictions are that she’ll win by a landslide.  Then Peeta flicks between cooking shows.  I don’t care what we watch.  I lie back on the sofa with my head on the armrest and my feet in Peeta’s lap.   I love having my feet and calves rubbed so much, I think it’s almost as good as sex.   Later, in bed, I decide that it’s not even close.  I am blissed-out, and still tingling from our love-making.  I stretch voluptuously, like a cat, bury my face into his neck and sigh, perfectly content.   His free hand plays with my hair, gently combing out the tangles.   If I could freeze the moment, I would.  So, I guess it makes it an odd time to ask the questions I want answers to.  But on the other hand, maybe there’ll never be a better.

“Peeta, can I ask you some things?” “Sure.” “Why did you and Lace break up?  Was it because she lied about her background?” His hand stills for a moment before going back to my hair.  “No, it wasn’t that.  I mean, I was disappointed she hadn’t told me herself and angry that everyone seemed to know before I did, but it’s not what broke us up.  You remember when I said that what I felt for Lace wasn’t real?” I nod against his chest.  “I’d been having doubts for a while – almost soon after we got engaged actually – but after that night I couldn’t ignore it any longer.  It was seeing you with Marcus that did it.  It wasn’t the first time I’d been jealous.  I was jealous over Max, even Arthur, but I’d put it down to being possessive over a friend.  But Marcus – it was Gale all over again.  He was so obviously in to you and you seemed to like him too.   And he loved nature, as you do, and you went into the woods together, and he had both his legs and wasn’t a mental nutcase. And then to see you walk away with him, with his arm around you, upset over something I had done, when I’m the one who should protect you . . .    

“As for Lace, I’d almost forgotten she was there.  And when I did get around to remembering, she was sobbing her heart out to Arthur.  She’d seemed to have forgotten about me too.”  There’s another pause and a snort of irritation.  “And that Max! “ “What about Max?” I ask warily.  

“It was like he was selling tickets to a sideshow.  Shrugging his shoulders and gesturing to anyone watching.  I don’t know how you tolerate him.” “It has it’s challenges,” I say carefully.   “But he does have his good points. They’re just not immediately apparent.” And isn’t that the truth.  I recall our first encounters and how much he annoyed me.  Still does.

I think I’m starting to get an understanding of Peeta’s relationship with Lace having gone through something similar with Marcus.   Desperately in need of affirmation. To feel worthy of love and acceptance. And something, anything, to dull the pain of rejection – either real or imagined – in the arms of another. At least I can take comfort in that there were no hurt feelings when it ended for Marcus and me. “What about Lace?” I ask.  “How did she take it?” Peeta gives a short laugh.  “She was as relieved to be out of it as I was.  While I’d been projecting an image on to her, she’d been doing the same to me.  In her case, the celebrity she’d seen and fallen in love with on television.  And then she said she realized that she had feelings for Arthur.  I doubt she’d admit it, but I think Johanna’s flirting that night had a lot to do with it.” I smile to myself imagining Johanna’s satisfaction that her scheme had worked.  She’s pretty people-smart, when you think on it.  A useful attribute for a politician to have. “But you didn’t break up straight away.”   Peeta was still wearing the ring Lace had given him the day he called around to apologise for yelling at me and to give me cookies.   “That’s because neither of us wanted to be the first to tell the other they’d made a mistake.  But once it was said, it all came tumbling out.  Whatever we once had was gone except maybe friendship and a few superficial things we had in common.  A marriage wouldn’t have lasted long.”

Another thing that Johanna had got right.  Trying too hard, she called it.  It makes sense in retrospect.  As doubts surfaced, so would efforts to alleviate it in the form of frequent and overt shows of affection and more money thrown at the wedding, as if a lavish display of either could cover the deepening cracks.  One thing puzzles me, though. “Why were you so upset when it ended, then? Johanna told me about the flashbacks.” “I was upset over a lot of things.   All that money wasted, feeling like a fool for letting it get that far, but mostly I was upset over you.   I thought I had ruined any chance I might have had.  And I had no one to blame but myself.” I feel a stirring of guilt. There was someone else to blame.  And that was me.  I ran hot and cold, giving mixed messages of my own.  I could have been more open with him.  Risked rejection, see where it led.  Because I couldn’t really be certain of anything until I did.  And I was the one who put it into his head that Lace was his girlfriend.  And that he should marry her. I open my mouth to contradict him but Peeta starts speaking again.  “You and Marcus were so cozy that night at the pub, holding hands on the way into town and then making plans for a weekend in the woods together.  I just couldn’t get it out of my head, imagining what the two of you were up to.  That’s what triggered the attacks.  It was jealousy, pure and simple.  The same emotion the Capitol worked on to get me to hate you.  And after they were brought under control, there was still despair and self-loathing to contend with.  How could I have been so blind and stupid?” “I – “

