#thank you for thinking of me on the topic!

[identitty-dickruption]

FAQ based on frequent responses to this post

"if you can't cite your sources is it really a special interest?"

yes. "special interest" does not mean the same thing as "expert" or even "knowledgeable". it refers to a certain type of emotional relationship an autistic person has to a subject area (e.g. can't stop thinking about the thing, is emotionally soothed by the thing, etc). many autistic people may struggle to remember facts and figures for any number of reasons, but may still experience a special interest. honestly, these kinds of misinformation about what a special interest even is feels like a reinforcement of the savant stereotype, and I really do not like that

"who is this post even aimed at?"

this post is about two related phenomena I have seen both in online and offline spaces:

someone is asked for a source for a piece of information -> "source? it's my special interest". this is unhelpful because it does not provide any additional information, and is also a really easy way for misinformation to spread

autistic people saying things like "I don't really have any special interests because I don't really know anything". this is sad to me, because it is a sign that people are denying themselves the joy of a special interest just because they'll never have encyclopaedic information about the topic. your special interest is still special even if it isn't expertise

"what if I use my special interest as motivation to become an expert (i.e. receive xyz qualification)?"

well now you are an expert! congratulations! this should also provide you with enough information to know that "it's my special interest" is not the same as a citation. however you should also be aware that not all autistic people will become experts in their special interests, and you should not hold them to that standard

okay thanks <3 have a good one

it's crucial that you untie "special interest" from "expertise". "it's true just trust me bro" doesn't have any extra weight when you add "I know because it's my special interest". you are not immune from falling for misinformation, and you are not immune from sharing misinformation. not to mention the fact that "amount of knowledge" isn't even a requirement for something being classified as a special interest lol!

[juniperwoodwell]

Hey, I was thinking about a fic where reader finds out somehow that Morpheus has a son and Morpheus thinks it's a deal breaker and tries to distance himself a little.

You catch on that he's not himself and you talk about it and then you ask if he wants to have another one, he's taken aback but obviously wants to start a family with you so you start practicing 😏😏

Oh- OH... this is so good. 🥵

Thank you so much for this request.

–Practice –

Pairing: Morpheus x F!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warning: Smut, mating press, rough sex, breeding, tiny bit of angst. Mostly smut and fluff.

A/N: I really loved this request. Sorry it took me a few days to complete! The end was really difficult for some reason to write.

“Lucienne, is this book here about the Endless… like Dream’s family?” I asked, my finger resting on the spine of a black leather-bound book.

Lucienne lifted her head from the one she was reading. “Yes, it is. Why do you ask?”

I shrugged, carefully pulling it from the shelf and taking a seat at the table. “I’m just curious. I sometimes hear him talk about his siblings but never his parents… would this tell me anything?”

Lucienne smiled. “See for yourself.”

I flipped open the book. The first page was a family tree: Time and Night at the top, then the Endless, listed in order—Destruction to Delirium, whose name had once been Delight. Beside Morpheus was Calliope… and beneath them, a son named Orpheus.

I tilted my head, quietly piecing it together before closing the book. That was all I needed to see for now.

Leaning back in my chair, I bit the inside of my lip and looked to Lucienne. “Dream has a son?” The words came out harsher than I meant. There was no malice behind them.

“Yes, indeed he does.” Her voice held that note—curious, cautious. The tone of someone who wanted to ask something but didn’t want to overstep.

“Does this bother you?” she finally asked.

I shook my head, then paused. “Not… not in the way you might think.” I slid the book forward across the table and stood. “He’s centuries old. I half expected him to have twelve children. I’m just bothered he hasn’t told me about this one.”

Lucienne smiled to herself. “I understand. But it might not be wise to ask him directly. It’s a sensitive topic. So tread carefully.”

I thanked her and left the library.

I entered his chambers quietly, not wanting to disturb him. He sat at his desk, wearing that rare, comfy sweater I loved so much. I savored every glimpse of it.

“Do you plan to stare at me all night, Lover?” His head was still down, scribbling across the page, brow furrowed in focus. But his voice was light. Almost joyful.

“I could, if you want me to.” I took that as an invitation and stepped into the room, walking around to stand beside him. I leaned forward, peering over his shoulder.

“You’re quite nosy tonight, are you not?” he teased, still not meeting my eyes.

“Just curious, that’s all, babe.”

He hummed in response, continuing to write.

I leaned closer and kissed the back of his head. That stopped him. His hand froze, his entire body going still—even his breath, which he barely needed.

I pulled back, confused. “What’s wrong?”

That broke whatever pause he’d slipped into. He straightened in his chair, turning to look at me.

He looked ethereal.

I reached out, brushing through his hair. “Are you here to distract me, lover?” he whispered, the faintest smile twitching on his lips.

“Only if you’re looking for a distraction.”

I tucked a wild strand behind his ear—it popped right back into place.

“Yes. Get me away from this mindless work,” he said, his voice like velvet.

I smiled and kissed his forehead. “Come on, then. Let’s take a walk.”

He stood, letting me take his hand. “Where to?”

“Anywhere. I wouldn’t mind walking around the castle—I still haven’t seen everything.”

He hummed, thoughtful, and linked his arm with mine.

We walked in silence down a baroque hallway. I admired how each room in the Dreaming had its own unique design. “I love how nothing here is ever the same. It’s wonderful.”

He nodded, still quiet—like he was just soaking in the moment. Eventually, we came to the garden balcony. My favorite place.

“Dream,” I said softly. He turned his gaze to mine.

“Yes, my love?”

I unlinked our arms and wrapped mine around his waist, pressing close. “I found a book today in the library. I wanted to ask you about it.”

He tilted his head, sliding his arms around my back. “I believed Lucienne would be the best one to ask. She knows more about those books than I do.”

I kissed his shoulder. “No, darling… this question is for you.”

Our eyes met. He could see the hesitation in mine, and his fingers began tracing soft patterns along my back.

“Well then,” he said gently, “you may ask.”

I took a breath. “The book was a family tree. It says you have a son?”

He stiffened, his hands freezing. But only for a moment—then they resumed their soft movement.

“Yes. I do.” His voice was guarded, emotionless.

“Did you ever plan on telling me?”

“I did… I just—” But before he could finish, Matthew swooped down onto the railing.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt, sir.”

Dream’s eyes sharpened. “Matthew.”

“I know, I know—but it’s important.”

Dream sighed and turned to me with an apologetic look. “I’ll find you later, my love.”

“Okay. Good luck,” I whispered, watching him leave.

But he didn’t find me later.

Two days passed. The Dreaming itself seemed anxious—thick air, grey skies, thunder without rain. I hadn’t seen him. Not in the throne room. Not the library. Not even his chambers.

It felt like he was avoiding me.

I sat slumped in a library chair, cold tea at my side. “Should I not have brought it up? Maybe I freaked him out—”

“Maybe,” Lucienne said, appearing in front of me, “you should ask him yourself.”

I looked up. “How can I ask someone who doesn’t want to be found?”

“That’s exactly why you should,” she said with a knowing smile.

I sighed, stretched, and stood. “You’re right.”

“I know.”

After some searching and a helpful tip from Mervyn (who told me not to say he told me), I made my way to my personal gallery—a gift Dream had made for me, filled with favorite art and a pillow room where I read and sometimes slept.

I didn’t announce myself. Just eased the door open.

He was standing there, arms folded, staring at a portrait I’d painted of him once in a dream.

“There you are,” I said softly.

He turned, visibly startled—as though he hadn’t expected me to be in my own room.

“I’ve been looking everywhere,” I said, brushing my fingers along his cheek. “Are you okay? You never hide from me.”

“I apologize,” he said, avoiding my eyes. “But I assure you, I’m fine.”

I scoffed, amused. “If fine isn’t enough to keep me away, it shouldn’t be enough to push me away.”

He said nothing. I took his hand and sat on the stone bench, tugging him down beside me.

“We’ve talked about this, Morpheus. You need to communicate.”

He sighed. “Yes. I remember.”

I kissed the back of his hand. “Good. So tell me what’s going on.”

He hesitated, then met my gaze. “When you asked about my son… I thought you were put off by the idea of me having children. I feared you might leave.”

A silence settled between us.

Then I rose, stepping in front of him. I cupped his face, kissed his temple.

“I’d never leave you. Know that first.”

I tilted his head so our eyes locked. “You’re powerful. Mysterious. Handsome. And sometimes, absolutely ridiculous. This might not be one of those times—but it needed to be said.”

His hands found my hips, drawing lazy patterns.

“To be honest,” I continued, “I was a little hurt you hadn’t told me. But after reading, after understanding… the hurt’s gone.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but I raised a hand.

“Let me finish. If you really want to know how I feel—” I leaned in close, lips grazing his ear, “—it’s made me want to try for one of our own.”

He inhaled sharply, fingers tightening at my hips.

“That is… if you want children,” I whispered. “If not, I understand.”

He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. “I do. I want children—with you.”

His words came slow, like each one carried weight he wasn’t used to bearing.

“That’s good to know,” I murmured, kissing his cheek. “I love you, Morpheus. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

He chuckled and pulled me into his lap. I straddled him, and his eyes, wide with love, never left mine.

“I love you more,” he whispered, voice barely above a breath, as though saying it louder might shatter him.

He rested his head against my chest, and we sat there—his arms around me, my hands threading through his hair.

Then I smirked. “Do you want to get to work, then?”

His head lifted quickly. “My love?”

I gave him a look—and understanding dawned in his expression.

“Yes,” he said softly, kissing my jaw, then my cheek. “I would like that very much.”

He stood, my legs wrapping around his waist.

“Where are you taking me?” I laughed.

He kissed my neck, voice low and aching. “To bed, my love. I must have you.”

He carried me into the bedroom, laying me down with care—but pinning me with intention. A playful glint danced in his eyes, but the need behind it was real.

His brooding had melted into something else entirely.

And I was ready for it.

“How many children do you want?” he groaned into my neck, voice low and raw, as he pressed my thighs against my chest and rutted deep into me.

The angle had me gasping—completely folded beneath him, every thrust pounding into me like he was trying to leave something behind. I whined, overwhelmed by the stretch, the pressure, the way he moved like a man starved.

“Oh—fuck… oh fuck, Morpheus,” I moaned, head falling back against the pillow as his hips snapped forward again and again, keeping me locked in a tight, desperate mating press.

He was relentless.

“How many?” he asked again, slower now, grinding his cock deep and pausing to savor every twitch of my body around him. His teeth sank into the curve of my collarbone, and he drove into me again—sharp, brutal.

“Answer me,” he growled, voice laced with hunger.

“T-Two,” I whimpered, barely able to breathe.

“Only two?” he murmured near my ear, his voice a teasing threat. His lips ghosted over my skin, then kissed just behind my ear, soft and slow—a contrast to the rough way he held me down.

“Mmm… fine. Maybe three. Or four,” I choked out, squirming for more friction. “Just—fuck—Dream, just fill me up. I need your cum—please—”

He held me still, refusing to let me take control.

“As you wish,” he whispered against my lips, and then began again—deep, punishing thrusts that made the bed groan beneath us.

His name spilled from my mouth like a prayer and a cry all at once, my voice breaking beneath the rhythm he set. I could barely hold on.

I felt the shift in him when his forehead rested against my chest, breath ragged and desperate.

“I’ll come in you every day and night until it takes,” he grunted, hips beginning to stutter, “—until I see you round with my children.”

His thumb found my clit, rubbing fast and rough, and I came hard around him—my nails raking down his back, my scream echoing into the room.

He followed with a sharp groan, hips stuttering as he spilled into me, pulsing deep, filling me to the brim. His breathing turned to gasps, like the force of it had knocked the air from his lungs.

Even as his orgasm faded, he stayed inside me, thrusting slowly to make sure not a drop was wasted. Only when he was sure did he finally pull out. We both moaned at the loss.

He got up, padded to the bathroom, and returned with a warm cloth. He cleaned me with care, kissing the inside of my thigh before crawling back into bed and pulling me against him.

His chest pressed to my back, still rising and falling with uneven breaths. One hand rested over my lower belly, possessive and proud, a smug smile tugging at his lips.

Like he already knew it would take. But even if it did… he'd keep fucking me until we were sure

“You’re insatiable,” I mumbled once my mind was clear enough to form full thoughts.

He chuckled, kissing my shoulder. “You bring out this side of me, lover.”

Then quieter, more serious, “I’ll take care of you through it all. There will not be a day—or night—where you’re alone.”

His voice was a promise I could feel in my bones.

Even if this was just practice… I really did hope it took.

Because building a family with him wasn’t just a fantasy.

It was a dream we both wanted.

[futureheartstour]

Private Life - S.L. Headcanons

Pairing: idol!Sophia x gn!reader

Request here

Privategf!Sophia, who never openly talks about being interested in someone or seeing someone, because, as Manon said, "It's no one's business."

Privategf!Sophia, who randomly posts bouquets of flowers on her Weverse or Instagram after an award show or performance, because it could be from "anyone."

Privategf!Sophia, who was randomly spotted with you one late night in LA, holding hands, then during a live, just casually acknowledged what happened, "Oh, yeah, I'm dating someone," then completely changed the topic like it wasn't a random lore that she dropped.

