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ssukidesu · 6 months ago

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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.

#nalu #nalu week #nalu week 2024 #final installment tomorrow babes!!!#i’m so blown away by the support for this fic!!#fanfiction #ao3

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iwannaleavemymind · 29 days ago

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Gamer!Choso continuation that’s been so highly anticipated and begged for…

As always, minors DNI you will be blocked

Thank you for all the love and support and getting me to 300 followers in just two weeks I love you guys so so much!!❤️❤️❤️

(Incorporating a little bit of my beloved sadism into this fic too🙏)

Let’s make I mean watch a movie!!

Gamer!Choso getting annoyed when you ignore him because your carried away in your own little game; prettily sat down at your own gaming set up with monitors and pcs with cameras set up for your live stream.

Gamer!Choso showing up on the stream with a loose black shirt and a silver cross necklace on- no doubt getting a little bit of thirsty comments about him in the chat.

“Babe take a break your streams been long enough dont cha’ think hmm?”

“Cho’ I can’t I have two hours left for the live stream. Sorry baby.”

Gamer!Choso bides his time bit by bit reading by the chat comments about their relationship, little jabs at your shared patreon together asking when the next movie will come out, whispering dirty little nothings into your ear.

Gamer!Choso slowly leads his hands down to your thighs, gently tugging the sides of them up up and up closer to your soaking wet cunt. Earning a little slap on his hand for distracting you from a match.

“Cho! I’m live and I almost lost.” You say to him, quiet enough so the mic doesn’t pick up what you say to him.

Gamer!Choso laughs at your attitude and pretends to walk off camera- only to slip under your desk and yank down your loose shorts to toy with your clothes clit, your arousal soaked through the thin fabric of your panties.

Gamer!Choso degrading and toying with your clit, desperately trying to keep your composure while you’re on the live stream, little huffs and pants coming from your lips- blaming it on how hard the match is going.

“Shh baby we don’t want them to hear that slutty lil mouth of your hmm?”

Gamer!Choso whispering to you with his head between your legs, spreading your thighs apart and yanking your panties down your bare thighs, discarding them to the side exposing your soaked and needy pussy to him.

“Princess? You like this don’t you?”

Gamer!Choso flicking his tongue along your clit, eating you out like a starved man in the middle of the dessert. And you were soaked enough to sustain that thirst for him-

Gamer!Choso nibbling lightly on your clit, his tongue slipping into your dripping cunt and swirling his tongue along your soaking wet folds, sliding a finger into your core and resuming his relentless assault on your throbbing clit with his oh so mean tongue.

Gamer!Choso makes your composure so hard to keep- making up an excuse to leave the stream for a ‘bathroom break’ only to turn off the camera- but your sloppy cunt makes it so hard to think straight; drunk on his tongue sliding up and down and circling your clit- his fingers stimulating your g spot over and over making your legs tremble- your fingers fumble with the keys turning the camera off- but not the audio!?

“Oh you poor thing- having to stop your stream just f’me baby? Don’t worry it’ll be worth your time~” he whispers against your sensitive core- his words echoing in the dumbed out walls of your mind, hands tangling in his hair and eyes shut in pleasure.

Gamer!Choso increases the pace of his fingers, flicking his tongue across your clit faster and sloppier until you come all over his tongue, your juices soaking his lips and dribbling down his chin.

“She fuckin loves me hm? Better give ‘er what she wants uh huh?”

Gamer!Choso overstimulating your poor pussy with his tongue, sloppily eating you out and simultaneously slipping his fingers in and out of your core at a hungry crazed pace, loud hazed moans slipping past your lips your pupils blown wide and legs shaking with overstimulation, your thighs neatly squishing his face in your favorite place between your thighs.

“So sweet- so sloppy n’ needy baby.”

Gamer!Choso slapping your pussy in retaliation, he’s so mean teasing your oncoming orgasm, ceasing all movement between his tongue and his fingers.

“Beg for it slut.”

Gamer!Choso loooves making you work for it, making sweet little please and whimpers flow from your lips and thighs shaking around his head, biting into the sensitive flesh leaving a hickey as his reward.

