#i’m so blown away by the support for this fic!!

[man-i-love-fanfiction]

an announcement!

hey everyone! thank you all for all of your love and support on Double Babysitter. it truly has blown me away and I cannot express how grateful i am to have my first fanfic be so well-received. thanks so much for liking, commenting, reblogging, and, of course, reading.

that being said, i’d also like to use this post to announce i’m working on a new fic!!! The first chapter of To Share the Space With Simple Living Things, a multichapter, hozier x florist!reader work is coming within the next few days, so keep your eyes peeled. thanks again for your support and i hope you enjoy what's next!!!

[ssukidesu]

what friends do

Fandom: Fairy Tail

Pairing: Nalu

Rating: T

Nalu Week 2024 ( @allaboutnalu @thenaluarchive )

Summary: Lucy gets a little too happy and does something (maybe not) regrettable.

Chapter 6: what counts as a cheap shot (injury)

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5

Read on AO3

Read under the cut

1… 2… 3… 4…

Shit, shit, shit!

Lucy’s mind raced through her options and found them limited, to say the very least.

The man pinning her front to the floor was laughing cruelly. His knee was on the center of her back, and her hands were pinned together beneath it, right on the meat of his calf. She felt a bead of sweat drip onto her neck from above.

5… 6… 7…

Options… options… what were her options? She could try to dig her nails into his hands, but that almost never worked. She could try to buck him off, but she could tell he was pushing almost all his body weight onto her back—she had no shot. She could…

Aha!

He was leaning on her from her right side, and the leg that wasn’t digging into her back had to be bracing somewhere for balance. From what she could tell, it was probably somewhere by the bottom half of her legs. If she could just…

8… 9…

In one movement, Lucy bent her right knee and swung back her foot—and prayed. Thankfully, her toes clipped his shin, and she managed to sweep his leg off the ground, throwing off his balance. Immediately, the weight on her back lessened, and she rolled onto her back. He still had her hands gripped together, but the momentum of her movement ruined his balance even more, and she landed her knee right into his stomach.

With the wind knocked out of him, she could yank her hands free and scramble back to her feet.

Fists poised near her face, Lucy bounced on her toes.

And smiled.

“Damn, Lucy… really thought I had ya there,” said her sparring partner, Natsu, who was flicking the sweat off his bangs and shaking loose his stiff fingers. “And at the last second, too!”

“What can I say?” she bragged. “I’m getting better.”

Natsu and Lucy began to circle each other again, both trying to spy an opportunity to lunge.

This scene was becoming a more frequent one lately. No magic, no tricks—just pure, hand-to-hand sparring. It was Lucy’s idea; Natsu was always asking her to fight him, but she knew she had no shot in hell if it was a real spar with magic. So, after coming up with some stipulations, she proposed this compromise.

While the rules were appropriately adjusted for a male-versus-female fight, she knew he’d never go easy on her. Yes, the requirements were that he had to pin her for ten seconds while she only had to pin him for three—but no one would be fooled to think that he was being nice.

The evidence?

…She had never won.

Don’t misunderstand—she’d gotten close, a few times. But it was just like him to pull through in the last moment and, if anything, manipulate his previous vulnerability into being an advantage in the very next moment. She’d complain about it, but, well… would she love him if he were any different than how he was?

Lucy pursed her lips and blew a puff of air upward to get her bangs out of her eyes. She knew he’d come at her any second, and that would be her moment to attack. There’d be no openings until then.

His expression was concentrated—it was confident and competitive. He knew he had the upper hand, as he always did, but Lucy recognized that Natsu truly did find joy in making her stronger—in testing to see if this time was when she’d finally beat him.

He lunged. He went for her middle, his shoulder lowering so that he could get her around the waist. He was fast, but she was hoping he’d make this move; it was one with which he’d defeated her many times before.

Yes—this time, she was ready for it.

She went lower. She was almost on the ground; if he was a taller man, she wouldn’t have to sweep so close to the floor to avoid his arms. She passed by him on the left, clipped his foot with hers, and reveled in the sound of his body thunking heavily on the mat. His momentum had already been moving forward—he’d normally be too sturdy to trip outright, but his own shifting body weight worked against him.

Now behind him, she moved like lightning to grab his right leg. She gripped his ankle with her right hand, then threw her entire body over his shirtless back so that his ankle would be lodged over her shoulder. She had no hope of holding it with just her hand, but if she could manage to keep her own body down, she might be able to hold him in place.

Her left hand perhaps pulled a cheap shot—but those were allowed for her (with obvious exceptions, such as his eyes and his family jewels). She tangled her fingers into his hair at the base and clenched her fist. She wasn’t mean enough to pull his hair, but this, she hoped, would provide a big enough distraction from the rest of his body that the three seconds could pass.

1…

Since his hands were free, his first instinct was to grope at the hand in his hair. He was muttering all the while, “Shit… Lucy—” in a gritty voice that might have made her stomach flip.

2…

But he was a quick thinker. Noticing the mobility he still had with both hands, he pushed his torso off the ground—much like a regular push up—and to get his leg and back free of her, he tucked to crash down on his left side. Lucy went with him, of course—and unfortunately, it jostled her off his back.

Ugh! So close—!

But she couldn’t dwell on that now: she was still on the ground, and he’d be a fool not to take advantage. She was propped up on her side, but as he flung himself to grab her, she learned that he was set on forcing her on her back. In a flash, he had her wrists in his left hand, her hips pressed down under his right forearm, and her two legs raised so that her hamstrings were pinned under his thighs. She could move them slightly and straighten her knees, but that sort of thing didn’t matter. With her hips pinned down, she wouldn’t be able to buck him off.

Well, she thought—his hot, panting breaths washing over her face—this is a new one.

1…

There’s no way I can get out of this one, she thought, trying desperately to wrench her wrists from his grip. He smiled pridefully at her fruitless efforts.

2… 3…

He’s so close. Their eyes were locked—hers wide in panic, his half-mast in arrogance. If I wanted to, I could…

Wait.

…That might work.

Let it be known that, for the record, there was a lot of blood pumping into Lucy’s brain at that moment, and whether this idea was a reasonable one would be an object of her own future scrutiny.

“I really do appreciate this, Natsu,” she muttered, her lungs tight from her raised arms.

4… 5…

He blinked, pupils dilating. Their faces might have been three inches apart. “‘Course,” he said amiably, though his brow quirked in suspicion.

6…

“I’m happy that I’m getting stronger because of you,” she mused.

His breathing halted. His eyes widened, and he froze.

7…

Her blond hair was splayed out beneath her. It had shaken so loose from its ponytail that it might as well have not been tied at all. With the little mobility she had, she raised her chin and lifted her head off the ground. His eyes widened further, but he didn’t pull himself away.

8…

Her lips pressed against his cheek, close to his jaw. It was covered in sweat, but not the kind that made his skin slick. It was sticky, and the tender skin of her lips clung to the touch in a way that made the action seem even more intimate than it was.

Or maybe that was due to the fact that he was pressed quite thoroughly against her in a manner that was more than a little suggestive.

9…

She pulled away, and his half-lidded eyes were fixated on her mouth.

She felt his grip on her wrists weaken.

In one mighty test of strength, Lucy jerked her hands from his hold, placed them on his head for leverage, and pushed herself upward just enough that her legs were freed from the hold of his own. She gripped the wrist of the arm that had been below her stomach, hooked the underside of her knee around his torso, and heaved until she’d flipped them both. At the end of it, he was on his back, and she had his right arm bent behind his back—just shy of the point of dislocation. Her legs were on either side of him; she’d sat herself just below his groin.

Lucy was relieved to be free, but she knew her success would be short-lived; there was no way she could keep him in this hold. Other than her body weight on top of him and his one (much stronger) hand in the grip of her own, she had no way to secure him.

So why wasn’t he moving?

1…

Natsu was just staring up at her, lips parted and brows furrowed. His left hand, which was completely free, was splayed out to the side, motionless.

2…

Lucy wondered if she’d hurt him in the movement somehow—but she scratched away the thought just as quickly. This guy could take a boulder to the skull and break the boulder; surely there was nothing she did in that tussle that hurt him.

Well, except maybe one thing…

“Three,” she breathed.

Neither moved. She watched a couple different emotions flash over his face; first, confusion—as if he wasn’t sure what she was talking about; then, self-abhorring displeasure. He exhaled loudly through his nose and let his head drop an inch to rest fully on the ground.

His lip curled, and his eyes narrowed. “Ouch.”

Lucy released a single laugh. She let go of his arm and brought both of hers to brace on his chest. “What, did I hurt you somewhere?” she asked doubtfully.

“Nope,” he huffed. “Just my pride.”

She smiled with her tongue between her teeth. “Finally,” she giggled against his skin. “I finally won!”

Natsu scoffed, but he brought his newly-freed hand to play with her hair, which had devolved into tangles around the elastic band. He fumbled to loosen it, but gave up after figuring it was a lost cause.

Lucy rolled off of him and stood before offering him a hand. He took it despondently, and they made their way to the bench.

“I think we should add that to the list of cheap shots you aren’t allowed to take,” he grumbled, chugging from his water bottle.

“Don’t be a sore loser,” she drawled. “I was just thanking you for all your help. What’s cheap about that?”

He gave her a flat look that seemed to say, You know exactly what was cheap about it.

Lucy shrugged. “I guess I might have been hoping it’d throw you off…”

“Hoping? Lucy, it wasn’t fair! You’d be saying the same thing if I’d done it to you!”

Lucy had to take care not to choke on her water as she took a sip. The image of him kissing her on the cheek in the middle of any of the positions he’d had her in before…

Well. She supposed she understood his point.

She watched him tug his shirt back on, and she threw the strap of her bag over her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Natsu,” she began, as cute as she could manage. She walked backwards to look at him as she led the way out of the gym. “What can I do to make it up to you?”

Natsu always liked questions like that. His lips tilted into a smirk. “Cook me dinner.”

She should have known he’d say that. Rolling her eyes, she turned her back to him and pushed open the door. “Fine,” she said sulkily.

But the stubborn grin on her face wouldn’t go away.

[sixosix]

SLEIGHT OF HAND | LYNEY

summary you will not let lyney get to you. unfortunately, lyney already got to you the moment you met eyes. after all, what is a magician if not an expert in stealing hearts?

or, local sumeru architect goes to fontaine looking for inspiration and comes out of it with three rainbow roses and a crushing magician.

warnings 13+, gn!reader, follows the fontaine archon quest, so there are major spoilers throughout the entire fic! MURDER (lyney trial spoilers) + feminine french pet names ough + bff!Aether loml + sweet talker lyney + KISS SCENE (suggestive)

notes 8K words. thank u to my french bff art @aanobrain who said lyney is a magician he would say mon lapin 🤧❤️ + other various french pet names. thank u to ellie hyomagiri & earthtooz too for hyping this up, my supporters…

“500,000!?”

Sumeru streets are always bustling with its people—from children skipping around the neighborhood to frantic scholars who zip back and forth before returning to their homes when the moon is high. However, the sun is beating down on everyone right now: street vendors are making a profit, dogs are barking as they play fetch with laughing children, and you stand across the blond traveler and his floating companion.

You wince at the volume of Paimon’s shrill voice, inciting bypassers to send miffed glances your way. Embarrassed, you cover the side of your face with a hand, whispering, “Is—is that not enough? I can—”

“No, no, it’s not that!” Paimon’s arms flail around, eyes blown comically wide. “It’s just, you know, more than what we earn from our daily commissions combined!”

“Oh, I see.” you nod, relieved. “Well, I can lower—”

“No, no, no, no,” Paimon interjects hurriedly, and even the traveler shakes his head. “Pleasure to do business with you! Paimon and Aether, at your service!”

“Really?” you can’t believe your luck—the traveler himself agreed to escort you to Fontaine! Or does it count if Paimon agrees on his behalf? “That's a relief. Even Katheryne of the guild had a strange expression when I posted my commission.”

“It’s probably because of the amount of zeroes you might’ve accidentally put,” Paimon murmurs.

Aether tugs on her foot as if warning her. “We'll be leaving soon. Are you prepared?”

“Oh, yes. My stuff’s over there by the bench, you see?”

Aether and Paimon’s faces simultaneously fall. “All of that?” Paimon starts counting it, gaping when she has four little fingers held up.

They sure complain a lot. “You can still back out.”

Aether takes a deep breath, making his way over to your luggage. When he brushes past, you hear him chanting 500,000; 500,000; 500,000 under his breath. He wordlessly carries all of them, his chest puffed and expression grave.

“They’re heavier than I thought,” Aether wheezes out as Paimon flits worriedly around him. “How long are you going to be staying in Fontaine?”

“Oh, just a day or two, maybe,” you say, taking pity and taking one bag from him. “Most of what’s inside are art supplies.”

“Ah,” Aether says.

“500,000,” Paimon reminds him.

“We’re close,” Paimon says, flying back to where you and Aether are still walking behind, him heaving and you offering water now and then. “I saw a huge ravine-looking view! It was like a city on a waterfall!”

“R-Really?” Aether puffs out a breath, sweat rolling off his temple.

You tried prying some of your bags away from him when it seemed like there were monsters up ahead, but he refused instead to fight them with one hand on his sword. He still won. You guessed that he was trying to make traveling easier for you, yet all you felt was immense worry.

“Are you feeling okay, Y/N?” Paimon asks, floating beside you. “You look unwell.” You should ask your companion that, instead.

“I’m a bit nervous. After all, it’s my first time traveling outside of Sumeru.” You smile, patting her head. She doesn’t seem to mind, beaming back. “But I need to get out of my comfort zone to be better, right?”

“That's right! Paimon has a feeling you’ll enjoy Fontaine!” You and Paimon glance at Aether when he heaves a heavy breath, yet he only waves the pair of you off with his free hand. “Before you know it, you’ll be itching to travel again once you’re back in Sumeru.”

“I'm only there for work. I just need to learn a lot, and then I'll enjoy it.”

“Still a student through and through, huh…”

“I can see it,” Aether chimes in, looking all too relieved to rest his arm finally. “I can see Fontaine up ahead.”

You feel the cool breeze brush against your face, a refreshing change from the past hours you and the other two have been trudging through the desert. You could strip off layers and dive if you could. You can make out the harbor even miles away, pouring water out like an endless waterfall stretching for miles.

Arriving in Fontaine is introducing yourself to the rustle of layered skirts, the water-kissed smell, and citizens left and right babbling about tragic endings and thrilling climaxes.

Aether sets your bags on the floor with a heavy exhale. Paimon feeds him with another jug of water.

“I guess we’re here now.” You pull out a heavy pouch you’ve been keeping in one of the bags Aether had been holding over his shoulder. Paimon takes it with greedy, greedy hands. “Thank you for keeping me safe and carrying my luggage, Traveler— are you even listening to me?”

“There’s a girl over there,” Aether says, now staring ahead.

You and Paimon turn to look; sure enough, someone is standing by the edge, looking forlornly over the water. Half of her foot is off the platform, making Paimon fidget.

She gasps. “She isn’t going to jump into the water, is she? Maybe we should go check on her…”

Halfway through Paimon’s sentence, you gathered the courage to speak to the girl with the cat ears.

“Hey, miss.” Her ear twitches. “Is something the matter?”

She turns, looking faintly surprised. If you weren’t so close to her, you wouldn’t have been able to tell there was a change in her expression. “I'm fine. thank you.”

“Oh.” Now things are a little awkward. “Is there something in the water you’re looking at? You might slip if you keep tipping forward.”

She peers below, unworried—silent.

“As long as you’re okay, I guess,” you sigh, awkwardly hovering above her shoulder when realizing it might come off strange if you touch her. “I’ll leave you be.”

Her lips twitch, something close to a smile. You don’t stick long enough to admire it, heading back to Aether and Paimon and shrugging at their inquisitive looks. “She says she’s fine.”

“I think it’s time for me to separate,” you say. “I want to take all of it in as much as possible. Paimon has my payment. Thank you both so much for keeping me safe.” Mostly Aether, though. But Paimon was there, emotionally.

“It’s no problem,” Aether says, his smile warmer than when you first met him. “Stay safe out there. You can look for us if you need anything else.”

“I don’t always pay 500,000 for each of my commissions.”

Paimon wilts. Aether flushes, stammering, “Not what I meant.” You laugh heartily as they wave when you walk off to the aquabus, hopefully, prepared for what Fontaine will give you.

Your sketchbook is a page away from completion when you hear about a magic show at the Opera House. Not that it was hard to miss—everyone and their grandmothers were prattling about nothing else but the entire day.

Fontaine is known for its love for dramatics, but the twins they keep mentioning must be a one-of-a-kind spectacle to have half their region’s population speak about them so reverently.

After wandering for hours, taking in the endless sights of fresh water streaming and grand castle-like modern buildings, you find yourself in the Fountain of Lucine. You’ve heard of Fontaine being somewhat titled the ‘City of Love,’ but seeing couples surrounding each nook and cranny of the tourist spots was still astonishing.

(You console yourself by thinking that there’s something romantic in sketching frantically while the rest of the crowd are sucking faces.)

To your luck, you spot three familiar heads in the fountain plaza.

Aether senses you before you can even say anything, glancing to the side and smiling when you wave at him.

Paimon flutters excitedly. “Y/N! We didn’t think we’d see you again this early. You look like you’re glowing.”

“Was it that obvious?” you laugh sheepishly. “Fontaine is beautiful; I couldn’t even stick too long in one place before I see something else that catches my attention.” You look to the girl you met earlier, who nods politely. “Hello. Are you three acquainted now?”

“Mhm!” Paimon says, hands on her hips. “This is Lynette! She’s inviting us to the show they’re holding here!” She gasps, “Speaking of—”

“Ah,” Lynette says quietly, “I couldn’t get an extra ticket. I’m sorry.”

Lynette is the magician you keep hearing about? With her seemingly reserved personality, you wouldn’t have guessed it. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Paimon,” Aether speaks up. “They gave you your ticket, right? Why don’t you just float next to me or sit on my lap?”

Paimon’s eyes sparkle. “Great idea! That way, I can give my seat to Y/N, right?”

“You guys…” Your chest feels warm as Aether hands you one of the two tickets in his hand. “You really didn’t have to.” Is this what 500,00 gets you? The loyal companionship of Aether and Paimon?

“It’s a good idea,” Lynette says. “My brother wouldn’t want you to miss the show. He’d be devastated.”

“If you insist, then I suppose I can’t refuse.” Aether and Paimon do a cute little cheer. “But I need to return to the hotel; I can’t be watching a magic show carrying all these.” Surely Aether can understand.

Later, with your hands finally empty and charcoal-free, you rush back to the Opera Epiclese, the person standing guard kind enough to open the doors despite being a minute late.

“Welcome, one and all, to the Opera Epiclese!” The audience roars with cheers as the spotlight illuminates a figure on the center of the stage. You hurry to your seats, brushing past Aether and Paimon. “I am the star of today’s show, Lyney.”

Lyney bows, then stands upright with a Cheshire cat grin.

The thunder of the crowd’s applause is deafening. If you weren’t able to see it, you’d think that you hadn’t been clapping at all—senses numbed and your fixed stare all on the boy on the stage.

Your eyes catch on the small braid on the side of his head before the gleam of his eyes hypnotizes you.

He’s handsome, you think dizzily at the back of your head.

“Don’t blink,” he says, his voice lower as if meant to be a whisper, “or else you might miss it.”

The show proceeds. A dove soars away from inside as he flips his hat; you flush at hearing the soft laughter that slips from him after. The cards that materialize out of nowhere descend to the floor. His fingers shuffle the cards while talking to keep the audience satiated; they fly off his hands, yet he doesn’t lose focus, stretching them mid-air with a sleight of hand. They fall apart and come together neatly and precisely.

His stage presence is demanding. It would be as if Lady Furina herself would accuse you of committing a crime if you were to look away for even a second.

Then, when he scans the crowd, busy twirling his cards in his fingers, his gaze catches your awed ones.

Something in the air shifts. Or maybe it’s that it slows.

A card slips from his grasp. A mistake. He blinks and breaks eye contact, laughing heartily to play it off. But you don’t believe it—not when you swore your limbs locked in place as well when lilac drilled into your soul.

You breathe, hands bracing against your chest. What was that?

You would’ve played it off as something you imagined if not for Lyney continuing to glance at you occasionally. His slip-up had been forgotten, as though it was all part of the show.

(Is it also part of the show when it seems he’s unable to tear his eyes off of you?)

Of course, the twins prove their worth. They showed you exactly why the people of Fontaine adore watching them through theatrical magic, cards in their sleeves, and defying logic.

You’ve shuffled to the edge of your seat as Lynette disperses into bubbles and comes back alive. You’ve held your breath as Lyney emerges from the box across he was in a moment earlier.

You’ve also been witness to the murder of Cowell.

CRASH.

The shatter of glass resounded along with the horrified gasps of the audience. Sickeningly enough, you could almost hear the crack of bones if you hadn’t been crying out in alarm. Yet, as they gape and shriek over the sight of a limp arm popping out, you find your gaze tracing back to Lyney, who stands motionless in front of the box.

When Lady Furina points fingers and has everyone siding against him, the guards escort the audience from the Opera House. All evidence presented left Lyney in a spotlight unlike his performance: with a disgusted and unamused crowd. Even you have to agree that it isn’t looking well for his case at all.

Yet all you can think of as you leave the room is that Lyney looked as terrified as everyone else was—much too raw of an expression for someone to accuse him of anything at all. He looked young and scared.

(His hands were shaking.)

The rest of your Fontaine trip is admittedly duller when you’re a little more familiar with its city and don’t have a yapping little fairy and a capable Traveler by your side. It’s hard not to hear chatter about the events that went down: Lyney’s trial, Aether volunteering to be his lawyer, and the truth behind the real murderer.

It solved a case beyond the murder of Cowell. Fontaine sure has its mysteries, and the crowd sure loves them as they would a magic show.

You keep your hands busy. Last night, you found yourself thinking back to the magic show, to deft fingers weaving through cards, to violet eyes that kept on flickering to you. By the time you snap back to reality, you’ve subconsciously drawn shapes and lines that suspiciously look like the magician himself: the curve of a smile, piercing eyes, and you entranced by it all.

Flustered, you crumple his face staring back at you out of sight. Yet you can’t bring yourself to throw it away.

You shove the last bit of garlic baguette in your mouth to furiously bat these unwanted thoughts away.

“Isn’t that Y/N?” Paimon’s voice is unmistakable, a short distance off.

You jump out of your skin, spinning to see Aether and Paimon waving and walking over to you. You thought they'd already left Fontaine after that; you wouldn’t blame them if they did.

“Y/N! We haven’t seen you since the Opera House performance,” Paimon exclaims, twirling around your head like a thrilled fly circling a trash can.

You hold onto her back, hoping she’ll stop making you dizzy. “We were escorted out before I could say goodbye. I couldn’t watch the court trial but heard it all turned out fine.”

“That’s right!” Paimon nods proudly. “Paimon helped a ton during it; you should’ve seen it! What have you been doing?”

“I found a fellow architect while visiting the cafe nearby, and we chatted for hours,” you say, remembering that your voice is hoarse for that reason. You also don’t tell them you couldn’t get a certain magician off your mind. “I learned a lot. I don’t regret coming here one bit.”

Paimon says something else that you’re sure you’ve nodded absentmindedly at while your gaze wanders over to the two familiar people a few feet behind, watching you three with cat-like eyes—and it’s not just because of Lynette’s unique features.

“Those are the magicians, right?” you gesture behind Paimon and Aether as if you haven’t already familiarized yourself with their faces.

Paimon nods. “Uh-huh. You should introduce yourself! They look like they want to talk.”

Something about that feels foreboding. “Um, no, it’s fine. I don’t want to be rude and interrupt your conversation.”

“No,” Aether says firmly. He seldom speaks; you might as well play along if he says so. “Besides, Paimon is right. Lyney wants to talk to you, you know?”

“Oh, yeah! He kept mentioning seeing someone sitting beside us! And it couldn’t have been Neuvillette because he said it was an unfamiliar beauty that bewitched this weak magician’s heart.” Paimon nods, even recalling how he’s enunciated each syllable theatrically.

“I’m sorry?” you blurt. “Lyney recognizes me? What did I do?”

“Paimon thinks it’s because Lyney is curious about who Lynette met! He was like that with us, too.” Paimon changes her pitch to match Lyney’s. “Are these your friends, Lynette?”

Aether’s eyes feel like they know something you don’t. “It won’t hurt to strike up a conversation with Lyney. He’s been shaken up since the trial.”