Privategf!Sophia, who decides to tease her fans by posting a faceless photo of you giving her flowers on her Weverse with a "💜”

Privategf!Sophia, who shows you the comments of fans freaking out under her Weverse, while you two cuddle on the bed, watching Mamma Mia for the nth time.

Privategf!Sophia, who rarely talks about her relationship either on live or in interviews. She'll drop snippets during live like "Oh, they're great," or "They made me and Yoonchae dinner."

Privategf!Sophia, whose camera roll is filled with photos of you two and only shows your friends and family, as well as the Katz.

Privategf!Sophia, who photo dumps on Instagram a trip you two went on, covering your face. This would only happen once a year or even longer. No tags, no sign of your handle anywhere.

Privategf!Sophia, who treats you so well because she thinks you're upset that she doesn't post you enough, but you constantly post her because you're private :( You tell her that it's "okay" and "you don't need to worry."

Privategf!Sophia, who shares TikTok edits of you with photos from Sophia's socials, laughing, calling Eyekons "unserious," But then getting jealous because why do they find you attractive from faceless posts.

Privategf!Sophia, who wears matching rings with you every day so you two can be "interconnected" or whatever she was talking about while you were half asleep, but nonetheless, you agreed to buy her the ring.

a/n: heh, here you go anon. Thanks for requesting this! I love writing hcs 🙂‍↔️🙂‍↕️

Just finished my 7-5 i wanna die 🫩 will do it all over again tomorrow

[rustcoloredraccoon]

I actually just had conversations with a mutual about this exact topic a few days ago and how it seemed entirely random which story ended up popular. In our case, the two stories were similarly tagged and had similar summaries, posted just a few days apart.

I'm sharing part of the rant I went on in our DMs because I feel like it's important to add this, even if it is just rehashing what has been said a million times before

The other things I talked about but will not share due to other topics and information present in the texts:

- more about tropes, as soulmates will always outperform a less popular trope, even if it is shorter and you put less time and effort into it;

- timing, especially during event weeks when a lot of really popular writers are also sharing their works, so yours might get lost in the sea of the other works if you're not one of the big ones. This should not discourage you, because eventually people will come back around and read yours as well. Maybe sometimes you just need to be patient because eventually the readers will find you and realise they have overlooked a diamond in the rough.

- not everyone will write the next fandom epic. The words I specifically said about this were: "some people are just looking to spend the afternoon reading an accidental baby acquisition or omegaverse fic, and I'm here to cater to them."

Sure, we all hope that one of our fics will be the Next Big Thing, but it's okay if it's not. What you think is just a mid work might be someone else's favourite fic they constantly return to when they had a bad day.

I hope this whole message doesn't come off as arrogant or full of myself. I'm not one of the biggest writers in my fandom, nor have I been in it the longest. But I have been fortunate enough to have several people who I know like to read my fics and will leave comments as well more often than not. And even if it was just one person (other than me) who enjoyed it, then posting it was already worth it. If it made their day just a little bit better by offering a distraction, then my time and effort had not been in vain.

And for those who never gathered the courage to comment, but still reread the story 50 times and could only leave 1 kudos, I see you and thank you and I love you.

My friend said this about AO3 and it’s honestly so true

[ninzied]

a lesson in maths

or, a college au

alex claremont-diaz's relationship status is an oft-debated topic on campus.

even pez and bea have not been immune to at least a passing curiosity (bea), or more and more outlandish guesswork as to what—better yet who—the answer could be (pez).

"hazza, you're his maths tutor. surely you must have some idea.”

henry might've noticed a few things here and there, yes.

that alex for example is hardly ever on his own. that he's always surrounded by at least half his lacrosse team, plus any number of girls at any given point in time.

that the one exception is the one class he & henry have together, at two adjoining desks in the very back of the room.

and because henry is hopeless, and alex is hopelessly bad at maths, it feels like their own little world when alex, brow adorably scrunched, leans his head toward his.

it was all thanks to dr. bankston. alex, she'd said, was in dire need of remedial maths, then foisted him onto her star pupil henry at the start of term.

("hey," alex had grinned.

henry uttered a small prayer for his sanity. that dimple was even more lethal up close.

"henry, right? i hear you're the one who's gonna fix me."

there was no fixing alex. it defied logic how warm and kind and vibrant he was. henry had been doomed from the start.)

dr. bankston regrets it all now, henry's certain.

alex jostles their knees together. "you coming to my game tonight, h?"

"if you would focus," henry says sternly, not looking up from his work.

"there's an afterparty," alex says. "i guess hunter decided we're hosting, if you wanted to…"

henry looks up now. their eyes meet. "that would be nice, yes."

"sweet." alex, still beaming, peers over his shoulder. "you forgot a decimal there, by the way."

"i—" henry blinks. "sorry, what?"

.

it happens mid-goal.

alex turns to the crowd. his gaze lands almost improbably on henry’s. he winks as though to say, this one's for you.

henry flushes so hard it's a wonder no one has noticed. no one, that is, except—

"hazza." percy looks terribly proud. "you have some explaining to do."

.

campus is abuzz after the win, everyone descending on alex & hunter’s residence hall as henry walks by and then keeps walking.

the quad he's looking for is deserted, save for the stars and a small picnic blanket—and alex, still in his uniform, glancing up with a wide smile just for henry.

"i'll say this about hunter," says alex. "he knows how to throw a party. we basically have the whole place to ourselves."

"mm. i heard talk of a bonfire too."

"even better." alex reaches for henry's hand. "now if you'll excuse me, i'd like to have a moment alone with my boyfriend for once."

"pretending to be bad at maths not cutting it for you anymore?" henry smiles.

"baby," says alex. "that was just the beginning. besides, i had to get you to start noticing me somehow.”

"oh, i think there might've been a few things already," muses henry. "a whole list of them, as a matter of fact.”

"yeah?" alex, who loves a list, preens just a little. "how long of a list are we talking? 'cause i could use a refresher on how to like. count things."

henry shakes his head, but he's smiling. he can feel alex smile too as henry leans in, presses his lips there and says, "one.”

[thankyoulovely]

what a cutie — arthurtv

you're an american twitch streamer and you get a chance to go to the UK. who knows what will happen?

notes: this isn't PURELY smau - i have written some stuff as well because i couldnt resist. there will be multiple parts because i can't exceed over the 30 photo limit and i went a little overboard. fluff, platonic!group chat, friend!cinnabrit

yourusername

liked by cinnabrit and others

yourusername ive had the best couple of days!!! meeting all my friends and seeing all of you guys has made my heart full!!!! thank u to everyone who said hi and came to meet us 😋

tagged twitchcon, yumimainn, bigtstreamingservice, isaacwhy, softwilly, larrrycroft, grunk_

comments. . .

yumimainn ugly ass picture of me

ㅤ⤷ yourusername shut up i have worse

bigtstreamingservice hey that's me

liked by yourusername!

cinnabrit I MISS YOU

ㅤ⤷ yourusername ILL SEE U SOON BBY

user TANNER AND ISAAC ARE SO CUTE

user i loved meeting you!! thank you for the nice words about my gift 💜

ㅤ⤷ yourusername omg thank you for the gift!! its hung up on my wall <33

isaacwhy wanna come to texas?

ㅤ⤷ yourusername soon!!! i need to recalibrate 😴

yourusername posted a story!

text: STREAMING WITH TANNER IN 10 MINUTES!!!! forcing him to learn phasmo 👀

liked by bigtstreamingservice and cinnabrit!

yourusername posted a story!

text: wine n dine with my babe @/cinnabrit <3

cinnabrit liked your story!

"Wait, what- England?"

"Yes! Fancy old London!" Cinna puts on a fake stereotypical British accent, making the both of you laugh way too hard at this quite expensive establishment. Some old people give you a hard stare, but you two don't pay it any attention.

"Why the hell are you going there?" You take a sip of your cocktail, slightly watery at the taste.

She leans closer to you on the table, speaking with a hushed tone - not whispering, but not letting others hear it as well, "Remember that reality show I did? With the Sidemen?" You hum, remembering all the edits she sent you of her, excitedly sharing some behind-the-scenes secrets with you.

"Well, one of the contestants, George Clarkey, is hosting his birthday party, and he lives in London. He invited Jason as well. And.. I'm allowed to take a plus one!" Her smile is contagious, hoping to hear a positive answer from you.

"And you think I am deserving of that invite?" You take another sip of your final cocktail for the night.

"Yes! Let's have a girl's trip! We can even stream something there!"

You giggle, "A girl's trip with Jason?" Cinna nearly spits out her own drink as she shakes her head, "That man will not leave George's sight."

You let the information settle a little, Cinna's new topic being overshadowed by your own thinking. A girl's trip to England, to some random man's birthday party with even more strangers. You needed some time to think about it. For now, you enjoyed your company with Cinna.

yourusername

liked by georgeclarkeey and others

yourusername an (un)forgettable trip to texas 🤠 (no more photos of this trip exists idfk what happened)

tagged bigtstreamingservice, larrrycroft, softwilly, isaacwhy

comments. . .

bigtstreamingservice WHY THAT PICTURE

ㅤ⤷ yourusername because its funny as shit

user nick always cuddling someone smh

liked by yourusername!

larrrycroft i miss Luciano Pavarotti 💔

ㅤ⤷ yourusername me too sweetie

softwilly YOU RIGGED THE FUCKING DARTS

ㅤ⤷ yourusername STAY MAD BRO 👋

georgeclarkeey followed you!

georgeclarkeey sent you a message!

georgeclarkeey: Hey! Just wanted to check that you're Cinna's plus one right?

yourusername: hey! yes that's me :)

georgeclarkeey: Alright! Can't wait to meet you soon!

liked by yourusername!

georgeclarkeey: Hopefully this isn't a weird question

georgeclarkeey: Is there anyone you're familiar with over the pond? Like in the UK Youtube space

yourusername: okay curious george

liked by georgeclarkeey!

yourusername: quite honestly no one 😭

yourusername: but ill def check some on your content out! i heard you stream as well

georgeclarkeey: Oh no

georgeclarkeey: No need

yourusername: 😭

yourusername: i am actually down to stream today. how about some minecraft?

georgeclarkeey: Say less

yourusername posted a story!

text: this random British man agreed to play Minecraft today..... come check us out!!! STREAMING IN 10 <3

chrismd10 followed you!

arthurnfhill followed you!

italianbach followed you!

arthurtv followed you!

yourusername

liked by cinnabrit and others

yourusername took the girls out 😘

tagged yourfriend1, yourfriend2

comments. . .

yourfriend1 can't believe you're leaving us

ㅤ⤷ yourusername ITS ONE WEEK DUMBASS

ㅤㅤㅤ⤷ yourfriend2 one week too much :'(

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⤷ user relatable

isaacwhy the aesthetics go insane-o

ㅤ⤷ yourusername i wouldn't settle for less 😏

arthurtv cool fishies :)

liked by yourusername!

user SO PRETTY!!!! 😍😍

liked by yourusername!

yourusername posted a story!

text: last stream today before i leave! what should i play on stream? lmk 👀💕

arthurtv sent you a message!

arthurtv: have you ever played "Make Good Choices"? it's quite a funny game, and would be perfect to play on stream :)

yourusername: oooh i havent!! thank u for the suggestion!

arthurtv: no problem :)

yourusername: can i give you a suggestion?

arthurtv: what suggestion?

yourusername: a game for you to play on stream 🤭

yourusername: its called 'what remains of edith finch' - amazing storytelling, so captivating and an emotional rollercoaster. its one of my personal favourites :p

arthurtv: ohhhh hahaha, thank you! the name is familiar, the rest not so much

arthurtv: and I don't stream, sadly not as often as I would like to :(

arthurtv: if it really interests me, I might record a Youtube video on it 😉

yourusername: bet 😁 ill be the first comment

arthurtv: i'll check 😉

yourusername posted a story!

tagged cinnabrit

text: watch out people, we've landed in London 🇬🇧

liked by georgeclarkeey, isaacwhy, larrrycroft, arthurnfhill, arthurtv!

"Are you nervous?" You hear Cinna ask, styling her hair in the hotel bathroom. You're putting away your spare clothes in your suitcase, cleaning up after your small dress-up show.

"Of course I am! You at least know George to some extent. I know no one!" Your voice is a little louder than normal, frustrated over your shirts and sweatpants suddenly not fitting back in the same space they just were. Your dress is tight, hugging every inch it sits on. The colour brings out your eyes, the matching shoes comfortable at your feet. The sweat is starting to form on your back, but as soon as you get outside, you won't feel as hot anymore.

"You're such a doofus. Once the drinks start coming, it will feel like any party." She finally turns off the light in the bathroom, stepping out and showing off her natural curly hair. You look up, sending her an air kiss which she catches, placing her hand on her heart. Laughter fills the hotel room.

"Also, don't lie to me."

You blink, "What do you mean?"

Cinna is smirking at you, leaning over the bed, as if taunting you. "I saw who you were texting."

You suck your teeth, trying to play it off, "People can't text anymore?"

She lightly smacks the bed, "You were smiling! Like, smiling smiling! I think you were even blus-"

You throw your t-shirt at her, "Shut up!", laughing at her. She's not wrong, you were texting Arthur. He'd asked when you were landing and how you were going to get to the party. You answered him, and maybe joked around with him.

"Okay- let's get going, Jason's blowing up my phone."