“Fuck- that’s what I wanna hear baby.”

Gamer!Choso fucking you with his tongue sloppier than before, the noise of your slick and drenched pussy reverberating throughout the room, his thick fingers fucking your g-spot juuust right.

Gamer!Choso isn’t done with your until you squirt all over his face- your release coating his lips in a clear sheen and your cum slipping down his neck right into his loose black shirt, no doubt satisfied with his job well done.

Gamer!Choso’s eyes widening when he sees your fucked out expression- and the chat blowing up with comments about your sweet little moans!?

“Oh fuck baby we might need to give ‘em another movie huh?”

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sixosix · 1 year ago

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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 😭😭😭😭

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney x y/n #lyney fanfiction

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bucks-babe · 5 months ago

Text

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.

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russo-woso · 2 months ago

Text

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.”

#woso x reader #woso #woso community #woso imagine #womens football #woso fanfics #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson fluff

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desperate-gay · 1 year ago

Note

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+

summary: just leah throat fucking you

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.”

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson smut #leah williamson #woso x reader #woso smut #woso imagine #woso fic #woso

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campingwiththecharmings · 2 years ago

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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. 💖

🌟 Masterlist 🌟

i am no longer doing a taglist. please follow @charmingupdates for updates and turn on notifications.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #across the spiderverse fanfiction #miguel o’hara fanfiction #my fic

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tkwrites · 7 months ago

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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

#quinn & sarah snapshots #quinn hughes #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x oc #quinn hughes fanfic #quinn hughes oneshot #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #hockey romance #hockey fanfiction #hockey fic #qh43

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familiarscars · 16 days ago

Text

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 18

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending, but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, swearing, drug addiction, violence.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind, and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

NOAH

Walking after having my ride request rejected four times was a humiliation I didn’t expect to face at this point in my life. With every step, the cold wind seemed to mock me, cutting my face as I shoved my hands into the pockets of my hoodie, trying to ignore the irritating feeling that things couldn’t get any worse.

Of course, that was a lie.

Thanks to the scene she made outside the studio yesterday, I was more screwed than ever. Barely awake this morning, I’d already lost count of the calls from Gerard, all laced with the same desperate tone. And as if that wasn’t enough, my name was popping up on corners of the internet I didn’t even know existed, tied to the most absurd stories.

"Bad Omens' vocalist freaks out after seeing ex with a new girlfriend." That was the most creative headline so far. It didn’t matter how hard I tried to stay out of anything that could draw attention to me on social media; it was unbearable living with every step of mine under scrutiny—through a photo, a video, or some wildly out-of-context clip. I had to think about everything: what to wear, how to talk, even how people might interpret my lip movements.

Every tiny detail was blown out of proportion.

And there was no escaping it when I was stuck next to a walking magnet for trouble. She knew exactly how much I hated feeling exposed. And, of course, she made a point of provoking me on purpose.

I adjusted the hood of my hoodie, pulling it further down. That’s when I heard it: female voices behind me. They were far off, but there was a tone of excitement that made me freeze for a second. Taking a deep breath, I tried to look casual and quickened my pace. Maybe it was paranoia, but something about their laughter felt like it was following me.

The voices grew louder. I glanced over my shoulder, and there they were—two girls whispering and looking at me like they’d just won the lottery. Panic rose like a wave. I walked faster, trying to stay calm, but my hands were already clammy inside my pockets.

I don’t know why I thought I could get away. Maybe it was stupid optimism or sheer denial. They started running, and before I knew it, one of them was at my side, gripping my arm tightly enough to make me stop.

“Noah!” she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling as if she’d just stumbled upon a unicorn. “We spent all morning waiting for you to walk by! Finally, we got to see you!”

“Wow!” I said, looking up slightly, something about her statement rubbing me the wrong way. “Thanks for the attention, ladies, but I really need to go now.”