There’s something unspoken hidden in his words. “What does that mean?”

Paimon doesn’t wait for an answer, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you to where the twins are waiting. Aether chuckles as he jogs behind.

“Paimon, Aether,” Lyney says, almost sly, “You haven’t introduced us to your friend here.”

“Paimon can do it!” She floats on top of your head and does a bit of jazz hands. “This is Y/N, the one who commissioned us to escort them from Sumeru up to Fontaine.”

“Generously,” Aether adds.

It’s a little embarrassing to have the legendary Traveler and Paimon introduce little old you to a famous magician such as himself, but his grin is still excited.

“From Sumeru?” Lyney repeats, smiling wider when you nod—as if that crumb of attention is enough for him. “I see.”

He performs a bow around the same height as where your hands rest; he takes one, kisses the back of your palm, and smiles against your skin. “I’m Lyney, and she is my sister, Lynette.”

“It’s nice to see you again.” You smile at Lynette, who nods in return. Lyney straightens to look at his sister.

“We met when the Traveler and Paimon just arrived at the harbor,” Lynette sighs even without looking at her brother.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you say, meeting Lyney’s eyes. The spot where he kissed is still warm—tingling. “Your show was incredible, despite what happened. I’m glad that the truth revealed itself.”

“Thank you.” Lyney’s gaze sharpens. “I saw you at the performance, yes. I was worried for a second you might steal the show if you were to come up on stage.”

You blink. “Are you saying—”

Lyney grins, “I apologize that the night had to end that way; it must’ve been horrifying. Say, what if I give you a little show right now to make it up to you?” Did he make it up to each one of his audience, too?

This is not a man acting “shaken up,” as Aether put it.

“You really don’t have to.” You glance at Aether and Paimon, silently asking for help; however, they’re too far gone, urging you to say yes with gestures and encouraging nods.

Lyney tilts his head, demanding your attention on him once more.

You sigh. “I would love to see it if you don’t mind.”

“Of course!” Lyney looks like he’s the sun bursting personified. “It would be a pleasure, ma chérie. Not to worry, it’s nothing life-threatening. I just need you to focus on me.”

Not that it’s hard. The others have become a dull buzz in your mind as Lyney holds your gaze. “Okay.”

Lyney smiles, much softer, satisfied. “Good. Now,” he tips his hat, “recently, I’ve received a little lesson from someone about the language of flowers. Are you familiar with them?”

“Not in Fontaine, no,” you mumble, watching his hands closely. You were expecting a rabbit to hop out of that hat any second now.

“Shame. But I suppose I wouldn’t want to spoil the fun.” Lyney snaps his finger, then deposits his hand inside his hat. “Hmm… Oh? Something’s not quite right. Would you mind looking into this hat for me to see if the flower is here?”

You hesitate. The hat is so close to him.

Swallowing, you nod, leaning in to inspect his hat at a careful pace. All you can sense is the faint scent of heat Lyney is emanating, the breath you two share, and the pounding of your chest. You swear you could also hear his, matching yours.

“The hat’s empty.”

Lyney smiles wider. “Yes, perhaps because you already have it.”

You jump back in surprise, your hands patting your body to see where he could have snuck the flower in. With your frantic movement, the flower falls off from what seems to have come from your head—Lyney catches it.

His mouth carves into a smirk, leaning to invade your personal space, his free hand coming up to tuck hair behind your ear. “Careful.”

Your face is burning. Plucking the flower out, the delicate and tender pink sears into your palm. “What does this flower mean?”

“What does it, I wonder?” Lyney whispers thoughtfully. “I suppose you’ll have to tell me once you find out.”

And when he inclines backward, it feels like you can breathe again. Time flows normally, and the people passing by seem much louder than before—as though you’ve surfaced from underwater.

Lyney clears his throat. “Shame I haven’t prepared myself a grand show for you, but I suppose that would call for another time, wouldn’t it?”

Lynette is looking at Lyney as if he is stupidly amusing.

“Thank you,” you say, burning, burning. “For the show, I mean.”

“That was a little weird,” Paimon whispers to Aether, but she is terrible with keeping volume and has everyone turning to her with varying expressions. “P-Paimon means that was good! Wow, Lyney! Isn’t that a different flower you gave us? That’s the flower Charlotte was talking about, right?”

“Rainbow rose?” Aether supplies.

“Yes! It means—”

“Ahem.” Lyney is quick to interrupt. “Lynette and I must take our leave now, if you don’t mind. It was fun catching up with you two.” You have to hold your ground and not look away when he hones in on your figure. “And it’s a pleasure meeting you. Don’t be a stranger. Look for me if you want more.”

His smile is a little devilish, you now realize.

“Bye,” Lynette says blankly, following after her brother, who seemed to be hurrying to exit.

His ears were red.

“You’re still staring.”

“I am not,” you rebuke hotly, flailing to cover Aether’s mouth with your hands. Yet all it does is bring your attention back to where Paimon and Aether are staring—the rainbow rose on your person.

Paimon and Aether yelp when you drag them away despite Lyney having already left the scene.

“Hey—! Don’t just go dragging Paimon around like a balloon like that! Did Lyney get to your head that much?”

“He did not.”

Paimon tilts her head, frowning. You shy away from her worried gaze, glaring at the flower instead. You still don’t know how Lyney managed to get it there; you hold it to your chest, where your heart is racing miles per minute because of his stupidly smug smile.

“What does this flower mean, Paimon?”

Paimon seems elated to be of help. “Easy! Charlotte told us that Rainbow Roses mean ‘passion’ and most notably ‘romantic encounters’!”

“Passion,” you curse. The rose seems as if it is staring back innocently, unknowing of the turmoil you’re going through because of it. “Romantic encounters.’ ugh.”

You can still remember how Lyney’s eyes twinkled as you felt his breath against your face.

“Ooh, he thinks he can trick me. He thinks he can affect me just because it pleases him to do so. I’ll show him. I’ll show him! I am not a blushing maiden!”

“You’re already very affected by this,” Paimon says, yet it’s lost by your newfound determination. Two can play at this game.

You’ve definitely been staying in Fontaine longer than what you told Aether and Paimon, but you can’t leave yet. Not when you found yourself walking to a flower shop to purchase a vase, fiercely digging through soil, turning gentle when your fingers reach for the Rainbow Rose. Not when you see it in the corner of your eyes as you try to sleep, and you find yourself daydreaming about a charming violet-eyed virtuoso.

It’s for research, you excused lamely at the hotelkeeper who didn’t ask why you’re extending your stay. In truth, not that you’d tell anyone. It was because you were hoping for another grand show from him. A farewell show for you—closure.

If you were to travel back home and get too drunk to think straight, Kaveh would learn about your crisis (romantic awakening?) and laugh at your face.

In hopes of looking for your Fontaine architect friend, you spot Lyney instead, on the side of the street surrounded by cheering kids. They clap and jump, and Lyney laughs. “One more, one more!”

“Again?” Lyney does an exaggerated sigh. “I’m starting to run out of cards in my sleeves. I’ve guessed my entire deck from your hands by this point!”

“But, Mr. Magician,” one of them whines, pouting up at him and blinking, “we want to see more! We want to know how you do it!”

“Alright, how about this, hm?” And then Lyney peers right at you. Ironically, you’re the one startled when you’ve been watching that entire spiel, and he hasn’t acknowledged your presence beforehand. “Y/N, would you mind giving these children a little show with me?” He gestures for you to come closer.

“What show?” you ask suspiciously, taking slow steps in case he pulls out another flower out of nowhere.

“You don’t have to worry,” Lyney laughs. “Will you be my assistant for this show? You are very familiar with this trick.”

“Please, we want to see!”

You falter at the little kids’ excited grins, especially when paired with Lyney’s pout and round eyes. “Okay, tell me what to do.”

His eyes do the little gleam again. “Stand in front of me, mon lapin.”

Your heart is skipping beat after beat, making itself known as you shuffle until Lyney is directly behind you.

“Relax, chérie, you just need to stand still.” It’s a little hard to relax when you feel his breath against the back of your neck, but you won’t give him the satisfaction of admitting that, so you keep your chin high and relax your shoulders. “Good.” 

He begins to speak louder to his awaiting audience. “I know it’s hard to keep your eyes off this beauty before me, but watch the hat for a surprise, alright?”

He flips it for his little audience, one hand resting on your waist and the other extended to hold his top hat. The proximity is almost suffocating. You watch with bated breath, and they complain about it being empty.

“Oh, is it?” Lyney hums, twirling the hat until it’s flipped upside down, presented right before you. “Perhaps I need my assistant’s help.” You snap out of your daze when you realize he’s talking to you. “Y/N, do me a favor and show them the flower inside.”

You reach inside the hat and, much to your surprise, feel a stem. You pull it out; the Rainbow Rose stares back at you, almost mocking you, saying he did pull out a flower out of nowhere. It's this trick again.

The kids gasp in awe and confusion—it’s all the same for Lyney, who snaps his fingers and creates magic like he was made to. Like magic was for him to summon with his hands.

“What? It was empty!”

“Where did that come from? I was watching Mister Magician’s hands the whole time!”

“Are you a magician, too?”

“No,” you say lamely, holding the rose, feeling Lyney still patiently standing behind you. Heat crawls up your neck. “No, I’m not. It’s all Lyney.”

“It’s all me,” Lyney echoes in amusement. “You’re quite magical yourself.” Finally, he spares you, pulling away to stand beside your figure. He doesn’t take the rose back—maybe even give it to one of the children. He knows exactly what he’s doing. “That’s enough for today. The sun is setting, and your parents might get worried.”

They pout and slump their shoulders, but Lyney has this older brother's sternness to him that has the children scurrying back home anyway.

You then realize having to stand in front of Lyney was unnecessary.

The flower is warm. Lyney’s eyes slip to yours.

“I didn’t even have to stand in front of you like that,” you complain, heart inclined to race off your body.

“Yes, but I feared that I would slip up again if I were to catch a glimpse of your face,” Lyney admits smoothly. His lips curl into a smirk when you stare wordlessly. “What? Don’t believe me? I had to improvise when I saw you watching from afar.”

“A great magician such as yourself? Making a mistake? I doubt it.”

“You already have such high expectations placed on me, chérie,” Lyney says, his smile easy, but his ears are a little red, poking out from his hair. “That’s no good. With no audience, I’m just plain ‘Lyney’ to you.”

“No trickery? No cards up your sleeves?” you play along.

Lyney doesn’t miss a beat. “No, though I do have a few more roses begging to be held by your hands.”

“They can keep begging.” Lyney grins wider when you glance down at his hands. “Do you give them off to everyone you meet?”

“Who do you take me for?” Lyney isn’t offended; he laughs, delighted. He is preening under the sunset—or maybe it’s your attention. “Of course not. At least, not like this.”

You stare, unimpressed. “Sure.”

“So cold, chérie,” Lyney sighs, plucking the stem from your fingers to slot it behind your ear. It seems he likes doing that. “Here I am, trying to get you to warm up to me, and you treat me like this.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll be going back home soon anyway.”

Lyney’s expression shifts into something more unrecognizable, his eyes dipping down to somewhere below your nose. “Oh. Avoiding attachment?”

You nod.

He grins, and he’s still so close. He knows how to entrance his audience, pulling you in until you forget to resist. Always watch the hands; yet Lyney could be digging a dagger to your side at this moment, and you wouldn’t even notice.

“I’m flattered you even want to avoid me because you know you’d get attached,” he purrs, tilting his head. Is Lyney just big on personal space? 

“Don’t assume,” you retort. “I know how guys like you think. Even a magician as great as yourself can’t trick someone who’s already seen through it.”

“It would be easier if it were just a trick, wouldn’t it?” Lyney sighs, much to your confusion. “I take it that someone has told you what this flower means?”

You’ve nearly forgotten all about it. “Yes.” You find yourself unable to look directly into his eyes. “I know.”

But even with that, you can still feel his heavy gaze, pinning you down and threatening the strength of your knees. You suppose it comes with being a performer—watching his audience carefully, pinpointing each micro expression to say the right words.

“There doesn’t have to be any attachments.”

“What are you trying to say right now?”

Lyney’s reaches for your hip, sharing your gaze like he doesn’t know how to do anything else. “That you enamor me. That I am holding back from wanting you. I know you feel the same—you can never hide anything from a magician. But if you’re concerned,” he mumbles, “then this doesn’t have to mean anything. You may call it infatuation.”

You want to laugh. Or maybe you want to cry. Most of all, you want to nod helplessly, wrap your arms around his neck, and give in. It’s hard not to when he looks at you like that. “You want me that bad?”

“I almost want to disagree.”

“Almost?” Lyney gets closer, and you stop him with a palm on his chest. “We’re outside.”

Lyney grins. “Have you forgotten what Fontaine is also known for? No one would bat an eye. Love is in the air, and all that.”

“Absolutely not.”

“So still you’re letting me?”

You laugh this time. Letting him, as if you aren’t the one itching to pull him close and find out what he’s like behind the curtains. “Are you asking me as plain old ‘Lyney?’”

Lyney brightens, clearly pleased there wasn’t a ‘no’. “Yes.”

“No tricks?”

“No tricks. No strings.”

You let him lead you away into some dark alleyway. He kisses you like he was longing to do so all his life. You have only met him that fateful day, not even a week ago. But you claw at him like you get it—like he’s ruined you for anyone else the moment you shared gazes in the Opera House.

Romantic encounters, you quietly recall as Lyney swipes a thumb over your aching bottom lip.

You don’t see Lyney the day after that. And for some reason, it makes the itch worse. (Perhaps it’s because you’ve gotten a taste and can’t get enough.)

It’s mostly your fault, the sudden disappearance—you’ve cooped yourself up in the hotel room, buried your face in pillows, and screamed. You berate yourself for giving in, but another part of you—one that’s louder than any other thought in your head—wants to do it again. Wants to hold his handsome face in your hands and have him kiss you breathless. That was nothing like you had ever felt before.

You groan. It’s another new day. You might as well make some progress with your portfolio.

There’s a Café you’ve been visiting more often than not. Ordering a drink and spending a good chunk of your day sketching the view. Instead, you find yourself staring at Aether, Paimon, and Lynette seated at one of the tables.

Lynette’s eyes flick up to yours as she sips tea. She murmurs something to the other two, and you watch with amusement as Aether and Paimon’s heads snap to face you.

You let your gaze wander, eventually landing on Lyney, who is reciting his order with his charming-act-on smile, who is present because of course he is. You want to turn and run away, but that’d be letting Lyney win, and you’re nothing if not stubborn and prideful.

“Y/N!” Paimon greets once you’re within earshot, kicking her feet happily. “Good morning! What are you doing here?”

“Breakfast,” you reply, waving at them. Aether pulls a chair from the other table and gestures for you to sit. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Nope!” Paimon swipes a fork from the table and digs in on the Ile Flottante, leaving nothing for Aether. “Lynette and Lyney told us about another show they’re holding to make up for the previous one.”

“Mouth full,” Aether reminds her, a little too late as the Ile Flottante spews from her mouth.

“Really now? Maybe I can pay properly for a ticket this time,” you laugh, nodding at Lynette. She smiles faintly, hiding it behind the rim of her cup. Lynette sure is the polar opposite of her twin brother.

A shadow looms from behind, the silhouette of a figure with an unmistakable top hat. You tilt your chin and see Lyney peering down at you with a sweet smile. You will yourself to keep your gaze focused on his eyes only and nowhere else below the nose.

Speak of the devil…

“Sweetheart,” Lyney says instead of exchanging pleasantries like a normal person.

“Lyney,” you reply in kind. Then you look away upon realizing that Aether, Paimon, and Lynette had been silently watching the exchange with muted, stunned expressions.

Lyney, holding a tray of drinks and food in both hands, scoots the chair next to yours with his ankle. “I wasn’t informed that Y/N would be joining us,” he says, setting the drinks and plates down like a waiter with a flourish. “You can drink mine. Let me order another.”

You hold onto his wrist as he makes his way back. He turns to you, surprised. “Let me at least pay for my own breakfast.”

Lyney grins, delicately withdrawing from your grip. He places a loud kiss on your hand. “Don’t worry about it.” And then leaves, because he can’t take no for an answer.

“Is it just me,” Paimon starts as you resign yourself to finishing Lyney’s drink (It’s your favorite, the one you always order), “or is Lyney acting weird around Y/N?”

Aether laughs. “There's definitely something going on. Don’t end up staying too long in Fontaine, now. What was it you told us? ‘A day or two’.”

You huff, your face turning unbearably warm. “Shut up, you two. I am here to do research, not to find a summer fling.” You’ve already failed, but they don’t need to know about that.

If you were to touch your lips with your fingers, you’d think of no one else but Lyney’s hands on your hips and his mouth swallowing your words.

Lynette clears her throat, a quiet but noticeable thing. “Don’t be fooled by my brother, Y/N.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m still keeping my safe distance.”

She shakes her head. “That’s not what I mean. Don’t be fooled by my brother.” She stares at you from the rim of her cup—something about that has you listening obediently. “No matter what he tells you, he always cares too much. No matter what you may think, he always gets hurt first.”

“That’s not…” You can’t imagine that. From the start, it’s always felt like he was the one who could do what he wanted.

No tricks.

Lynette is his twin, after all. She knows him best.

No strings.

Defeated, you sip on the straw with the same fervor of an aggravated hilichurl, and that’s the end of that.

Conversations during breakfast are much lighter when Lyney returns with a full meal as his treat. Celebration, he says. Celebration for what? Who knows? Lyney winked, but his glance directed to you said enough.

“You say that you don’t want to get attached, but you’re awfully close to the Traveler, of all people,” Lyney says offhandedly once the others have left for their own matters.

You lean against your seat, grinning. “Are you jealous?”

He doesn’t say anything, instead upturning his nose as if scrambling to regain control. You laugh, oddly endeared. Lyney turns his head away, trying to hide the smile that curls his lips upon hearing it.

“Hey,” Lyney says seriously, reaching for your hand. “Where have you been yesterday?”

“Why? Missed me?”

And because he’s Lyney, he takes his time kissing each of your knuckles. It’s more intimate than the whole ‘no strings’ arrangement you agreed on, but you suppose Lyney thinks that any physical attention is free reign. “What would you do if I said yes?”

“You’ll be fine,” you say slyly. “You’ll have to get used to it if you want to risk your heart just to get laid.”

He rolls his eyes, tugging you closer. “I’m not risking anything to get laid. Do you think so lowly of yourself, chérie?”

“Isn’t this all there is to it? Physical attraction,” you ask, genuinely confused.

Lyney blinks. “Of course, but—” His eyes flicker down, and his words trail off.

When you speak, you feel your breath bounce back from his skin—a testament to your proximity. “Lyney,” you whisper. For what? Urging him to continue? Urging him to close this distance? You’re not sure, either.

You have so much to ask. What do you mean? Why can’t you finish your sentence? Why don’t you just kiss me already? But it’s hard to speak; Lyney’s name is all you can think of. 

You whisper his name again. His grip on your hands tightens and loosens, a frustrated frown creeping up his brows.

Your hand shoots out to reach for the back of his head and give in. He flinches for a second before relaxing completely.

His lips almost taste sweeter than his words. Almost as sweet as how he finds purchase on your waist and holds your chin during every kiss.

You pull away to breathe, missing how he leans closer to chase after you and pouting when he can’t. “Yeah. That—That didn’t have to mean anything. I just wanted to know what it felt like again.”

“Yeah.” Lyney licks his lips, his gaze unable to tear away from where yours are swollen. “Yeah, I know. You taste like my drink.”

Really, no one’s surprised you gravitate towards each other again, feeling like you’re soaring and melting into a puddle at the same time. Lyney doesn’t touch you where you both know would cross the line, but he grips near possessively to what he can, as if breathing you in and worshipping your skin.

You know after this, he’d go back on stage, fooling his audience with what’s invisible to the average eye, as if this never happened. You know this because this is your deal: satiate the feverish attraction you have with each other and leave once you’re satisfied. (But you also know that you’ll be thinking of his touch and his lips while you stare at the vase beside your bed.)

Lyney is a magician, first and foremost.

He hooks you in, and keeps all your attention to himself like he’d die without it. Then he disappears with a snap of a finger. He’s finished his trick, leaving you befuddled in your seat with more questions than answers.

As you drift off to sleep, all you can think of is that there are two roses now.

“Brother.”

Lyney looks up from where he’d been entertaining Rosseland, seeing Lynette with a stern face. “What? What happened?”

Her tail flicks. “You said you weren’t going to get attached.”

Lyney exhales softly, his eyes slipping shut. “I’m not.”

Lynette finds herself smiling softly. “I may just be your assistant, but you can’t lie to your own twin.”

He buries his face in his hands. With his sight gone, images of your face while whispering his name flash in his mind. His eyes fly open, mortified, his whole face red. “I don’t know how it happened. I didn’t think it’d be deeper than that.”

He was the magician in this, but it felt as if you were the one who tricked him instead.

It’s been two weeks since you first arrived in Fontaine. By this point, you’ve grown more familiar with its views than your own city. Having Aether, Paimon, Lynette, and even Freminet around doesn't make it any easier for you to feel at home.

And then there’s the Lyney Situation. You meet up most nights, more than that when he’s free from shows. He keeps seeking you out, and you keep letting him in. There was one night where Lyney spent the night instead of heading straight to the door—and those nights turned into two, then three, and then he finds any excuse to keep doing it.

It’s not like you could stop. He told you look for me if you want more, and you always want more, because how could you not? Lyney treats you like he’s never had to take care of anything more precious but still manages to render you breathless like you’ve never experienced thrill the way he gives it to you before.

But you still have to go back home. And Lyney still has his own life, has his secrets. He feels untouchable even when your arms are wrapped around his neck.

No strings attached can still work for summer flings, doesn’t it? And what are summer flings, if not just that?

Lyney hovers above with his hands caging your face. He’s grinning so wide—and you’ve seen all kinds of smiles on him with your time spent together, but it was never this genuine.

“You’re bad for me.” He says it like a confession, a prayer.

You raise an eyebrow. “What did I do to you?”

His hand trails down until he’s rubbing shapes on your hips. “Make me feel like I’m myself whenever I’m with you.”

At your silence, Lyney clears his throat. “But it’s not like that, don’t worry. I just mean—”

And how does that even make sense? He pours his heart, then later reveals it’s nothing but a decoy to keep this facade realistic.

“Oh,” you say.

That was the final act you’d been waiting for. The final trick—the farewell show.

And so you pack your bags—shoved your sketchbook back inside, face forward, and promise not to look back. Leaving Sumeru hasn’t even been this hard.

Aether and Paimon shouldn’t be surprised if they find you missing; they’d been the first to know that your stay in Fontaine isn’t meant to last forever. And you’ve warned Lyney about this. Avoiding attachments? It felt more like running away from your problem.

Lyney is a busy man on his own; you’re nothing but some architect from a different region who happened to get caught up with him at the right time.

You sigh and call for the aquabus.

A hand clasps around your wrist, pulling you to collide against a familiar chest. Lyney’s eyes are wide, almost insane. Sweat clings to his forehead, and his breath comes in frantic pants.

“W-What—”

Lyney’s eyes search your face. Or maybe it’s him trying to convince himself that you’re right there, in front of him. “You didn’t even tell me.”

“I—I’m sorry—”

“Were you just going to leave like that? Don’t you think I at least deserve a farewell?”

“Lyney, I’m sorry. I know, that was stupid.” You haven’t seen him with an expression like this before—so raw and broken, begging to be glued together with your hands. “I didn’t want to formally say goodbye because I knew I'd want to stay.”

“That’s stupid,” he repeats in agreement.

You breathe shakily, eyes scanning the stunned crowd. What’s The Great Magician Lyney doing here? Holding some stranger in his arms? That must be what they’re thinking.

“How did you even know I was leaving?”

Lyney’s eyes cut down to his hand, gripping a crushed rose. “I was paying a visit to an empty room.” Embarrassed, he tries to toss it away, but you take it before he can.

You wordlessly place it in its home: the spot behind your ears. You don’t tell him that the two other roses he gave you serve as bookmarks in the sketchbook you’ve used all up in Fontaine. Where you’ve drawn his face more often than not.

Lyney groans in frustration, his hands curling around your waist. “Is staying so bad?”

“It’s not like I’m leaving forever.”

And then you notice Lyney’s hands. They’re shaking uncontrollably, not unlike how it did during that incident—and with it came the frantic exhales, as if natural human breathing alone is already hard enough for him.