You grab your coat and bag before closing the door behind you.

yourusername posted a story!

text: happy birthday @/georgeclarkeey!!! to liver failure <3

yourusername

liked by arthurtv and others

yourusername i call this aesthetic 'american girl in england at George Clarkey's birthday'

comments. . .

user WHY IS ARTHUR IN A TREE

livvydimartino thank god you didn't post that one picture

ㅤ⤷ yourusername far too embarrassed 😭😭

cinnabrit i think i took someone else's shoes accidentally LOL

ㅤ⤷ bambinobecky please call me girlie ❤️❤️❤️

user omg the crossover

arthurtv i still have no idea how you beat me at that one game

ㅤ⤷ yourusername get good dude

isaacwhy please come home. Larry misses you

ㅤ⤷ yourusername tell him i miss him too </3

arthurtv sent you a message!

arthurtv: what plans do you have today?

yourusername: besides trying to beat jet lag, nothing

yourusername: why, arthur television?

arthurtv: i hoped you'd forgotten the nickname 😭

yourusername: chris taught me well

arthurtv: thought you might want to explore London with an experienced guide 😏

yourusername: you know what

yourusername: give me an hour

arthurtv: i'll wait for you at your hotel :)

liked by yourusername!

yourusername

liked by larrrycroft and others

yourusername you were real nice to me London <3

tagged cinnabrit

comments. . .

cinnabrit i'm still dreaming about that humble crumble

ㅤ⤷ yourusername nearly licked my screen 😋

jasontheween LET'S GO HOME 🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸

liked by yourusername!

user CANT WAIT FOR YOUR STREAMS ❤️❤️❤️❤️

liked by yourusername!

arthurtv: come back soon!

ㅤ⤷ yourusername: more like come here 🤭

ㅤㅤㅤ‎‎⤷ chrismd10: Don't speak to my man like that

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤliked by yourusername!

arthurtv sent you a message!

arthurtv: are you for real?

yourusername: what do you mean?

arthurtv: visit you?

arthurtv: do you want me to?

yourusername: maybe

yourusername: you have to stream with me first however

yourusername: otherwise im not inviting you

arthurtv: 😭😭😭

arthurtv: you're driving a hard bargain

arthurtv: what game?

yourusername: we will see, arthur

yourusername: see you soon in vc

yourusername: :)

arthurtv: :)

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

i havent dabbled in smau since 2018 🚬 hopefully this turned out okay :) part 2 out sometime!!!

[darkfictionjude]

it's really weird people are getting upset because there are literally 0 visuals about Crowny so if people want them to be hot they can just picture them as hot?? and then just explain that maybe the npcs don't think that they aren't attractive because they simply don't like Crowny or find their behavior too off-putting or creepy or Crowny just doesn't care to make the effort or something?

THANK YOU! I’ve literally been saying this! If you don’t want to agree with them then just headcanon it!

But don’t come to me to complain because all that’s gonna do is piss me off and that isn’t productive for anyone

Man headcanons used to have incredible power now it’s like “if the author doesn’t say it is then I must not use my imagination” you have free will

Edit: I’m shelving this topic because it’s really just not for worth discussing. Anymore complaints about it will be deleted and if it keeps up I will block

[whirlwindsworld]

I cannot believe I have to explain that no, some material is actually not appropriate for young children. It really is quite that simple. My parents often didn’t understand what I was reading and left me to my own devices. (These examples all from before I turned 12) Sometimes that was a fine. One John Grishman novel about football? Totally chill. Flowers for Algernon? Starting to be less chill. A Boy Called It? I will never forget it and I think it still informs the way I seek similar stories in fanfiction, for better or for worse. The one book my parents didn’t let me read was Dustbin Baby.

I thought that because I could read it and understand most of it that meant I could handle it. But the truth is my parents should have been more involved in what I was reading and helping me comprehend more of it. That would have also given them the opportunity to talk to me about why some of these books could have waited till i was older.

There is nothing lost if a child simply waits to read a book. It’s not censorship, its responsibility and appropriate supervision. This includes looking at the book that might be currently inappropriate, seeing what its about, asking the kid what about it is interesting to them, and then looking for a more age appropriate version that tackles some of the same topic and appeals to the child.

There are tons of mature topics that can begin to be touched on young, through specific books meant to introduce gradually to children. You don’t have to have the child starting out with Night by Elie Wiesel. You can help them read Number the Stars.

I loved Jacqueline Wilson’s books because they touched on mature topics. I didn’t realize that Dustbin Baby was intended for an older audience than Lola Rose. But there were more books like Lola Rose I could be reading and I am still thankful to my mum for getting me to wait till I was older to read Dustbin Baby.

Addendum: libraries shouldn’t be snitching to anybody. I’m pro good parenting, but sometimes parents or other adults suck and reading whatever you can get is invaluable. I’m saying parents should be helping kids regulate and be safe to turn to about stuff they read. That’s not everyone’s reality unfortunately. So yeah, no snitching on kids.

one of my most firmly held beliefs is there's no such thing as an inappropriate book for a kid and people try to debate me saying like buhhhhhh I shouldnt have been reading the things I did when I was a kid and it's like cool but did you die??? did anything bad happen to you?? or were you allowed to think about what you did and didn't know and walk away when something got too intense or whatever.

[starsswirl]

Come in with the rain

clark kent (2025) x reader

summary: golden retriever!clark can’t stay away from black cat!reader. Even with the initial uncaring front they put on, his attention and care towards them breaks down a few walls. maybe all it takes is a little rain to wash away the indifference and let a little love shine through.

warnings: bad coffee

a/n: i cannot tell if i encapsulated black cat and golden retriever correctly in this fic but i still hope its good

You were in the perfect writing zone. Earbuds in and fingers typing across the keys trying to keep up with the flow of words coming out of your head.

Writing articles never always came so easy for you.

Sometimes you have everything planned out in your head of what you were going to write for the Daily Planet. Paragraph topics covered. Multiple people standing out in your head for the perfect quote. Even down to the nitty gritty of the perfect witty lede to draw readers in.

Other times, not so enjoyable. Recalling hours of sitting and staring at your desk praying to anything that some inspiration can strike you. Countless nights in your bed, eyes straining from the bright light of the laptop screen, frustrated that the article deadline is so soon and you have nothing to show up for it.

So far, you were lucky. So far, you were in the middle of writing about the newest shops opening around Metropolis. The words typed on the screen so easily you don’t even notice yourself absentmindedly nodding along to the song blasting in your ears.

That is until, like clockwork, Clark Kent interrupts the moment with a tap on the shoulder.

“What are you listening to?”

“Uh nothing really,” you say taking out an earbud. You were too embarrassed to admit what you were truly listening to.

“I was just curious. I mean, you looked really into the song. You were nodding along and everything.”

“I really don’t think you’ll know the artist that well. And being honest I like to gate keep,” you deflect by facing back towards your computer screen. You hoped that Clark would drop it and leave you alone. But that is never the case.

“I can see on your phone screen that you’re listening to Taylor Swift.”

“So what? Some of her songs are really good,” you say defensively. Even if you were the biggest fan in the world or barely knew her discography, you could not help but diminish the fact you got caught listening to her.

“No, there is nothing wrong with Taylor. I even enjoy a few of her songs.”

“Okay? Do you want a medal or something?”

“Uh no I do not. I actually enjoy trophies instead of medals.”

You let out an exhale forgetting how oblivious Clark is to sarcasm. You’d think you would learn by now from how often you would shoot a sarcastic jab his way and he act like you told him something thoughtful.

Leaning back in your chair you feel the writing zone slowly seep out of you as Clark continues to ramble about the gratification of receiving a trophy over a medal. You so desperately want to go back to writing because it will take forever to get back into the zone once you are out of it.

“Did you need something?”

“No I didn’t. I just wanted to come over and say good morning. So good morning! I hope you have a great, productive day,” Clark says flashing a wide smile.

“Oh uh thank you. You too.”

Now that had thrown you off. Nobody has ever made their way just to wish me a good morning before just because they wanted to. Sure sometimes someone says it in passing while you are walking past their desk in the morning. Or even at the cafe down the block when the barista says ‘good morning’ and it is just reflex to say it back.

But a good morning and a wish to have a good day? That is too much. Clark is not there for much longer before Perry barks at him to go back to his own desk.

You cannot help but watch as he walks away and ponder at just the entire existence of Clark Kent. How can somebody be so considerate as him? Why would somebody so considerate?

So caring and sweet. As if he has never seen the dark reality of the world we live in and he still smiles through it every day.

It must be an ulterior motive right? He has to secretly want something from you. There is no other reason for him to be this nice to every body. Maybe he wants to steal your article ideas for his own. Maybe he wants to associate himself with you to try to seem more professional to others at work.

Or maybe he just wanted to be around you for you.

You shake the thought of Clark out of your head as you try to bring your focus on your own writing, not the cute way his smile lights up his entire face and defines his dimples. Definitely not.

It is not too long before he approaches again. In fact it was exactly an hour and thirty-two minutes later. The only reason why you know this is because you checked the time before you got back to work, totally not because you were counting the minutes until he came back over.

This time now, his large hands envelope a small and steaming cup of coffee. He extends it to you, but you are hesitant to take it.

A voice in your head saying, what if he does not want to give it to you? Maybe he just extends his arms like that out of habit. Imagine the embarrassment of taking the cup and Clark saying it was not meant for you.

You would rather eat worms than have to live through that scenario so you stare at Clark waiting for him to say something. Anything.

An awfully long silent minute passes, both of you waiting for the other to speak first.

“Do you not want it? I thought you liked coffee. I can get you something different,” Clark says as his eyes never leave you face. A look of mild confusion and a glimmer of hope is painted across his face.

“Wait. That is for me?”

“Yeah. I got it for you. I noticed you did not have a drink on your desk, and even though coffee is not very hydrating it is still better than nothing. And maybe you would enjoy the energy,” he says in a matter of fact way. He extends his arm again, seemingly more desperate for you to take the drink than before.

You take the cup from his hands, careful not to brush his fingers with yours, but it did eventually happen. The contact is not what you expected at all.

Usually when you accidentally brush your hand against another person’s hand it is cold and unfeeling. Something that means nothing and will never mean anything.

But with Clark, his hands are warm. Obviously from the cup of coffee he was holding, but something in your heart tells you his hands are always that way. You want to hold them, intertwine your fingers with his just to know what it felt like.

You want his hands to hold your face while you softly nuzzle against his wide palms. Because while his hands may hold warmth they seem to hold so much more. They send a message of emotion, tenderness, and even possibly love without him having to even say a word.

You take a tentative sip of the coffee, preparing yourself for a small burn in case the coffee has not had enough time to cool down, but what you did not prepare yourself for was the taste. You immediately scrunch up your face in discomfort.

The effort it took for you to swallow that small sip should not have been that hard. But when you have to give yourself a mini pep talk just to swallow, you know something is very wrong.

It was a taste like you have never tasted before. You have had black coffee sure, but somehow this was much worse. Nothing in your mind could comprehend what in the world you just drank.

“What is wrong? Are you okay? Do you not like the coffee? I only put a little creamer and sugar in it. Isn’t that what you usually do,” the never ending questions escape Clark’s mouth before you can interject. Your heart wrenches at the sight his worried face. Wanting so bad to tell him it is okay, but you cannot bring yourself to lie to his face about how the coffee truly tastes.

You hold out the cup towards him and cough out a small “try it for yourself” to hopefully let him understand that it really was that bad.

Clark cautiously took one slow sip of the drink and it was clear on his face that he did not find the taste appetizing either. He quickly went over to the nearest trash can to throw it away before returning with apologies spewing out of his mouth.

“Are you sure you put milk and sugar in the drink?”

“Yes! I really tried to mimic what you usually do. Let me show you what I did,” he says before making a beeline towards the coffee station, desperate to make up for whatever fluke happened with the drink. You following suit.

He pointed out the creamer he used, exclaiming exactly one and a half. Just like you do. Then he picked up four white packets explaining how he used them exactly how he saw you do.

You are really impressed at how observant Clark is to your daily habits, down to exactly how you make your coffee. But those are not the sugar packets you use, not even close because of the word ‘salt’ printed on the side catches your eye.

Granted whoever organized the sugar packets right next to the salt packets really should have thought it through more. And who in their right minds designs salt packets to have the exact same font and color as sugar packets without thinking that there was a high possibility they could get mixed up.

So there was no reason in your mind to blame Clark for any of this at all. It was all just an accident. A terribly salty accident.

After you point out the mix up, Clark’s hand shoots up to his face. A regretful sigh escapes his lungs as he mutters something about being ‘stupid.’

“Hey. You are not stupid at all. It was an accident, even the best people are allowed to have accidents. And plus, you are among smartest people I know. I do not blame you at all for what happened and I am still very flattered that you even considered making me coffee in the first place,” you exclaim before even thinking about what you said.

You do not know what came over you when you let out that entire spiel. Reassurance and compliments are not things you usually give out to just anybody at anytime. Most of the time you think a simple ‘it’s okay’ suffices before moving on.

With Clark, it felt natural. It even felt a little good telling someone something nice like that. Definitely not good enough to do it more often or with other coworkers, but maybe just to Clark. After all someone who spreads so much kindness does need to be given kindness back.

You cannot stop the sheepish smile spreading across Clark’s lips. As if you would ever not want to see him smile. It hurt you when he gets upset, so having him smiling eases your heart and puts your worries to rest.