“And then having to watch those tapes.  I didn’t want to.  I knew the “to be watched with Katniss” label could only have meant two things.  It was either confirmation that you’d never loved me, or confirmation that you had, which actually would have been worse, since I’d messed things up so spectacularly.” My mind goes back to that day.  Peeta at the door, looking harried and nervous.  That speech about us trying for friendship. It’s obvious to me now that he made it because he thought that’s what I wanted.  His careful examination of any nuances that would give at least some hope that he was wrong.   “I’m so sorry,” I say.  “I’ve messed up too.   You’ve no idea.   I don’t know why you just didn’t leave me to my fate after seeing that video of Marcus and me.  I wouldn’t have blamed you.  Wanted you to, actually.  Weren’t you . . . you know, disgusted?” He pulls me closer and kisses the top of my head.  “No.  Why should I be, after what I’ve done?” My body stiffens at the implication.  That’s right. He’s been in the same situation, only he was lucky enough not to be caught.  He’s talking about what he got up to with Lace.  The Mayor’s party.  When he fucked Miss Facelicker up against a wall.  Hot jealousy surges through my veins and it takes all my self-control to squash it down.  It’s hardly reasonable is it, for me to feel this way?  Not when I practically did the same thing. “Weren’t you even jealous?” I ask.  That would make me feel a little better if he had. “Katniss, all that concerned me was that you were in trouble and how I could help.” His arms tighten around me.  “I want to protect you, keep you safe. And in some way, begin to make up for the poor job I’ve done of it lately.  I just wanted you back.  There was simply no room for a petty emotion like jealousy.” Instantly, I’m ashamed of myself.  Peeta has always been better than all of us. “You could live a hundred lifetimes and not deserve him.”  They were Haymitch’s words, and so true. “Besides,” says Peeta, “You didn’t seem to be enjoying yourself.  And who would?  Being pounded into against a hard surface like that.” Not jealous, huh?  So that’s what he was doing when he kept watching that tape over and over.  He was actually studying my facial expressions and taking comfort that I didn’t seem to be having a good time.   As if Lace would have enjoyed being whisked into a dark corner on an important night of her life to have her new gown pushed up around her waist and thrust repeatedly into against a hard wall.  But I say nothing.  At some point you do have to put aside the negativity and move forward or you might as well give it up right now.  

But one more question.  I’ll always wonder about it if I don’t ask.   “Would it have made any difference if I’d told you how I feel about you?  You know, when you were going out with Lace?  Or before?” There’s a long silence.  I wait nervously for the answer.  Please say it wouldn’t.  Please say it wouldn’t. “It might have.   I don’t know.  I guess it would have depended on the timing.  My mind was so stuck on the impossibility of you loving me, that I might not have heard it.  Or not believed it if I had.  But it could have changed the trajectory and ended my relationship with Lace sooner.”

Haymitch kept nagging me to.  I should have listened to him. Taken that risk and kept on trying until Peeta understood.  But then, how could I have known?   And when would have been the right moment?  Sometime before the marriage proposal, it seems.  But not before he’d slept with her and banned me from using his guest room at night.  And wasn’t it these two things that had crossed a line for me? There was no going back for us after that.  It had changed our relationship irrevocably and we had to come back as two different people.  That’s what Arthur said about Celia and Blake.  And there was something Max had said too.   That if they did get back together, they’d need to bring the same level of experience to it.  Celia had to, at least, try another relationship, otherwise Blake would always be the one who’d broken faith and she’d be the one who hadn’t spread her wings while she had the chance.  Marcus had to happen.  I can’t regret that.  Not only because it would betray what we had, but because I would always wonder what it’s like to be with someone not Peeta, when he’s been with someone not me, and possibly resented him for it. “I did tell you this one time.  That I love you, I mean.  It was when you started to get serious about Lace. We were sitting on your back porch and we got to talking about her.  I kept coming up with reasons for why you should be careful of her but what I really wanted was for you to stop seeing her and to notice me. And then I decided to just come straight out and tell you how I felt.  But you misunderstood my meaning and said I was like your family and what you needed from me was to accept her.  That’s why I never said it again.  It hurt so much to hear it the first time, that I didn’t want to risk hearing it again when there was no sign that you’d changed your mind.  But I should have.  Kept trying.  Maybe – “ Peeta doesn’t let me finish. “And maybe I should have faced my demons instead of running from them.  And maybe I should have asked about the blanks in my memories instead of filling the spaces with what I thought I knew.  And maybe I should have told you of my feelings for you once I became aware of them.  And maybe I should have ended my relationship with Lace when I started having doubts.  I think if we added up all the ‘maybes’ they’d be mostly on my side.  I don’t blame you for any of what happened.  It all started with me.” I shake my head.  “That’s not true.  It started with Snow.  That’s where the real blame lies.”  We lapse into silence for a few moments.   “I wish . . .” I begin. He brushes a tendril of hair from my forehead. “What do you wish?”