“Oh, Lyney,” you say softly. You drop your bags and embrace him fully.

He doesn’t hesitate in pulling you closer, burying his face on your neck. “Don’t—don’t,” he gasps, “don’t just try to leave like that.”

It’s hard seeing Lyney like this. He’s usually so composed and easy-going. He gulps in a deep breath, and his voice cracks as he calls for you. This must be something out of his control—something deeper than the back of his stage.

“Y/N,” he whispers.

“Lyney,” you call back as gently.

He swallows your surprised noise with his mouth, moving against you like you’re his last meal on Teyvat. He’s still shaking, but it has subsided the longer you stay pressed against each other. You’re not sure if it’s his Pyro vision or if it’s your skin burning at the thought of Lyney’s skin against yours. It’s searing.

This is different from the last kisses you shared.

Passion, you think dizzily, breathless from his hunger. This is passion.

“What was that for?” you ask, embarrassingly winded.

Lyney brushes his thumb over your bottom lip. He looks sad. As though he only comes alive when you’re with him. “A kiss to make up for your absence in the following weeks.”

“I can always come back,” you say. “No, I will come back. I promise. I just need to get home for a bit.”

“Okay.” Lyney nods, exhaling heavily. “Yeah. I know, I understand. Once you come back, come straight to me, alright?”

“Of course.” You lean in to kiss his cheek. You’ve never done it before because it always came off too intimate. And judging by the blush that explodes on his face, he thinks the same.

It all doesn’t matter. The line has been crossed days ago; you’ve just been turning away from seeing it.

He kisses you again. Then again. “Have a safe trip,” he says in between kisses. “I almost wish you commissioned me to escort you, regardless of the price.”

“What, you want 500,00?” The aquabus has arrived; Lyney grips you a little tighter, childishly willing himself not to see it.

“500,000 kisses, and more.” Lyney rests his forehead against yours, his captivating eyes keeping you still, the way it always does. “But you can give me that when you come back.”

( Before they were taken away from the stage for an investigation, Lynette comes up to her brother and asks, “What happened back there, Lyney? I thought you were about to twist your own fingers.”

He is unsure how to tell his sister that he saw your awed expression and nearly lost his wits.

“It was nothing,” Lyney admits, his face growing hot at recalling his slip-up. 

It wasn’t out of embarrassment, no—not when the memory of your wide-eyed beaming expression and how his mind blanked along with the skip of his heart plagued his mind.

“It was nothing,” he repeats numbly. It’s not. It was the start of something. )

a/n ok just a quick rant this fic BROKE ME. it was like every other day i hated then loved writing this fic. im not used to writing fics this long so pacing is not my forte </3 but i just feel proud of myself for finishing this so HOPE U LIKED IT. if ure still reading until here ily ❤️

more a/n two lyney fics and two kissing scenes. i can’t even lie to myself. everyone can tell.

more more a/n it was halfway through writing this fic that i rewatched the magic show and only noticed lyneys hands were shaking and i GOT SO SAD OMF 😭😭😭😭

[bucks-babe]

How Can I Forget You?

Follow my sideblog @bucks-babesideblog for updates on when I post

Pairing: Bucky x reader x Steve, Stucky x reader, Stucky

Summary: I literally don’t know how to summarize this. 40’s Bucky and Steve go to war, then you know what happens to them, Ladybird is left in the 40’s. Steve and Bucky are in the future. Will they get their Ladybird back?

Warnings: Angst (a lot of it), fluff, poly relationship, pre serum Steve, 40’s Bucky and Steve, 21st century!Bucky and Steve, some gay sex because it was getting too sad (anal fingering, anal, grinding naked), Peggy was never with Steve, implied suicide by alcohol, death of the reader in the 40’s, pet names (darling, ladybird, dumpling), crying, Jewish!Bucky, nostalgia, time jumps, happy ending because who do you think I am, I am not paying for anyone's therapy just so you know

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: There is no mention of the reader's body type nor race. Part of this fic does take place in the 40's, but I wanted to have a blank reader so that readers from any race can imagine themselves as Ladybird. There is no mention of period related homophobia because this shit was already too damn sad. If I missed any warnings, please let me know becuase I know that this fic is angsty and I want to make sure that everyone knows what they are getting into. Thanks to @buckys-wintersoldier for sacrificing her mental health for this fic 🤘

“Stevie, have I ever told you how pretty your eyes are?” Steve blushes and hides his face in Bucky’s chest, breathing in his woodsy scent. “Don’t hide from me, punk, can’t see those pretty eyes anymore.” Running his fingers through Steve’s soft hair and trailing his hand down to the back of the smaller man’s neck, he gently brings his head back up, appreciating the soft, pink glow on his lover’s cheeks.

“Buck,” Steve trails off, not able to form a complete sentence when Bucky is looking at him like this - like he is gorgeous and not scrawny or undesirable. He doesn’t fight when Bucky brings their lips together, moaning at the taste of Bucky’s last cigarette. His eyes flutter as they pull away, both of their pupils blown, lips swollen and cheeks red. “You know, smoking is bad for you.”

Bucky grabs Steve and lays down on the couch, Steve resting between his legs. “I’m going to live until I’m 100, Stevie, smoking or not. You, my dear, are the one we need to worry about.”

“Like hell, you’re going to live that long with those habits. I’m healthy, it’s the doctors that keep telling me I’m not fit to join the army.” Bucky sighs. No matter how much he tries to stop Steve from enlisting, it never works. Not even their Ladybird can convince him.

“Stevie, please. I don’t want to hear anymore talk about this. Not today.” It’s their Ladybird that speaks, voice thick with emotion, yet stern. Neither of her boys would disobey her. She sets the tray with their sandwiches down and quickly leaves the room, palms frantically trying to smooth her dress down, pressing wrinkles that don’t exist.

Today was the day that Bucky had to leave. He didn’t enlist, not when his Ladybird wanted him at home, safe with her and Steve. She was terrified that he wouldn’t come home, leaving her and Steve behind.

But Steve was more stubborn than his man, not accepting staying at home when the men of his country are risking their lives. He needed to protect his country. “Stay here, dumpling.” Leaving a kiss on his forehead, Bucky follows Ladybird into the kitchen.

Two strong arms wrap around her waist and the tears she was desperate to hold in, cascade down her cheeks, ruining the makeup she spent so much time on. She was trying to be strong for him, support him before sending him off, but it was too much. Knowing that he could be killed at any moment, and these could be her final memories of him, was too overwhelming.

“I know, Ladybird, I know. I promise you that I’ll come home, okay? I can’t leave my best girl and guy alone.” She turns in his arms and his calloused palms rest on her cheeks, thumbs wiping away the stream of mascara running down her face.

“Steve, he, he can’t enlist, Buck. He just can’t. How am I supposed to stay here knowing that the loves of my life are out there, getting shot at, bombs going off, huh?” Steve sneaks in, snaking his arms around her waist.

“For you, Ladybird, I won’t. I’ll wait here with you, send Bucky letters, keep you safe, okay?” She knew it was a lie; Steve could never lie, but she chose to believe him in that moment. Maybe for her own sanity, or maybe just to savor the last moments she would ever get to spend with her men.

She was Bucky off, waving to him when he boarded the train, but when Steve left the house for errands she knew where he was going - she never saw him again, but she knew it was for his love for her and Bucky. She didn’t blame him.

***

When Steve woke up from the ice, the first thing he did was see if his Ladybird was still alive. From the moment he got the serum, he regretted lying to her. He knew when he looked in her eyes, she knew what he was going to do; she accepted his choice. It was who he was and she wouldn’t dream of him being anything else.

He cried that night, when Fury gave him the documents he so graciously printed from Google. Ladybird died only a few years after he went on ice. She never moved on. They said it was a broken heart, but the 40’s would never report a woman drinking herself to death, wallowing in the sorrow of lost love.

It was his fault. Maybe she could have healed from the loss of Bucky if he was there. It would never take away the pain, but she would have one of them, but he left her behind. He would visit her grave daily; her body six feet below him, wearing the dog tags of her lovers.

The pain was eased when he found Bucky. They had each other. Even when he couldn’t remember much, Bucky remembered his Ladybird. Steve wishes he could forget the day he had to tell the man he loved that their girl was dead.

“I still want to be with you, Steve.” It took a while before Bucky was stable enough to choose to love again, but it was never a hard decision. The love for Steve too much to ignore.

Their first time was much different from the 40’s. They both changed so much - Steve more so than Bucky. They couldn’t get each other naked fast enough, kisses and loving touches scattered throughout.

Bucky didn’t feel embarrassed by his arm, not when Steve’s eyes were filled with so much love and lust. Bucky had to look away, his eyes landing on his boyfriend’s cock. “Oh my god, Steve!” He didn’t mean to gawk but he couldn’t help it. Steve went from slightly below average to very much above it. Long and thick, veins pulsing through his cock, supplying enough blood to keep his large erection up.

“What? Oh.” Steve’s signature blush crept up his cheeks just like it used to. Even though his body changed so dramatically, he was still the same boy from Brooklyn Bucky fell in love with. “You’re bigger too, Buck.” Steve shied away from Bucky’s gaze, worried about how Bucky’s cock was going to fit inside of him.

“It hasn’t changed that much, dumpling.” It was almost true. Bucky was always above average - maybe seven inches. He was always thick, but now? His cock looked like it doubled in thickness, and around an inch added to his length.

“Yeah, right.” Bucky beamed at Steve as he became more comfortable under Bucky’s gaze.

“Well, how about we compare sizes then?” They both groan at the first contact in years, dicks pressed against each other. “Won’t you look at that, you’re bigger than me, dumpling.” Steve’s face scrunched in confusion, trying to focus through the haze of pleasure. There was no way that he was bigger than Bucky.

Nonetheless, Steve looks down, almost cumming at the sight of his lover’s cock leaking onto his. His eyes widened; he was bigger than Bucky. It was only by an inch, even with the serum thickening his cock, Bucky was still much thicker. “Good boy, see how pretty your cock is? Fuck, missed you so much.”

Bucky groans in between words as he grinds against Steve, cock pushed harder against his. Steve’s hands find the sides of Bucky’s face, pulling him down in a heated kiss while ropes of his cum shoot out onto both of their stomachs and chests. Bucky follows right after, not able to handle the pleasure the simple grind of their hips brings him as they both share their first orgasm since the 40’s.

He collapses on Steve’s chest while they both catch their breath. “Darling, I need your cock in me. Need to feel how you stretch me out.” Bucky’s cock instantly hardens.

“Fuck, dumpling, we don’t have lube.” Even in his lust filled state, Bucky knows that going any further would hurt.

“Don’t need it. Look at all our cum.” Bucky looks down and whimpers. The serum really did a number on them. His first orgasm in 80 years was a lot. The mixture of their cum was dripping down Steve’s sides and leaking down Bucky’s chest. He quickly dips down to get a mouthful of their cum, moaning as he shares it with Steve. “You taste just as good as I remember, Buck.”

Bucky scoops a generous amount onto two of his fingers while Steve eagerly spreads his legs, presenting his tight hole to his partner. At this moment, it’s just the two of them. The pain of their Ladybird is gone, if only momentarily.

The moan that leaves Steve’s lips as Bucky’s first finger breeches his hole is almost enough to have him cumming untouched. He doesn’t know how long he stretches Steve out for, but it was enough time to have Steve cumming on his chest again, giving Bucky more lube to use.

“Ready, dumpling? Ready for your sergeant’s cock?” Steve only moans, frantically nodding his head. No one would have thought that the tough captain was so submissive in bed. Bucky strokes his cock with Steve’s spend a few times before lining up with his stretched out hole.

He meets little resistance as his tip slips in. “Fuck, Steve. Think you’re even fucking tighter.” He has to close his eyes, balls pulsing and pulling up already. Steve’s tight ass ready to suck all of his cum out.

“Uh, uh, just bigger. So much bigger.” Steve’s mind was empty, only wanting his ass full. He cries when Bucky hikes his legs up, wanting to be as close as possible. “Wait, please.” Bucky immediately eases his cock out, knowing that he’s a lot bigger to take now. After a few minutes, Steve’s breath evens out and his eyes lock with Bucky’s, nodding at his lover.

As gently as he can, Bucky slides back inside his ass, slowly feeding Steve inch after inch. “How full are you, Stevie?” It wasn’t smug; Bucky needed to know that Steve was okay. Leaning down, Bucky presses his forehead against Steve’s, staring into his eyes. Tears fall from both of their eyes, connected so intimately again.

“So full, Buck.” He leans up to capture Bucky’s lips in a kiss, neither able to think straight, let alone kiss properly.

“I love you so fucking much, dumpling.” Steve cries out, hips jerking in an attempt to take more of his sergeant’s dick. As Bucky’s hips rest against Steve’s center, they both cum, chanting each other’s name like a mantra, whispers of their love passed back and forth. Neither of them can stop, trying to make up for all the years spent apart. All the years each spent mourning the loss of the other.

By the end of the night, they’re both spent. Cuddled in each other’s arms, Bucky is the first to break the silence. “Is it just me, or does this almost feel wrong without Ladybird?”

“It does, but she wouldn’t want us to stop loving each other.” Bucky doesn’t respond, caught up in his own mind. The pain from losing their Ladybird would never go away and they both knew that.

***

“Dumpling, you should stay there.” It’s said so quietly that if Steve wasn’t a super soldier he wouldn’t have heard him.

“Excuse me?” Steve pulls away, quickly sitting up in the bed.

“You should stay with her. You deserve it - she deserves it.” Bucky hangs his head, not able to look Steve in the eyes.

“And you don’t?”

“No. After all I’ve done, I’d only taint her. She doesn’t deserve that.” It was a decision that Bucky thought long and hard about.

“You think she would believe that? That I would? I just lost you, Buck and you’re asking me to do it again.” Steve stands and paces around the room, not able to comprehend what his boyfriend was saying.

“Think about it, Stevie. At least she would have one of us. You know what happened when she found out we both were ‘dead.’”

“Drop it, okay?” And Bucky did, but he planted the seed inside Steve’s mind.

***

“I’ll never stop loving you, Darling.” Bucky nodded, failing to hold in his tears, knowing that this was the last time he was going to see his best guy.

“Take care of her for me, yeah?”

“You know I will.” He grabs Bucky’s face, sharing their last kiss, tears mixing together. “And don’t do anything stupid until I get back.” His voice cracks, saying his final goodbye.

Bucky swallows hard. “How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” He caresses Steve’s cheek once more and pats it, letting his hand fall down. They look at each other in silence, burning this memory into their brains.

He can’t bear to look at Bucky when he gets on the pad.

***

Steve’s throat is tight as he looks at his old brownstone. His Ladybird is right behind the door, having no idea who is outside. He picks up the spare key - exactly where it always was.

He has to close his eyes, taking in the familiar scent of the home he shared with his two loves. Stepping over the threshold, he sees her and his breath gets caught in his throat. “Ladybird?” He doesn’t even recognize his own voice, so unsure and in disbelief of what he was seeing.

Her head whips around; the dish she was washing shatters as it hits the ground. “Stevie?” His feet are glued to the ground, back hitting the closed door as he tries not to fall to his knees. “Is it really you?” Unlike him, Ladybird sprints to him, her dress fluttering at the speed she moves, the dog tags of her lovers jiggle with every step.

She almost tackles him to the ground, arms intertwined around his neck, legs clutching his waist. He catches her easily, his own arms squeezing her to his chest. Both of their sobs mix together as Steve drops down on the couch, legs no longer able to hold him up. “I thought you were dead. They send soldiers here and everything.” Steve couldn’t form an explanation, too caught up in her entire being.

He can only pull her into a kiss. It was messy, full of tears and snot, but neither of them cared. She didn’t know how long he waited for this moment. They held each other for hours, crying and kissing. Eventually, she fell asleep in his arms.

Steve didn’t have it in him to put her down as he went around the house. Everything was just as he remembered. The kitchen table, engraved with all their initials, still had three chairs around it, each one in different states of ruin - Bucky always flopped in his chair leaving the legs wobbly. Steve’s favorite mug sat on the lowest shelf, right where pre-serum Steve could reach, even though Bucky loved to put it up higher so that Steve had to ask for his help.

The living room still held the old rickie bookshelf that Ladybird insisted that she could put together by herself, no matter how many times her men offered help. Upon it was Bucky’s first edition copy of The Hobbit. He and Ladybird would always make fun of him for how much time, money, and effort he spent just to get that book - Steve placed it in a box along with the recipes from Mrs. Barnes.

The bedroom made his breath hitch, his arms instinctively holding Ladybird closer. His favorite chair, ripped in multiple spots, sat in the corner of the room, right by the window. Right next to it was his stand where his old sketchbook sat untouched - he put that in the box too. Bucky’s side of the closet hung his clothes, neatly arranged in order of his favorites, while Steve’s clothes lay on the ground in a pile, always too lazy to fold them.

The top left dresser draw held the photo album Ladybird made them for Christmas/Hanukkah - that went in the box. Ladybird’s jewelry box had a necklace with the Star of David that she saved for to get Bucky on his birthday. Bucky gave it back to her before he left for safekeeping - in the box it went. On top of the dresser were all the letters she sent to Bucky and Steve, along with the letters they sent her. The army gave them back to her with their dog tags - Steve made sure to not damage them as they were placed in the box.

***

The team shared gasps and whispers between themselves as Steve reappeared with a woman in one arm and a small box in the other. He whispers something in her ear before pointing in the distance.

A gorgeous smile graces her lips as her eyes meet Steve’s target. She doesn’t hesitate to sprint across the grass, bare feet and ignoring all of the Avengers. Bucky doesn’t hear the beat of her steps, overwhelmed at the loss of both of his partners.

He doesn’t know what hit him as he falls to the ground. Kisses are placed all over his face. For a second, he thinks that he’s dreaming because he would know her smell anywhere, the feeling of her lips ingrained in his mind. But even in his dreams, he couldn’t hear her voice, always muffled and distant, but it was clear as day as he lay on the soft ground.

“Bucky!” He has to grab her face to stop her assault, pulling her back far enough to confirm that it was real, that his Ladybird was in his arms.

“Bird? Oh my god.” He pulls her back down, showering her with affection, practically rolling them around in the grass, not caring about the audience that slowly surrounded them. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Her tears come back once again. His hair was longer, worry lines sprinkled around his face, cool metal pressed against her right cheek, his right hand more callused than before. Steve told her a bit about what happened, about how Bucky lost his arm, how insecure he felt because of it.

Without pause, she tilts her head, soft lips placed delicately on his metal palm. “You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you.” Stuck in their own little bubble, they don’t notice Steve laying beside them until his arms wrap around them both.

With one look he gets the rest of the Avengers to leave them in peace. Unlike his past self, Steve could lie when he needed to. He knew that Bucky wouldn’t have let him go to return the stones if he knew Steve wasn’t going to stay. Laying a kiss to Bucky’s forehead, Steve takes in the sight before him, all of them together at last.

“Bucky, you were right. I did take all the stupid with me.” Bucky’s tear streaked face looks over at his partner.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, dumpling.” For the first time since before the war, all three of them felt at peace, finally in each other’s arms again. It may have taken 80 some years, but none of them would change a thing if there was even the smallest chance that they wouldn’t end up together.

[russo-woso]

Designers || Leah Williamson

Request | Masterlist | Prompt list

Part of the Mini Williamson universe

Summary You and Leah decide to design Mini Williamson in her own special kit.

A/N Very very old fic that’s been sat in my drafts forever

You and Leah had come up with an idea for the euro final.

For the second time running, the lionesses had made it to the euro final, and for the second time running, it was Leah leading them.

It was such a big thing, that when the idea popped into your head, you knew you had to do it.

You and Leah had agreed to make Charlie a dress made out of an England kit.

Charlie loved dresses, she always had such a big smile on her face when she saw you were putting a dress on her, so you figured, why not make her a dress so she can support her mummy and aunties?

Amelia, however, was Leah’s mascot for the final, she had been throughout the whole tournament, and so she was wearing a kit.

One night, you and Leah were in bed and decided to design the dress yourselves, before taking it to a dressmakers.

When you received the dress back, you decided to not let Leah see it, hoping to make it a surprise.

When the time came to put it on Charlie, emotions were high, purely due to it being such a big day, but seeing it on her made you so happy.

You and Leah had spent so much time working on designing the dress and it looked perfect.

You couldn’t wait to see Leah’s reaction.

Charlie babbled to herself as she played with the bottom of the dress.

“Ami!” You called her as she came running into the room.

“Yes, mama?” Amelia asked before gasping. “Look at your dress, Charlie!”

Amelia’s speech had improved so much now that she was three, like there had been a massive jump between two and three.

“It looks pretty doesn’t it, just like you two.” You told Amelia, looking at your two girls as they wore their outfits.

You pressed a kiss to both their heads, before picking up Charlie and resting her on your hip.

“Ready to go see mummy?” You questioned and Ami nodded straight away, Charlie babbling, clearly saying ‘mummy’ which happened to be the latest word she’d learnt to say.

—

The final whistle had blown, England had won the euros again.

Leah fell to the floor crying, as you watched her with tears streaming down your face.

“Mummy win!” Ami cheered, hugging Amanda, who was sat next to her.

Once Leah had celebrated with her teammates, you were the first one she went to.

She enveloped you in a hug, before kissing you deeply.

“I’m so proud, le. So so proud.” You whispered as you rested your forehead on hers.

“Thank you, love. Hi, baby girls.” Leah said, hugging Ami and taking Charlie in her arms.

“Mummy you won!” Amelia cheered again, as Leah nodded with a big smile, moving Charlie to one arm so she pick up Ami too.

She kissed both of them on their cheeks as they both laughed.

“Look at your dress, Charlie. Don’t you look gorgeous.” Leah said, looking at Charlie’s dress. “We’re good designers, aren’t we?” Leah joked, and you agreed.

“Mummy, we go on pitch? Me go see auntie lessi.” Amelia asked and Leah nodded, picking her up and heaving her over the barricade.

Beth then came over to take Charlie too, putting her on the floor and helping her walk over to the rest of the team.

“At least we know that if your career somehow ends suddenly, we know you can be a designer.” You joked, as Leah wrapped her arm around your waist pulling you closer.

“As long as you’re my business partner.” Leah said and you hummed.

“Of course.”

“Hey! Why does Ami have Russo on the back of her shirt?” Leah questioned, her jaw wide open as her signature frown, that both your daughters had, appeared on her face.

“Ami insisted that she wore auntie lessi’s shirt. I had to force her to wear a Williamson one before she walked out the tunnel. As soon as she got to the sidelines, she made me put her Russo one on.” You explained, watching Leah’s face turn red with anger.

You laughed at her anger, watching her jump the barrier before jogging over to Amelia.

“Amelia Williamson! Why have you got that shirt on? Amelia, don’t you run away.”

Ami then pushed Leah to the floor where the confetti was, coating her head to tow in confetti.

Leah gently took ami in her arms, pulling her down too.

Charlie came over laying down before rolling in it.

You couldn’t help but smile at the scene in front of you.

Your three girls laughing and smiling away.

“Y/N, come!” You heard Leah shout as she gestured for you to come to them.

You rolled your eyes with a smile, before jumping the barrier and walking to them.

Leah tackled you to the floor, you landing on top of her.

You smiled at her confetti covered face before leaning down and connecting your lips.

“Children here.” You heard Amelia say, resting her hands on her hips, before looking at Leah, the two of you laughing.

“She gets her attitude from you.” Leah told you, and you smacked her arm lightly.

“No she doesn’t.” You defended, standing up and resting your hands on your hips, just like Ami did.

“Really? I find that hard to believe.”

[desperate-gay]

i just want to suck Leahs strap. that’s it. please… you know what my request is now 👀

Throat

Leah Williamson x fem!reader

SMUT 18+

a/n: this is kind of inspired by @vixwritesagain payback fic

“Get down on your knees.”

Leah’s thumb rests on your bottom lip, tugging it down and letting it go with a slight pop. Your eyes look up at her in full innocence, completely letting down your facade from just minutes ago, but Leah doesn’t take any of it. Her hand tightly grips your jaw, almost forcing it open from how strong she’s squeezing, and pushes you down so you lower to the ground.

“When I tell you to do something, you do it. Understood?” Unspoken anger is laced in her tone, her voice full of rasp and pupils blown wide with lust.

You nod obediently and kneel right next to her, looking up at her while waiting for instructions. She begins to fumble with her pants, unbuttoning them so she can show you what she’s had hidden under them all night. Your eyes widen when you see a clear pink strap bounce out, Leah pumping it with her hand, turning you on even more.