“Thank you,” Clark says. The way he says it makes it sound like he truly, utterly meant it. As if that little praise from you filled him with so much happiness.

It felt right to not force anymore conversation between you two, at least to you, so you walk back to your desk and get back to work. Not because you wanted to get away from him, but because you genuinely did not have much else you thought was interesting to say.

Hours pass and the work day ends. Finally. Goodbye loud chaos of the bullpen, hello quiet comfort of your bed.

That is until on your walk home you get caught in a downpour of rain. Day after day of not checking the weather coming to bite you. You are now really regretting not buying mini umbrella you saw while shopping a few days ago.

Coming down like sheets, you cannot avoid getting entirely soaked from head to toe. Luckily for you, you decided to leave your notebooks and computer at work so you could properly relax at home.

After you realize you are far too gone to get out of the rain, you decide to just push through it. Reasoning that you were already so drenched so it is not like you were going to get even more wet by continuing your walk home.

Suddenly the rain stops hitting you, but you can clearly see the rain still falling right infront of your eyes. You look up to see a suit jacket above you. The arms holding onto the jacket are strong and defined.

Clark.

“My apartment is right down the block. Please come with me and get out of this rain,” he urges. Nothing but worry knitting his brows, almost as if he thinks that if you stay in the rain for much longer something bad would happen.

You do not have to be told twice to follow after him, especially by the way he looks with his hair and shirt soaked.

If he was not so close, you would not have hesitated to slap yourself to knock you out of your dazed thoughts about him and the way he looks right now. But having to make up an excuse for slapping yourself back to normal is for some reason really hard.

It does not take long before you both rush into his apartment. Clothes dripping and body shivering, but you cannot shake the feeling of comfort right as you walk in the door.

“You know, my favorite Taylor Swift song is “Come In With The Rain.” Seems fitting right about now,” he says making a small joke of the unideal situation. A small chuckle even escapes under his breath, one of genuine humor or one as a coping mechanism, you could not really tell.

Either way that does not stop you from breaking out into laughter. Not just a chuckle or even a giggle. Full blown laughter that makes you run out of breath in the best way.

You do not really even know why you think what he said was so funny. The situation of the rain and Clark’s joke just really got to you. Or maybe just Clark’s presence overall just made you feel less guarded enough to laugh freely.

It takes you a good moment to collect yourself, taking a few steadying breaths. When you look at Clark you do not find him awkward seeing you break out into laughter like that out of nowhere as you expected. Instead of making you feel bad, a look of admiration shines onto his face.

“I have never heard you laugh like that. I think it is my new favorite sound.”

“Well…maybe just need to continue to keep being funny,” you say sarcastically. You had no idea what to say to that and it obviously showed with how you responded. Sarcasm being a second language to you.

Clark just chuckles again and lets out a joking ‘aye aye captain.’ He leads you through his apartment as if it so natural for you to be by his side. He hands you stacks of towels and a fresh pair of clothes for you to change into.

The both of you, now dry and in much more comfortable clothes, sit on his couch. Close enough to brush arms if one of you moved. He is emanating warmth just from his proximity. Enough to make you feel even more at home next to him.

You did not dare to move even an inch because you would be utterly upset if you brushed against him and he scoots away.

But then he scoots closer to you tentatively. Seemingly wanting no distance between the two of you, but still being respectful not to crowd you too much in case you did not like it.

After a short moment, you feel comfortable enough to truly relax against him and let yourself lean on him just barely. Only enough to have your side pressed against his in a soft way. A small, easy silence falls between you.

“I like you, Clark,” you say earnestly as you look up at him.

Saying this was not this big confession of feelings, at least it did not feel like one.’Sure you did actually harbor romantic feelings for the man, but the reason you said this was more out of pure fondness than anything else.

You wanted tell him that you appreciate him. Him wanting to know more about you Him making you coffee. Him letting you into his apartment. Him being near you. Him just existing in general.

“I like you too,” Clark responds in an almost adorning manner.

Before you know it he begins to lean in and you do not pull away. You did not want to. This moment felt like a moment that would change your life. All because of Clark.

You never thought you would find yourself here. Hair wet and sitting on Clark Kent’s couch of all places. Close enough to see his chest rise and fall steadily. Expressing feelings you have never expressed so willingly with another person before.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers an inch away from your mouth. Ever the gentleman he is, even when his eyes hold absolute desperation and longing he still asks for consent.

Instead of answering him you meet him halfway. The kiss is not rushed or passionate. It is soft and warm. Like you both have been waiting your entire lives just to feel each others lips.

A click of two puzzle pieces together. It feels like a mutual understanding between the two of you. You do not need a steamy kiss to prove your feelings for one another.

That being together, as each of you are, is just right.

[kuronarnze]

HELLO??? WHY ARE UNEMPLOYED PPL SENDING U R’PE TREATS??? ur like so kind why are they hating???? anyway i wanted to point out on like how literally everyone on this app is part japanese (exaggeration dont take me srsly)😭 IM PART JAPANESE ASWELL MY F*THER IS FROM TOKYO AND I WAS BORN IN FUKUOKA but raised in canada🥹🥺 my speaking and understanding is lwk trash tho cus my poor excuse of a f*ther was absent 90% of my life.. thats fine tho cus im (half) fluent in filipino (my moms language🌹🔋❤️‍🩹)

okay what now im just hating on him im getting off topic ANYWAY, plsss dont let the haters get to u ur like the best kurona writer here💔❤️‍🩹

also i drew kurona at 3 in the morning

ill finish it in the morning💔💔

a/n: HELLOOOO??? The way this message just time-traveled through like 7 different emotions in 0.5 seconds??? But fr thank you for the support, you’re so sweet for real. ALSO NOT THE “IM PART JAPANESE” LORE DROP OUT OF NOWHERE 😭 your character arc is insane and I’m here for it AND I HOPE YOU KNOW YOU DESERVE BETTER THAN AN ABSENT FATHER 💔 even if your Tagalog is carrying, we love a multilingual queen. Thank you for being here. Please protect your peace too 🫶💗 I LOVE YOUR KURONA DRAWING OMG HES SO CUTE and the fact that you drew it at 3am 😭 I MADE A MINI ONESHOT FOR YOUUU, enjoy reading ilysm

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“Drawn to You”

In which... you draw Kurona beautifully, and he tries to return the favor—with a hilariously bad but heartwarmingly cute drawing of you.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Kurona didn’t expect to be immortalized in pencil.

You were curled up in the corner of kurona's room, sketchpad balanced on your knees, pencil gliding in soft, precise movements. Kurona had been sitting nearby, quietly sipping on water and spacing out. At some point, your gaze had found him—and hadn’t left.

He tilted his head. “…What are you doing, doing?”

You didn’t look up. “Drawing.”

“…huh? Me, me?” “Mmhm.”

Kurona blinked. He didn’t move a muscle, just stared at you with slightly widened pink eyes like he was a wild animal who just realized someone was painting a portrait of him in a museum. He was silent for a while. Then, slowly—

“…Can I see?”

You smiled and turned the sketchpad around, revealing your work.

And Kurona justFroze.

It was him, captured in charcoal and care. The soft slope of his nose, the slight furrow of his brows, his side bangs that's braided, like he was thinking really hard about something only he knew. You’d even drawn the way the light hit the water bottle in his hand.

“…That’s me?” he whispered.

“Obviously.” “It looks like me, looks like me.”

“That’s the goal.”

Kurona continued staring at the sketch, lips slightly parted. “That’s crazy, super crazy.”

You chuckled. “Wanna try?”

Kurona blinked up at you. “Try what, what?” “Drawing me.”

He looked alarmed. “I can’t draw.” “You can try. C’mon, it’s fair.”

And so you handed him your spare pencil and blank page and watched with barely concealed amusement as Kurona crouched on the floor like he was defusing a bomb.

You waited patiently. Every so often, you’d hear him mumble, “Head, head. Then hair. No—hair first?” or “Do ears go before or after the face, after face?”

After ten minutes, he turned it around with the world’s most serious face.

The drawing looked like a potato with eyes. The eyes were two dots, the nose was a triangle, and your hair looked like spaghetti dropped from a great height. You burst into laughter.

Kurona went pink. “Don’t laugh, laugh—”

But he was smiling too, ears red, watching you fondly.

“It’s perfect,” you said between laughs. “I’m going to frame it.”

He raised a brow. “Don’t you dare, dare.”

“I will. And I’m signing it ‘To: Me, From: Kurona the Artist.’”

He tried to snatch the page back, but you held it to your chest and beamed.

Kurona gave up with a sigh, pink still dusting his cheeks. Then he leaned a little closer, voice soft—

“…Can you draw me again sometime, again sometime?”

You smiled, already picking up your pencil again.

“Only if you draw me again too.”

He groaned.

But didn’t say no.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

tysm for reading and ilysm, have a nice day

I rushed this I am so so so sorry pls show me the results of your drawing ilysm

[cellythefloshie]

;; What Comes After for @kurlyteuvo for the summer fic exchange 2k25

Summary: When Mikko is traded mid-season to the Carolina Hurricanes, it feels like he's lost everything. The last thing he expects is to be drawn to Lucy Deveraux dietitian. Lucy has worked hard to earn respect in both in life and in the league, even if she doesn't quiet have it for herself. She’s used to players cycling in and out of her life. What she’s not used to is someone like Mikko noticing her for more than just what she can do for his diet. Kinks & TW: player x employed by the team, undefined relationship, plus-sized/curly original character, height difference, thigh riding, protected sex, oral sex (female receiving), trade angst, resolved angst, edited but probably poorly. As always, if you feel like I need to add any other kinks/triggers, please yell at me. Author Notes: DONNA! I don't think I've done a very good job at hiding that I've been your fic writer because I've been tip toeing around the topic every time you've talked about writing yours! I hope I still managed to keep it a surprise. And I apologies with how rushed the plot (and the editing) may seen. The deadline snuck up on me very quickly -- and as always, the plot I found myself forming could have easily been a full size novel. There was so much more I wish I could have included but I hope you enjoy it all the same. And of course, a huge thank you to @wyattjohnston for putting the exchange together, and always finding me a recipient that has players/tropes that challenge me as a writer! Please be kind. This is the first time I've really written a curvy/plus-sized original character that struggled with her body imagine all the while being confident and beautiful in her own skin! I hope you all love Lucy as much as I do! Word Count: 15k+

Playlist.

Rantanen, Hall traded to Hurricanes in 3-way deal with Avalanche, Blackhawks – Necas, Drury go from Carolina to Colorado; Chicago gets draft pick

***

January 29th, 2025

First thing in the morning, the kitchen space in Lenovo Center could only ever smell like one of a few things: Steel-cut oats with cinnamon and strong coffee, or the sweat of twenty-three over-worked professional athletes. Lucy preferred the former of the two, which she could always guarantee if she arrived early. If the kitchen was alive with the clatter of plates of the chirping of rookies trying to earn their place in the line up – and an extra piece of bacon on their breakfast bagel – she knew she was too late. But the morning was quiet. She heard nothing more than her sneakers squawking faintly against the clean tile floor as she stepped into the prep area with her tablet in her hand and her stomach growling.    

She walked straight to the cupboard, going through her inventory without any hesitation. Lucy had done it so many times since he had been hired by the organization that it was second nature. They were out of the yogurt Seth preferred. The fruit bowl had a disproportionate ratio of apples to bananas and the citrus were all gone. And Andrei’s overly complicated, but strongly preferred, supplement mix recipe that was scribbled down on a bright pink sticky note and taped to the cabinet was suddenly missing. 

Sighing, and ignoring the sudden rumble in her stomach at the thought of a cold orange slice, Lucy added to her list on her tablet. Work was her happy place. The organization, the science, the routine. It gave her control in a way the rest of her life failed to have. 

Her stomach growled again, so loudly that she couldn’t ignore it anymore.  

Lucy had skipped breakfast. Again. It was the second time that week the food in her own kitchen had gone untouched. She tried not to put much thought into why, but they haunted her as she stood at the centre of the counter top face to face with anything she could fathom for breakfast. Her scale had glared at her when she had stepped on it that morning, and her date the night before had ended with a you’re nice but… text she wouldn’t reply to. 

The thoughts alone should have been enough to tide her over until lunch, but there was no ignoring the ache in the depth of her stomach. Lucy would compromise. It wasn’t food if it was blended. She made her way to the industrial blender and dumped in frozen bananas, oats, a spoonful of powdered peanut butter, almond milk and cinnamon. But no kale. She didn’t have the energy for kale today – and she actually wanted to enjoy her smoothie. 

She was halfway through pouring the smoothie into her favorite cup – a sparkly purple cup lid and straw combo that was a gift from her mother on her last birthday – when she heard a heavy sigh from somewhere in the room. 

Her first wrapped around the cup so tight it almost overflowed at the realization; she wasn’t alone. 

Turning slowly in place, Lucy looked out over the seating area that looked like a high school cafeteria when it was flooded with players. But it was completely empty, with chairs tucked into their respective tables instead of moved to where it was most convenient to talk about fantasy NFL rosters or the team’s next big party. All except for one. The player sat alone in the corner at the far end of the room, facing the wall. Whoever it was, they didn’t want to be seen. Lucy blinked, her head cocked to the side as she let her eyes drag down his head of golden curls and across the breadth of his strong shoulder. Silently, Lucy chastised herself. She should have noticed him sooner. 