I sigh deeply.  “That it could have been different.  That there’d been no Lace.  Or a Marcus. That when you came back from the Capitol there was only the two of us, growing back together.  It seems to me that’s the way it was meant to be but somehow it got all messed up.” “Yeah, me too.  But we’re together now.  That’s what matters.” “I would have liked, at least, for us to have had our first time with each other.  I feel like we’ve missed out on something special.  We should have . . . before.  You know, before we went into the Quell.”   There’s a long pause.  “Didn’t we?” “No.” “Well, I just thought . . . are you sure?” “Peeta, I would remember something like that.   We didn’t.  Why would you think that?” “I don’t know.  I just thought we did.   I remember make-up and showering or something and it was in your room.” “That would have been the night before we went into the arena.  After the interviews.  But all we did was sleep.”   “Oh.  I guess I must have imagined it then.  There are still memories I can’t be sure of but this one seemed so real.” I pull his face down to mine.  “This is what’s real.”  I give him a long kiss and then settle back into the crook of his arm. But before I drift off to sleep, my thoughts go to that night before the Quell.  I recall pulling Peeta into my room and a state between wakefulness and sleep. But between times is a complete blank. I don’t remember showering for instance. Or Peeta showering.  Or of us getting into bed.  But we must have.  Without thinking, I press my hand to my left temple.  Right on the spot where Johanna hit me with the coil of wire.  There’s no pain anymore, but the memories swirl just as they did then as I try to sort out what is true and what is false.  Maybe . . . maybe, it happened?  Peeta and I were very familiar with each other with those kisses on the beach for people who had, up until then, only shared chaste kisses. And it didn’t hurt at all that first time with Marcus.  But I just don’t see how I could forget.   I roll over onto my other side and Peeta rolls with me, cradling my back.  I sink down into sleep, enveloped in his warmth, and dream of seventeen-year-old Katniss and Peeta and their very first time.  

Addendum. The following excerpt was discovered among notes made by Katniss Everdeen for her memoir on the Hunger Games and her role in the Rebellion.  For reasons unknown, it was not included in the final draft.  Historians have speculated that the omission could be due to a number of factors: that it lacked relevance to the central theme of war and oppression, that it was too personal in nature, or because the prose resembles that of a particularly bad romance novel.   It is also notable for the difference in point of view narrative from first person to third person.  Various theories have been put forward.  Does this suggest the introduction of a fantasy element, that this is what author would have liked to have occurred?  Or is it due to prudishness on the author’s part?  As a teenager, Katniss Everdeen had a reputation for purity.  Her memoirs, written when she was in her mid to late thirties, take on the language and tone of the adolescent she was at the time the action takes place.  Could this be teenage Katniss distancing herself from her burgeoning sexuality?  Evidence to support this is her account of the famous “kisses on the beach” which, in her memoir, was confined to prolonged kissing but in actuality was more akin to heavy petting.  In addition, is her tendency to cloak feelings of sexual arousal behind euphemisms such as “that thing,” “a stirring inside my chest,” and kisses that don’t satisfy.  