“You’re upset about what happened yesterday, aren’t you? If you knew how mad we are at that—”

“Look, I’m really in a hurry,” I cut her off, my tone firmer as I pulled away from her grip.

“Noah, we’re only thinking about your well-being, and it’s clear that it doesn’t involve staying around her! It’s not like Scarlet is a good choice. Maybe it’s better for you to be alone for a while!”

“Exactly!” the other one chimed in. “We’re doing everything we can to make sure she pays for tormenting you, don’t worry! But we also want you to stay away from people like her, and I think it’d be a great idea to kick her out of the band, for example.”

“I agree!” the annoying one continued. “Who knows, maybe then you’ll sing Just Pretend again—it’s my favorite song, and I think it’s unfair you don’t sing it anymore because of her!”

They spoke as if I were a doll on a shelf, with no control over my own actions or feelings. I couldn’t even choose who to date without them turning it into hell from the very start of my relationship. They’d been stalking the person I’ve loved for nine years, blowing every minor mistake out of proportion and turning it into a risk for me.

I couldn’t even choose the damn song I wanted to sing.

Forcing a smile, I tried not to look as uncomfortable as I felt. “I’m genuinely concerned about how little you have to do. This is the last time I’ll warn you to stop meddling in my personal life. And I stopped singing that song because I wanted to!”

“Okay, okay!” one of them raised her hands as if surrendering. “But before you go, could you take a picture with us?”

“Oh, please, just one photo! It’ll be quick, I promise!”

“I’m not feeling comfortable taking pictures today, sorry.”

She already had her phone in hand before I could even finish answering. The other girl joined her, giddy, saying something about posting it online. The discomfort slowly wrapped itself into a sharp pain stabbing through my chest, tightening like a thin rope around me.

All I wanted was to disappear.

“I just said I’m not feeling comfortable taking pictures! WHAT THE HELL!” I exploded, and they froze, phones in hand.

Each step felt heavier than the last. It was as if the air around me had turned denser, suffocating. My chest began to tighten, and the familiar sensation of anxiety crept to the surface, slow and cruel. At first, I tried to ignore it. I took a deep breath, adjusted my hood, fiddled with my pockets—anything to distract my mind. But nothing seemed to work. My heart beat like an off-rhythm drum, and I could feel a thin layer of sweat accumulating on my forehead, despite the biting cold.

The streets around me blurred, dissolving into unrecognizable smudges. The voices of pedestrians melded together, turning into an unbearable background noise. I tried convincing myself it was all in my head, that I just needed to reach my destination, and everything would be fine.

But the record label building seemed further and further away, even though I knew it was just a few blocks ahead. My lungs started to burn, unable to take in enough air. My hands trembled inside my pockets, and I caught myself wishing I’d accepted the girls’ help, even though I knew how absurd that was.

When I finally saw the entrance to the building, a fleeting wave of relief washed over me, only to be replaced by a nauseating sensation. My legs felt like they were giving out with each step, and sweat now trickled down the back of my neck.

I stumbled into the lobby, barely recognizing the faces around me. Gerard was there, likely waiting for me, but his expression shifted the moment he saw me.

“Noah, are you okay?” he asked, but his voice sounded distant, like he was speaking underwater.

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, I felt my body weaken. The world around me began to spin, and my vision darkened at the edges. Before I could comprehend what was happening, my legs gave out completely, and everything went black.

“Don’t think this pathetic scene, pretending you’re having some sort of breakdown, is going to save you from our conversation!”

Opening my eyes felt like waking up in hell. My head throbbed as if a drum was being pounded inside it, and the first thing I saw was Gerard’s furious face, so close it looked like he was about to explode. All he needed was to start breathing fire.

I was lying on the couch in his office, but I had no idea how I’d gotten there. All I remembered was the moment the world darkened and collapsed around me.

“I think I had a panic attack,” I muttered, pressing the bridge of my nose as a groan escaped my lips.

“Don’t start with your nonsense now!” Gerard snapped, stepping back and pacing like a caged lion. “Not with a tour about to kick off!”

Watching his frantic pacing only made me dizzier. I closed my eyes again, trying to quiet the incessant buzzing in my head.