“You’re early,” Lucy said, a small smile forming on her lips. “Or an insomniac.”

The player looked up from the table top and up at the wall in front of him. But he didn’t look at her. She watched as his shoulders tensed, straightening up from their heavy slouch before he reached a single hand up to stroke through his hair. “Bit of both.”

Recognition should have hit her then, but she didn’t know that voice. She had been working with the players for over two years now, but he wasn’t one of her guys – which meant he had to be one of two people: Taylor Hall or Mikko Rantanen. The two of them had been the product of the blockbuster trade that sent Necas and Drury to Colorado and left a mess of paperwork on her desk. Lucy had yet to review their files that had been sent over by their respective team’s nutritionists – she hadn’t expected them so soon. 

Stepping a little closer to the table, Lucy leaned in a little closer just to get a better look at him – she couldn’t risk misidentifying him. Big shoulders, stoic features and eyes so blue that they made her heart skip a beat – it was only then it clicked. 

“Rantanen, right?” She asked, even though she knew she was right. “I’m Lucy Deveraux. Team Nutritionist. I handle what goes in your body when it’s not adrenaline and regret.” Lucy smiled softly and raised her smoothie cup up in a casual greeting. 

Mikko offered her what she was sure was supposed to be a smile. His lips had curled so slightly that it almost looked like a grimace, and there was a darkness in his bright eyes that reminded her of rainy days. It didn’t look like he was tired. It was something heavier that she couldn’t quite identify without knowing him. 

Her eyes fell from him and down to the plate on the table in front of him. He had made himself a breakfast – or what she was sure was supposed to be breakfast. A piece of dry whole grain toast, a single boiled egg sprinkled with pepper, and a sad cup of Seth’s plain yogurt. No flavor. No joy. Just enough to stop his stomach from growling.

“I’ve heard McKinnon was a hard ass for nutrition, but I didn’t think he had you all eating like he was an almond mom.” 

Mikko’s lips tugged upwards – a real smile – before falling again. He looked down at his place, then back up at her. “I’m not really hungry.”

“You don’t have to be hungry,” Lucy told him, “but you do have to fuel your body.” She held out her smoothie, glittery cup and all, an offering to him. “Here. Try this.”

His head cocked back a little further, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he asked, “Are you always this persistent?”

“Only because you’re going to be tired after your first practice with Rod,” Lucy told him, her voice soft as she wiggled the sparkling cup at him. The sparkled danced under the fluorescent lights, and she just hoped it made it more enticing. “You’re not the first guy to look like hell after you’ve landed. I’m not asking you to love it here just yet. Just don’t let your performance be the thing you lose next.”

Mikko’s shoulders rocked with a heavy sigh as he reached out for the smoothie. His fingers brushed hers as his large hand wrapped around the cup in his fist. After a quick examination, and what looked like a subtle sniff, he took a sip. The smallest of smiles returned. 

“Banana, oats, peanut butter, almond milk, cinnamon,” she listed, “I usually add kale, but, I didn’t feel like ruining my day right from the start.”

He made a small sound that almost sounded like a laugh before taking another sip. 

“I’ll take that as a success, and I’ll just get rid of this for you,” she added, reaching for his depressing breakfast. Lucy carried it with her back into the kitchen and tossed it into the compost bin without waiting for permission. She tucked the plate into the dishwasher,then grabbed a disposable cup to make herself another smoothie. 

The industrial blender whirled, masking Mikko’s footsteps as he walked up beside her and joined her at the counter. She almost jumped when she spotted him out of the corner of her eyes. He was tall, just two inches shy of being an entire foot taller than her and he was broad – so much so his arm nearly brushed up against hers as he took over most of the prep space just by existing in it. 

Lucy wouldn’t have to ask why his nickname was Moose. 

“Thanks,” Mikko said, his voice soft. 

“For doing my job?” she quirked up a brow as she popped the flimsy recycled plastic lid onto her compostable cup. 

“For not treating me like a headline.”

Lucy paused, her eyes fixating on the pale brown liquid of her smoothie as it overflowed from the mouth of her cup and oozed down the side of the cup. Then, she turned, catching his gaze as he stood there, his neck craned slightly to look down at her. Their gaze met for a second longer than she meant to, and the intensity in his eyes sent a nervous prickle over her pale skin.

Her mouth went dry, and she took a quick sip of her smoothie – under the guise of trying to prevent it from spilling further – before she could speak. “You’re welcome,” she managed, “But let me be clear, I will annoy the hell out of you if I see you trying to skip out on a real meal again.”

Mikko took another sip from her sparkling purple straw, and he smiled again. This time, there was a calmness in his eyes, like a ray of sunshine after a storm. It shined down on her for a mere moment before the thunder of chaos struck: The rest of the team was arriving, and the whole room was about to know Seth’s last yogurt cup was missing – and she wasn’t going to be the one to tell him where it had ended up. 

***

January 31st, 2025

The fluorescent lights above Lucy’s desk buzzed softly, barely audible, but just loud enough to make her skin crawl. Normally, she liked to work with them off, with the light of her computer and the amber glow from her floor lamp – her favorite thrift-store find: a brass arc floor lamp she was sure was from the 80’s. It brought a homey feeling to the otherwise sterile, too small office. It was windowless, and perpetually cold – like most of the lower-level rooms in the area. But it was a place to call her own instead of having to make a meeting space out of the kitchen when she had to meet one on one with the players. 

Files were stacked in piles at the corner of her desk, it was a mess of organized chaos to sort through before the files could find their final destinations. Beside them was her coffee stained Carolina Hurricanes mug and a tiny bobblehead of Rod Brinda’Amour hoisting the Stanley Cup. 

He was a beacon of inspiration for any player that came into her office. A reminder that while they were the key pieces in what would be a push for the Stanley Cup, but that the staff stood with them and would support them in every single way that they could. From the edges of the skate blades, to the food that fueled them, they could finally fight their way back to the cup if they worked together. 

Lucy reached out with a single manicured finger and tapped the top of Rod’s head and watched it bobble with a small smile before her eyes raised back up to her computer screen. She was scrolling through Mikko Rantanen’s records that had been sent over by the Avalanche’s steam. It was highlighted with a rainbow of colors, focusing on what she wanted to discuss or any area she felt like they could improve on while he was with the team. It really wasn’t all that much to review, Lucy ultimately started to highlight random things in pink just to make herself look busy when there was nothing else on her to do list – and that was exactly what she had been doing when she heard a soft knock against the doorframe. 

“Come in,” she welcomed him without looking away from her screen. 

She heard his heavy footsteps as Mikko made his way inside, and the gentle closing of the door behind him. It was only then she looked up, no longer needing to pretend to be busy. He was dressed in a grey dry-fit shirt that clung to his torso like a second skin and  black joggers that hung loose and low on his hips. His only accessories were the slight sheen of sweat – or maybe it was water from a hot post-practice shower – that clung to his neck and the heavy bags under his eyes. Mikko looked tired, not just from practice, the kind of tiredness that came from racing thoughts and sleepless nights. Lucy could see it in his eyes, and how he wouldn’t quite meet hers. She had seen the look so many times before in the reflection of her own mirror. 

Mikko sat across from her stiffly, his arms crossed lowly on his chest and his shoulders slouched. He didn’t want to be sitting across from her, but no one ever really did at first. Not when she looked the way she did. 

Lucy wasn’t unhealthy, she knew that, but she knew she didn’t fit the body type that people usually associated with nutritionists. She wasn’t a size zero. She wasn’t muscular, nor was she running any marathons any time soon. So when a professional athlete walked into her office and saw just who was going to be telling them how to take care of their bodies for peak performance, it made it difficult to earn their trust – but Mikko, he seemed different. He didn’t seem like he didn’t want to be in the same room as her because she didn’t look qualified to do her job. He didn’t want to be there for one simple reason: Carolina wasn’t his home. 

“Alright,” Lucy smiled, her fingers tapping across her colorful keyboard before she turned her screen towards him. “I’ll make this quick and painless for you,” she hoped her playfulness would put him at ease, but Mikko only seemed to slump further into his chair. “Here’s where we’re starting. Weight’s stable. Body fat has gone up just a bit since your last measurement in Colorado, but nothing we’re worried about here. Lean mass is solid. And..” she tilted her head to the side, her hair falling into her eyes as she spoke, “you’re dehydrated.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Mikko shrug. “I drink when I’m thirsty.” 

“How’s that working out for you?” Lucy challenged, “Are tasks that used to be easy now leaving you feel weak? I’d put money on you having headaches. Daily. And there’s no hiding these,” she tapped the skin below her own eye, “sunken and purple. Dehydrated and not sleeping right, double whammy. Your body is screaming at me for help.”

Her tone was heavy with a playful drama that earned a faint smirk from Mikko. 

Lucy smiled to herself. Progress. 

“I know you’ve probably done this a hundred times, but I don’t know you. So please, humor me. At least pretend you’re going to consider my suggestions.” Lucy slid a slim folder across the desk towards him as she spoke – a food log on one side, a sleep tracker on the other. 

“Walk me through what your day looked like yesterday. Start with when you woke up.”

Mikko leaned back in the chair, a single hand reaching up to knot in his damp curls of blonde hair. His head leaned back, resting on the top of the chair as his eyes fell shut. “Woke up around six. Didn’t sleep well, the hotel bed is too soft.” He paused, a heavy sigh rocking through his body as he seemed to melt further into the comfort of the chair. “Grabbed coffee in the lobby. Tried eating breakfast here, and drank that smoothie instead. Had practice, and ate a protein bar after.”

“What did you have for lunch?” Lucy prompted. 

“Grilled chicken salad.”

“Well,” Lucy hummed, “that’s boring. And what was for dinner?”

Mikko didn’t answer right away. Instead he sat up slowly, his eyes peeking open like a child that knew they were about to get in trouble. “I didn’t really eat much. Nothing before the game. I ordered room service afterwards. Only ate the bread that came with the soup. Wasn’t hungry.” 

Leaning back in her chair, Lucy crossed her arms over her chest and found herself mirroring Mikko’s casual posture as she studied him. Her eyes dragged from the tried expression of his face, and down his body that rested there. She looked at him not with judgment, but with concern. She had been working as a nutritionist long enough to recognize when something wasn’t right – and she had been struggling with enough herself to know that he was trying to hide it. So, she wouldn’t push him. Not yet. 

“You do know that your body burns through four thousand calories on a heavy day, right?”

Mikko shrugged again, “I’m not trying to bulk right now.”

“Are you trying to play hockey right now?” Lucy countered, her voice soft. “Because the last time I checked, you have a game tomorrow and then,” she pulled up the team schedule, “you’re on the road for four, starting in… Winnipeg.” She cringed at the thought. If she wasn’t convinced he was struggling already, he surely would be after having to go to Winnipeg for the second time within thirty days. 

There was a long silence between them. Mikko wouldn’t quite meet her gaze and his jaw tightened. He didn't like something she had said.

“I get it,” Lucy sighed, “I’ve never been in your position, but I’ve seen a lot of guys who have. Starting over in a new city, in a new system all the while wearing a jersey that doesn’t feel like your own. You sleep like shit, and then your appetite goes–” 

Mikko cut her off, his words sharp. “Didn’t realize nutritionists doubled as therapists here.”

“Therapist? No,” Lucy shook her head, “Just concerned. Looked like you needed a little reminder that you’re human.” 

Mikko simply blinked at her. His lips parted only to close again as he straightened up in his seat. “Alright,” he cleared his throat, “what do you want from me?”

“Three meals a day. Two snacks. One smoothie. Real foods– things with fiber, fat, protein, color. Drink literally anything. Water. BodyArmor. Put diet Coke in your water bottle, I don’t care as long as you’re drinking something. And check in with me once a week.” She paused, then added, “And start treating your body like it didn’t just get traded. It’s still yours.”

Lucy slid another sheet of paper into his folder. It was a suggested meal plan that she didn’t really expect him to follow. Many players didn’t – they had their own personal chefs, or wives, that took care of that for them. But it was neatly laid out for him, and annotated, with his name written in her tidy cursive at the top of the page. And in the bottom corner, hidden behind the hold of the folder, a message for him in faded blue ink:

You didn’t choose to be here, but that doesn’t mean you’re alone. – Lu

Mikko picked up the finger, reading it over slowly and she watched as his thumb brushed over her message at the bottom of the page. For a moment, he sat there in silence, his bright eyes fixed on the page.  Then, finally he spoke quietly: “This is the first thing that’s made me feel like this will work out.”

Lucy smiled softly when she answered, “We want you here Mikko. That’s why you’re here. But for this to work out, you’re going to need to want it to. You don’t have to know how everything’s going to happen now. But I am going to ask you to do one thing for me, right now.”

“What’s that?” he smirked, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. 

“Go eat a real meal, dammit.”

***

February 1st, 2025

Lucy always found a certain comfort in what others saw as chaos when it came to pregame prep. There were different routines from the ones she had set for off days. There was no time for inventory and rarely an opportunity for one on one meeting with the players. They had to focus on their pregame routines, and Lucy, she focused on everything else. Hydration. Post practice meals – and pre game meals for those who didn’t have arrangements at home. Lucy also made sure the room was stocked with anything extra the players may need from a quick to assuring everything from mustard packets to snacks would be prepared by the team chef for the first intermission. 