Contentious, but also worthy of consideration, is hijacked Peeta Mellark’s insinuation that more happened on those “nights on the train” than Katniss Everdeen admitted to.  Was the accusation simply an attempt to embarrass her in front of her friends, or was this the resurfacing of a genuine memory?   Eminent psychiatrist Dr Lucius Aurelius, a descendant of Dr Gaius Aurelius, the same psychiatrist who treated Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, proposed that Mellark had confused adolescent masturbatory fantasies with reality as a form of wish fulfillment.  At the time, he had great difficulty discerning the real from the not real.   However, it should be noted, that this recollection, no matter how nebulous, is given greater credence by Everdeen’s own telling of this one event.   From “Catching Fire” the second volume of the trilogy “The Hunger Games.”    The omitted passages are in italics.   We walk down the hallway.  Peeta wants to stop by his room to shower off the make-up and meet me in a few minutes, but I won’t let him.  I’m certain that if a door shuts between us, it will lock and I’ll have to spend the night without him.  Besides, I have a shower in my room.  I refuse to let go of his hand.   She showers first and while he is in the bathroom, she searches for something he can change into.   “This might fit,” she says, holding up a voluminous nightgown with a ruffled high neck. “It won’t fit across the shoulders,” he replies.  “Maybe a robe?”   She retrieves her discarded robe from the floor and hands it to him.  Aside from being too tight around the arms, the front edges don’t come together. “Perhaps you could wear it backwards,” she suggests.  “Like a hospital gown.” “That could work,” he says with a wry smile, “Except my backside will be hanging out.  I’ll just wear the towel and hope it stays put during the night.”

“It won’t.  Look, I’ve seen you almost naked before and you didn’t care about me seeing you then. Don’t wear anything.  I don’t mind.  I’ll even sleep naked too so it doesn’t seem so strange.  I often sleep with nothing on anyway,” she says with a nonchalance she’s far from feeling.  She hasn’t forgotten the naked Johanna in the lift or his laughter at her reaction and her so-called “purity”.  She’ll show him she’s neither pure nor has a problem with nakedness, either his or her own.  She starts to lift the hem of her nightgown but drops it again.  “I’ll just turn the lights out,” she says. They get into bed.  She lays her head against his chest as she always does and his arms go around her.  But the skin-on-skin contact evokes sensations previously not felt before. Her breasts are flattened against his side and she’s conscious of her bare pubis, recently divested of its hair, pressed against his hip.  The sensation builds and demands some kind of release.  In an attempt to alleviate it, she moves onto her back, and as she does, she inadvertently lowers her arm and it brushes against the tip of something long and hard.  

He gasps and tries to twist away from her.  “I’m sorry,” he says.  “I didn’t mean – “ “It’s all right,” she says quickly. “That happens to boys, doesn’t it? I’m not offended, really.”  She had known about, and ignored, other times in bed together when his body had acted without his permission.  And this time, with her lying naked next to him, she would have been more offended if his body hadn’t reacted. “Please stay,” she says.  “I need you to hold me.  I don’t care about that.” He lies back down and she lays her head on his chest but it’s impossible to relax.  All her senses are heightened and she’s acutely aware of a corresponding tension in his body.  How are they to sleep?  And they so need to sleep, tonight of all nights.  Who knows when they’ll be able to sleep next?   Maybe if they. . .?   She agonizes over it, uncertain of what to do.  Her experience at this kind of thing is almost non-existent. The most she’d ever done is kissing, and the most she’d ever felt before is a stirring inside her chest.  And then to make the first move?  She knows it will have to be her because she’s certain that he won’t.  He doesn’t even kiss her unless there’s a camera or someone around to witness it.  She can guess why.  It’s because he’s not sure of her.  He doesn’t want what happened before to happen again.   Very gradually, she lowers her arm again, over his ribs, over his taut abdomen.  There’s an intake of breath and she can feel the rigidity of his muscles. Lower goes the arm until it glances against that thing again.  With almost certain death in the arena perhaps only hours away, this might be her last chance to engage with one.   She gathers her courage and puts out a timorous hand to encircle its girth and is amazed at how soft it is over the steel.  He moans but makes no attempt to take her hand away.  She’s unsure how to proceed and moves her hand gently up and down the shaft.  She doesn’t want to hurt him.  He puts out a hand to encircle hers, tightens her grip and gives a firm tug.  He takes his hand away and, taking his cue, discovers that the tighter and faster she employs her hand, the more intensely he reacts to it, until there’s a series of shudders and a viscous liquid spurts out over her hand.  She discretely wipes it on the sheet. “Thank you,” he says, and kisses her softly on the lips.  Then, shyly, “Would it be okay if I touched you?” “Yes,” she breathes.  She moves onto her back and opens her limbs.  Reverently, he starts at her shoulder, trailing his fingers down to her ribs, skirting her breast, and then back up, cupping it fully, thumb brushing against the nipple.  A pulse beats insistently between her legs and she shivers.  

“Do you like that?” he asks.