“You’re going to suck on my cock until I feel satisfied.”

“I-I’ve never taken anything that big.”

The tremble in your voice is apparent but that only makes the tall girl above you smirk. You’ve only done it once and the toy was way smaller than this one, this one is new and big. Bigger than you’ve ever taken before, orally or any way.

She scoffs at your pathetic attempt to get out of it and gathers your hair in a ponytail, wrapping it around her wrist so she has a tight grip. “You act like a slut in front of all our friends so I’m going to treat you like one.”

Her hand forces your head to be face-to-face with the dildo. You let out a few shallow breaths to prepare yourself before licking a long stripe from the base to the head. Gently, you take the tip into your mouth and gently begin to suck, but the blonde above you impatiently tugs you further in, causing you to gag at the sudden intrusion.

Tears begin to prick your eyes as Leah guides your head to bop up and down, you gagging every time you get past the center of the toy.

“Just relax your throat, doll. Don’t think about it too much and take it.”

You do as she says, allowing it to slide all the way in with no gagging. Her hips start to rock into you while her hand also speeds up the pace of your mouth, making your hands grab her thighs for support.

“That’s it, take me in your slutty little mouth.” She groans, tilting her head back and twisting it, relieving the sore knots around her neck.

She pushes the strap in particularly harder than it has been, causing you to choke at the roughness but it doesn’t stop her one bit. Tears are now running down your cheeks, strings of saliva exiting your mouth from every thrust. When you try to pull away, her hand slaps your cheek, warning you to stay put. You whine at the stinging sensation and the throbbing mess between your legs.

“Just breathe through your nose. I didn’t say you were done yet.” She growls, beginning to move your head once again to continue your vigorous sucking.

Leah’s groans become more consistent, her receiving pleasure from both seeing you in this position and the harness rubbing up against her clit. With one final intake of the dildo, her legs slightly shake as her jaw slacks open. You keep the toy down your throat, waiting for her to do what she wants, not wanting to get punished further.

Her grip on your hair loosens after she pulls your mouth completely off the strap. A string of spit connects with your mouth and the head as you trail away. Leah affectionately grazes your cheek with her thumb, taking in your swollen red lips and watery eyes, looking down at you with nothing but admiration.

“You were so good to me, maybe I’ll let you cum tonight.” Her raspy voice cuts the silence in the room, the once silence that was filled with choking and wet noises.

You look up at her and nod, hoping she will take it into consideration to get you off. You don’t talk so you don’t get punished more, and, well, your voice might be a little scrappy after everything.

“Why don’t you stand up and lean against the window? I want to show everyone how much of a needy slut you are.”

[campingwiththecharmings]

Thaw

AN: Yeah. I wrote a Miguel O'Hara fic lmao many thanks to all the enablers that helped make this possible 😘❤️

(Un-beta’d) (barely proofread, apologies for any grammatical mistakes)

Being a leader isn't easy, and sometimes even Spider-Man needs someone else to take the lead.

Rated: M+ (this is smut so, i mean, you’ve been warned?) Words: 1,028 Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader Warnings: p in v, kissing, cockwarming, mild biting, sub!Miguel, soft!Miguel (I have not read any of the comics so, apologies if this is at all ooc) AO3

——————

You can always tell when the pressure is starting to get to him, when the weight of being the leader has become almost too much for him to bear. His temper is short most of the time anyway these days, but when he starts blowing up at every little thing, you know it’s time for you to step in. 

So, you do. 

And he lets you. 

His grasp on your hand is tight as you lead him to your shared apartment, squeezing your hand as if you’ll slip away if he lets go for even a second. Once inside, you lead him over to the couch, pausing to turn and look at him. He’s on edge, seemingly every muscle tense as you study him. You frown a little before positioning him so that his back is facing the couch. He doesn’t fight you, instead just watches you intently with his dark, red eyes. You place a hand on his chest and gently push him toward the couch, wordlessly telling him to sit. He does, eyes locked on yours as you follow, climbing into his lap, your knees bracketing his hips. 

His hands fall to your hips, his fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises as he tries to push your hips down onto his. You swallow a moan and lean in, your mouth hovering over his. 

“No, Miguel,” you tell him, voice soft.  

Understanding alights in his eyes after a moment and he sighs, his grip on your hips lessening as you lean in to kiss him. You start out soft and slow, your lips pressing lightly against his in gentle pecks. When you brush your tongue against the seam of his lips, he groans, the tension melting from his body as he parts them, allowing you to slip inside. You lick into his mouth, the points of his fangs catching against your tongue with every sweep, making you moan.  

You rut against his lap as you kiss, your movements unhurried. He’s completely pliant beneath you when you pull back, his eyes heavy-lidded when he opens them to look at you. 

“Take off your shirt,” you whisper, reaching for the hem of your own and pulling it over your head.  

You toss it and it hits the floor with a dull thud, Miguel’s shirt and your bra following shortly thereafter. He moans at the feel of your bare skin against his when you press into him again, reclaiming his lips in another soft kiss. You grind against him, enjoying the soft sighs and groans he lets slip with every brush of your clothed heat against his cock. His fingers lightly skim up and down your back and you shiver, your own delving into his hair.  

You take mercy on him when his groans begin to sound desperate and choked, your hips stilling as his hands clench and unclench against your back. You pull away, meeting his lust-blown eyes, and smile, reaching up to card your fingers through his hair. He leans into your touch, his sharp cheekbones brushing against the palm of your hand, and something inside your chest warms at the softness. You lean in, pressing your lips to his cheek, kissing your way back toward his ear where you tell him exactly what you have planned for him (“I’m gonna take you deep and ride you slow. Would you like that, baby?”). 

Once you’re both completely naked, you sink onto his length, his hands on your hips for support. You gasp against his lips as he bottoms out, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. He buries his face in your neck and groans as your body squeezes him.  

“That's it, good boy,” you soothe, smiling when his breath hitches. 

You moan when you start to move, your hips tilting, as you undulate slowly in his lap. He nips at your neck, his sharp bites sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body, disrupting your pace.  

“Touch me,” you breathe, bringing one of his hands to your breast. 

He sighs something in Spanish against your neck, his large hand squeezing your breast gently. His thumb teases your nipple as he pulls back, and you gasp, your cunt fluttering around his cock so hard he almost comes. The tension is back in neck again as he tries not to, his jaw clenching from the effort. You lean in to kiss him again, hips still rising and falling over him as your arms wrap around his neck.  

“It’s okay, baby, I want you to come,” you whisper, stroking the back of his head, your breath hitching as his cock hits that special spot inside you. “Want you to fill me up.” 

His groan is choked, almost broken, his hands clenching on your hips and you know he’s close. You pull back and cup his face in your hand, thumb swiping across his cheek. He looks at you with lust-glazed, pleading eyes, and you know he’s trying to hold out, that he wants you to come first. You smile softly at him, gently churning your hips. “Come for me.” 

He grunts, eyes rolling back, jaw slackening as he convulses beneath you, spending himself deep inside your warm cunt. You moan at the feeling, stilling your hips as he relaxes once more. He shivers a little as he comes down, burying his face in the crook of your neck with a sigh.  

“Need to feel you come around me, amor,” he murmurs, his voice slightly muffled as he mouths at your skin. “Please.” 

You bite your lip, heat already twisting in your gut again as you slip your hand down to your sex. You toy with your clit, rolling it between your fingertips, the delicious friction sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You come with a moan, shaking as your cunt squeezes his spent cock, dragging breathless groans from between his lips. You sag against him, burrowing into his chest as you come down, his strong arms holding you in place. 

“Better?” you slur, eyelids heavy as sleep threatens to take you. 

He presses a kiss to your head, humming as he tightens his arms around you. “Better.”

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

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[tkwrites]

Summer Decisions - Quinn Hughes x ofc

gif from gabelandeskog

Title: Summer Decisions - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts

Warnings: Highly emotional, angst. mild fighting, lots of anxiety, swearing, crying, fluff. If I missed anything, please let me know. 

Summary: An invitation to his family reunion over the fourth of July has Quinn and Sarah tumbling into a long conversation about their future in the off-season and beyond. Though the ensuing fight is resolved, the reality of their commitments vs. their love for each other is put to the test.

Word Count: 4,600

Comments: I’m back with some highly emotional goodness. This fic was halfway done for a long time until your overwhelming reactions to my WIP ask game really got me in gear to start writing again. I really like the way this turned out, and I hope you do, too. It's, like, 98% dialogue. So if that's not your thing, I won't be offended if you skip this one. But it is setting up all of our off-season fics.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. 

I love Quinn and Sarah, and I’m constantly blown away that so many of you love them, too.

Summer Decisions

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

“My parents want to know if you want to come to our family reunion over the 4th of July. It’s in New Hampshire.”

“Oh,” she said, voice quiet. 

“Is that not okay?” 

“It’s just a big step,” she said, “meeting your whole family.” 

“I’m meeting your family in June, aren’t I?” he asked.

They’d discussed him coming to visit when she went home for a few weeks after school. Were it not for the Canucks making it into the playoffs, she would have bought a ticket for the Monday after her classes would be done. Instead, she pushed her visit back until mid-June, wanting to be in Vancouver to support him through the entirety of their run, however long it may be.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” 

It was a little strange to her how comfortably serious they were, but she couldn’t imagine life with Quinn any other way. It was that fated belonging she’d talked about so much when they first met. Even still, it was a little jarring to think about him meeting her family or meeting his before they even hit the six month mark. 

The phrase, ‘when you know, you know,’ never made sense until she met him. She knew, and even though it felt too fast and scary sometimes, she knew it would all turn out okay. 

“So we’ll fly out from Van, what? The night before?”

“I’ll have to fly out from Michigan.” 

“Michigan? Why?” 

“I thought I told you we train in Michigan in the summer.”

“You did, but I thought… I thought maybe that changed?” 

“Why?” 

“Because of us?” she gestured between them. 

“I mean, I’d love for you to come with me.” 

“I can’t do that, Quinn.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t just pack up and move to Michigan. I still have my research work, and if I’m not working or in school for more than 6 weeks in a quarter, it violates my education visa. Not only will I have to move back to the States, I won’t be able to finish my degree.” 

“Then I’ll fly you out every weekend.” 

Pricked, the old wound split open, and she couldn’t quite hide the annoyance in her voice, “so it’s up to me to fly to you?” 

Shit. He hadn’t taken her schedule into account again. “Sorry, no. Of course I’d come here, too.”

The annoyance still fresh in her mind she found herself asking, “why do I have to remind you my time matters for you to take it into account?”

Quinn winced. “I know your time matters. I’m sorry, it’s not fair for me to assume you could just pack up and move or fly out every weekend.”

“Then don’t bring it up again,” she said. 

Okay then. 

“I’m trying here, Sarah. This is all new to me, too.” He’d never felt close enough with June to figure out a summer situation. They saw each other once or twice when he was gone, and that was enough. Looking back, that should have been a huge sign about the trajectory of their relationship.

“And yet, I assume because I have a vagina, I was raised to take other people into account.” 

“That’s not fair,” he said. 

“No? Then why do you always jump into me coming to you? Into me changing my plans? Into me inconveniencing my life before you do?” 

Fuck. This wasn’t supposed to go this way. This was supposed to be a nice, light conversation about how he wanted her to meet everyone he loved. 

“Maybe we should just break up for the summer,” she said when he didn’t say anything.  

“What? No!” Quinn sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, hurt and disgruntled she would even suggest such a thing. 

“What would you suggest, then?”

Instead of answering her question, he asked one of his own. “Do you want to date someone else?” His voice was hesitant as he braced himself for the blow. 

“No. Of course not.” 

“Then why do you want to break up?” he asked through the relief easing his mind. “Why would you even say that?” 

“Because we won’t be together.”

“That doesn’t mean we should just call it off. Why do you always jump into ‘we should break up’ or ‘I should go’ when something hard comes up?” 

“I…” Sarah broke off, caught. “I don’t know.” 

“Maybe you should figure that out because I’m willing to put in the work here,” he said, gesturing between them. 

“That’s not fair.”

He raised his eyebrows instead of throwing her words back in her face. 

“I’m sorry, Quinn. I am trying, and I know you’re trying.” Tears pricked at her eyes, “I’ve just…” her mind whirred, trying to find the right explanation. In the end, as it always did with Quinn, the truth won out. “I’m scared I’m going to fuck it up and I don’t want to lose you.” 

Bridging the space between them with one big step, he pulled her against him. When they boiled down to the heart of the problem, they were both scared of the same thing. 

Tucking his nose into her hair, he breathed in the calming, smokey scent that was uniquely hers. “I don’t want to lose you, either,” he said. “We can still be together. Just separately.”

A laugh snorted from her nose, and she pulled back, “what?” 

“Long distance?”

It was Sarah's turn to suck on her lip. “I’ve never done that before.”

“I have. It's not easy. But I think we're both committed enough to make it work. Plus, we'll see each other pretty often.”

She had her thinking face on as a pregnant pause passed, so Quinn didn’t interrupt.

“What would that look like?” she asked, finally. 

“We’d talk on the phone and video chat a lot. I can come see you every weekend.”

“That doesn't make sense, Quinn. You go to Michigan to train and be with family. If you're flying back here every weekend, won't that mess with those things?”

“Probably, but —”

“Then it's out of the question. You need to do what you need to do.” 

He felt whiplashed. “I thought you wanted me to come here.” 

“Only in equal measure to me coming to you. I won’t let you give up your summer training for me.” 

It stuck him how much care and understanding were laid out in that statement. 

“Just like I know you wouldn’t want me to give up my research for you. It wouldn’t be fair.” 

Still wrapped in each others arms, Sarah rested her head on his shoulder as they thought. 

Tucking his face into her hair again, Quinn breathed deeply. As always, that smokey, vanilla scent was so calming to him. He couldn’t ever get it out of his mind. 

“This fucking sucks,” he said, voice muffled.

“I know,” she agreed. “I wish it could be different."

It couldn’t. They both had commitments that needed to be fulfilled, and they just didn’t match up.

“I wish I’d known. I would have made different plans.” 

“How would you have known?” she asked. “We only met four months ago.” 

“Has it only been that long?” he asked. The reality of the swiftness of their relationship hit him full force. “I feel like I’ve known you forever.” 

“I know. I do too.” 

“I don’t want to go the summer without you,” he said, caressing her cheek with the backs of his fingers. 

“I don’t either,” she agreed, “but it’s not like it’ll be five months where we just don’t see each other.” 

“Four,” he corrected. 

“What?” 

“Four months, I come back in September.” 

Well, that was a relief. 

“Okay, four months. I mean, we already have stuff planned. Let’s talk through what we do have,” she suggested, breaking away from him all together and pulling her planner from her bag. Flipping to the summer months, she lay it on top of her comparative physiology textbook and sat at the table. The urge to make a plan itched beneath her skin. 

He sat next to her, leaning in.

“So we have my family in June,” she said, pointing out the 10 days she had blocked out for her visit, “I sort of expected you’d come on the weekend?”  

“Yeah, that sounds good. And our reunion over the forth,” he said, flipping the page. “Then, we’re going to Hawaii at the end of July. You can come. I’ll get you a ticket.” 

“Hold on, have you talked to your family about this?” 

“No, but it’ll be fine.” 

She shook her head. 

He couldn’t believe she was turning down the option to spend two more weeks together. 

“That’s your family vacation, Quinn. I’d love to come, but I don’t want to go inserting myself —”

“You’re not inserting yourself, I’m inviting you.” 

“And I’m telling you I won’t come unless all your family is okay with it. Including Jack.” 

Even though Quinn had assured her Jack was a good guy and very devoted to his family and would come around once they met, he was still aloof anytime she happened to be around when he and Quinn were talking. Even Ellen had said as much, but Sarah still felt hesitant. Until she saw it from Jack himself, she wasn’t about to jump into an already planned vacation. She knew what it was like having a new person join the family. She didn’t want to make it any harder than it had to be. 

Quinn huffed. 

“The last thing I want is to come between you and your brothers,” she said gently.

His expression softened. “Okay. I’ll talk to them about it when they’re here.”

“So, it looks like we’ll see each other every three weeks or so, depending on when you come to Nevada and what Hawaii looks like. At least until August.”

Every three weeks felt like too long. He could hardly stand a week on the road, and they weren’t even living together. Yet. 

“I’d like you to come out to Michigan,” he said, “meet the guys. See the house.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “And you can come back here sometime here,” she said, her finger circling over a few weeks in August. 

Quinn nodded. It certainly wasn’t going to be easy, but it did feel better to have a plan.

“Are you renting this place out for the summer,” she asked, “while you’re gone?”

“I kind of thought you might move in here.”

“What?” 

“I mean, it’s just going to be empty, and I’d really like to live with you when I move back.” 

She couldn’t believe he could drop such a huge bomb so easily. As she tried to reconcile what he was saying, she repeated, “what?” 

“I mean…” he paused, voice and expression suddenly hesitant, “only if you want to.” 

Her brain finally caught up, “it’s not that. It’s just…we haven’t even talked about living together, and now you have this whole plan about how I should live here over the summer.” 

“I just thought there’s no real need for you to pay for rent anymore, since you spend so much time here anyway.” 

“I…” she was struck with the care in that statement, “that’s really sweet, Quinn.” 

He beamed.

“But I can’t live here alone all summer.” 

Expression falling, he opened his mouth.

“I just —” she interrupted before she lost her nerve. What was one more in a series of already vulnerable conversations? “I’d love to live here with you, but I can’t…I don’t know how my depression will act up if I live alone for that long. I’ve never lived on my own before, and I don’t think a summer where I’m missing my boyfriend is the best time to start.” 

The thought that she’d be here alone hadn’t crossed his mind. Not in a concrete way. Like, he knew she’d be here, and he knew he’d be in Michigan, but he never thought about it like she would be the only one in the apartment.

“Oh,” he whispered, taking her hands in his, “then of course not.” 

His immediate acceptance made tears rush to her eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” Quinn asked as she took a hand back to wipe her face. 

Smiling despite the tears on her cheeks, she shook her head. “I just really love you.” Her voice sounded full, almost like she had a cold.

“I love you, too,” he said, feeling a little confused, “but I don’t know why you’re crying.” 

“Just…” How could she explain something like this? “The way you accept and trust my needs. It’s really nice.”

“The last thing I want is for you to be unhappy, Sarah.” 

This brought on a new wave of tears, and she tucked her head into his shoulder, trying to pull herself together. 

Quinn still felt a little whiplashed but tried to roll with it, running a soothing hand over her back. 

“What?” he asked when she mumbled something into his shirt. 

Pulling back, she wiped her nose before repeating, “I’ll have to sign a new lease. It comes up in July.” 

“I’ll buy you out of it,” he said as if it was the simplest, easiest solution to any of the problems they’d discussed that day. 

“I can’t let you do that, Quinn. That’s a lot of money.” 

He hated having this conversation, but it needed to be had. It was actually a little surprising to him that it’d taken this long for it to come up. June had asked him about it a month into dating.

“Sarah, I make eight million dollars a year. I can buy out your lease.” 

Her eyes went wide. They’d never discussed money so concretely. She knew he made big bucks. All pro athletes did, but, “eight million?” she asked. “What do you do with it?” 

“I have a financial advisor who’s helped me invest most of it,” he said, “and I don’t really have all eight million available all the time. But I paid off my parents and some of our families’ houses, and I give quite a bit to charity.” 

She’d seen the way he was with money. He never worried about it, but he certainly didn’t throw it at anything and everything. He wasn’t irresponsible. 

Opening her mouth to say something, she found her mind still reeling and closed it again. 

The annoyed look he would give her when she paid the dinner bill flashed in her mind. No wonder. He made so much more than she did. All the same, she wasn’t about to become some sugar baby. That went against nearly everything her parents had taught her.

“I still want to pull my weight,” she said.

Quinn was a little taken aback by the fierceness in her voice, “what?” 

“If we move in together, I still want to pull my weight.” 

His lips pursed, and he held back his initial response in favor of gathering more information. “What do you mean?” 

“Like, if I make $80,000 a year, I want to pay whatever percentage that is of what you make.”

“You only make $80,000 a year?” he asked. 

“No. Right now, I make $50,000 a year from my research stipend. It pays for my schooling, too, so it’s technically more, but $80,000 is a general base salary for a marine zoologist.” 

“You’ve been living on $50,000 a year?” 

“Yes, and I’ve been fine,” she said, giving him a look that stifled any follow-up questions he may have had. “My point is that if —” she paused to correct herself, “when we live together,” he beamed and she lost her thought for a moment before continuing, “I want to pull my weight, even if it is just a small percentage of the household. I don’t want to be some beholden trophy wife.” 

“Beholden?” he repeated, an amused smile playing on his lips.

“Yes, I don’t want to be some kept woman. A lot of financial advisors that I listen to say you should split the household and each pay the percentage compared to your salaries. How much do you pay here a month? Do you rent? Is it a mortgage?” 

“It’s a rental. It’s not really smart for me to buy a place when there’s a chance I may get traded in three years. It’s not enough time to build adequate equity on a home.” 

Sarah stuck a mental pin in that to come back to, “and how much is your rent?” 

“12,000.” 

“A year?” she found herself asking, even though she knew that couldn’t possibly be the answer.  

“A month,” he said with an indulgent smile, knowing it was her shock speaking more than anything else.

She wasn’t quite sure why, but this fact struck Sarah harder than anything else they’d talked about. She knew she’d never be able to afford an apartment like this on her own, but this was insane. More than a fifth of her yearly salary went to Quinn’s rent each month. She counted herself lucky to find a private room for under $2000.

“Okay, so if I make,” she paused, doing mental calculations - moving decimal points. Her voice was flat when she spoke again, “one percent of what you do…” She trailed off, looking into his face, “Quinn, this is insane.” 

“I know,” he agreed. “I’m happy to just pay, but if you would feel better paying whatever, I’m happy for you to do that, too.” 

 “So, I’d pay one percent of the household expenses.” Saying it out loud, it sounded so silly. One percent? That seemed minuscule, too insignificant to matter. “Maybe I could pay ten percent? One feels too tiny.”

“Sure,” Quinn said, knowing this was important to her. Unless she was storming in, trying to take over all the bills, he was happy to have her contribute in whatever way she wanted. “If you want to do that, let’s do that. Whatever you’re comfortable with.” 

They sat quietly for a moment, and he gathered his thoughts.

“I know it’s important to you to contribute,” Quinn said gently, “and I’m not saying you shouldn’t - but I just want you to know I’m happy to pay for things. I know I’m insanely blessed to make the kind of money I do to play a sport that I love. I’d really, really like to live together once I move back. So if that means I need to buy out your lease, I’m happy to do it if you’re comfortable with that.”

Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, she thought. If Quinn paid off her lease, she wouldn’t have to put off moving in with him or live on her own in this giant apartment or find a place to live for the two months between when he was home and when her lease was up. 

She wondered if this was one of those instances her grandmother often talked about. “Sometimes,” she would say while they were cleaning the basement or kneading dough, or working in the garden, “life showers you with blessings. And it’s up to you to catch them.” 

She always accompanied this wisdom by shaping her hands into a bowl as if to fill them with water. 

Sarah did the same now, pulling her other hand out of Quinns to cup them together. 

Eyebrows knitted together, he glanced from her hands to her face. 

She giggled and told him the story. 

“I should start doing that every morning,” he said, cupping his own hands together. 

“Every morning?” she repeated. 

“Well, every morning that you’re here. When I wake up next to you, I feel like the luckiest guy alive.” 

Despite it being incredibly cheesy, Sarah couldn’t help feeling moved. “Quinn that’s really sweet,” she said. “I feel like that, too,” she paused, feeling like she needed to add a caveat. “And I want you to know your money isn’t part of that. I would love you no matter how much money you were making.” 

“I know,” he said, leaning in to brush his lips over hers, “I’ve known that from the start.” 

His hands found her waist as their lips connected. 

A while later, that pin she’d stuck in for later snapped back into her mind, and Sarah pulled away. “What did you mean about getting traded?”

Well, they might as well have all the hard conversations all at once. “I’m in contract for the next three years, but after that, or even before, there’s always a chance I could get traded.” 

The trade deadline had already passed for the season, and Sarah had watched, fascinated, as players were moved around from club to club, like pieces on a chess board as organizations tried to build the best teams possible. Now, she had a new level of understanding, knowing lives and families were being uprooted in the process.