She was scribbling her pen across her checklist, trying to get the black ink to bleed out onto the page instead of leaving nothing but faint impressions on the page, when the first wave of players rolled in. With them was Seth Jarvis, who went straight to the fridge and made a satisfied hum when he found that his favourite yogurt had already been stocked. 

“Thanks Luce!” he called out to her, and she forced a smile to hide the grimace that threatened to take her features. 

She hated that nickname.

Hearing it never failed to make her feel like the toothless, pudgy child that got bullied on the playground – someone she never really outgrew, who she kept buried deep down inside. It was almost enough to pull her from the comfort of her pregame routine, her mind slipping into doubt that someone like her didn’t belong there – even though the players had never left her feeling unwelcome. 

Lucy took a breath, her eyes focusing on the page and the impact of footsteps against the floor. She tried to let the familiar sounds calm her, to pull her back from her insecurity, only to fall in too deep to notice someone standing right beside her. 

“Morning,” Mikko said softly, but his words still left her lurching in surprise. 

A single hand raised to rest over her chest, as if it could calm her racing heart. Lucy looked up at him just as he held out her sparkling purple smoothie cup, rinsed and clean. 

“Morning,” she replied, taking it with a smile that was no longer forced, “I can’t tell if you’re returning the cup or silently asking me to make you another smoothie,” she teased him. 

“Returning it,” he clarified and reached out across the counter for one of the disposable smoothie cups they kept on hand, “as for the smoothie, I think I can take it from here, Luce.”

Lucy stiffened, her shoulders rising and falling with a heavy breath as if to silently cry: Oh no, no him too. She hovered there, awkwardly near the counter as Mikko stood beside her, towering over the smoothie bar. His shoulders were slouching forward as he scanned over the different beverage containers and the neat labels she had given each of them – almond milk, oat, cashew – as if one would call out to him, telling him exactly what belonged in the drink she had made him before. 

Lucy leaned in a little closer, dropping her voice low. “If you promise to never call me Luice again, I’ll tell you what I put in the smoothie.”

Mikko glanced at her out of the corner of his bright eyes, his face softening. And just when Lucy thought he was going to question her about it, he didn’t. Instead, he obliged. “Alright. We’ll just have to find a new nickname for you then, Lucy.”

Her chest fluttered in a way that Lucy couldn't quite explain. It wasn’t anxiety, and it wasn’t her beginning to spiral. With his simple words, Mikko had done something no man had done in a long time – he made her feel heard. Valid. Maybe even special. 

“It was almond milk,” she offered, “don’t forget the cinnamon, and today, maybe add the kale – or spinach. You know, just for the extra boost before the  game against the Kings tonight.”

When she glanced up at him, Mikko gave her a small smile, his eyes soft as he scooped frozen bananas into the blender. “Thanks, Lulu.” 

“Lulu?” she raised a brow. Her head cocked as he blended up the smoothie, the whirl of the blades leaving no room for conversation. When the air went quiet with nothing more than the rumble of conversation heard as he poured the smoothie into his cup, Mikko smiled down at her. 

“Lulu, I like,” he smiled, “you like?” 

“Yeah,” Lucy nodded, “actually, I do. Thanks.” Her gaze dropped to the dirty countertop, and she was quick to fall into the habit of making sure the prep space was neat and tidy for the next player that required it. But then she froze, quickly turning in place to stop Mikko before he could join the rest of the players in the seating area where they had first met. “Mikko, wait.”

He stopped on the other side of the counter, his lips wrapped around his straw as he took a sip. His eyes were wide, questioning what she was calling out to him for without saying a word. 

“If I don’t see you before puck drop, good luck today,” Lucy smiled. 

His lips, stilled wrapped around his straw, curled up at the corners. Whatever version of Mikko this was, it was better than the one she had seen in her office the day before. A little less tired, and a little happier to be that – and maybe, just maybe she had been a motivator behind that. 

***

Staying until the game was finished wasn’t something that was expected of Lucy. But with the upcoming road trip she wanted to make sure everything was done before the team hit the road. Lucy made her final confirmation emails with the team’s hotels and the caterers that would be serving them while on the road all from the tranquility of her office. It was quiet there, even with the almost 19,000 fans in attendance, she could only hear them after the blare of the goal horn. 

Lucy had only heard it twice during the night as she worked, and she didn’t hear the cheers that came with the storm surge at the end of the game which told her all she really needed to know about the game: The Hurricanes lost. 

Packing her bag, Lucy shut down for the night and moved through the lower levels of the arena, with the intention of one last look in the kitchen to assure the lights were off for the night – and to maybe steal a snack from the fridge for the ride home. The corridors were mostly empty already. Players and staff were always quick to leave the rink after a loss when morale was low. But she could still hear showers echoing in the distance sending a scent of what smelt to be eucalyptus soap into the air with the scent of rubber and sweat that forever lingered there. With the doors in sight before her, Lucy became excited by the idea of fresh air – but then she heard it, a loud bang from the locker room. 

Pausing in place, Lucy looked up and down the corridor cautiously. For a moment she had thought she imagined the sound, but it quickly became clear that she may have been the only one around to hear it. Everyone else had gone home. Slowly, she moved to the entrance of the locker room. It wasn’t somewhere she went often, only when she was required, and it felt almost intrusive to hover there waiting for the source of the noise to make itself known. And when it didn’t present itself to her, Lucy sighed. 

“Hello? Is there anyone still in there?” She called out, and received nothing in return. 

Lucy looked up and down the length of the corridor one more time, looking for a stray hockey stick or hockey skate to arm herself with as she muttered to herself under her breath. “Why does this have to feel like a goddamn horror movie?”

She found nothing, but even with her courage weaning, she knew she had to enter the locker room. “Alright, I’m coming in!” Was Lucy’s final warning before she entered the room and found only one player remaining. 

Mikko sat at the far end, his head in his hands, damp curls falling between his fingers and down onto his knuckles. His gear was off and long ago packed away by the team, but he had a broken stick at his feet and a wet towel draped around his neck. His whole posture sagged under an invisible weight that he had been carrying around since he arrived in Raleigh. The loss had only added to it. 

“Mikko,” she said softly, “you’re going to have to give a girl a warning next time you want to break things. I thought I was about to get whacked in here.” 

There was a playfulness in her tone as she spoke, but it didn’t phase Mikko. He remained in his seat, unmoving – Hell, he didn’t even look up at her. He only seemed to sigh, the heavy weight of it rocking his tense shoulders. 

“I know I’m not exactly the right kind of person to give a past-game pep talk,” Lucy spoke slowly as she crossed the floor - careful not to step on the team logo in the middle of the floor - and sat on the bench next to him in the stall labeled J. Blake. “But when I have a shit day at work, I like a drink and a good meal.”

Mikko didn’t move. 

“There’s this place not far from here. Comfort food, low lighting, strong drinks. I think you’d love it. It’d hit the spot if it were me.”

Lucy reached into her pocket, pulling out her phone to pull up the restaurant details for him to take down. She was typing it into Google when his voice stopped her. 

“Would you take me?” he asked, his eyes still fixated on the ground in front of her, but his hands had dropped from his face. One had found its place on the bench right next to hers. So close, she could feel his heat radiating from him. 

Lucy froze, her teeth coming down on her lower lip as she considered his request. 

She wasn’t supposed to fraternize with the players. She knew that. Lines were made – some so clear that they were involved in her contract. 

But Mikko, he looked so alone. How could she say no? 

“Yeah,” she said after a moment. “Sure, Let’s go.”

***

Lucy didn’t like to brag, but when she did it was often because one of her closest friends owned one of the hottest restaurants in Raleigh. It meant she got a table even on the busiest of nights, and it was always the same one. Tucked into the corner, just big enough for two, was her quiet table. Lucy had only ever eaten there alone, eating whatever her friend would bring out to her. But it was different with Mikko joining her. It had earned a raised brown from the hostess, and whispers from the bartenders as they passed. Word would soon reach the kitchen that she wasn’t alone, but that she was in the company of one of the NHL’s biggest superstars. 

Carolina wasn’t the biggest hockey market, but they had been selling out home games for as long as she could remember. And with Necas being traded away in the multi-team deal with Mikko and Hall, she was sure the 6 '4 hockey forward would be well recognized – even in the dim light. 

The thought kept Lucy tense as they sat together at the table, silently looking over their menus like it was an awkward blind date until the waiter arrived asking about drink orders. 

Mikko looked up over the corner of his menu at her, an eyebrow raised up, as if to silently ask if he would get in trouble for indulging himself in a drink. 

Lucy stifled a laugh. 

“As long as you make it to practice tomorrow, I don’t care what you drink,” Lucy assured him. 

“Gin and tonic,” Mikko said after a moment. 

Lucy smiled as she looked up at the waiter, “Lemon drop, please.”

If she had a signature drink, a lemon drop would be it. Both sweet and sour, fun and bright – and while Lucy didn’t know Mikko well, she was sure a gin and tonic was his; Classic, smart, serious even. But it only took one drink for Lucy to meet the real Mikko. 

By his second drink, Mikko was worlds away from the tired, slumped over, recently traded hockey player she had met mere days ago. His voice came alive with a hint of laughter as he spoke. He sat up straight, almost proudly in his seat across from her as he raved about the appetizers that were brought out to them by the staff without having to be ordered – Yet again one of the many perks of knowing the chef. He knew exactly what she liked. And his wit led to a real laughter that Lucy could feel deep in her own chest, something like a flutter. 

If they were on a date, it would have been going well. But it wasn’t. Lucy wasn’t trying to make Mikko fall in love with her – but the city, and she was sure it was working, one bite at a time. 

The chef sent out food, plate after plate. Small servings made with care for the two of them to get a taste of all he had to offer. One bite, then another, just enough to leave them wanting more before they were presented with a small dessert menu. 

“Oh no,” she shook her head at the waiter, “I really shouldn’t.”

Mikko leaned forward with a lopsided smile that left her brain short circuiting. If she didn’t know any better she would have thought he was leaning in for a kiss. But the light caught his eye, uncovered its mischievous gleam as he spoke. “Let’s share just one,” he said with a wink, “I won’t tell anyone, if you don’t.” 

Chewing on the inside of her cheek, Lucy hesitated. She could already feel the familiar uneasiness of guilt on the depth of her stomach. The smaller portion sizes made her feel a little better about what she had eaten, but dessert? Just the thought was enough to leave her teetering on the edge of spiralling. Just one more bite would have been enough to have her call her therapist in the morning – But Mikko was looking at her with such happiness in his eyes that she didn’t want to be the one to extinguish it. So she nodded. 

They shared a single slice of cranberry cheesecake. Its flavors were unlike anything she had tasted before. Lucy almost melted back into her seat, her head lulling back as she enjoyed each note. With each bite she swore she could taste something more: the tartness of the cranberry, a little hint of citrus and then a hint of rosemary too. It was unlike anything she could have imagined – and Mikko seemed to enjoy it too, as he licked the last morsel of cheese cake off his thumb. 

“That was,” Lucy breathed out. 

“Incredible,” Mikko finished her words, Lucy could only hum in agreement, as she sat there her eyes shut as the relished in the flavors that lingered on her tongue. 

She sat there in the darkness of her mind for so long that she didn’t notice when the server returned with the bill.  The bill that Mikko paid for in full without even questioning her. 

“Hey,” Lucy half snapped, “you didn’t have to do that.” 

“I know,” Mikko nodded, his smile a little bigger now as she stood up from the table and offered her his hand. 

Lucy took it carefully, her mind screaming this is not a date at her as she maintained her casual composure. She followed Mikke through the restaurant, the crowd thinning as it grew closer and closer to the closing team. He led her out into the street that was left cold and quiet in the night. 

They walked together under the glow of the street lights, his hand never leaving hers as he walked her back towards the rental car they had arrived in. When they reached it, they stood together by the passenger side. She wondered for a moment if he was going to open the door for her. But then he stepped a little closer… a little too close. 

Mikko opened his mouth. Then shut it again his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed back any words he had thought to say, and then when Lucy thought nothing would come, Mikko found his words. 

“This is the first time since I arrived in Raleigh,” his words were so quiet they were almost lost in the rush of a car as it drove down the street. Lucy had to lean into him at a dangerous proximity just to hear him. “This is the first time that I haven’t felt alone, and it’s because of you, Lulu.”

Her new nickname hits her like a strong wind over her face. Lucy felt like she was suffocating as she stood there, her hand squeezing his just a little tighter suddenly worried that he might come to his senses and  pull away. But he didn’t. Mikko only flexed his hand around her in return, giving it a reassuring squeeze before he used that comforting hold to draw her in. 

They met at the lips, Lucy having to press up on her toes just to meet him. She had never considered herself short, but Mikko, he made her feel small for the first time in as long as she could remember. 

Mikko’s hand fell from hers slowly, only to find the curve of her waist and hold her to him as he kissed her. It was a slow, tentative kiss. Not frantic or hungry, but cautious as Lucy kissed him back. 

She knew it was a bad idea. Having dinner with Mikko toed the line, but kissing him? It was far from professional. It wasn’t smart, and if anyone ever found out, it would surely cost Lucy her job. But Lucy couldn’t bring herself to pull away. 