“Mm,” she murmurs.  She parts her legs a little more in anticipation, willing him to take his exploration there next.  But he takes his time, skimming the curve of her waist and then her hip and inner thigh, perhaps hesitant, perhaps teasing.  Either way it gives rise to the most exquisite torture.  Please, please, she silently begs.   And then his fingertips softly trace the line of her sex, pressing deeper between the slippery folds, finding first a cavity into which he inserts a gentle finger, and then higher up, encountering a hard little nub that elicits the most intense of sensory delights.   “Oh,” she cries, and with that small word she eloquently conveys the place where he should focus his attention. With the lightest touch, he strokes and circles, keenly attune to how her body reacts to him.    He covers her mouth with his own as she hurtles towards the pinnacle, and with one delicate flick of his finger, she tumbles down, down, down into an abyss of the purest pleasure.   “That was amazing,” she says between kisses and he smiles against her mouth.  He’s half lying across her, and she becomes aware of that long hard thing again.  It’s seemingly sprung back to life.  She takes it in her hand feeling its weight and length, and thinks, “This should be inside me.”  She turns towards him and guides him between her legs.  He needs no further encouragement.  Lying fully over her now, he presses his hardness at her entrance and she tenses at the unfamiliar intrusion.   “You need to relax,” he tells her.   She nods and turns her attention to loosening her muscles and more of him glides in.  There’s a kind of burning, but not too unpleasant.  A final push and he’s all the way in.   He moves slowly at first, but then, seemingly overcome with passion, and with a few vigorous thrusts, he finds his release and collapses on top of her, panting against her neck.  She kisses his brow and brushes back his damp hair.  

“Sorry,” he says. “I couldn’t – “ “It’s okay.  There’ll be . . .” she starts to say but then stops. By this time tomorrow, one or both of them could be dead and there will be no other times. She begins again. “I’m glad I did it. And with you.” He kisses her and moves onto his back. His arm is around her shoulders and she rests her head against his chest.  “I love you,” he says.  She doesn’t say it back.  It doesn’t seem the right time, somehow.  But she takes his hand and kisses it.   Do we sleep?  I don’t know. We spend the night holding each other, in some halfway land between dreams and waking.  Not talking. Both afraid to disturb the other in the hope that we’ll be able to store up a few precious minutes of rest. Cinna and Portia arrive with the dawn, and I know Peeta will have to go.  Tributes enter the arena alone.  He gives me a light kiss.   “See you soon,” I answer.

[katarinaphang-blog]

How To Get Out Of The Friend Zone With A Guy

You get in the friend zone with a guy because you put yourself there.  You see, trying so hard to be a man’s best friend before he arrives emotionally will backfire.   Being his friend and therapist is not how to get out of the friend zone with a guy.  Here’s why.

I’d present a recent testimonial from Celia into 2 parts because of 2 different teachable moments that I’d like to bring up on this post. Celia just recently engaged (one of 30 in 2016 so far).

Here’s her first part.

“Ladies, here are couple of pictures from our engagement! I will write my story in just a little bit but I do want to say that this is all because of Katarina and her teachings and also because of this group and all the great advices that I read here for the last 3 years!  They do really work, they helped me change and become the person I am today! A much happier, anxiety free, trusting and loving person than I ever was in my whole life.

I am still reading and following all the posts here almost every day even if I never comment. It helps me a lot to remind myself that I never been this happy and the only way to continue to be happy is to try to stay grounded, lean back and trust that my fiancé loves me!

Now, sorry for a long post! No, he is most definitely not the guy that got me here. My fiancé is the most EA awesome guy I ever met.

My journey with you started in December of 2013, right around Christmas time. I was brokenhearted over a guy I met about a month earlier. He was a very handsome and smart guy with a great job, in other words a ‘great catch.’ Except that he really wasn’t.

First date went great; we had such a great connection and could talk forever about everything. It was right before Thanksgiving and he went away to see his family. I was so anxious because instead of making plans with me for a second date he didn’t contact me at all. So, of course, I leaned forward and ask him how his trip was. I was sooo happy when he replied.

I kind of initiated the second date (threw some hints), he went with it and we met the second time and we again had a great time. And so on, with mostly me initiating and him going along with it we met about 8 times in about 1 month. I even stayed over at his place a couple of times.

This whole time he was very receptive to my initiating so of course I didn’t see anything wrong with doing that! The guy is answering to me and we get to meet and have a great time so what is wrong with that! So of course when he ‘disappeared’ I was devastated! ‘But we were so good together! We had this connection like I never had with anyone else! We talked so much! I don’t understand!.’

I am sure that many of you have been through that! Anyway, long story shorter I found Kat, read the book, opened my eyes for a bit but was still hard to see and accept everything that was wrong with my behavior. I wrote a couple of texts but I always got a 1-2 words answers with I am sorry, I have this cold so I am not feeling well stuff. I decided to send him an email right after Xmas asking what happened, that we had this great connection and kind of said I am ok with your decision whatever that would be (to not see me anymore or just wanting to take it slower or whatever) but I think that we are both adults and owe to each other the truth.