“But they love you here.”

His smile was wide and genuine, “I love it here, too. I don’t really expect I’d be traded anytime soon, but I can’t say never with what I do. I could get seriously injured, or my game could crash.” 

She gave him an incredulous look. 

“Its happened before.” 

“To you?” 

“No, but it has to people I know. I really like it here, but I can’t guarantee I’ll play here forever, or even for the next three years. I think I will, but I can’t say for certain.”

“What happens if you get traded while I’m still finishing my degree?”

“I don’t think that will happen, but I guess we’d make it work apart until you were done. Most players get traded right at the end of their contract, so we’d be apart for the rest of the season, and then we’d decide what to do moving forward. If I was moving clubs by choice, we’d decide where to go together. ”

She nodded. “Do you get any say in trades?” 

“I think I probably would, but it doesn’t always work out that way. I mean, Bo had a monster year last season, but they couldn’t come to an agreement, and so he got traded, and I know he would have liked to stay. It’s just never guaranteed.” 

“How do you live your life like this?” she asked. 

He shrugged, “you just kind of have to get used to the idea that things could change tomorrow.” 

“That sucks.”

“Yeah.” 

The concerns his parents had expressed when they were here snapped into place, and a sudden, consuming worry that she might not want this kind of life overwhelmed him.

“Are you,” he paused to lick his lips, trying to find the right phrasing, “I mean, do you think you could be okay with that?” 

Even as it was racing with anxiety, the worried look on his face melted Sarah’s heart. It was difficult to reconcile the fact that while it felt steady now, his life had the possibility of being in flux all the time, and that where he chose to work was only partially up to him. At the same time, she didn’t want to be without him. The pull between them was too strong, too fated in a way she couldn’t deny. She was too in love with him to be scared of the reality of his life. 

There was only one thing for it. “It’ll take some getting used to, but I think I can,” she said. Perhaps this wasn’t even something she needed to be worried about. Thoughts buzzing, she tried to think of players on Quinn’s level who’d been traded recently. She couldn’t remember any off the top of her head. She’d have to look it up. 

He gave her a relieved smile, and she saw moisture shining in his eyes. 

“Oh, Quinn,” she said, her hands coming up to cup his face. The course hairs of his beard tickled her palms. “I think I’d probably move to the ends of the earth with you.” The words just fell out of her mouth, and once they were out there, spoken aloud for everyone to hear, she realized how true they were. For someone so practical, it was strange for her to have such a frivolous thought mean so much. 

His face split into a beaming smile, and he pulled her into a hug. Tucking his nose into her hair again, he let a few grateful tears fall. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you,” he said. 

“I don’t know either.” 

A sudden, surprised laugh barked from his chest, and he pulled back with a raised brow.

“Oh no,” her hand went to her mouth as a blush blazed over her cheeks. “I meant that I feel the same way.” Shaking her head, she wondered if she had ever said something so stupid. “You’re the most understanding, accepting man I’ve ever met, Quinn. I’m so glad the Universe brought us together.” 

He nodded, “me too.” 

Looking into his eyes, which seemed more hazel than usual to the point that she could almost see a ring of green near the iris, the reality of what was coming hit her square in the chest, “this summer is gonna fucking suck.” 

“I know,” he said, pulling her into his lap. 

Arms around his shoulders to bring herself closer, her feet hung awkwardly off the sides of the chair. Though she knew her toes would be tingling from lack of blood flow within a matter of minutes, she didn’t readjust, savoring the feeling of his solid chest against hers. 

The deep breath she sighed out moved her whole body against his. “We’ll get through it together, right?” 

Tightening his grip, Quinn agreed. 

As the minutes passed, his hands traveled over her back in slow, calming waves that put her totally at ease. 

“Do you have homework?” he asked quietly, almost as if he didn’t want to hear the question himself. 

“Yeah, but it can wait a while.”

A pleased little hum filtered up his throat, and he pulled her tighter against him. 

“Can we move to the couch, though?” she asked. “My feet are falling asleep.” 

Laughing, he stood, hands cradling her butt to keep her wrapped around him. When she hooked her ankles around his back, Quinn filed the position away to try later. 

Halfway up the stairs, Sarah unwound herself from him. Sure, he was an athlete, but carrying her up the stairs was still taking a toll. 

She lay down on the suede couch and held her arms open for him. He gratefully lay on top of her, his head on her chest. 

Running her fingers through his hair, Sarah replayed their relationship in her mind. Knowing what she knew now, both about Quinn’s celebrity status and his quiet nature, the fact that he came up to her at all was a miracle. He could have any woman in the city, and he’d stuck his neck out for her. It was overwhelming to think about sometimes. She hoped she was living up to his expectations. 

Half an hour later, Quinns phone chirped with a notification, bringing them out of their sleepy reverie. By that time, they’d switched places, and Sarah was draped over him. 

“It’s 6,” he whispered into her hair. “I’ve got to get up to make dinner.”

Even as she whined, Sarah pushed herself up. This soft, caring version of Quinn was always her favorite, and she didn’t want to let him go. “I love you,” she said, looking down at him.

“I love you, too,” he said, standing and hugging her to him again before they had to get back to real life.

Her arms tightened around him. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you, Quinn Hughes, but I’m so glad you’re mine.” 

Tucking his face into her neck, he pressed a few soft kisses there before telling her, “Sarah Roberts, you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[haztobegood]

This 28th comes with the heaviest of hearts. Over the past few days I've been finding comfort in the many, many ways Liam's memory will live on in the thousands of stories we have, so I wanted to share a few fics I love that feature Liam.

🦕 Hot Zauce by wemadethishome @theeliampayne (NR, <1k, OT5, fluff)

Zayn gets Liam, Niall, Harry, and Louis to try his homemade hot sauce.

🦕 The In-Between by LadyAJ_13 @ladyaj-13 (G, 2K, OT5 friendship, afterlife)

“You wake up in a desert with an angel, a demon and a grim reaper-” “-and the accounts manager!” “-yes, alright Liam, and the accounts manager - and you haven’t realised you’re dead?”

🦕 Hesitate by allwaswell16 @allwaswell16 (E, 2k, Liam/Louis, childhood friends to lovers, college au)

He’d always been in love with Louis. From the time he was old enough to understand attraction, he’d been attracted to Louis, not that he’d been ready to do anything about it at the time. Instead, he’d just supported him like a best friend should. He was there for Louis when he came out to his mom. He was there for Louis when he landed the leading role in the school play. He was there for him when Louis didn’t have a date for the prom. He was there when Louis got his heart broken. And he waited. He’d waited until he couldn’t stand to wait any more. A college au where Liam and Louis went from childhood friends to lovers to exes and back again.

🦕 The Grundy County Drag Show Incident by haztobegood (T, 3k, Liam/Zayn, drag show, gay awakening)

The instrumental opening of Beyoncé’s Halo filled the bar, and the crowd clapped in time to the beat. Holding a wireless mic in her gloved hand, Veronica Stardust owned the stage. She was one of the most vocally talented drag queens in the Midwest. Harry and Louis had seen this act a few times before and were always blown away at the power of her voice. Liam, however, was just experiencing it for the first time. He didn’t know what was yet to come.

🦕 Rising to the Occasion by LadyAJ_13 @ladyaj-13 (G, 4k, OT5 friendship, Great British Bake Off)

The camera pans across lush parkland to highlight a white tent, crisp and blinding in the spring sunshine. Four people cross the green lawn, elbows knocking until one is shoved to the side. The camera shot changes, zooming in on the same four figures lined up in cream aprons. “We’re One Direction,” they say, with cheesy grins and almost in unison. “And this is The Great British Stand up to Cancer Bakeoff!”

🦕 I Said It Wrong, But I Meant It Right by lululawrence @lululawrence (NR, 4k, Liam/Nick Grimshaw, genderswapped, firefighter!Liam)

Nick was a bit of a disaster, but she was used to it. Or so she thought. She had never known how much she could struggle just to function until the new fire lady goddess angel person winked at her.

🦕 For One of the Least of These by LadyLondonderry @londonfoginacup (G, 6k, OT5 friendship, witches, roommates)

“Sorry,” says Harry. “The fox has a curse?” He looks back toward the living room, suddenly feeling like at any moment some sinister force is going to come rushing through and attack them. He doesn’t like curses. Even the oven freaks him out a bit. “Correction,” says Niall. “The fox is the curse. He’s human, I can tell.” “Whoa,” says Liam. “You just let a cursed human loose in our house?” “Well I wasn’t going to leave him out there, was I?” Niall asks, looking at Liam like he’s daft again. “It’s freezing out there!” Or, the one where Harry, Liam, Niall and Zayn are witches and Louis is the fox with a curse.

🦕 bad luck to talk on these rides by wordsnnotes @quelsentiment (G, 10k, Liam&Louis, Liam/Zayn, first meetings and awkward conversations)

“So… how did you and Zayn meet exactly?” Louis turned to look at him, and Liam flinched under his somewhat cold stare. “What, Zayn hasn’t told you? I’m offended, I’ll have to have a word with him.” Liam genuinely couldn’t tell if Louis was joking or not. He squirmed a little under the pressure. “No, I mean, he did. Just thought it would be interesting to have your own perspective on it, I guess.” “Why? Are you conducting some kind of investigation? Want to know if our stories match up or something?” Liam nervously chuckled, keeping his eyes on the road. “What? No, of course not.” He shot a glance at Louis, who raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything else, as if waiting for Liam to explain. But what's there to explain? he thought, half panicking. He only wanted to be friendly, goddammit. Or: Liam just started dating Zayn and is desperate to make a good impression on Louis, his best friend. But things are off to an awkward start.

🦕 Singing Harmonies in Neverland's Embrace by zanni_scaramouche @zanniscaramouche (M, 21k, Liam/Harry, famous/not famous, omegaverse)

Two minutes and seventeen seconds. That’s all it took. Liam wasn’t there, he’s only read the reports. He doesn’t know if Harry’s heart sounded the same as it does now, rapid and high strung. If Harry had frozen at the scent of Zayn’s blood. If Harry had screamed, or gasped, or cried. Liam wasn’t there, and he’s determined to make sure he never finds out what Harry does when one of his bodyguards takes a knife to the chest.

🦕 You Don't Have To Be Lonely This Christmas by LadyLondonderry @londonfoginacup (T, 35k, Liam/Zayn, Christmas, library, roommates)

Louis knew that it would happen sooner or later. He was struggling, and his roommates weren’t. It only made sense for them to offer his place in the house to someone else. But now, it’s the first of December, and he has less than a week to find somewhere cheap to stay. At least until after the holidays. Enter: an old friend with an old house and a suspiciously empty bed. Happy Christmas, here’s to many more.

🦕 not even a landslide or riptide could take it all away by we_are_the_same @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed (M, 49k, Liam/Zayn, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort)

When Liam was younger he used to daydream about fame, but right now he wishes he was still fourteen and naive enough to think that the things that people would have to say about him were nice. But he’s not fourteen. He’s twenty eight and for the past decade he’s grown accustomed to being a commodity, being on display. He’s had more media training than he can remember, but no amount of training could have prepared him for what’s been coming at him in the past few hours, for the judgment, the memes and the laughter. For the way that he’s suddenly become theirs now in a way that he’s never been, not even at the height of fame. When Liam gets outed via sextape, his whole world collapses around him. In the midst of all the chaos, an unexpected lifeline appears in the form of a DM from Zayn: If you find yourself needing to escape, go here. Even though they haven’t talked in years, Liam is just desperate enough to go. He doesn’t expect to find himself on a farm in the middle of nowhere, face to face with a man he hasn’t seen in years, but who somehow looks more familiar to him than the face he sees when he looks in the mirror.

🦕 Live a Thousand Lifetimes by Layne Faire (HisDarlin) @laynefaire (E, 58k, Liam/Zayn, exes to lovers, future fix-it fic)

It’s 2025. After secretly writing and producing their first album in ten years, One Direction is weeks away from releasing their first new single and announcing a world tour. With the whirlwind about to begin again, Liam re-evaluates the last ten years - the fame, the money, the people who changed his life forever - and the person who walked away.

🦕 Crawling on Your Shores by juliusschmidt @juliusschmidt (E, 67k, Liam/Harry, strangers to lovers, small towns and aliens)

"You're a mechanic?" Liam nods. Harry gives him another long, appraising look. This time it lingers on his hands. "Your nails are clean." The tips of Liam's fingers tingle. "Got laid off a month ago." "Sorry to hear that." Harry smiles, soft and small. ~ Liam is searching for direction, purpose, connection, and, ultimately, himself. Harry is searching for aliens.

🦕 Influenced. by zita17, zmmf @louisandtheaquarian @zaynmaliksmiddlefinger (E, 353k+ WIP, Liam/Zayn, famous/not famous)

When Louis Tomlinson goes to bed on New Year's Eve, he is *not* prepared to wake up to a job offer that's layered in more NDAs than he's ever seen courtesy of ZAYN, A-list pop star and Louis’ best friend Liam's celebrity crush. But what is Louis even less prepared for? Zayn's Very! Enthusiastic! Influencer! boyfriend Harry Styles. When Harry Styles signs on to become Zayn’s fake boyfriend, he's expecting 12 months of good press and a generous paycheck to help launch his hair and skincare line—he wasn't expecting to fall in love at first sight with the man who'll apparently be following Zayn around All. The. Damn. Time. The Entire Year. A fake dating with a twist, famous/not-famous, enemies to friends to secret lovers au where Larry and Ziam fall in love behind the scenes while Zarry bicker in public.

Part 2 of my favorite Liam fics

[hitomisuzuya]

Hi suzu!! I’m so glad you feel better 😭😭

Diving into your requests bc the way you wrote the Diluc virginity fic was SO GOOD and I was wondering if you’d be down to do one for wanderer too 👀👀 LOVE AND APPRECIATE U ALWAYS - ww after dark

Wanderer x Virgin!fem!reader. Smut. Some slight degradation. Cunilligus. Soft smut at first.

Hello, dear ❤️ I wrote this extra love and affection. Thanks so much for all your support. I really appreciate it. I hope you enjoy. I will write for you anytime.

Wanderer's hands were gentle on your body, his fingers brushing featherlight between your thighs before he gently caressed them. You shivered, goosebumps raising on your skin.

He smirked up at you with approval as he nudged his nose against your clit, swirling his tongue slowly around the swelling nub. If he had it his way, and he would because he always got what he wanted, you would always shiver from his touches.

Especially tonight.

It was your first time. Wanderer couldn't have pinned you down onto the bed fast enough when you said you were ready. That you wanted, no, you needed him. All of him.

Of course he had waited patiently for you to say you were ready. Consent was important to him, which was a given considering he had gotten little chance to consent to anything in the past.

It was taking everything he had not to totally dominate you right where you lay. What could he say, he was a selfish guy. But he knew he could be overwhelming, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

Your back arched off the bed, whimpering in a way that was starting to drive him crazy as you pushed his face down onto your cunt. "Please, Scara," You squirmed underneath him, bucking your hips into his mouth.

Wanderer laughed softly into your cunt. "Already begging for me. What a whore," He sighed in bliss, sucking on your clit. It took him a moment to realize what he had done.

He froze, looking up at you, hoping that he hadn't just blown all of this straight to hell. He wouldn't blame you in the slightest if you pushed him away right now.

Instead, he was delighted by your reaction. You looked down at him with flushed cheeks. "Do that again," You said, making a pleasant shiver dance up his spine.

"Hmm?" Wanderer purred, vibrating it on your clit before giving it a few appreciative suckes. "You like being called a whore?" He didn't think his smirk could've gotten any wider.

He'd always known you were one in a million. A rare find. And this only proved it even more.

You cried out, tugging on his hair, grinding needily into his mouth. "Y-yes, if it's you calling me that."

Wanderer laughed softly, his fingers spider walking up your thighs to your hips, gripping them a little tighter as he held your cunt against his mouth. "What a whore," He enjoyed the way your cheeks flushed darker, whimpering when your walls clamped empty around nothing.

He swirled his tongue between your walls, wanting to hear you cry out louder for him before he sat up and wiped his mouth. Crawling up your body, he lined his leaking, hard cock up with your entrance.

Placing a soft kiss on your lips, he looked down at you checking to see if it was okay. You nodded, hooking a leg over his hip to urge the head up of his cock inside of you.

"Fuck me, Scara," You pleaded. He moaned huskily, reaching down to rub your clit as he pushed himself slowly inside of you. You wrapped your arms around him, your body tensing in pain for a few moments before you relaxed.

His cock throbbed with anticipation, waiting patiently for you to adjust. You wrapped one leg around him, rolling your hips up to let him know you were okay.

Wanderer's thrusts were slow, and gentle, gradually kissing your sweet spot in a way that made your head spin as you writhed beneath him. You clung to him, cry out louder and louder for him with each thrust.

"Scara, Scara, Scara," You chanted his name like a mantra, the knot of your orgasm starting to tighten, threatening to burst. "Harder, please. Faster," You were babbling by this point.

Archons, you've never looked sexier to him than you did right now (you had, plenty of times but he was getting swept up in the moment). His hips suddenly snapped into yours, his hold on your hip turning possessive.

Wanderer hissed in pleasure, his body quivering when you walls clamped consistently around his cock. Hearing you start to choke back sobs of pleasure, he knew you were close.

And so was he.

He reached down to rub your clit to user in your orgasm faster. He wanted to hear you scream in pleasure for him when you cummed hard on his cock. But he needed to know one important thing first.

"Can I cum inside of you?" He groaned, feeling his cock throb with impending release.

"Mmm-ah-please!" You cried out, bucking your hips needily, no desperately up into his, "cum inside of me."

Your words sent him reeling, his hips snapping almost mindlessly into yours as he leaned down to capture your lips in a passionate, open mouthed kiss.

Your scream of pleasure against his mouth never sounded sweeter, your body convulsing slightly as the knot of your orgasm snapped apart, sending your release to gush over his cock.

His fingers never left your clit, nursing you through your orgasm until his cum painted your walls for the first time. You felt your cheeks heat when some of his cum leaked out onto your thighs.

His teeth nipped at your lower lip. "You look so cute when you are intimately embarrassed," He teased, his hips slowing to a stop when your walls no longer fluttered around his cock.

You put your a hand on his cheek, nuzzling your cheek against his neck. "Please tell me we aren't done," You gazed up at him expectedly, your eyes hazy and cloudy in a fucked out expression that was breathtaking to him.

Wanderer wasted no time thrusting his cock back inside of you, especially when you said, "Don't hesitate to be a little rougher with me."

[tinypandacakes]

I wanted to say thank you for all the sweet words about my surgery/recovery! I was blown away by all the kind messages I received 🥹 I am feeling very loved and supported right now 💕

It might go without saying but I am just putting it out there so I don’t get a bunch of asks tomorrow — but I will not be updating any fic this weekend. It’s been nice to focus on myself and relax and not be constantly moving from one thing to the next🐇

hopefully next week I’ll get back on track, if I’m feeling up to it~

[writethrough]

Fill In the Cracks

(Steve Harrington x Gender-Neutral Reader)

Synopsis: There's no way someone like Steve would love you. It's only a matter of time before he forgets you.

Warnings: Self-deprecation, feelings of unworthiness, angst to fluff, language

Word Count: 2016

A/N: In celebration of 500+ followers, here is my Steve fic you voted on! Admitted, this is not the original one I had in mind, but one I thought of this idea, I couldn't stop. I hope you enjoy it! And thank you to those who have supported my writing. I'm truly blown away by your kindness.

Watching Steve flirt with every woman who enters Family Video may kill you. Not because he sucks at it—god, he’s such a dork, all faux suave and big eyes. You don’t know how any woman could turn him down. You fluster just from witnessing it.

No, you’ll end up six feet under because he never flirts with you.

It’s pathetic how you crave his attention when nothing will ever happen between you.

Still, you wait for the moments when his eyes turn to you. The ones where he throws you a smile or pulls you in for a hug. He’s always so warm…

He has this unbelievable ability to make you feel safe. And you can’t recall a time that's ever happened.

But it doesn’t matter how you feel.

Steve will never give you the looks you want. Or the flirty smiles. Or the relationship he’s constantly seeking out.

You’re only you.

“I should really get a new sign,” Robin sighs loudly, shaking you from your thoughts. “The board would already be full.”

You’re thankful she’s distracted with teasing Steve, or else she may notice how you zoned out while she was talking.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Steve says. “I suck.”

You try to give him the best sympathetic smile you can muster, but you know it doesn’t reach your eyes.

His head tilts slightly, but Robin pushes the cart toward him before he can say anything.

“It’s your turn to stock. There are some new tapes in the back,” she says.

He rolls his eyes but takes the cart without complaint and walks to the back room.

Robin leans her elbows on the counter and raises an eyebrow.

“You okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you ask.

“You just had to watch that.” She gestures to where Steve had stood. “Granted, it was bad. I’m sure it wasn’t fun.”

“I don’t get what you’re talking about, Robin.” Surely she doesn’t know…does she?

“I’m talking about your massive crush on a certain employee here,” she says. “And I’m not talking about Keith or me.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “How did…How did you know?”

“You looked like a kicked puppy when he started talking.” Her tone is gentle as she levels you with a look.

You fiddle with your fingers. “It’s not like it matters.”

“What doesn’t matter?”

You meet her gaze, and she really has no idea what you’re talking about.

“How I feel,” you whisper. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course, it matters.” She matches your volume. “If you like him, you should tell him.”

You shook your head. “And embarrass me? Make everything weird between us? No.”

“That’s assuming he doesn’t feel the same,” she says.

“He just got done flirting with another woman. In what world does that mean he likes me back.” There’s a slight tingle in your nose, and you blink a few times before the tears can come.

“Maybe he’s thinking the same as you are: he doesn't want to make things awkward.” Her tone is reassuring and hopeful. Her heart is in the right place, but you know better.

“C’mon, Robin, it’s not like I’m anything special.” You say it as if it’s obvious. “I’m not the type of person guys give a second look, let alone love. I’m just…I’m just here.”

Her brow furrows. “What do you mean you’re ‘just here?’” She doesn’t give you room to respond. “You’re my best friend! Do you think anyone else could put up with me?”

“What about Steve?” You raise an eyebrow in challenge.

“Steve is Steve. But you are my ride or die.” She levels you with a look. “Don’t give me any of that ‘I’m unlovable’ crap. You are the kindest, most considerate person I know! You literally fight monsters and have saved every one of our asses—multiple times!”

You open your mouth, but she’s on a roll.

“And as for those guys you’re referring to—fucking dumbasses. If they can’t realize how amazing you are, then fuck’em. Well…not really. But you know what I mean!”

You feel a little awkward that you caused her to say all that, but mostly, you’re touched. And your feet are carrying you over to her before you can register what’s happening.

You pull her into a hug, holding back tears.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“Anytime,” she says, wrapping you in her arms. Like the action alone will convince you of her words.

You both slowly separate, her hands resting on your shoulders.

“We all love you. You’re important to us. And if you ever need reminding, tell me, okay?” she asks.

You nod. “Okay.”

—

Steve’s chest hurts.

He heard everything.

He’s in the back, ready to come out with more videos to stack when he hears you talking to Robin.

And all he wants to do is burst out and make you realize how wrong you are.

How could you think you’re forgettable?

How could you think you’re unlovable?

Especially when he’s right here? When he’s completely gone for you?

He wants to kick himself for flirting with that girl and everyone before her. He should have just told you how he feels.

He nods along to Robin’s reassurances, urging his agreement to somehow ease your mind.

He has to do something.

You deserve the world. You deserve to know how much he values you—how much you mean to him. That he returns your feelings.

Just the thought of being with you sends his heart skyrocketing. He would think he’s dreaming if it weren’t for how you spoke about yourself.

After your conversation ends, he waits ten minutes before emerging from the back.

He throws you a smile, your words still echoing in his head. And as he shelves tapes, he decides it’s finally time he tells you.

—

You hang around Family Video until Steve clocks out. Tonight’s your weekly pizza and movies. And despite your little confession with Robin, you’ll never rob yourself of alone time with Steve.

You watched two movies and ate half of the pizza when you took a break to stretch your legs.

Steve sets up in front of the sink, and you grab a dish towel without a word. An additional part of your ritual.

You can tell by the way he moves something’s bothering him. He’s been off all night.

In these quiet moments, you know you’ll get an honest answer.

“Do you need to talk about something?” you ask, drying the first plate.

He doesn’t glance at you or indicates he even heard you. Just scrubs the nonexistent sauce from the dish.