Lucy could only cling to him, her hands clutching to the fabric of his shirt as her lips parted. She breathed in the taste of him, the lingering flavors of cranberry and gin sending a shiver through her body. It started in her spin, sending a radiating heat from her core to the tips of her fingers and toes. The feeling left her gasping against Mikko’s lips, her heart racing as she pulled back just enough to glance up at him. 

It had been a long time since anyone had made her feel the wav he had, and she couldn’t help but feel that alcohol might have been the driver behind it all. She had three drinks of her own, but she had always held her liquor well, but she didn’t know how Mikko had fared. He had four drinks of his own, so he had to be intoxicated, right? She squinted against the bright light of the street light that was lit behind him like a halo, her eyes searching for any indication that Mikko wasn’t sober. But what she found was a man looking at her with bedroom eyes and a soft smile. 

“Come back to my hotel with me?” Mikko asked, his tone almost pleading. 

He didn’t want to be alone. 

The realization made her chest ache. Mikko had arrived in Raleigh days ago. He had only played four games with a team of strangers, and for whatever reason Mikko failed to find solace in the locker room. But he seemed to have found it with her. 

Lucy refused to let him go. 

“Yeah, okay” Lucy breathed out, her hand slipping away from the grasp they had on his shirt. “I’ve got nowhere to be tomorrow.”

Mikko’s hands fell away from her body, and for the first time that night Lucy realized just how cold it was. Her arms coiled around her chest, trying to keep the warmth of his body from leaving her completely as he stepped back and opened the passenger side door for her. 

They drove back to his hotel in silence. The air was thick with words left unspoken, but things didn’t feel heavy. Mikko was relaxed behind the wheel, one hand on the wheel as the other casually dropped to rest on her knee. It was the most relaxed Lucy had seen him since he had arrived, and she could do nothing but stare. His comfort and ease was magnetic, attractive and it lured her all the way back to his hotel room. 

Mikko led her by the hand, his soft gaze cast over his shoulder as he led her to the foot of the bed that hadn’t been touched since housekeeping had made it. His stare lingered, on her face, and she couldn’t help but wonder what he was looking for. Approval? Excitement? Panic, maybe? 

But he saw nothing but stoic calmness on her features. It was a practiced look, one she had mastered back in high school when her friends would give her compliments disgusted as insults. It wasn’t the feeling of hurt that she was masking this time. Instead she was concealing so much more. 

Eagerness. 

Uncertainty. 

Insecurity. 

They were all so consuming, Lucy was sure Mikko could feel her hands tremble in his. He held them until he sat down at the end of the bed, the bed sinking under his weight as he made himself comfortable there. Then, his touch settled on the swell of her hips, stoking over them as his fingers teased the waist of her jeans that felt a little too tight after dinner.

Lucy held her breath as his fingers came to pinch at each side of the button fly. 

“Can I?” Mikko asked, his voice so deep she almost hadn’t heard him. 

Lucy nodded quickly before her better judgment could threaten to take her. She bit back the sigh of relief that came with them being undone, their impression left behind across her belly and thighs. Lucy squirmed in place, pressing her thighs firm together before relaxing at the feeling of him dragging the fabric down her legs slowly. The fabric teased her skin on the way down, sending her head lulling back and her eyes fell shut as it hit the ground in a heap around her ankles.  

When she moved to step out of them, her loafers fell from her feet, and she moved to stand right beside the clothes Mikko had discarded. Instead, his hands were on her hips, hiding her to straddle one of his thighs. 

“Mikko I-” She started to protest, but was cut off by the hunger of his lips.

The tension of her body was eased by the lack of caution in his kiss. She was left melting down against his thigh as she tasted his tongue in her mouth as it stroked along her own. No one had ever kissed her like that. 

Like she wasn’t the last resort when all of her better looking friends already had someone to go home with – Like he really wanted to. 

Gasping she drew back, her hands finding his cheeks to cradle. Lucy forced him to look at her – to really look at her – to see her for who she was. Not only the team’s dietician, but the girl that too often skipped breakfast because of her own haunting words of insecurity in her head. 

She wasn’t skinny. 

She wasn’t blonde. 

She was nothing like any of the other hockey wives or girlfriends she had ever seen parading around Lenovo Centre. And while she didn’t think that would ever be a possibility for her – for them – she didn’t want Mikko to regret a night in bed with her... Because she didn’t think she could handle the rejection that would come after.  

“Are you sure?” She asked him slowly, her stomach jumping up into her throat. 

Mikko didn’t answer with his words. Instead, he held her stare as his hands settled on her hips. He gripped the soft flesh there tight, slowly hiding her along the strength of his thigh. 

Lucy’s lips parted in a gasp. The cotton of her patties tugged back and forth with the movement, as he guided her cunt over his flexed quad. His hands remained on her hips, his fingers pressing into the flesh of her ass, only until he knew she had fallen into the rhythm all on her own. Then, his hands found her face again, guiding her lips back into his. 

He was kissing her slowly, almost teasingly. And only did he stop when Lucy let out her first moan. She had tried to swallow it, but her panties had caught, and the harshness of his denim jeans against her clit had been too much for her to contain. 

“Keep going,” he encouraged, “you sound so pretty when you like something.”

Lucy watched him through thick lashes, fighting to keep her eyes open as she dragged her core up and down the expanse of his thigh. She could feel her thighs beginning to ache – so close to trembling – and her core felt weak, already so close to coming. 

She fought it off with a deep breath, only to be pushed right back to the edge as Mikko slipped a single finger into her panties. It struck her clit, sending a shock through her body, but it didn’t stay there. He dragged her panties to the side carefully, leaving her bare cunt to drag over his leg. 

Mikko leaned back slowly, propped up on his elbows as his eyes feasted on the sight of her. 

She could feel her arousal soaking into his jeans, and she was sure he could too. 

“You’re fucking beautiful,” Mikko cuased and it stilled her. 

She couldn’t have heard that right. 

“What?” her word was a barely audible gasp as Mikko sat up so effortlessly her own abs hurt. 

Fuck, it must have been nice to be built like a fucking god. 

“You, Lucy,” Mikko hummed, his hands finding her hips again, “are beautiful. You don’t hear that enough, do you?” 

Lucy could only shake her head as Mikko guided her up off his thigh, and lay her out on the bed. Slowly, he lowered himself down on the bed between her legs, a smile on his lips as he placed a kiss to the inside of her thigh. 

“Let me show you, yes?”

“Yes,” Lucy gasped weakly as he placed another, sloppier, opened mouth kiss on her upper thigh. 

Mikko kissed his way up to the apex between her thighs. Then her legs began to truly tremble. It was enough to make her whine as she reached out with both hands to knit in his thick golden curls. 

Her touch drew Mikko in closer, his hot breath blossoming over her sweet, glistening core just long enough for it to throb with desperation. Then, as if he could feel her desperation coursing through her veins, he knocked her legs open and indulged in the very taste of her. Mikko’s face was buried there, his tongue parting her before delving inside her. 

Lucy hissed through her teeth, her hands guiding him to just the right spot. She tested him with the simple roll of her hips, and helmet her. She ground against her mouth and tongue, the pleasure slowly beginning to pulse through her. So close to falling over the edge of her climax only for Mikko to pull back.

He could feel it, the gentle throbbing of her core. She knew he had to. Because he was teasing her now. 

Mikko wanted her to come. 

He wanted to make her come. 

But it would need to be on his cock. 

The bed felt lighter as he pushed himself off it, disappearing into the bathroom for a moment. She could hear him rustling through a bag in the next room. When he returned he was completely naked, with a condom already stretched out over his impressive cock – hell, what about him wasn’t impressive?

Slowly, he crawled up the length of the bed until he was hovering over her. One hand rested on each side of her head, and she watched as the muscles of his shoulders flexed. He was so strong, so built, that in that moment she admired him – trying to ignore the feeling of his cock dragging over her thigh – he made her feel small. 

Mikko noticed, and he smiled, his lips and chin left  slick with saliva and with her. 

He held her gaze as he reached down between them, two thick fingers pressing against her clit. It left her moaning as they moved in a slow, agonizing circle, and he swallowed the sound in a kiss. Her self heaved as his fingers parted her, clearing the way for his cock. Her pleasure coiled deep in her belly, his skin glistening with perspiration and leaving her desperate to pull off her own blouse. 

She tugged at the fabric as she threw her head back against the pillows. Her eyes shut tight as she fidgeted with each too-tiny button only for them all to be free with one calculated pull from Mikko’s hands. 

He freed her from the confines of her shirt, and tugged down the cups of her bra with one hand. It sat awkwardly on her rib cage as he watched her breasts quake with his every thrust. Mikko watched them with a sparkle in his eyes, and he spoke out a string of words she would never understand. 

Her body. The pleasure of feeling her around him, had reduced Mikko back to his mother tongue. 

Lucy melted away beneath him, her legs intertwined with his holding him in place when she was sure he wanted to lean in and devour her breast – but she was so close now, she wasn’t going to let him edge her again. 

Reaching her arms around him, she anchored herself on the strength of his shoulders. Her nails dug into their strength, leaving a small crescent behind as the roll of his hips became more desperate. 

She met his every movement, and it left her trembling as her climax throbbed through her. Her head leaned back in a moan that left her throat raw, but Mikko drew her back in,his fingers knotting in her short dark hair as he guided her face into the crook of his neck. She kissed it slowly, her tongue stroking alone it’s angry before she moaned again. 

Then, she felt him angle his face just right, burying it into her hair. She felt his every breath as it hastened. He thrust deeper, faster, desperately, until his cock throbbed and he stilled deep inside her, the only thing separating him from the deepest parts of her a thin layer of latex. 

Lucy was left breathless when they were through, sprawled out on the bed. Tired, happy, but not quite smiling. 

Mikko eased himself from her slowly, but he didn’t go far. He just rolled over, occupying the bed beside her, and just watched her. His sartre was dreaming, and his smile was soft. 

Suddenly, Lucy was self conscious. 

Reaching out for the top sheet, Lucy draped it over her body carefully. It hid the blouse that she would never get to wear again unless she fixed the button. It hid the bra that now hung low, just beneath her breasts, and how her panties were still on, completely soaked but tucked up between one of her thighs and her pelvis. He had seemed to want her so desperately, yet, she couldn’t rid herself of the heavy feeling in her chest. 

“Mikko,” she croaked, “do you really think I’m beautiful?”

Mikko sat up slowly as he reached out with both hands. He helped her out of her blouse slowly. Then he peeled off her bra before slipping down the length of the bed to tug off her panties. He left her completely naked – vulnerable – in her bed, and kissed his way back up her body before he found her lips in a simple kiss. 

“Absolutely, I do,” Mikko assured her, and then he was gone. 

Lucy just lay there in his bed, listening to Mikko as he moved around the hotel room. She didn’t know what exactly he was doing, she didn’t think to look, but then she heard the subtle click of the light switch, and he was crawling back into the bed right next to her. 

She cuddled in close to him, her head on his chest as she looked across at the bright glow of the hotel room clock. She let herself smile softly, feeling special for the first time in a long time. And the best part? She didn’t have to be up early for work in the morning. 

***

March 6th, 2025

The hotel room had long stopped feeling temporary. If anything, it became Lucy’s second home as she sat cross-legged on Mikko’s bed with her laptop balanced on her bare thighs. The screen was glowing softly in the dim light as she scrolled through real estate listings. Scattered all around the room were little glimmers of her life that had crept their way into Mikko’s hotel room that felt a little more like an apartment. 

On the windowsill was a plant that she purchased at a local farmers market that never made it back home. In the corner of the room was a pile of dirty laundry that continued to grow as – as her clothes were always replaced by one of his t-shirts that fit just right. She kept telling herself she at the very least needed to stuff it in a bag in the back seat of her car. Her half-finished smoothie was on the nightstand, forming a ring of condensation where it sat, and her cardigan was draped over the back of the desk chair like she lived there.

And in some ways, maybe she did. 

“Can you pass me the laptop charger, it’s just there,” Lucy pointed to the bedside table as her laptop gave her the error message that her battery was about to die. 

The bed shifted as Mikko sprawled out across the bed for the charger, and when he rolled over to hand it to her, he placed a simple kiss on her shoulder. 

“Looking at real estate again?” Mikko asked. 

His question was a heavy sigh, but it didn’t phase her. They had been inseparable since the beginning of February and she had heard him sigh many times before. He sighed when the hotel bed was too hard, and the pillow too soft. After a tough game, and he reached out over the centre console to drive back to the hotel with his hand on her knee, he would sigh too. But her favorite sighs that she had heard were when he was between her thighs. 

“Just checking to see if there is anything new,” Lucy said.

Casually, Lucy scrolled to the top of the page where the new listing had been. “I book marked a few not too far from the area if you want to take a–”

Mikko’s phone vibrated on the nightstand. He was quick to answer, sitting arched over at the bedside before he stood, mouthing, “one sec.”

Lucy nodded, watching from the corner of her eyes as he disappeared into the bathroom. She didn’t follow him. She didn’t listen. Didn’t eavesdrop.  She just kept scrolling though the listings, his voice low and quiet in the next room. 

When he returned a few minutes later, he offered her nothing more than a soft smile. 

No reason, or explanation for the late night phone call as he crawled into bed. 

Lucy didn’t press. She wanted to, but she couldn’t. 

Whatever the phone called entailed, it was private. And she wasn’t privy to anything like that. She wasn’t his wife, or his girlfriend. She didn’t know what she was. 