“If you’re overwhelmed and think you can’t handle it, then shove some sedatives down your throat!” he continued, his voice dripping with contempt.

“I don’t even take medicine for a headache,” I shot back in a low tone. “You know how I feel about that.”

“Then stop with the theatrics, Noah!” he barked, his voice sharp. “Hold your ground as the frontman and quit acting like a fragile crystal. I can’t stand weak people.”

His words hit like stones being thrown at me. Even so, they still felt distant, like I was hearing them through water. My flesh trembled, a light but uncontrollable vibration.

“You screwed everything up!” he suddenly accused.

“What are you talking about?” I opened my eyes slowly, trying to refocus, and stared at him in confusion as I sat up on the couch.

“The thing I wanted most right now was a way to get rid of her!” he exclaimed, tilting his head as if explaining to an idiot. “And you thought it was a great idea to tie her even closer to the band?”

Gerard crossed his arms, leaning against the table. His expression was hard, brows furrowed, and a lone strand of hair fell over his perfectly aligned face, despite the visible exhaustion. He was young, but his fatigue seemed to age him.

“I don’t just want her off the singles, Noah. I don’t want her anywhere!”

I leaned back on the couch, resting my arms on my thighs as I stared at him. A low chuckle escaped my lips, slowly growing.

“Who said we’re on the same page, sweetheart?” I quipped, tilting my head. “Whatever you do with the band’s administration doesn’t concern me, but she stays.”

Gerard narrowed his eyes, his jaw clenched. "As if you'd gain anything from this. She clearly doesn't want to be around you and does everything to ruin what the band achieves. You're an idiot, Noah. You're willing to destroy everything just to stay glued to that stupid girl?"

"ENOUGH!" I interrupted, my voice booming like thunder. "My motives for this are none of your business. You asked for the singles in exchange for reducing the contract, and I held up my end. Now, you're going to hold up yours."

He stayed silent for a moment, studying me like a predator sizing up its prey. Then he rubbed his jaw, thoughtful.

"I could hold up my end," he began, his tone calmer but dripping with sarcasm. "If you hadn't blindsided me with this move and plastered the band's name across every media outlet since yesterday thanks to your idea. You only did this so you two could ditch the label and sing happily ever after."

He leaned closer, his face filled with contempt. "You betrayed me, Noah. At no point did I agree to keep her in this circus, which is why I brought suggestions for replacements!"

"But you know that without her, I can't function." I crossed my arms, meeting his gaze head-on. "You tolerate everything she does because you know having two is better than none."

"Without her, I can't function..." Gerard repeated mockingly, his voice rising in exaggerated mimicry. He let out a harsh laugh. "Then keep functioning together, because you're still going to finish producing the rest of the album."

"That's not what we agreed on!" My voice came out louder than I intended, full of frustration. "We agreed I'd deliver the singles, and you'd turn that into a short album to close out the band's obligations with the label!"

Negotiating with Gerard was like trying to make a pact with someone trapped in a spiral of mental decay. His deals were as unstable as his patience, always tainted by his tyrannical whims.

"Of course, you're scrambling now, aren't you?" He moved closer, his voice dripping with sarcasm. When he stopped in front of me, he leaned forward, invading my personal space. "You picked a fight with your biggest source of creativity. You're an incompetent mess who hasn't managed to put together a decent chorus in months, and now you're going to be forced to deliver the whole album just to prove you're still worth something!"

The laugh that followed was so sharp it felt like it reverberated directly in my nerves. He pulled back again, leaning against the edge of the table, looking smugly satisfied with the sting of his words.

"Guess what, darling?" Gerard spread his arms theatrically, as if celebrating a victory. "I've flipped the script again. Now you'll have to figure out how to make her work for you. And when she finds out you're using her..."

He paused dramatically, sighing as though genuinely regretful, but his tone betrayed the venom in his words.

"It'll just be another disappointment for her collection, won't it?"