I was soooo happy that he replied, it was a nice response BUT with all the red flags that flew right by me because I wasn’t ready to see the flags: ‘I just got out from a painful relationship and I am not ready for a relationship as I have a lot of healing to do but would love to be friends and it’s not you it’s me, I even got you a Xmas present (it was right after Xmas) and please don’t hate me and I would love to see you to give you the present and be friends.’

I was over the moon. I was out with a friend of mine and didn’t reply to his email right away so he started to text me and call me! I answered and agreed to meet with him for a drink, I was actually on my way home and really close to his house.

We met at a bar and he told me a lot about his past relationship and how painful it was and still is and how he is not ready to date yet even though I am such a great girl. So now I am in a position of being his ‘best friend’, not at all what I wanted from him, but I foolishly thought that if I will be there for him he will one day, once he heals, see how wonderful I am and want to be with me for the rest of his life.

So I was there for him whenever he would call, we started to hang out a lot and eventually we started to sleep together again. But I was his buddy, whenever he felt like crying because he just saw his ex he would call me, whenever he was depressed because he is alone he would call me or text me, I was his ‘drunk text messages’ and so on.

Then he threw himself out in the dating pool and dating a different girl every other day. I started to date too and tried to make him jealous (and he was for a bit) but then we started to talk about his dates like we are best buddies. I acted all cool but I really wasn’t. Then one night he tells me about this girl that he met that is from Ukraine and they just met a couple of weeks ago and she went home to Ukraine for vacation and invited him to go and visit her and asked my opinion.

By that time I started to see Kat’s teaching more and more clear but he still held that soft spot in my heart. I advised against going, told him that I thought it was weird that they just met and he will make that trip for her but he end up going. They just got married a few months ago, so I guess I ‘helped’ to heal him.

So even if initiating and ‘being there for them’ might feel good at the moment and you think whatever Kat’s is saying is wrong, look I am so happy now that I am out with him. If I would have listen to Kat I would be home crying! Yes, it is true! You are so happy for a brief couple of hours and then you go back to torture yourself. And that would be your life until either you finally see or he just moves on.

In our case was a bit of both but it definitely opened my eyes and finally accepted Kat’s teaching! I read so many posts every day, read the book, did the Journey Inward, practiced everything with a new guy for 5-6 weeks then in November of 2014 I met my fiancé. I will tell my story with him in another post, this is so long already.”

What Not to do To Get Out of The Friend Zone with a Guy

Here’s a case in which you become a shoulder to cry on for a guy and he friend zones you to marry the next gal. Again, being his friend or his confidante is not how to get out of the friend zone with a guy.

Don’t you hear about this anecdote often?  That you do everything for a guy and instead of liking you more, he loses his attraction toward you and move on to the next one who isn’t “half as good” as you.

That’s what happens when you become a guy’s therapist or “best friend.”  I mean obviously your partner eventually will become your best friend because there is a special connection between you two that you don’t share with other people.  Joe and I are each other’s best friends in that we have each other’s back no matter what.  Every connected and healthy relationship has that best-friend component.

However, when you try so hard to become a guy’s best friend while your intention is to be romantic with him you basically depolarize yourself from him.  You put yourself in the friend zone.  Many of you do this because you think “it’s better to be his friend than nothing at all.”

So friendship is all you got.

You keep doing stuff for him cause you are “his best friend” which means you are investing in him while all he does is to unload all his personal issues on you (and of course being a good person that you are you always come to his rescue, cause who don’t want brownie points from a guy you adore, right?).  You think this will bond him closer to you.

This is also another example of mothering.  When you treat a man like a helpless child who needs your constant guidance and supervision, don’t be shocked that he will feel less than a man when he’s with you.  He likes all the attention and your graciousness but he doesn’t sleep with his mother so why would he be sexually attracted to someone who reminds him of her in that “busy body” department?

Learn From Celia How To Get Out of The Friend Zone With a Guy

So Celia, has been leaning forward so much cause she didn’t know that the only way he’ll be intrigued is when he’s the one who courts her and a man as I mentioned in my class Seven Reasons Why Men Marry Some Women and Dump Others can’t court you unless you lean back and need persuading for him to win your heart.  She didn’t on both accounts.