You run the towel over the plate again, so you’re not standing there looking at him, so you’re not pressuring him to tell you.

He hesitates a second before he speaks.

“I heard you earlier,” he says, washing the dish in his hand. “With Robin.”

You freeze mid-swipe, your conversation flashing through your head. Then continue just so your hands are doing something.

“...And?”

He wouldn’t bring it up if he didn’t want to fight you on it. You know him too well. Steve is sweet, too sweet for his own good sometimes. You never wanted him to know your feelings.

“...Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks as gently as ever. He could’ve been settling your fears. 

He could’ve been telling you he loves you for years.

You shrug as if you don’t know, putting the plate away.

He sighs when you don’t elaborate.

“You aren’t forgettable.” He turns to you. “You could never be.”

You let out a humorless laugh through your nose. “Tell that to my friends from kindergarten. Or elementary school. Or maybe the ones from middle—”

“I will never forget you. I don’t care about those dickheads you called friends. It’s their loss.” His jaw clenches. “You matter to all of us.” You matter to me.

You don’t let his words penetrate. You can’t because once you do, he's bound to leave. So, you swing the hammer and embed another nail in the wall.

“Like I haven’t heard that before,” you whisper, eyes closed, waiting.

You can hear his hands form fists, his teeth grind, and you want to hide. Away from his anger, his disappointment.

But when he speaks, his tone isn’t angry. It’s soft, disbelieving…

…heartbroken.

“I don't get why you think you’re so hard to love.”

You swallow, still avoiding his gaze. If you look at him, your floodgates will break.

“Because I am,” you whisper. And you can’t help how refreshing your honesty is. It’s addicting. “Who in their right mind would love me?”

What sorry, self-sabotaging, blind person will ever love someone as flawed as you? How could anyone see any value in all your cracks and chips?

Broken things are thrown away. Love doesn’t come to something past its prime.

“I do,” he says. “I do. Everyday.”

Your brow furrows, mind coming to a screeching halt.

He can’t be serious.

He’s reassuring you. Saying he loves you as a friend. Nothing more.

Because Steve Harrington can do better. So, how could he love you?

“I’ve loved you for a long time now. And it’s been the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” He swallows, unnerved by your silence.

He waits, knowing he may have ruined the best thing that’s happened to him. But he had to tell you. You have to know that you’re everything to him.

You finally, finally meet his eyes. They’re watering, and he wants to take you in his arms and protect you. But the last thing he wants is to scare you, to push himself on you if you don’t feel the same. 

“Do you…Do you mean it?” you whisper, desperation clear in your tone. You're too fragile to care.

“Of course I mean it.” He steps toward you. “I’ve meant it for the past two years.”

Your eyes widen. “Years?” You barely get it out.

He nods. “Just waiting for you to realize.” He can feel the energy shifting. You’re out of your head. “Didn’t know I’d have to spell it out for you.” He huffs good-naturedly

You breathe out a laugh of disbelief. “Of course, you’d have to spell it out! How the hell was I supposed to know you love me?”

All those girls come to both of your minds. It makes him sick.

“I’m a coward,” he says.

You tilt your head as if to say, “No, you’re not.”

He only shrugs, a fond smile on his face. “You always tease me and ask if I have my eye on someone. And I’ve never lied to you.”

“You also never asked anyone o—“ You slowly realize what he means. “Me?”

He nods. “You.”

You're silent long enough that it makes him nervous. But all you can think about is how much time you’ve wasted not being with him in the way you want.

“So there you go, not unlovable.” He rocks on the balls of his feet.

And it’s that nervousness that makes you realize you have yet to respond.

“I love you, too, Steve.” And once again, honesty is addicting.

“Really?” He grins, all big and bright.

You nod, a shy smile on your face. “Really. I’d have to be crazy not to.”

He carefully takes your hands, dragging his thumbs over your knuckles, memorizing your softness.

“So I love you. You love me. Is it safe to say you’re officially mine?” He bites his lip. You want to pull it free.

“I think so,” you tease. “Unless you want to wait another two years.”

He shakes his head frantically, though the smile is still there. “No, no, definitely not.” He clears his throat. “So…can I kiss you now?”

He’s already leaning in, too eager to care if he’s coming off too excited.

You hum softly, meeting him halfway.

It’s everything you imagined it would be. Soft and warm, a minty sweetness from that spray Steve keeps in his pocket, and gentle. As he always is with you—like you’ll shatter if he presses too hard. But you want to break this time because he will help put everything back together.

Taglist: @bookshelf-dust, @steph-speaks

If you'd like to be added to any tag lists, please message me or comment with the character you'd like to be updated on.

[familyvideostevie]

hey.

okay. hello! i'm back. :)

maybe you noticed, maybe not, but i have been away for a while.

i wish i could say i've been out living my life, so caught up in happiness and joy and loving each day that i've just not had time for tumblr. but....that is not true. i have been having a tough time! being away has been good, as i've had time to do other things that i like and to put energy into my own well-being, but it hasn't been the best time, I'll tell you that.

i peeked on the dash every now and then to keep my queue full and reblogged soothing things to my main blog and tried my best not to feel guilty about it all (i was also booping on April 1 lol). i just...I really needed a break. i've really enjoyed being here the last six or so months as i've changed my blog and entered the pedro/tlou space but i've also felt so, so alone.

and i know that it doesn't really matter!! like, we should all take breaks and go outside and all that stuff. and I know plenty of people are not very active, but this blog has been such a vital part of my life and happiness since I started it almost two years ago, so any lapse in activity feels like a loss. I've met lifelong friends and flexed my writing muscles and learned a hell of a lot. the fact that I have started to feel isolated and alone on here is a sort of personal betrayal, and there is no one to blame but myself.

So, I’m pulling back.

it means a few things — i don’t know how much writing I’ll be doing from now on. For Joel, especially — it’s been wonderful to meet folks in that community but it has also been really detrimental to my passion for both the game and writing. I’d like to return to some other characters on my masterlist, but we’ll see. I’ve got endless personal projects away from tumblr that I want to pour love and time into (my non-reader fics, my newsletter, a romance novel, a sci-fi novel, poetry, etc). I need to fall in love with my own work again.

it's a me problem, I want to stress that. i'm working on it! irl stuff has been kicking my ass. I've had a really, really hard winter and my mental health has suffered probably more than ever before. i let things I love -- like this blog -- fester and become negative and no longer being me joy. writing became stressful and difficult and I was focused on notes and interaction and looking around me and seeing success and then looking at myself and only seeing lack.

but that's why I took a break! i am getting help and support irl, i am putting in the time and effort to feel better about being alive and to be a better friend and person all around. And I want to tell you all about it because I am so grateful for your time and attention and support, even if we’re just strangers on the internet. i know this probably seems silly -- who cares about a fanfic blog? well, i care! i care a lot! it matters to me and therefore it matters!

anyway. on to the important stuff. here I am! and here's what's going to happen on this blog:

I am working on replying to asks and reblogs and comments I missed. Thank you for being patient with me! I don't know if I'll get to them all but know I see them and I am honored every single time.

I made a totally separate ao3 account with this blog url. I'm working on uploading everything I've posted here onto there and hopefully will continue to crosspost. It is going to take a long, long time, so please be patient! (you can follow my other ao3 here for my non x-reader fanfic).

I posted this fic! Jackson!Joel pulled me back into his world. It’s the first thing I’ve written in ages, so let me know what you think. as of now it's the last planned fic for that series, but who knows!

I hit a milestone while i was away that I am absolutely blown away by. I'm planning a celebration around it sometime this spring (hopefully) and I’d love to see you participate :)

lastly, thank you so much to my friends for letting me complain, whine, winge, etc. I am so sorry for missing all of your work, your celebrations, your bright energies, and all the rest. i am so sorry if it seemed like i was ignoring you. you are my guiding lights, my silver linings, my touchstones. you make me want to be here. i will try to make it up to you!

I want to be online less but make sure I’m connecting more in the moments that i am here. I want to pressure myself to write less and not feel bad that I’m not engaged all the time. I want this blog to once again feel like a place that nourishes me and not sucks me dry. i want to stop feeling like shit about all of it!!!!

so. come hang out in my inbox, my dms, let me know what you've been up to. I am really sorry for missing so much. thank you for sticking around. <3

[futbol16]

I’m Proud Of You  • Alexia Putellas

This was quite challenging because I can’t watch the third part of her documentary and because I wasn’t sure how and what perspective to write this from. I don’t know if I’m happy with how this turned out, but I hope I managed to do alright, enjoy!

Request: Hey i don't know if you are taking requests at the moment. If not just leave it in your inbox or give it to another writer but i have an idea and if i don't send it so someone I might forget it. So i just finished Alexias documentary and was wondering if someone could write a fic about some moments where reader appears in Alexias documentary, of course cause shes her girlfriend.

Word count: 1,7k

“Hola, mi amor!” you walk into the living room and lean down to kiss Alexia’s head.

“Hola bebé” she smiles up at you before pulling you down to settle on the couch next to her.The two of you relax  together, play with Nala and eat lunch just four hours before the quarter finals of the champions league.

“I’ll be honest with you, I didn’t see my daughter take the field because we were late to the match. Barcelona stood still, streets were packed and so we couldn’t get there in time.” Eli, Alexia’s mother, spoke into the camera. Her and the younger Putellas hurried into the stadium, the chanting of the fans audible as they climbed the stairs.

“Do you think she noticed?” she asked as they took their seats.

“Of course she has. But don’t worry about it, Y/N probably talked to her and she’s okay” Alba reassured their mother who nodded with a smile.

“She’s good to her”

“Sí mami”

“I remember I had goosebumps the whole game, you know with the adrenaline of playing and wanting to win and then looking up into the stands to see such a massive amount of people there, you know, supporting us, a women's game. It was a very special night”

You chuckled as you told the camera crew, a smile gracing you thought back to the champions league quarter finals against Real Madrid. The build up of the game, Aitana equalizing, yourself scoring as well as Alexia and the cheering of the fans as Barca won the match.

“I didn't know anything that was going on in the stands, i was focused on we have to pass, we have to win, i didn't hear anything.” Alexia spoke truthfully.

“And then the final whistle was blown and I stood there for a moment, looking around seeing the happy faces of my teammates and everyone in the stands was happy and then Y/N pulled me into her she was like, “you hear that? They’re cheering for you” You looked out into the crowd as you held the midfielder close to you, the two of you then congratulating your teammates.

“You know, it was one of those ‘we made it’ moments.”

“They were not leaving, the match was over and they spent an hour celebrating.” Xavi said with a laugh.

“I have never seen Alexia so out of sorts. But in the end you can only enjoy it” Mapi smiled at the memory.

The three of you banged on the drums one of the fans brought with them, the rest singing and jumping around in ecstasy. There were very few moments in your life where you remember feeling so at ease and happy, watching the celebrations again brought tears to your eyes. Alexia looked down at you from her place on the couch and with a kiss to your forehead she held you tighter as you continued watching her documentary.

“You have to take a break from football sometimes Ale, so how do you disconnect?” Alexia’s physiotherapist was massaging her leg as he spoke to her.

“I don’t know”

“You can’t just always be thinking about football” 

“I do, I don’t really know how to not.”

He paused for a moment “Does Y/n help you disconnect? Relax?”

“Sí, sí. She helps a lot.”

“How does she help?” he asked curiously, though with a knowing smile as Alexia started explaining with a tone full of affection.

“She’ll pull me away and be like, “Let’s go on a walk�� “Let’s watch a movie” or “Eli wants to see us, I’ll drive”.”

“You should listen to her more” he laughs, Alexia soon joining in as she agrees.

“She says that all the time too!”

You watch intently as the clips from France play, the ones where Alexia won her first BallonD’or and you hold your breath as you recognize which part of the documentary would be next. After all, you were there when she talked about it.

“Since my father’s death, my dedication to football has changed. And well.. I wanted to make this worthwhile. For him too.” Alexia’s voice cracks as she tries not to cry, ultimately failing. You remember sitting next to the camera crew as your leg bounced up and down, you hated seeing Alexia struggle so much and not be able to be there next to her.

“Can I go now?” your voice was heard, an impatient tone and you didn’t wait for their approval before you moved over to where Alexia sat. She makes space for you as you take her into your arms and whisper comforting words to her as she tries to calm herself. You continue to hold her for the rest of the clip as she talks about her father and leaving Levante.

Glancing up at Alexia you notice her eyes welling up as she watches the scene in front of her and much like then, you wipe her tears as you whisper to her.

The prideful look on your face is hard to miss as your girlfriend talks about how she got recruited for Barcelona and you watch with a wide smile as she speaks, videos of her younger self playing on the screen.

“I got a call: “Im Xavi Llorens, I don't know about your plans, but you should know we're interested in having you play for barca.” I remember saying “In the first team?” He said “ yes, in the first team.” That's when I signed for Barca” Alexia said.

“Did you meet each other there, you and Y/n?” the interviewer wondered, though he wasn’t shown on camera.

“Yes, at Barca. She was already on the team when they signed me. First I was a bit intimidated, you know, a player younger than me on the first team? But then Xavi talked to us, he said “I can see the two of you will be very important players for the future of Barca” and we’ve been teammates since”

“How old were you then?”

“18, I was 18.”

You laugh at that. She’s never told you this before and to hear her admitting to be intimidated by you, you found it quite funny.

“You were scared of me?” you ask her with a cheeky grin, one eyebrow raised in a teasing manner. She gently shoves at your shoulder.

“I was in awe of you, you were a damn menace, you still are” she corrects you and she goes to playfully push you again when you keep grinning at her, instead you pull her with you as you lay on the length of the couch, a giggle leaving Alexia’s lips.

“It’s okay, you can just say you were scared of me” you joke, laughing when she digs her fingers into your sides.

You continue watching the documentary in a comfortable silence and soon the topic is once again on the champions league semifinal and final. You breathe in deeply as the emotions resurface, losing to Wolfsburg first. You glance down at the brunette in your arms as the Alexia in the documentary talks about how she pushed away everyone for a little bit, her manager saying they needed to work on that before your face appeared on the screen.

“She’s obsessed with football, her dedication is admirable.” you paused “But she often forgets that one loss doesn’t defy her, especially not if we’ve played 47 victorious matches before that”

“She said that?” Alexia lightly laughed. “She’s just as obsessed with football, if anyone’s admirable it’s Y/N, seriously.”

“Do you isolate yourself after every loss? Of course, when you lose, it doesn’t happen often” the interviewer chuckles as he asks.

“Usually I’d want to be alone after a loss, but Y/N is there, she wouldn’t leave me”

“And is that good for you? Or would you rather, you know, stay with your own thoughts-”

“No, no I need Y/N there or I go insane” she answered with a nod, though she managed a lighthearted smile.

Eventually the documentary comes to an end with one question asked.

“Did you ever think Alexia couldn’t do it?”

“There were times when I questioned if she’d exhaust herself before she could, but she always proved that wrong.” Mapi said truthfully.

“No, as a mother I don’t think you’re allowed to think that way, but no, I always knew if she wanted something she’d work hard for it” 

“Wow, that’s a very vague question..No, honestly I knew she wouldn’t have stopped until she’d get there, get to the finish line, win the game, win that trophy” you said. “I believed in her and she believed in herself. And look at where she’s now? She’s arguably the best female player and she’s not done yet.”

“Mi amor” Alexia’s choked whisper breaks you out of your staring at the TV and you look down to see her crying.

“Ale? What happened?” you ask with a worried face. She smiles through her tears as you reach for her face, gently ridding her of the tear drops. However, as you gaze into her eyes you recognize the look she’s giving you and you relax knowing that these weren’t sad tears.

A smile tugs at your lips as you praise her, your voice coming out in your own quiet whispers as to not break the moment.

“I’m so proud of you Alexia. So so proud of you mi corazón” if the genuinity in your eyes wasn’t enough, or the tone of your voice, you called her Alexia let her know that you meant what you were saying. You only ever called her full name when you were serious about something.

You’re pulled into a hard and passionate kiss, love bursting in both your chests as you soak in the feeling of each other. She eventually pulls away breathlessly and you lean your foreheads together as you smile at each other fondly.

“I couldn’t have done it without you Y/N”

“Don’t say that Ale” 

“No, I’m being honest. I couldn’t go a day without you amor, not if I tried and I don’t want to.” she nods to you as you take in her words and it’s now your turn to cry.

“Te amo mucho mi vida” 

“Te amo tanto” she mutters on your lips before kissing you again.

[aralezinspace]

Summer Knight Part 1

When Crown Prince Morpheus is summoned to his father's court for the summer, he expects it to be just as tedious and aggravating as any other season spent in the Dreaming's capitol. What he doesn't expect is an attempted kidnapping, a successful kidnapping, uncovering designs on the Dreaming's throne, and a handsome esquire he really isn't supposed to fall in love with. How can he not, when Hob Gadling sees him for who he is, and not just his station? How can he not, when Hob is willing to burn down the world for him? Or: Prince!Morpheus/Commoner!Hob Gadling medieval/fantasy AU

~~Masterlist~~

After three months (probably more tbh) here it is! My contribution to the Centennial Husbands Big Bang.

This would not have been possible without the support of the entire Sadman server, for which I am endlessly (haha) thankful. @delta-pavonis and @signiorbenedickofpadua, I wouldn’t have been able to finish this without your eyes and encouragement. Thank you for letting me scream about these boys at/with you, for ideas when I got stuck, for helping me tease out the snags. Y’all are fantastic. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

BUT WAIT THERE’S MORE

This beautiful incredible art by @wolf-and-raven-dreaming / @ambarden I’m just blown away. Thank you so much for bringing such a beautiful moment to life, especially one that I didn’t get to give as much detail in this fic. I’m obsessed with it, prob gonna make it my phone background 💖

If this story inspires you to create something of your own, please share with me so I can keysmash and gush over what you make!

Divider by @cafekitsune

Prologue

Once, in a time out of thought and memory, there was a realm called the Dreaming- so named because a place so magical and splendid could only possibly exist in one’s most vivid imaginings. The weather was always as it should or needed to be, the land lush and bountiful, even in the harshest climates. The people of the land were, on the whole, prosperous and contented. The Dreaming was not without its troubles and hardships and tragedies- no land is, no matter how prosperous-  and for some, life was rather hard, but never unbearable.

Like any kingdom in a faerie story, the Dreaming was ruled by a king, a queen, and their children. This story, however, only concerns one, the third son, Prince Morpheus Aeterna. Morpheus and his six siblings each ruled a shire within the Dreaming, with the capital city of Istoria on the eastern coast, the lands of the Dreaming appearing to fan out from the city like rays of the rising sun. 

Morpheus was lord of one of the Dreaming’s most important and vital border shires- after all, that’s what you did with a third child, a second son, with a great aptitude for ruling. One who also happened to be heir to the throne, the next in line to be called Dream King. His shire was called Fiddler’s Green- the land was varied, a little corner of everything: snow capped mountains, lush fields of vibrant grass and wildflowers, bountiful forests, a beach of black sand bordering a navy inland sea. 

Morpheus’ kingdom shared a border with the realm of Fawney Rigg, a land of dense thickets and haunting mists and old, angry trees. It was ruled by King Roderick Burgess, a ruthless and bitter old man who should have had many happy years yet before him. But, his greed and jealousy were near endless; he had already conquered several other realms by war, subterfuge, or a combination of both. In the twilight of his life, he set his sights on the Dreaming, and it is here our story begins.

“My lord?”

Morpheus was jolted from his wandering thoughts by Lucienne, his most trusted advisor.

“My lord, a message has arrived from your father the king.”

A frown etched itself onto the Prince’s face as he pushed his breakfast to the side- what an aggravating way to start his morning. He took the tightly rolled scroll of thick, handmade paper and unrolled it with long, bony fingers. His frown grew more pronounced the further he read.

“My lord?” Lucienne was almost hesitant, her fingers tight around the ledger she carried. “What news from his majesty?” Morpheus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, a gesture he had picked up from his father despite his best intentions.

“It is a summons,” he ground out. “He wishes me to attend him at court for the summer.” 

Lucienne frowned with a pang of sympathy. To say that Morpheus and his father King Chronos Aeterna did not get along was well beyond an understatement. Morpheus was the opposite of everything his father had wanted him to be, showing more interest and aptitude in creative and scholarly pursuits than learning the craft of war, as was expected of a crown prince responsible for strategically valuable border territories.

Spending any amount of time at his father’s court was tedious at best. An entire season was sure to be nigh unbearable. 

He gave a resigned sigh. “Begin making travel arrangements. I will draft a response to my father.” He gave the order with all the flat dread of someone about to face the noose. It was going to be a long summer. 

And so it came to pass that Morpheus began the four day journey, following the border of his land and Fawney Rigg until they reached the Gates of Horn and Ivory, massive gates and walls carved of white stone that spanned the entire border of Istoria. If one walked along the wall from end to end, they would see the entire history of the Dreaming laid out before them, carved into the stone. Morpheus could feel his hackles rise as the gates creaked and groaned open, allowing him and his party into the bustling city. He thought he could feel the mythical creatures carved into the gates frowning at him. Folks going about their business immediately stepped out of the road and bowed, looking up through their lashes, hoping to catch sight of the Prince and not just a flutter of emerald livery in the wind. 

The procession slowly made its way to the palace, where the King, Queen, and their retainers were waiting at the top of the great stone stairs. Marble walls and gates that were miniature recreations of those guarding the city, depicting the history of the Aeterna line, were flung wide open, knights standing at attention. Banners bearing the golden Aeterna crest on deep blue fabric flapped in the breeze.

Morpheus’ first thought was that his mother seemed pale. Queen Nocturna had always been fair- Morpheus owed his complexion to her, along with his bright blue eyes- but under the light of the late afternoon sun she looked frail and sickly in her midnight gown, as if the slightest breeze would scatter her into dust. Her hair had long since faded from inky black to the shining silver of the moon, but it lacked the luster Morpheus remembered. Had it really been that long since he had seen his parents? Had something happened?

Beside her, King Chronos stood as regal and stony as ever. There were a few new lines on his face, and a few more gray hairs in his dark beard, but the frown he had reserved for his third child since Morpheus reached his majority was dour and disapproving as ever.

The Prince was announced as he dismounted and approached the foot of the staircase, a herald bellowing his numerous titles for the assembled. When that list was exhausted, he ascended the stairs until he was two steps below where the King and Queen stood, leaving him shorter than his parents– normally he was of a height with his father, and half a head taller than his mother.

Chronos shook his son’s hand with a stiffness only Morpheus could see. “Be welcome, my son.” The King ground his teeth. “It is good to see you.” 

Morpheus quickly bowed his head with a curt, “Father.”

Once Chronos released his hand, the Queen enfolded Morpheus in her willowy arms. She could feel some of the tension leave his body in the relative safety of her embrace. Her smile was beaming when she pulled away to look at him.

“You look well, Morpheus. I’ve missed you, my dear.” 

Morpheus kissed her cheek in greeting with a tenderly murmured, “Mother.” The Queen had always been a refuge for her son when his father insisted on Morpheus being someone he was not- she encouraged him to pursue his passions, constantly reminding him that there was more than one way to be a strong King. Always out of earshot of Chronos- even to his wife and son, he was their King first, a father and husband second, and his word was law.

“Come,” Chronos said to Morpheus, loud enough for the crowd to hear. “You must be weary from your journey. Be welcome and make yourselves comfortable.” He clapped Morpheus on the back and guided him into the palace, followed by his retinue. Once the royals were out of sight, the crowd dispersed, the spectacle now ended. Only one man lingered near the bottom corner of the ancient palace stairs, leaning on a stout quarterstaff.

It is here necessary to briefly introduce Robert Gadling. Orphaned at seven, he was one of a good number of parentless children, now adults, who did odd jobs for the businesses of the city, as well as the government- everything from construction to loading and unloading ships’ cargo, from running messages to protection from overzealous loan collectors if need be. On occasion, a few would be hired by the day to work in the palace, mostly on structural repairs and maintenance.

Robert, or Hob as the townsfolk called him, was a natural born protector. He had never been one to back down from a fight, and, as he planned to live through all his fights, he dedicated much of his time to developing his skills. He would often be seen near the docks or the entrance to the market, talking with foreign merchants and their guards, asking them to teach him what they knew of combat in exchange for a day’s labor. His friends constantly warned him that knowledge wouldn’t buy him food or lodging, but he would just laugh. 