His words were a direct punch to the gut, but I kept my expression neutral. Even though it burned, I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing the pain on my face. His game was clear: manipulate, pressure, and win through exhaustion.

But I wasn't ready to give in.

Not yet.

"Alright, alright." I raised my hands in surrender as I stood up from the couch and walked toward him. My tone was laced with irony, but my gaze remained locked on his, unwavering. "But if we're going to work together, it's only fair for you to spill your little secrets, don't you think? I've always been curious about where this almost pathological grudge you have against her comes from."

I stopped a few steps away, tilting my head slightly as I watched his every reaction.

"She used to be your golden ticket, remember? That unmistakable voice, the star who made you take a chance on the band. And now? How did she go from all that to being sabotaged by you at every turn?"

Gerard's scowl remained, but something in his eyes tightened, and I pressed on, more relentless.

"Or do you really think I bought her story about not wanting to check into rehab? Because, let's face it, if she got better, what excuse would you use to keep tearing her down? It's convenient for you that she stays broken, isn't it?"

He stood still for a moment, his lips pressed into a thin, tense line. Then, without warning, he exploded. "Get out of my office!" His tone was a growl, every word spat out with restrained fury. "And don't come back here until you have something ready to hand over."

His rigid posture seemed on the verge of collapsing onto me, but I stood my ground. He took a step closer, pointing an accusatory finger at me.

"All these theories of yours mean nothing because, in the end, after everything goes through the funnel, it always comes back to you. You ruin her life because all you care about is yourself. So I suggest you figure out your place once and for all and stop messing with me."

I swallowed hard but bit back the retort threatening to escape. Now that I'd managed to rile him up as much as he'd annoyed me, I decided it was time to leave.

After a surreal chase with a duo of fans and an unbearable conversation with Gerard, which nearly sent my breakfast the wrong way, it seemed impossible for my day to get worse. But of course, underestimating the universe is always a mistake.

I greeted the guys at the studio, trying to keep my mood minimally stable. We were in a space that had belonged to a friend and was perfect for the idea we had for VAN recording. Nothing grandiose, just something intimate, focused on the collaboration we had chosen. I had arranged everything over the phone with the vocalist of a band, an old friend. I sent her the script, and she, always understanding, got it right away. Easy, simple... or so it should have been.

“Where’s the girl?” I asked Matt, who had his headphones on, fiddling with something in the sound system.

The room was partially dark, lit only by the setup lights as the crew finished preparing the scene. Matt, as always, didn’t bother to take off his headphones or pay attention to what I was saying. He just gestured toward the back of the studio. I took a deep breath, ignoring his rudeness, and moved on, determined to ensure everything was in order.

In the back, some makeshift rooms served as dressing rooms and storage for production clutter. As soon as I turned down the hallway, a familiar, nearly unmistakable smell made my stomach churn.

“Hey, just checking if everything’s ready?” I asked, trying to sound calm, my hands stuffed in my pockets to hide my nervousness.

I was about to follow up with another question when the chair in front of me swiveled around. And there she was.

Her dark, enormous eyes stared at me, gleaming with that devilish touch she used every time she wanted to get under my skin. She was flawless: perfect makeup, carefully chosen clothes, a wide smile forming a treacherous dimple in her cheek.

“Hi, Noah,” she said, winking at me as if we were having a casual meeting and not on the brink of catastrophe.

No. No. No. No. No.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?” I exploded, my heart pounding in my chest.

“I’m here to shoot the music video for my song,” she replied calmly, blowing on her nails as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Can you believe I stayed up all night at the studio to finish the recorded parts? But it’s fine, nothing I can’t handle.”

“And what did you do with the collaboration?” My voice was tense as I looked around, searching for any sign of my friend. I didn’t trust her. I never would. “Where’s the girl?”

“Oh, she’s definitely in a better place, darling.” She smiled that venomous smile, blowing a kiss into the air. “Didn’t you say I’m now obligated to stay and put up with you? Well, it’s only fair that you put up with me too, you bastard.”

My head throbbed. The thought of enduring her was torture enough, but now she was here, smiling with that victorious air as if she’d just won a war I didn’t even know was happening.