She courted him instead.  And there can only be in one courter in dating.  It’s either you or him.  If it’s you who’s been doing most of the heavy-lifting, stop now!  You are depolarizing yourself and putting yourself in the friend zone.

Now, let’s read her 2nd part of her story with her fiancé:

“Yup, I learned that the hard way! I also learned how EU I was and read a lot of articles about that too. I realized that my whole life I was running away from the guys that were really into me and I was always into, chasing and being heartbroken over the wrong guys.  It was such an eye opener that everything you said in your book and all the ladies in the posts in here commenting on other ladies that were struggling just like me came true!

Warning, this is a VERY long post already but might help some of you. Now this is my story with my fiancé:

When I met my fiancé for the first date I had a great time and he seemed to be a great guy but I had couple of doubts because he wasn’t my typical guy, I do like the guys that are more ‘sportsy’ type (I play a lot of soccer) but he put so much effort and won me over quickly.

I learned from all I read from Kat’s book and all of you ladies to just observe and be busy. My life was so busy, I was so busy at work and then with soccer and I was also planning a trip to Thailand with my family. He was working around my schedule and booking every single of my free moment, I had ZERO chance to even try to rotate with other guys, I was successfully rotating with life.

Every date was so wonderful, I had such a great time and I always had a big smile on my face at the end of each one. I did not have to put any effort, he would text me and make sure that I know he was interested.

Then after 5 dates (about 3 weeks in) he asked me to be exclusive with him and I accepted. I did remind him that I was going to travel for 3 weeks in less than a month and he said he doesn’t care, I am worth waiting for.

Our relationship with one another was just great, easiest I ever had. I never had to wonder how he feels about me, he was so sure to show me and try to spend every single free moment with me. We did hit some rocks but all outside issues…on our second date he was straight forward with me and told me that he was not divorced yet, separated and living in different bedrooms but still living with his ex while they are trying to figure out the finances without taking his son out of his house.

He is an amazing father to, at the time, a 4 year old boy.  I just listened to everything he had to say and when he asked me what I think about it I said: I can’t have any opinion about this. I appreciate you telling me but we just met so I am not going to pass judgment on something I don’t have a full picture of.

He told me later that my mature and non-reactive way of looking at that won him over. I have to admit that was a huge concern but I decided instead of rejecting I should just sit back and observe without getting too much involved and keeping in mind his situation.

So for the next 2 months before I was going on my trip I got to know him more and more and saw from his actions that he was definitely very invested in ‘us.’ I did express my concern about him getting involved in an exclusive relationship after 11 years of marriage but he assured me that he had about 2 years after the marriage was over to get ‘over’ that marriage, he has been dating since then.

He invited me at his house to show me that he lives in his own bedroom and that he has nothing to hide and that she was also dating somebody else for the last year or so. It was just a simple roommate situation mostly because of finances. I could see right away how toxic his marriage was, she was and still tries till today to control every step that he would take, to manipulate everybody around her.

Luckily he now sees that and not even ONCE that he put her ‘demands’ before us. While I was away he kept constant contact with me, text and Skype everyday initiated by him, he took me to the airport and couldn’t wait to come back and pick me up (without me asking for any of it).

He told me that he loved me and that he is so happy when he is around me because I am just so easy to be around. I never react, I never yell, I never get mad, I never pressure him to do anything and just take life one day at the time. He loved my vision on life, the fact that I am so mature, on my own feet, I have my own life in order and it was clear from the beginning that I was happy and did not need him to make me happy.

I was so different than everything he has seen before. He told me so many times: ‘I love that you do not pressure me with texts, or wanting to talk on the phone all day about nothing! I love that I know that when I call you or text you, you are just happy to hear from me and not yell at me why I did not text you 1 hour earlier.’

Honestly he was the easiest person not to be anxious around, he always made sure I know how he feels and kept constant contact. If there were things I did not like I would calmly tell him that I am not comfortable with that specific thing and he can do whatever he wants as is his life and I wasn’t going to tell him how to live it but I wanted to let him know that specific situation wouldn’t work for me and I do have the freedom to not accept it.

He constantly would tell me: ‘I just cannot believe how easy is to talk to you! I don’t understand why you never yell. You always make sure you let me know when you don’t like something in such a nice way that the only thing left for me is to make sure I do everything I can to please you! You do not demand things you are just a reasonable person. It’s so wonderful.’

Him and his ex had a schedule for his son where they had specific days when to watch him. Five or six months in he introduced me to his son and we started to spend every weekend together, ether with his son on his weekend or alone when his ex was watching the boy. The week days he was watching his son he would always invite me over at his place to hang out with him and his son and then the days he didn’t have his son would spend at my place. So it was natural that after about 8-9 months we decided to move together.