It was in this fashion he honed his skills over the years and taught them to his fellows. He could disarm anyone in a matter of seconds and have a man twice his size on his back in under a minute (so the children said). He had even studied the blade, something his fellow brawlers stayed away from- too much like the royals and knights, they argued, and rolled their eyes when Hob insisted on learning anyway. No one would think it to look at him, that an average sized and modestly handsome day laborer would have such a knack for survival and zest for life. 

Hob’s best friend noted the glazed, entranced look on his face and gave him a teasing shove. “Come on, Hob,” he goaded, “Leave the royals to their tea and cakes, we’ve got work to do.” 

“Piss off, Adrian,” Hob replied as he returned the shove with a brief smile. “Not every day you get to see one roll into town. Besides, I’ve never seen Prince Morpheus before. Heard the rumors, but I had no idea he was so- so…” That glazed look returned as he searched for the right word. 

“Arrogant?” Adrian supplied. “Sour? Pompous?”

“Beautiful.” Hob’s response was barely a whisper, as if the sentiment was something he wanted to keep secret but couldn't stop it from slipping out. 

Adrian rolled his bottle green eyes. This was not the first time Hob had been besotted with someone after a glance, nor was it likely to be the last. The man had so much love in his heart to give, he just also happened to have a bad habit of choosing the worst possible people to bestow that love upon. Adrian could only hope this would be one of his shorter and less depressing devotions. Gods knew Hob had less than a figment of a chance with the Prince.

“Come on, lover boy, Waldren’s waiting for us.”

Adrian wrapped an arm around Hob’s shoulders and turned him away from the palace. Hob went willingly, but not without one last misty-eyed glance over his shoulder, wondering idly what the Prince was doing behind those marble walls. 

Chapter 1

According to Morpheus, attending his father’s court and sitting in on council meetings fit the definition of ‘cruel and unusual punishment’. He rarely had anything to contribute to the other nobles’ gossip- not that he wanted to get involved in the first place- and the council advisors just loved passing off his suggestions as their own. His presence amounted to little more than an interesting trinket brought out at opportune moments to curry favor- or, in some cases, to parade in front of potential spouses. It seemed that this summer would see at least a dozen suitors visiting the palace over the course of the five and a half months Morpheus would be at court.

Finally, one sweltering and humid summer day, the Prince reached his tipping point. He was hot and sticky, aggravated and on edge. This breaking point came around mid morning, when he had had enough of listening to the pompous treasurer drone on and on. Without preamble, he rose from his seat and stomped out of the council hall, ignoring the calls of his father and the advisors. Everyone he passed in the halls jumped out of his way, able to feel the ire rolling off him like the heat rising from the cobblestones.

He needed to get out, away from the palace, and burn off some of this aggravation before he did or said something rash.

His first stop was his chambers, where he changed from the fancier attire expected at court to a loose-fitting gray shirt and black cotton breeches tucked into tall riding boots. Already feeling a little better, he made a beeline for the stables. His piebald mare Jessamy was munching happily in her stall, but perked up when she heard Morpheus’ footsteps. The Prince waved off the anxious stable boy who stumbled over the words, “Should I saddle her sir?” in favor of slipping on the bridle himself and swinging up onto her bare back.

With a few clicks of his tongue and a gentle nudge with his heels, Jessamy gamely trotted out of her stall, past the stable boy, and all the way into the courtyard before tossing her head and cantering out the palace’s southern gate, away from the city. 

The paths through the forest were wide and well kept. Morpheus followed the main road for about a mile before turning onto a trail that was barely visible, unless one knew where to look. He slowed Jessamy to a walk to better navigate the tall grass and rushes that threatened to overtake the narrow trail. This far into the woods, all the Prince could hear was the birds, the wind, and the puffs of his and Jessamy’s breaths. A relieved sigh rattled out of his lungs and he slumped slightly on her back. 

The trail ended at a small lake surrounded by willow trees. The air was cooler here, almost like stepping into another world. Baby shoots of grass were starting to poke through the previous year’s fallen leaves, and twittering birds fluttered between branches. The lake was surrounded by intermittently placed boulders of various sizes, giving it the appearance of a faerie ring, or a window to another world. Some of these boulders were light and bare, others dark with patches of lichen and moss. They all made for excellent perches to sit on and dip one’s feet in the water. 

Tiny fish swam about in their schools, the concaves of their nests visible on the lakebed through the crystal clear water. A frog croaked from somewhere within the leafy plants growing stubbornly between the rocks and into the lake.

Morpheus dismounted with another sigh and loosely tied Jessamy’s reins to a branch. The mare shook her head again and began to delicately nibble on the new spring grass. While she enjoyed her snack, Morpheus sat on one of the flatter boulders at the edge of the lake and tugged his boots off, followed by his socks, then his shirt. 

The moan he let out when his feet slipped into the cold water was almost indecent. He let his eyes flutter shut and his head tilt back as he dug his toes into the soft silt. After a few quiet minutes, he rolled his breeches up to his knees and waded further into the lake, his arms held out slightly for balance as the sand shifted beneath his feet. He waded deeper and deeper, all the way to mid-thigh, not caring in the least that he would be riding back with soaked trousers. Adding one more item to the list of things his father berated him for wouldn’t make a difference. 

Morpheus already felt much better than when he left the palace, but he could still feel his hackles bristling, could still sense the undercurrent of tension and resentment running through his shoulders. The cold water was, apparently, not to be enough to cool him off. 

With an almost aggravated sigh (how could it have come to this?), Morpheus loosened the ties at his waist and reached past his undergarments into his breeches. A rumbling groan slipped past his self control as his fingers wrapped around his cock. His other hand shifted the waistband of his breeches so his cock could spring free, a shiver running down his spine at the contact with the humid air. His toes curled into the lakebed as he moved his hand faster, occasionally running his thumb over the slit. 

He had worked himself to full hardness and was eagerly chasing his high when a branch snapped in the trees behind him. He jumped, startled, and his head swiveled, looking for the source of the sound. The Prince held still, so still that no new ripples formed in the water around his ankles. 

After moments that seemed like years, Morpheus relaxed ever so slightly. It was probably just a deer stepping on a dry twig. His cock throbbed insistently, as if urging him to get back to the task at hand. Morpheus shook his head and turned his focus back to between his legs. 

Another rustle in the bushes, this one closer. Morpheus frowned; he had now been twice interrupted, and the agitation was creeping back into his bones. “Who’s there?” he called, hoping he sounded more angry than anxious. He tucked himself back into his trousers and sloshed out of the lake, muscles coiled in anticipation. 

Out of the trees stepped a man. Clearly a commoner, if his worn shirt and breeches were anything to go by. Dark hair was pulled into a respectably long tail at the nape of his neck, and a neatly trimmed beard of the same dark hair covered the lower half of his face. Morpheus could see a small patch of yet more dark hair peeking out from the low V of the man’s shirt. Earthy eyes sparkled in the patches of sunlight that made their way through the trees, and they were hazily focused on the bulge in the Prince’s trousers. He had clearly been lost in his own thoughts, an apple raised to his lips as if he were about to take a bite. 

Morpheus was still frozen, but for an entirely different reason. For a commoner, this man was exceedingly handsome- had he been born to the nobility, he would have lords and ladies alike falling over themselves to win his favor. 

Hob jumped when his mind registered he was standing before the Prince. For one, he thought that he and some of his friends were the only ones who knew about this little lake in the forest, and, two, holy shit that was Prince Morpheus standing in front of him, barefoot and bare chested, a semi creating a small bulge in the front of his breeches. 

“Oh fuck!” The apple flew out of his hand- he fumbled to catch it, just barely holding on to the fruit as he sank into a low bow, one leg in front of the other, back leg bent, eyes firmly fixed on the ground, arms out to the sides as he had seen the other nobles do. 

Morpheus held up a placating palm as he awkwardly said, “Please rise, there is no need to stand on ceremony,” even though the other couldn’t see the gesture. 

Hob rose out of his bow and placed his hands behind his back so Morpheus wouldn’t see his nervous fidgeting. How was it possible this man was a prince, was incredibly gorgeous, AND had a voice that could lure any sailor to their watery grave? “A-apologies, sir, Highness, I- I didn’t think anyone else knew about this place-” He swallowed hard, trying in vain to control his nervous babble. “I didn’t mean to disturb you, I can just-” 

“It’s quite alright.” Morpheus chuckled in spite of himself- it sounded a little strained to his own ears, but maybe that was because the erection that had fled in his momentary fear was starting to make a comeback at the sight of the beautiful man before him. “I wasn’t aware others knew of this spot either.” 

Hob laughed as well, tense and awkward, scratching the back of his head. But oh gods, his smile could light up the darkest of dungeons. Morpheus could feel his heart clench in his chest, already wanting to see that smile again. The Prince asked, “What is your name?”

“Robert,” Hob answered quickly with another little bow. “Robert Gadling. But my friends call me Hob.” He let out a bashfully choked laugh. “I already know who you are, Prince Morpheus. I mean, just about the whole realm knows who you are. Your Highness.” 

Morpheus had taken a breath to respond when there was more rustling in the trees behind Hob, much more than what could be created by a single man or animal. The Prince froze again, lowered into a slight crouch. Hob immediately whirled around and positioned himself protectively between Morpheus and the tree line. His apple lay forgotten on the forest floor as he settled into a ready stance, his hands curled into loose fists, ready to strike or protect his torso. 

Morpheus had always been independent to the point of being described as a loner, therefore the swirling feeling in his gut at the sight of Hob ready to defend him was completely foreign. It curled in his stomach and slithered between his legs, bringing back that inner heat the cold lake water had once absorbed. And if Hob didn’t see him glancing at the curve of his ass every few seconds… Well, that was between Morpheus and the trees. 

The trees and grasses rustled again to reveal two men in dark gray rags, the lower halves of their faces covered with another piece of fabric. Dirt smudged the visible skin around their eyes. They were each carrying a wicked looking dagger, the blades sharp even if the handles were dotted with rust. 

Hob immediately knew these were bandits- highwaymen that lurked in the trees and waited for the opportune moment to pounce. And they had just found quite the prize.

Jessamy snorted and stomped her feet, sensing the imminent danger. The bandits inched closer, step by step, knives held threateningly aloft. Hob glared at them, refusing to back down, hoping they would develop some sense and realize that whatever they had planned was not a good idea. One of them chuckled in eager anticipation.

“Turn around,” Hob ground out softly, eyes darting between the two, “and I won’t have to bash your heads in.” The bandits exchanged a momentary glance, as if debating the merit of Hob’s words. Apparently, they reached the decision that they had none, because they continued to advance, knives gleaming and ready to cut into flesh. 

Morpheus crept back towards the lake, inching toward Jessamy, heart pounding in his throat. He had never encountered bandits before; the closest he had ever come to someone who had broken the law was on formal inspections of rehabilitation facilities where the offenders had been cleaned up and supervised by wardens. Now, he didn’t have wardens or his retinue or even his hunting knife- his only protection from these two bandits was another commoner who could just as easily decide Morpheus was worth the trouble of kidnapping, or killing, or both. 

“Last warning,” Hob growled, the bandits now within striking distance.

The one on the right turned to his companion: “Get him.” 

Hob swore then yelled to Morpheus, “Go! Leave!” as the first bandit came at him with the knife aloft, intending to bring it down into Hob’s shoulder, or wherever he could reach. He sidestepped the blow and redirected the bandit’s momentum so that he went stumbling towards the water. 

The second bandit charged forward, knife point aimed at Hob’s chest. He grabbed the bandit’s wrist with enough force to make him drop the knife and drove his knee into the bandit’s side. The attacker grunted and doubled over, using the forward momentum to drive his shoulder into Hob’s stomach.

It was a lucky shot that knocked the wind out of him. Hob shoved the bandit away from him, hoping to buy a moment to catch his breath. 

The first bandit had recovered his footing and rushed in from behind Hob, wrapping wiry arms around a golden throat. Hob’s eyes went wide as his breath was cut off, the bandit only squeezing harder as he struggled. The two assailants coordinated their next move with eye contact alone, one holding Hob by the throat while the other stepped into striking distance and threw a sloppy but strong punch at Hob’s face.

The bandit’s knuckles hit him square on the cheekbone. Hob cried out as his head snapped to the side. The man’s other fist came up and landed a punch across his mouth, hard enough to make his nose bleed and teeth rattle and split his bottom lip open. 

“Fuck-” The swear was strained and came out with blood and spit. His vision starting to blacken around the edges, Hob reared his arm up and drove his elbow into the soft midsection at his back. Instantly, his windpipe was free as arms released him and the bandit doubled over in pain. Hob took several gasping breaths as he turned to the bandit who had been choking him and drove his fist into his temple, all the force and energy going down, hard enough to knock him out. 

Hob turned his attention to the remaining bandit. The scrawny man was in a ready stance, hands curled into loose fists held up by his face, but clearly hesitant after watching his partner literally get beaten into the ground. Hob grinned, feral and almost cocky as he mimicked the man’s stance- on a closer look, he was barely a man, just an older boy with his first whiskers. Hob didn’t want to hurt the kid, but he may not have a choice.

With unexpected ferocity, the boy lunged closer, fist ready to fly. Hob dodged one punch, then another, the third glancing off his shoulder- poor lad was already panting for breath, sparking just a hint of pity. 

“Come on, lad,” he tried reasoning, “just walk away.”

The young man’s only response was a desperate yell as he charged Hob, going for a grapple. Hob easily deflected him with a step and a twist, sending the bandit falling hard on his back. Hob settled into his stance, and with a well-aimed kick to his temple, he too was dealt with.

Silence suddenly rang in the clearing, broken only by Hob’s slightly panting breaths. His hands were still clenched into ready fists at his sides.

Morpheus had sprinted a quarter of the way around the lake to where he had tethered Jessamy. He had been ready to bolt at Hob’s word, now he soothed the mare with soft words and gentle caresses. It was like he was watching the whole thing through hazy glass, observing and present but removed, just left of in tune with the world. His chest felt tight, his hands shook uncontrollably as he tried to process all that had happened in a few short moments.

Hob moved out of his combative stance to crouch beside one of their would-be assailants. Morpheus quickly retied Jessamy to the branch and walked over to Hob, feeling extremely awkward and somewhat out of his depth. What did one say to the handsome stranger who had undoubtedly saved him from being abducted, if not worse? ‘Thank you’ did not seem to be anywhere near enough, far less than what Hob was owed for his deed. And yet, the words ‘thank you’ seemed to stick in his throat, refusing to come out.

He stood uncomfortably over Hob, who was pawing through the bandits’ clothes, hoping to find some clue as to their motives, and whether they went beyond simple highway robbery. The Prince had taken a fortifying breath to thank his protector when Hob ground out a curse in another language he had learned from a merchant. In his hand was a worn letter, folded and held together with a black seal. A sigil of stars and other symbols of magick was pressed into the wax.

It was, without a doubt, the seal of Roderick Burgess, King of Fawney Rigg.

“You might want to see this, Highness.” Hob rose to his feet and handed Morpheus the letter. His free hand swiped at his split lip and bloody nose- at least it wasn’t broken, again. He could feel the flesh around his cheekbone swelling painfully. Hob caught the Prince’s sympathetic flinch, small as it was, as he took the paper. Icy eyes quickly scanned its contents, dark brows furrowing closer together the more he read.

“I must return to the palace.” The words tumbled out of him as he refolded the letter and stuffed it in the waistband of his breeches. Moving quickly, Morpheus tugged his shirt back over his head and boots onto his feet as he continued, “My father needs to be made aware of what happened. Burgess sending armed men across our border with orders to watch and intercept me is no idle threat.” 

He unhitched Jessamy and used a fallen log as a mounting block, swinging a lithe leg over her back and expertly gathering the reins. He looked down at Hob as he wheeled her around, holding himself with the distant majesty of a monarch despite his disheveled state. Hob could only stare up in awe, a worshiper at the foot of his god. Dappled beams of sunlight illuminated the Prince like a halo, and Hob was sure in that moment the Prince was indeed fae touched as the rumors went, if not outright divine in his own right. 

“I think it is no exaggeration to say you saved my life,” Morpheus proclaimed, even if the forest and the man before him were the only ones to hear the royal edict. “I am in your debt, Robert Gadling. And I will settle that debt once this threat to the Dreaming is resolved.”

Hob bowed at his words, low and slow and reverent. A few globs of blood dribbled out of his nose and onto the grass. As he rose, he said, “Then at least let me escort you out of the forest and to the main road. I doubt there are any more of these men lurking around, Highness, but I would feel better seeing you to safety.” The last part was true, but Hob figured he probably shouldn’t mention the other reason for his offer: Prince Morpheus had utterly enchanted him, and this was likely to be the last time he’d see the man up close, let alone speak to him one to one, and he wasn’t ready for it to be over.

Pale, elegant fingers twitched briefly around the reins as Morpheus considered his words. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, searching for the right response. Finally, he settled on, “I would be glad of your company. Let us go.” 

He clicked his tongue to get Jessamy moving at a walk, Hob keeping pace beside her. They were silent as they picked their way back to the main forest road, but Hob was on high alert. His eyes darted back and forth, fists clenching and releasing in time with his steps. It was relatively easy to ignore the stickiness of drying blood around his mouth and chin when he was so focused on looking for signs of danger. Thankfully, the trip passed without incident. Morpheus pulled Jessamy to a halt once they were inside the city gates.

“My thanks again, Robert Gadling.” Jessamy pawed at the ground as Morpheus spoke, eager to be back in the safety of her stall. “I do not like leaving my debts unpaid.” The unspoken request for Hob to name his price hung in the air like a phantom. Hob merely gave the Prince a gentle smile and bowed again, still formal but relaxed and easy. 

“This time spent with you is payment enough, Highness.” He paused and bit his lip, plucking up his courage with a slight wince of pain. “May I… Could I call on you? If my day’s work brings me to the palace.” 

Morpheus turned the request over in his mind long enough for Jessamy to grow impatient. He soothed her with a few gentle pats on her neck. “You may,” he finally replied. “As long as my duties permit, I will be glad to receive you.” Morpheus had already turned his horse and urged her into a trot before Hob could say a proper farewell. The gentle goodbye hung unspoken on his lips. Finally, he sighed and kicked a stray pebble as he made his way to the boarding house he called home for a bath and some rest.

[ficthots]

Blinded

A/N: Okay, this is one of I believe like three fics that I have had like 90% complete for ages and I finally got it done. Set up on a blind date with Josh? Yes, please. Oh and some smut of course, it's me, C'mon. As always let me know what you guys think and enjoy!

Warnings: 18+ Content Only. DNI if under 18. Smut.

Word Count: 7k+

There hits a certain point in life where the once exciting and glamorous life of dating fades away and becomes an utter nuisance. It can happen at different stages of life for everyone. Friends and relatives finding their person early in life and can abruptly halt the dating process by their early twenties. Others play the field throughout their younger years, not in a hurry to settle down with just one person, but end up finding the one when they least expect it.

Now where did that leave you?

Devoid of all hope in the dating pool. That’s where. No one seemed to believe you though when you made claims about being happy with where you stood relationship wise. To most people, you could only be truly happy when you were getting said emotion from another being in which you share every aspect of your soul with.

That sounded like a bunch of mumbo jumbo to you. You were content with just being with yourself despite others claiming it was actually just sad. In actuality it wasn’t sad in the least. Comfortable and content. Able to fully support yourself, in a career you loved, in an apartment you adored. What was there not to love?

According to your best friend Katie, a man to share some time with.

It’s why you were sitting alone at a dimly lit restaurant, sipping a glass of ice water, anxiously waiting for a complete stranger to occupy the open chair across from you. Given, you did arrive fifteen minutes earlier than you needed to, but your “date” was running a bit behind. 

Katie swore up and down that this person was going to change your outlook on relationships and how great of a guy he was. Josh. That was the name you were given. The only information you were given.

You were skeptical. First impression was he was running late and in your book that was a big no no. You were raised to always arrive preferably early and in the worst case scenario on time.

Eyes scanning the bustling restaurant, yours settled on a frazzled man standing at the hostess stand, his own eyes blown wide as his gaze settled on your table. Assuming she had informed him how long you had been sitting there, you felt slightly bad for him with how mortified he looked. Offering a small wave and shy smile in his direction, he nervously smoothed down his patterned shirt as he hurried to the table.

“Wow, I am so sorry, there was a major accident on the highway and I wanted to get here early,” you cut him off with a chuckle, the man out of breath from clearly having hustled to get there. “Don’t worry about it, I’m always early, I doubt you’re late at all.”

His smile grew at your obviously generous offer of peace to him. The waiter immediately approached the table, asking for a drink order. When he stated a request for two glasses of wine, you immediately spoke up. “Oh, actually none for me, thank you.” Brow furrowing and smoothing out right after, his cheeks tinted in embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry,” he started, but you again cut him off with a reasonable explanation in hopes to get him to relax. “No, don’t apologize. It’s a school night is all,” realizing as you watched his shocked expression take over his features, you immediately started to speak quickly. “Oh my god, that sounded horrible. I mean I’m a second grade teacher, not that I myself am still in school.” 

Feeling heat creep up your neck, he laughed. His hand wiped at imaginary sweat on his brow. “Phew. Had me worried there for a second,” you both laughed at the joke, taking a moment to silently peruse the menu. Small talk filled the quiet space surrounding you two as you both said what looked appetizing. 

Politely placing your respective orders, once the safety of your menu was removed, you took a moment to really look at him for the first time as he gave the waiter his order. 

His clothes were slightly dressier than his normal attire you assumed given you were on a date. Hair was a bit different than normal. Shaved sides, but a clearly permed updo. Earrings adorning both sides. No tattoos you could visibly see. He was most definitely attractive. 

When his attention fully settled on you, he beamed. His entire face lit up with excitement as his eyes fully settled on you for the first time since sitting down. Knowing he was taking you in the way you had just done with him. It had you fighting the urge to nervously fidget.

Deciding to break the ice first, you settled your intertwined hands on the tablecloth, giving a kind smile to the man and clearing your throat. “So, Josh, how do you know Katie?” He mimicked your actions, diving into his recount of their relationship. 

“Katie’s partner, Ryan, is very good friends with my twin brother, Jake. Given Jake is my twin, I am also good friends with Ryan, hence me knowing Katie through him.” Mind racing a million miles a minute as you mentally tracked the relationship, he turned the same question to you.

Smiling into your glass as you recalled your time with Katie, adoration for your best friend and her being your safe haven over all of the years. “Well, I met Katie my freshman year of college. She lived directly across the hall from me in the dorms. My roommate and I did not get along and there was one night where she was coming back with laundry, heard us fighting, and took me to her room. She’s been my best friend ever since.”

Josh’s soft smile made your nerves slowly melt away. Despite having just met the man, you had never seen someone listen so intently to your stories. Not even your students. It seemed as though he wanted to keep listening to you because he prompted you once more.

“Okay so you met in college. You’re a second grade teacher, you said. How long have you been doing that? Do you enjoy it?” Heart leaping in your chest at just the thought of talking about your job, you fawned over it. 

Immediately diving in, he watched in awe at how much you truly loved your job. “So yeah, I do love it. Given, it’s only my second year having my own classroom, it’s just such a great experience. My first year out of school I was a sub while I took all my exams, but nothing beats having your own room. The kids are great. It’s just fun.” Realizing how long you had been droning on, you felt heat take over your features.

“And it just dawned on me how long I’ve been talking,” you both laugh at your enthusiasm, but he waves it off. “No, it’s great! Trust me, I love hearing about people's passions and what makes them tick.” 

Shooting him a grateful smile for being so kind about your babbling, you encouraged him to share as your food was placed in front of you. “Anyways, you’ve probably learned more about me then you ever wanted to so please, your turn. What do you do for work?” Taking a bite of the salad you had ordered, his head slightly fell.

Clearing his throat as he stumbled over his words, your brows furrowed about why he was so nervous to tell you what he did for work. Did he not work? Did he have a horrible job? Live at home with mom and dad?

“I, uh, I’m in a band.” Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, mouth slightly falling open. Ah, there it was. “A band, huh?” Trying to feign enthusiasm for his career, he didn’t know you well enough to know that the higher pitch of your voice was you trying to be nice and listen.

Nodding as he finished chewing a bite of his own dish, he spoke again. “Yeah, me and my brothers.” Wow as if it couldn’t be worse, he dragged his poor siblings into that mess. “Siblings? How many siblings do you have?” Trying to get off the topic of his horrid job, you wanted to be able to get through the rest of this dinner. 