“Listen here, do you think this is a joke?” I asked, crossing my arms and forcing a firmer tone. “Have you checked your phone today to see what your stunt yesterday led to? Do you want another scandal tied to your name when people find out you go around kidnapping band vocalists?”

“I don’t think it’s a joke, darling.” She stood up from the chair, strutting across the room like she owned the place. “And technically, it wasn’t me who kidnapped her—it was Folio.”

I’d deal with him later.

“Oh, relax, Noah. I’m the star here. You just need to stay in your lane and let me shine.”

It was impossible. She was impossible. And the worst part? She knew exactly what she was doing.

On set, everyone was ready. The lighting was adjusted, cameras were positioned, and the script was in hand. I forced myself to ignore her provocative gaze while the technicians made the final adjustments.

“We’ll start with the chorus scene,” I said, trying to maintain a professional tone. “Remember, it’s supposed to be a bit emotional. You need to look vulnerable.”

“Vulnerable?” She let out a short laugh, fixing her hair. “Then I’ll just imitate you.”

I closed my eyes for a second, taking a deep breath as I heard the guys laugh quietly. She loved testing me, and I couldn’t give her the satisfaction of losing control.

The music began to play, and her voice filled the studio, as it always did. It was infuriating how she could be so good, so naturally magnetic. Everyone in the studio seemed captivated, especially the lighting technician, who leaned into his mic to say something during the pauses.

“Great job, it’s amazing,” he said, smiling in a way that made me uncomfortable.

“Thanks!” she replied with a soft laugh, placing a hand on his shoulder for a second longer than necessary.

My jaw clenched. She’s just being polite, I thought. But my mind insisted on turning that gesture into something bigger.

“Let’s keep going. I’m sure there’ll be time for flirting once we’re done.” I turned to the director of photography. “Next scene. Lights in position three. And you,” I pointed at her, “remember, this is a music video, not a theater performance.”

“As you wish, darling.” She winked, returning to her mark on the floor.

As the shoot progressed, I found myself watching her every move, every laugh she shared with the others, every touch that seemed casual but felt like a direct provocation to me. It was unbearable.

I wanted to kill myself.

⭑ @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard ; @iluvmewwwww75 ; @anarchydomainglory ; @foliosgirl ; @lma1986 ; @chey-h ; @supersquirrel1996 ; @zozaline ; @just-randomm-stuff

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haztobegood · 2 months ago

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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

#haztobegood recs fic #one direction fanfiction #1d rare pairs #remembering liam payne #rememberingliampayne

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hitomisuzuya · 1 year ago

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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."

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #genshin imagines #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #soft scaramouche #wanderer #wanderer smut #wanderer x y/n #wanderer x you #wanderer x reader #soft wanderer

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uriekukistan · 28 days ago

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since its thanksgiving here, i wanted to say im super grateful for all those who’ve read, supported, and encouraged my writing <33

when i started posting my fics, i wasnt sure anyone would want to read it TT_TT but i continue to be blown away by the response to my work, and i doubt i would have kept writing this long if not for the sweet comments i’ve received and the lovely people i’ve met along the way. ofc i love to create for the sake of creating, but the feedback means the world to mean and keeps me inspired every day.

i feel like i’ve grown so much over the past few months, and it’s all thanks to yall <33 i hope i’ll be able to keep growing. i’ve got some things cooking that i’m really proud of and really excited to share!! and i’ve started working on some original writing for the first time in yearssss and im just so hdkdkfkekkd

anyway beyond grateful for all of you <3333

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tinypandacakes · 6 months ago

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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~

#writing status update

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writethrough · 2 years ago

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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.

#Steve harringtion #Steve Harrington fluff #Steve Harrington angst #Steve Harrington x reader #steve harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington x gender neutral reader #Steve Harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n smut #Steve Harrington oneshot #Steve Harrington imagine #Steve Harrington imagines #Steve Harrington fanfic #Steve Harrington stranger things #Steve Harrington friends to lovers

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