He started a few months earlier to get his wife to go to mediation and figure out a reasonable financial solution for their divorce so they don’t have to spend money that they didn’t have in court. She continuously refused.

In October of last year, on their son’s 5 years birthday she agreed for us to go over the house and have breakfast with the boy (who created a deep connection with me by then as we were spending a lot of time together) and then would have went to the boy’s birthday party later in the afternoon. But she was a mess when we got there in the morning, apparently her boyfriend wasn’t coming anymore so she decided that I wasn’t going to go either.

She started screaming at my boyfriend and at me in front of the kid and just lost all control. My boyfriend tried to calm her down and she end up hitting him and biting him and then trying to run out with their son who was really scared of her outburst. Both my boyfriend and I kept our cool and he just tried to convince her not to drive with the boy because she was in a rage and could put him in danger. But she forced herself out (by biting my boyfriend on his shoulder) and locked herself in the car.

My boyfriend was really scared for the safety of his son so he did something crazy, he climbed on the hood of her car thinking she will just get out and maybe call the cops. Instead she put the car in gear and drove with him for 250 feet then slammed the break and left him in the street. I found him screaming in pain in the middle of the road, he shattered his ankle and wrist. All this in front of their 5 year old son on his birthday. Unfortunately she was able to get out of going to prison for that.

He was in the hospital for 2 whole weeks and went through few surgeries and then was confined in a wheelchair for 3 months. Even if his sister and mother came there he always asked for me to go close to him, hold my hand, told me how much he loved me and smile at me through all this. He asked me to please don’t go and stay with him which I did.

After the hospital he came to live at my place and I helped him through the recovery period. It was a lot for a relationship that was only 1 year old but I did know at that time that I love this man so much and the thought of almost losing him was hard. And it touched me so much that he wanted me around him, he would always smile though his pain when he would see my face.

We had a few crazy months with court and doctors but we got through that and he is walking again since January and better and better every day. We did end up moving together in a new place in January of 2016 and been living a wonderful life since then. Things had calmed down, his divorced was finalized in July and even if his ex (who is now single, miserable and jealous) tries everything she can to make our life miserable we wont let that come between us.

We are a team and we have a great time together. He has joint custody and his son lives with us half of the time and he seems to have forgot all those crazy months and he is very happy. Living together with somebody else has its moments but we are still yet to have any fight.

Of course we do have discussions but we both know how to be adults and non-reactive and he still cannot believe his luck to have found one of his Kat’s girl. The proposal this weekend was unexpected. I knew it was something we will probably end up doing in a near future but I did not expect it yet, its only been 2.5 months since his divorce was final.

He had the ring custom made (infinity sign – number 8 is my favorite number), asked my mom for permission and then proposed to me after one of our friend’s wedding (he waited until after midnight and did it at the wedding after party – he did not want to step on our friends day).

Sorry for the long post, I just wanted to say all this for all the women that read this and wonder if they should be with a man that is still not divorced yet. It is so case by case situation that I do not think there is a straight answer to that.

Have I just blindly decided that it is not a good idea to be with a man that is not yet divorced I would have passed on the opportunity to be with this wonderful man. He is so amazing and we are so happy together. The happiness comes from within and from being in the best relationship of my life.

So ladies, please always open your heart while you also keep your eyes open. You will know when somebody is really into you, single or in the process of divorcing, they will put an effort to make sure you know that, they will never let you doubt it, no matter how busy their life is. Keep an eye open for red flags and an open mind and open heart for the love of your life. It will happen!”

Now, she turned herself from a friend zoned woman to a miracle worker by inspiring a recently divorced man to propose in no time simply by learning from her mistakes and doing the complete opposite.  She didn’t put herself in the friend zone like she did with her EUM. She learned her lesson.  Being his best friend before he is emotionally invested is not how to get out of the friend zone with a guy.

She’s one of those women I coach who seem to beat the odds when it comes to dating divorced men (you can check Diana‘s and Jenna‘s stories as well as they are happily married to recently divorced men themselves).

Again, Celia is proof of the magic of what I teach.  Against all odds, a recently divorced man can’t wait to marry a Kat Goddess, not very uncommon with the women I work for in terms on how they can turn an unlikely situation to an opportunity for them to shine in all their feminine Goddess glory.

Wanna learn more about the ins and outs of my teachings that got all these women reeling in awe and excitement? Sign up for my ULTIMATE program and be the RAIN MAKER yourself like many of my clients:

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