“Four, okay well technically three, but I count Danny as a brother.” Giving a weary smile, you shook your head, a smile plastered to your features. “Danny?” When it dawned on Josh that you truly had no idea who he was, a breath of relief washed over him. 

He dove in, excited to share about all of his siblings, what they all did in the band apart from his sister who you were overjoyed to learn has a real job. Engaging in polite conversation for the remainder of dinner was your goal until you were going to be able to make your escape and annihilate Katie. 

As the night wrapped up, Josh paid the bill with no hesitation, escorting you out to your car and offering you a good night. He claimed he had a blast with you and honestly you had as well until you learned about his job choice. You needed to be with someone who had a stable job, not someone who was going around parading that he was in some band with his brothers.

How embarrassing, you thought to yourself as you drove home. 

Katie was at your apartment first thing on Saturday, ready to hear all the juicy details about how the evening had gone. “Okay, spill! Did you like him? Did you fall in love?” Her funny accent on the last word had you rolling your eyes, sipping on your coffee she had brought. 

“You’re an ass first of all,” you started with. Her face fell into a puzzled expression, not understanding what the problem was. “What? Why?” Looking at her like she had two heads, she was clueless as to why you were irritated with her. 

Leaning forward and placing your coffee on the table, you stared her down. “Katie, look I get that you think my love life is in desperate need of repair, but setting me up with a fucking loser is where I draw the line.” Her jaw fell slack, eyes nearly bulging out of her head. 

“I don’t understand! What happened? What did he do?” Crossing your arms, you leaned back on your couch. “It’s what he doesn’t do. He’s in a band for a living, Katie! The man doesn’t even have a real job! I mean him alone is one thing, but to rope his brothers into that mess, too? His poor parents.”

Sipping your drink, you jumped when her cackle echoed off the walls. She was clutching her stomach, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’m glad you think it’s hilarious, but I am offended.” As she calmed down, she took her phone from her pocket. 

“Birdie, did he tell you his band name?” You tried to recall, knowing he had, but you were more interested in your dinner than him at that point. “I mean, yeah, but it was weird.” Flipping her screen to show you, there he was on a Spotify page with his siblings. 

You were fairly certain your eyes fell out of your skull when you saw their monthly listener amount was over five million. Immediately going to her Instagram, you saw their band page had over a million followers, his face plastered all over the page. 

Putting your head in your hands, you felt nauseous as she continued to cackle next to you. “You’ve got to be kidding me. What the hell is the matter with you?” Grabbing the throw pillow from behind your back, you repeatedly hit her with it. 

“What? What did I do?” She asked as you stood, beginning to pace in your living room. “You couldn’t have given me a heads up? Instead you just put me in the lion's den with an actual celebrity!” She shrugged at your words. “If I did tell you, you wouldn’t have gone.”

Your eyes squeezed shut, feeling a migraine coming on. Replaying everything you had told him and embarrassment pummeling you as you replayed the events from the other night. “Still think he’s a loser, birdie?” 

Silently shaking your head, your gaze panned to her, worry on your features. “Yeah no, he thinks I’m the loser for sure. He probably thinks I’m the most boring person in the entire world.” Her lips sucked into her mouth, beginning to ask her questions. 

“Tell him you’re a teacher?” One nod. “How your main hobby is being the neighborhood bird lady?” Another nod. “And how you have a hobby slash craft bag with you at all times?” A final nod. She offered a shrug, a smile peeking on her lips. 

You couldn’t have been more mortified with how the date had gone. Honestly, it was the worst case scenario in your book. You were one hundred percent positive you were never going to hear from him again. 

Until Katie called you on your lunch break the following Monday. “Josh is totally in love with you!” She offered no other greeting apart from her exclamation, causing you to nearly choke on your sandwich.

Setting it down on your desk, you swallowed your bite, wiping your mouth with your napkin. “What? What are you talking about?” She immediately spewed all the information she had. According to her and Ryan, the night he got home from the date he dished out to Jake how smitten he was with you. How taken he was with you. That he wanted another date immediately. 

Sitting in total shock, she texted you his contact information and there it sat, staring at you as you got off the call with her. Katie said she didn’t want to set up the next date, that the ball was entirely in your court. If you want to go out with him again, text him. If not, ignore it and delete it from your phone. 

Gnawing on your lip, you sat on it for the rest of the school day. When you got home, you thought about it some more. Finally deciding, what the hell there was nothing to lose, you sent him a basic message. 

Not expecting a response from him that night, let alone at all, you were floored when your phone immediately dinged with a response. That was just the beginning.

You had never been on your phone as much as you were in the two weeks following your first text to him. It was constant back and forth, postponing your next date because of his travel plans and him knowing how you really did not enjoy going out on school nights, which he thought was adorable. 

When you finally were able to see him again, it was in an entirely different setting. With Katie standing next to you, Ryan to her other side, you were watching the show of a lifetime. Being able to hear him sing and perform the way he was able to was heartstopping. He and his brothers were so talented it was hard to fathom how much they had done to get to this point. 

It was one of the best nights you had ever had. Seriously, it was unlike anything you had ever seen before which was sparse to begin with, but now had set a standard you didn’t even know existed. 

Wobbling in nerves and excitement to see him following the conclusion of the show, you were overjoyed when he appeared. His expression was ten times more excited than yours which was saying a lot based on how you were currently feeling.

Sweeping you into a big hug, you laughed as he spun you around lightly. It was just you two in this wing of the tunnel, him saying this was the only area where you would have a moment of peace. “Birdie! What did you think of the show? No, wait, don't tell me yet. You can tell me at dinner after. Do you want to go get dinner? Everyones dying to meet you, so maybe after that, yeah?” 

He was speaking so quickly, you could only imagine how fast paced his own thoughts were. Only able to nod in somewhat understanding before he dragged you away, your stomach was a mess of butterflies as his cold hand enclosed with yours, leading you in the correct direction.

After a tiresome round of introductions, telling everyone how much you enjoyed the show, stating it was a pleasure meeting everyone, you finally had some quiet reprieve. Sitting in a diner booth, Josh opposite you, sharing fries and a shake, you giggled as he told you how nervous he was for the show tonight knowing you were watching.

As you went to gush about another part of the spectacle that you enjoyed you were interrupted by a group approaching your table. “Hi, we’re so sorry to bug you two, but we were just at your show! We are huge huge fans. Can we get some pictures and an autograph?” The group squealed as Josh slid out of the booth, engaging in easy chatter with them as he signed various things, took a bunch of photos and selfies, taking an extra minute to speak, reality set in.

Josh was a celebrity. He wasn’t just some guy that Katie had set you up with. No, he was an entire public entity that you really didn’t comprehend until just then. Sitting silently in a booth as he took fifteen to twenty minutes to engage with fans. It was amazing that he was so wonderful with them, but as each minute ticked by it was another minute of silent thought.

Of realizing that if you dated him or continued dating him, this was going to be your norm. A world you didn’t understand. One where you weren’t sure you were entirely comfortable with being approached on a night out time and time again while trying to enjoy some much needed time together. 

A stone sat in the bottom of your stomach, forcing a smile back on your face as he finally sat back down. He didn’t ask outright what was wrong, but he noticed the mood change almost immediately despite how well you were playing it off. 

There it went. The possibility of a great relationship with a guy who you knew you would have some amazing potential with. Why couldn’t things ever go your way? 

That night as Josh dropped you off at your apartment, you told him that. How you weren’t sure this was a lifestyle you could live with and be comfortable with. Losing all sense of privacy because of who your partner was. 

Despite how sad your confession made him, Josh understood. This life was not for everyone. Did that mean he was going to stop talking to you? Absolutely not. You were elated when he asked if he could at least maintain a friendship with you. 

Katie on the other hand needed more convincing. She knew how well you two got along, so ending a chance of a romantic relationship boggled her mind entirely. “It’s too much. It’s wildly intimidating. I can’t be in the public eye like that, Katie. That’s just not for me,” you told her on the phone during another lunch break.

She sighed on the other end of the call. “No, no, I get that, I do. But I don’t know, I just feel like there could be something with you two.” When you remained quiet for a beat too long, she knew you were thinking the same thing. 

Little did you know, this was just the start. The start of what you may ask? The endless pursuit Josh was about to be on to get you to change your mind. He wasn’t going to pressure you, but he was certain that if he could get you to spend enough time with him, it was going to be a piece of cake.

It’s why you agreed to open your home to him on a Friday night as you graded this past week's homework packets. Claiming on the phone when he asked to come over that you were engrossed with work and how easy it was to fall behind if you didn’t get things like this done immediately. He didn’t mind. 

In fact, he said it was perfect. How he had work he needed to get done as well and you two could enjoy one another's company as you worked side by side. He also assured you that he would provide takeout for the evening because you cannot work on an empty stomach. That’s how you ended up on one end of the sofa and him on the other, legs brushing against each other as you extended them out on the couch.

A quiet chuckle left your mouth as you reached page five in one student's packet. Josh’s head immediately looked up in your direction, one of the first words spoken all evening. “What’s so funny?” Flipping the packet over so he could see, his brow furrowed in confusion as to what he was looking at. 

“The assignment was to draw a character from one of their books on their reading log this week. She read Junie B. Jones and that is supposed to be Junie herself,” snorting as his jaw fell slack, he tried to play it off. “Well,” he flipped back to the front page before going back, “Stacy here has quite the imagination. Really took some creative liberty, huh?” 

Before long, you and Josh were on the same side of the couch, going through each packet and seeing how your other students had done with their drawings. His commentary is what really had you bursting at the seams, hand clutching your stomach from the cramps that were happening.

He took another bite of his spring roll as he finally caught his breath. “Oh god, you would love Steven. Seriously, he is such a talented boy. He’s been doing figure skating since he was three and man he has such an energy around him, it’s amazing to see.” Josh’s smile lit up his face, seeing how much you knew about your students and how you truly cared for them.

As you two finished working for the night and wrapped up, Josh left your home that evening having fallen for you even more. How that was even possible, he had no clue, but he had. It was frustrating. His entire plan revolved around him getting you to fall for him, but each time you spent time together he felt himself slipping more and more for you. 

You would never admit it to him outright, but when he told you he was going to be gone for the next two weeks for work things he had to handle, you were sad. Over the previous weeks, you two had been spending quite a bit of time together. 

Getting used to him being around, even on school nights, was not helping your case. Having to remind yourself why you weren’t with him to begin with was becoming more and more difficult as time went on. Especially because you didn’t see him in that context ninety-nine percent of the time, it was easy to fall for just Josh. Not the Josh who was the frontman for a globally known rock band. 

Him being gone for a couple of weeks was like being splashed with cold water. Drenching you in the reality of who he was and what his career entailed. It was easy to forget all of that when he helped you grade science projects and shopped for craft supplies with you. 

What didn’t help was how often you two kept in contact while he was gone. It was torture being up in front of your students and knowing your phone was buzzing up a storm in your top desk drawer and having to wait until recess break to respond. 

Katie thought it was adorable. Confessing to her more than once that your feelings were becoming too much too fast, she told you to lean into them. To forget the main aspect of who Josh was and to just focus on the man he was when he was with you. It was easy to follow that advice and honestly you did. Yet, when something for his band would pop up it was a slap in the face to the reality of the situation.

When he finally returned home after his prolonged absence, you were over the moon when he picked you up for dinner on the night of his return. Rushing out to his car, he was waiting for you on the passenger side, sweeping you into a huge embrace.

“There’s my birdie girl,” he spoke softly into your hair, arms wrapped so tightly around your waist it would’ve hurt with anyone else, but not Josh. All doubts and worries seemingly melting away at that moment. 

As you sat in the passenger seat and he drove you to your location, you knew you needed to play this better. As you arrived at your location, Josh having filled you in on the details of his trip on the way, you narrowed your eyes at the building.

“This is awfully date like, Josh,” you spoke, but he waved you off immediately. “Absolutely not,” you two walked in the front doors together and were greeted by the typical look of a dive bar, a small bowling alley in the back. 

Sitting at a high top table, he sighed, a big grin on his face as his dagger earring swayed from his movement. “I would never take a date here. A friend, though? Absolutely,” shrugging and playing into his game, you perused the menu. “Well then since we’re friends you won’t mind seeing me eat then.”

Josh’s smile only grew at your words, accepting the challenge you were putting out to him. As the waitress approached your small two top table, you immediately placed your order. “I would like a Coors Banquet, your double bacon cheeseburger with no lettuce or onion, the loaded garlic fries, and,” you trailed off at the end, looking over the dessert menu, “oh, and once I’ve finished that, a slice of your New York cheesecake.”

Giving her a large smile as you handed the menu over, you turned to Josh to see him grinning. “Just a veggie burger with sweet potato fries and I will also have a Coors Banquet,” he handed her the menu, thanking her by name and eyeing you. “Surprised you’re drinking tonight,” he said as he tied his straw wrapper into a knot.

Offering a shrug, your chin tipped high. “It’s Friday, I’m allowed one.” As you two waited for your order, you told Josh all about how your school week had been. “I’m just so stressed about it because Mrs. Thompson in the front office is making such a big deal about field day for my class and I have it under control, but she is really pressuring me about getting more chaperones. I already have three, which is more than the other lower grade classes have. I know she’s just pressuring me because I’m the youngest, but it’s stressful.”

He listened as you vented, but spoke up right away. “I’ll chaperone. Hell, I might even be able to get my brothers to do it, too.” You shook your head. “No, I don’t want you to do that. No one wants to volunteer their free time to go watch and help with booths for a bunch of kids they don’t even know.”

Rolling his eyes, his tongue darted out to wet his lips before taking a swig of his beer. “Fine then just me. Let me help you. You’ve been talking about how stressed you are for field day nonstop for weeks. I can help, birdie, really and I’d like to.” Sitting in quiet thought for a moment, you gave in.

“Really?” His hands enclosed around yours on the tabletop. “Absolutely.” Feeling a smile take over your face, your food was placed in front of you moments after. You both demolished your food, hungrier than you even realized, but Josh was eyeing the bowling alley. 

Seeing where his eyes kept darting to, you gave in. “Fine, we will play one game!” Needing something to sweeten the deal, you both bet on the loser having to pick up the check. What Josh did not expect was you to be a borderline professional bowler. 

As he stared at the screen and the massive points difference, you smiled triumphantly. “Did I ever tell you that I did bowling in high school, did a league with my grandparents, and nearly accepted a college scholarship for bowling?” He whirled around, shock taking over his face.

“You hustled me! You’re a hustler.” Reaching behind you and grabbing the check off the table, you extended it towards him. “Maybe, maybe not. I believe this belongs to you, sir.” He snatched it from your hands, leaving cash before dragging you out of his favorite place. 

When you arrived back at your apartment, you sat in his car, seeing him eye you. “What’re you doing for the weekend?” You sighed, grabbing your list from your purse. “Craft shopping. Need to get a jump on field day.” 

Without you having to ask, he grabbed his own phone and you watched as he canceled plans with other friends. “Okay, I’ll pick you up tomorrow at ten, sound good?” You couldn’t fight the smile taking over your face. 

Leaning over the center console, you gave him a small peck on the cheek. “Yeah, thanks, Joshy.” As you got out of the car and spared one glance at him, his face was beat red. A small chuckle escaped your throat as you headed inside. 

The amount of time you and Josh were spending together was growing exponentially. It was rare when there was a time he wasn’t near or around you. His siblings knew that if he were MIA and they called nine times out of ten, he was going to be with you. 

Whether it was being at your apartment nightly to do “work”, sitting in your classroom with you for lunch, going out to dinner every weekend, it never failed that he was with you. It was becoming normal for you to expect him to be around, too. Knowing it was going to like clockwork, he would show up at your classroom door at 11:09 at least once a week, lunch in hand.

The office ladies knew him so well now that when he would show up, his guest name tag was already filled out, and the front door unlocked for him to go through. It wasn’t rare for him to have a little treat for them as well. 

What was getting old was the constant bombardment of opinions from everyone. Your coworkers, Katie and Ryan, your parents, even Josh’s siblings were all pushing for the relationship to actually happen. It didn’t matter what excuse you gave them, it wasn’t good enough.

It was getting harder to make yourself believe them, too. Your initial reasoning was beginning to fade, trying to make yourself see that the Josh that was a public figure wasn’t around you very often if at all. It was also worth noting that it was because they were on a small recovery session between albums and tours.

Knowing that in just a month's time he was going to be fully embedded in that world again was sitting heavy on your chest. These feelings that you have never experienced with or for someone else were intense, but it was difficult wrapping your head around the idea that he was going to be snapping into a different persona soon. 

Sooner than you wanted.

Instead, you opted to soak up the time you did have with him. In any way you could. Which was why you were sitting in his massive home, watching him clean up his kitchen after having cooked you one of the best meals you had ever eaten in your life. Since it was a Saturday night, you were three glasses of wine deep since your arrival, getting ready to pour yourself a fourth. 

A smirk appeared on your lips as Josh denied topping your glass off for another time. “What, afraid you’ll get me too drunk?” His cheeks pinkened at your words, immediately shaking his head. “No, no, of course not. Can’t believe you would assume such a thing.” He scoffed, making you chuckle into your nearly empty glass.

Watching him as he fidgeted on his end of the couch, within touching distance if you would just stretch your hand out. Feeling the softness of his curls twine into your fingers. The warmth radiating from his neck as your lips trailed along his rapidly beating pulse. 

Perhaps it was the liquid courage, but you were wiggling in your seat. The thick seam of your jeans pushing just right on your aching core if you could move in the correct fashion. You were far too gone to notice how entirely obvious you were being, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

All your thoughts were centered around how Josh’s veiny hands were trying to mask the growing bulge in his already too short khaki shorts. How you were quite certain if you leaned forward ever so slightly and if he had himself positioned right, you would be able to see his weeping tip resting against his thigh. 

Setting your glass on his coffee table, you inched closer to him. What you didn’t realize was that without noticing it, you were practically on his lap as is. Which is why he was beat red, sweat beginning to glisten on his brow, a slight tremble in his hands that failed to mask his clear arousal. 

Your hands were already in his locks, tugging ever so often, a cascade of whimpers sounding from the back of his throat. Eyes struggling to remain open and focused on whatever program you had long forgotten about.

“Do you like this, Joshy? Being touched?” Your hand softly glided over his cloth covered erection, him putting up no fight to block your advances. His adam’s apple bobbed at your words, surprised that you were so willing to take control like this. 

Cupping your hand around him, a moan escaped in a breath between his teeth. “Very impressive if I do say so myself.” You murmured into his ear, but he couldn’t respond in words. Unable to form even a semblance of a cohesive thought. 

Lips being continuously moistened as his tongue darted out repeatedly, almost a nervous tick you memorized. Finally catching it right, you leaned in, capturing his tongue in your own mouth. Josh put up no fight, immediately letting you forcefully put your lips on his.

In a hurried mess of removing clothing, not having moved an inch from your positions on the couch, you both sat naked, sweat glistened bodies colliding together. Your hips writhed on his, forcing you to continue your movements, chasing your releases. 

Hands digging into his shoulder blades, fingers tightly holding onto the curls at the nape of his neck, feeling him nestled deep inside you in a way you couldn’t recall ever feeling before. His mouth ever chasing your own and your tits that bounced in his face with every movement you made.

His own hands left imprints deep on your ass cheeks, bruising indentations. As you felt your orgasm slam into you, your body shook with force. Josh’s arms wrapped securely around you to keep you upright, he having finished just moments before. 

The rest of the evening was spent tangled with one another on the sofa, under a blanket that had been draped over the back of his cushion. Worth more than you probably saw in three months paychecks, but for this fleeting moment you let yourself fall into the ideas.

Of what might be able to be. Seeing his blushy cheeks as he peered down at you from above, a smile never falling, fingers tracing every inch of you they could. Falling asleep right next to each other, him pressed tightly against your bare back, arm draped over you. 

The tv drowning out any noise for the remainder of your time. What you tried to get off your mind was the quiet conversation had occurred. Where Josh had asked you why not.

Why not give this a try? Why not be together for real? Why continue to deal with this ridiculous attempt at friendship? Your response hadn't been what he was expecting.

That the reason why was because you were intimidated. Not by him, you had clarified, but by his life. That you were terrified of his entire world. Not sure you were up for that task.

He had dropped it immediately despite how sad it made him feel. Letting you get rest for the remainder of the evening. You left the next morning before Josh woke up.

After what had happened you and Josh had hardly spoken. Terrified that what progress you had made with him as a friend had gone out the window diminished when you saw him appear at your classroom door early on field day morning.

To make it better, adorning the t-shirt he had told you he would never be caught dead wearing on the off chance it could leak to the media. It would ruin his cool guy reputation he claimed. You had only rolled your eyes in response, but now you felt tears welling in them instead. 

“You came,” you sniffled as he tilted his head at you. “Of course I did. I would never let my favorite teacher down. In case you didn’t know, I was a teacher's pet during my time in school and that never leaves you even as you grow up.” You wiped at your eyes, not believing him. 

“Really?” He shook his head, bottom lip pushing out. “Not at all, but I’m trying to get brownie points here so work with me.” You both laughed and you couldn’t help yourself as you crossed the room, throwing yourself into a tight embrace.

His hands rubbed soothing circles on your back before pulling back wiping at your eyes. “Alright, no more tears. Don’t need the kids seeing you a mess. Where do you need me, birdie?” A large smile took over your face as you turned and began giving directions.

The entire day while tiresome went off without a hitch. Every booth was packed with kids of all ages, prizes awarded, games played, and a wonderful close to the school year. Even though you had been more than occupied all day, you couldn’t help but look over to Josh every chance you could. 

Seeing him interact with your students and kids of all ages had your stomach in a mess of butterflies. He was a natural with them. It wasn’t long before other students were asking him to help with their activities or be their partner for different challenges and games. 

He took it in stride, letting them pull him in a million different directions. You could tell as the day came to a close, all booths packed and cleaned, sorting items in your classroom that he was exhausted, but still had that signature Josh smile on his face. 

“Okay, it was your first field day. How’re you feeling?” You asked, putting empty glitter pens in the trash. A long sigh escaped his lips, leaning against one of the open desks. “I don’t know how you do this everyday. You are a saint.” You laughed with a shrug. 

“Eh, it’s not so bad. It’s the end of the school year so they have an energy they typically don’t during the year. It’s fun seeing how much they’ve grown in just a handful of months though. Kids are amazing,” Josh spoke up right after. 

“No, you’re amazing. They wouldn’t be growing like that if it weren’t for the superheroes you guys truly are. It’s all you guys,” you felt pride shoot through your veins at his statement. Murmuring a small thank you at his kind words, you finished your task. 

Clearing your throat, you knew it was now or never. “You know, I did hear a rumor today.” His eyebrows show up, quickly glancing up at you as he wiped down desks. “Oh yeah?” You gave back a head nod. “Yeah. Something about a teacher having a crush on one of the chaperones.” 

Josh stopped wiping the desk, standing upright and crossing his arms over his chest. “Is that so? Cause I heard a rumor during the three-legged race that one of the chaperones has a crush on a certain teacher.” 

Playing along, you leaned back against your own desk as he slowly crossed the room to you. “Is that so?” His expressive facial expressions had you giggling. “Totally. Apparently, and this is just rumors,” you cut him off, “Of course.” He chuckled, still moving towards you. “Apparently, he’s been chasing her for months now.” 

Feigning surprise, you continued. “Months you say?” He nods, earrings moving with his movements. “Months. Ever since their first date and even though she keeps trying to push him away he just keeps falling harder for her each time.” 

A sad, but soft smile adorns your lips. His hands find home on your hips, pulling you towards him. “Maybe it’s because she’s insecure about who she’s with. She’s a teacher who makes dirt for money, spends all of her time with seven and eight year olds, and is a self proclaimed neighborhood bird lady.”

His head tips back as he laughs, adams apple bobbing. “Well then it’s a good thing I make good money, I basically am a seven or eight year old depending on who you ask, and love that you’re the bird lady.”

Her eyes narrow as she wraps her arms around his neck. “You’ll have to help me here, Josh. Really, I feel like I’m getting in over my head.” He quells your worries right there as he pulls you to him, lips connecting in a soft kiss. 

“Don’t worry, I can teach you a thing or two about this if you can help me with my times tables.” You fall into a mess of laughter, but the tint on his cheeks lets you know he’s serious. “No, really. When we were grading their homework packets it was embarrassing how often I had to use my calculator.” 

Nodding, your head nudges to your desk. “I have some spares for you to practice on.” He laughs, head falling forward as he does.

“Okay good. Just don’t let Sam see them. He’ll never let me live it down.”