“You ready for bed, Lulu?” Mikko asked slowly, his hand brushing over her bare knee slowly to make sure he had her attention. 

“You don’t want to take a look at this one?” Lucy countered, “Three-bedroom in North Hills. Could walk to the market and has a big kitchen–”

Mikko rolled over slowly so that his back was to her and away from the glowing light of the screen. He didn’t look at the house, or at her. 

He was quiet. Tired, maybe. But completely uninterested in the houses she had saved to show him. 

“I have an early start tomorrow,” Mikko mumbled, his face half squished into the pillow. “Lay with me?”

Lucy closed her laptop slowly, and placed it down on the bed side table before reaching out and turning off the lights. In the cover of darkness, she crawled under the covers and settled in behind him. Her body formed to his so casually, her cheek coming to rest on the strength of his back as her knees tucked in behind his. Her arm lay lazily over his middle, and the blanket rustled as his hand found hers beneath the blanket. He stroked it slowly with his thumb before upbringing it up to his lips in a sweet kiss. 

“Goodnight, Lulu,” he hummed. 

“Night,” Lucy answered, but she didn’t sleep. Not right away. 

Instead, she lay there watching as his body rocked with his every deep and even breath. She admired how his blonde hair curled against the pillow, and swallowed back a sigh as he rolled over and consumed her in a strong embrace. 

Mikko held her close, his touch enough to ease her mind and lull her to sleep. 

***

March 7th, 2025 

Mikko was still holding her when her alarm went off at five the next morning. It was a time she loathed waking up, but was essential when she knew she had to make multiple stops on her way to the rink. 

Carefully, she eased Mikko’s heavy arm off her. She didn’t know what he deemed an early start, but she didn’t want to wake him before his own alarm went off. 

She moved through the room slowly. Gathering her dirty clothes that she knew needed washing, and her bag, before she snuck out the door. 

Lucy made two stops before going to the arena. First, was to her apartment where her house plants were wilting and her bed was still made. She tossed her dirty laundry on the foot of the bed before pulling open her half-empty closet. If she wanted to wear anything presentable she needed to do laundry. It took two hours to run the washer and the dryer. And while that annoyed her, it gave her time to hop in the shower before dressing in her clean clothes. Her second stop was the little cafe down the block from her apartment. 

It was after nine when Lucy walked into Lenovo Centre with her purse in one hand and her coffee in the other. Her hair was still wet and her makeup was not done. She would do it at her desk before the rest of the staff got in and her day got busy. 

The arena felt colder than usual. 

It left Lucy tugging her coat a little tighter around her shoulders as she slipped inside the staff entrance. Her sneakers squeaked against the freshly mopped floors as she navigated the familiar path to her office. She could hear the hum of the zamboni in the distance as the ice was prepped for the optional practice that day. She knew not many would take it, because it was trade deadline day. 

While most players would be at home with their families hoping not to get a phone call from their agent, Lucy would be hiding in her office and waiting for emails to come her way about onboarding and forwarding player files to their new teams. 

The first notification came around when she had finished fixing her makeup in reflection of her own webcam. The team had received Mark Jankowski from the Nashville Predators in exchange for a 5th round pick. Which made her job easy. She would receive and review his files by the end of the day, and she didn’t have to rush to send anything off. 

With each passing out, the day felt more and more like a day she was going to spend catching up on emails. That was until four in the afternoon, when she was slowly beginning to pack things away. The chime of an email arriving in her inbox almost made her jump. 

The subject of the new email was in bold, highlighting its importance: WELCOME LOGAN STANKOVEN.

The contents of the email directed to her were brief: Start onboarding ASAP. 

Lucy exhaled, her fingers reaching up to push through her messy hair as she tried to remember where she had heard that name before. It took her a moment before it hit her. Logan Stankoven was one of the Dallas Stars rookie players. From what she could remember he was fast, skilled. He was a great acquisition for the Canes who liked to play smart and fast hockey. But at what cost? 

She scrolled through the email again. Looking for a name or draft pick to jump out at her, but found nothing. There was no note. No Memo. No explanation for what they lost. 

Her stomach twisted. 

She reached for her laptop, and opened X with a single click. As trash as the app was, it was always the easiest to find the latest hockey news right from the source or from a hockey insider. She chewed her cheek nervously as she scrolled, trying to find the breaking headline she was sure to see. 

Then, there it was, right from the Dallas Stars themselves:

Lucy stared at the post, reading it over and over again until her eyes burned and her vision was blurred by tears. She blinked hard, trying to rid them from her eyes to clear her vision. As if then she would see the post for what it really said, and not as she imagined it. She wiped her eyes with her fists and it all came into focus. What she thought she imagined, was reality. 

Mikko was gone.

Shoving her chair back, Lucy stood, and made her way door the corridors to the locker room. With each step she prayed that she heard something, anything, to indicate that maybe he was still there. But when she peaked her head inside, the room was completely empty. 

Lucy looked up and down the corridor once before slipping inside. Her steps were small as she shuffled her way to the empty stall that was once Mikkos. His gear was gone, and his nameplate removed. She could already see Roslivic’s nameplate had returned to bear the number 96 as if Mikko hadn’t been there at all. 

All that remained in his stall was what he left for her; her small potted plant and her laptop. 

She grabbed it quickly, hoping no one had seen it there before she could grab it. It wouldn’t have been hard to explain – she had always been a good liar – but she didn’t know if she could. Not now. Not when she was so close to tears. 

She choked them back with an ease that came with many years of practice. She held her laptop to her chest, and cradled the plant in one hand as she carried them back to her office where she would prepare the onboarding for their newest member. 

But for hours, all she could do was sit there. The glow of her computer screen illuminating her face as she just stared at the potted plant on her desk and asked herself how she could let herself get in over her head. 

He was just a player. 

They were never anything serious. 

Yet, her heart was breaking. 

Because it wasn’t just a trade; it was an ending she never saw coming. 

***

Rantanen traded to stars by Hurricanes, signs 9-year, $96 millon contract  – Carolina unable to sign forward after acquiring him from Avalanche in January; gets Stankoven, picks…

***

March 8th, 2025

The plane hit the tarmac hard, sending a jolt through Mikko’s body and pulling him from his sleep. His neck ached from how it had been angled for the majority of his three hour flight from Montreal – and the rest of his body ached from his day of traveling from Raleigh to Montreal to Edmonton. He had spent the entirety of his day in the air or at airports just to make sure he could meet his new team before their next game. 

Edmonton wasn’t his new home, but meeting Dallas there filled Mikko with an excitement he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

This trade was different. 

This trade wasn’t him getting cast aside by a team that felt more like a family than a career. He got to influence where he went – back to the West Coast – with a team that wanted to sign him long term. And they had, Dallas would be his home for 8 years and his first game was mere hours away. 

He kept his headphones on and his head down as he moved with the crowd off the flight and to the baggage claim where his gear, hockey sticks and his life that was packed into a single suitcase waited for him. Everything else was scattered between Denver and Raleigh, or was boxed up en route to Dallas. 

Mikko’s hand flexed around the handle of his bag, his palm sweating at the thought of dawning victory green for the first time against Edmonton. They were more than just rivals. Edmonton had knocked Dallas out of the playoffs the season before, The game was going to be an all out war leading up to the Stanley Cup Playoffs where a rematch was a likely possibility. 

This year, he was going to be the difference maker. 

The weight of the fresh start was heavy on his chest. It wasn’t just what the reporters and the team that expected of him, but what he expected of himself. While he knew he would need to earn it, he wanted to be a voice in the locker room and the bench. Someone other players looked to for leadership and as a friend. He wanted to get pucks to the net, and his name on the score sheet. But most of all, he was going to matter again. 

***

The locker room buzzed with shouting voices and the clatter of sticks as the team lined up in the tunnel, preparing to take the ice in Edmonton. The logo on his chest was different now – the star of Dallas stretched across it, and for a second he looked down and stared. Breathing in, he took in a heavy breath, his hand reaching up to tug at the jersey collar that felt tight around his throat. He was nervous, superstitious maybe, his mind lingering on everything that had gone wrong since he arrived at Rogers place. 

When he first arrived, he had met with the equipment manager to talk about his gloves, and how they needed to be just right. Yet, they still felt damp after warmups. He would already need them replaced again. 

And his pregame meal? Chicken, rice and vegetables were prepared by the caterer. It was all textbook, covering everything he would need going into a game. But the rice was salty, and the chicken was bland and dry. He had to choke it down before he gave up on finishing it. 

Then he had tried to make a smoothie, just like Lulu used to make, but the blender had given him a dark green sludge that tasted more like vegetables than the banana, and peanut butter he craved before the game. 

It left Mikko’s jaw clenched and stomach growling. 

Lulu wouldn't have screwed it up. 

Not his dinner. 

And definitely not the smoothie. 

Lulu lingered in the back of his mind as he stepped out on the ice, the roar of the crowd sending a rush of adrenaline through him, but there was no ignoring the ache that he felt deep in his chest. 

It lingered there until the final seconds of the 3rd period, when he had an assist on the score sheet but the team still lost to Edmonton 5-4. 

Mikko had done what he wanted to do, he’d shown up and had already begun to prove that the trade to Dallas wasn’t a mistake. It was a good first game – but he missed her anyway.

***

March 9th, 2025

After the plane had touched down in Vancouver,and the team had loaded up into the bus that would take them to the hotel, Mikko pulled out his phone for the first time since he had arrived in Edmonton.  The bright light contrasted the dark sky that consumed Vancouver in the blackness of night. It left Mikko squinting as he scrolled through the series of notifications – congratulations from friends, family and former teammates – but he was looking for one. 

A message that he didn’t deserve but hoped for. 

A text message from Lucy. 

The airbreaks of the bus hissed as they arrived at their hotel, and Mikko quickly shoved his phone into his pocket and threw his bag over his duffle bag over his shoulder. He shuffled off with the rest of the team, and listened to their tired chatter, to distract his mind from Lucy. The Captain, Jaime Benn was talking about a breakfast reservation for the team the next morning at one of his favorite brunch stops. Everyone was welcome, but not all heard the invitation that would surely be sent out as a text later, because the rookies were talking about Call of Duty – or maybe it was Fortnite, Mikko couldn’t really tell but it was some sort of video game. He should have eavesdropped. He should have indulged in conversation with one of the other Finnish players that instantly made the team feel a little more like home. But the thought of her was loud, screaming - craving to hear from her. 

After their night in his hotel room back in February, they had messaged each other every day. The two of them talked about everything from work to casual conversation that wasn’t all that casual now that he thought about it. He had clung to her in Carolina with the Hurricanes. She was his lifeline while he waited out the storm that was playing for a team he didn’t feel at home with. 

He had told himself it wasn’t anything serious, and it couldn’t be. Not when she was a player, and she worked for the team – but he wasn’t a member of the Carolina Hurricanes anymore… and he missed Lucy more than he thought he would. 

When he got the hotel room that he would be sharing with Roope Hints, Mikko dropped his things to the floor with a quiet thud. He had to remind himself it was just for the night when he looked around and saw the nearly identical layout as the hotel room back in Raleigh. Worst of all, it had the same smell: harsh chemicals mixed with the awful air freshener they used to try to mask it. 

The smell made his head hurt as he pulled off his sweatshirt and disappeared into the bathroom to wash up before bed. He brushed his teeth and splashed his face with cool water before slipping himself into something more comfortable. And when he returned to the main room, he crawled right into bed and turned off the bedside table light beside him – cutting off any opportunity for small talk before bed. 

Mikko lay there in silence, listening to Roope as he disappeared into the bathroom. He lay with his eyes closed, hearing the sound of the rushing water, and the light of the bathroom as it was flicked off. Roope’s footsteps were soft against the carpeted floor as he passed the foot of the bed and climbed into the second queen sized bed in the room. Then he waited, until the room was pitch black and all that could be heard was the rookies being too loud next door and Roope’s soft breathing. 

He was asleep. 

Mikko ran his hand slowly over the surface of the bed where Lucy would be sleeping if he had been back in Raleigh. His fingers strained against the cool fabric until he found his phone lost among the wrinkles of the duvet. 

He should have been more prepared for the screen's blinding light, but he was left flinching back at its intensity as his thumbs dragged over the screen, navigating its way to his text messages with Lucy. His eyes fixated on the last message they had exchanged, and suddenly his chest was tight.

Taking in a long inhale, Mikko tried to rid himself of the aching guilt that consumed him there. It twisted sharply like a knife because he knew he should have told her he was leaving because he knew. He knew the moment he saw his agent’s name on his call display as he sat right beside her in the hotel bed that he would be leaving. And when he left the bathroom, after their brief conversation, he knew where he was going. They were just waiting on the paper work, and the return. He should have warned her then instead of leaving her to see it on the team’s social media announcement like everyone else. 

What he felt though, wasn’t just guilt. It was something else too. Regret that he hadn’t said goodbye to her  before he left for the airport. And maybe, just maybe, he was grieving the thought of truly losing her and leaving the one good thing about Raleigh forever. 

Three dots appeared. Then, they disappeared. A minute passed, and his lungs burned as he held his breath. Waiting as they reappeared again. Lucy was going to reply.

He stared at the message until his screen dimmed. 

His heart sank as he typed something, only to delete it again. Mikko did this three times before he settled on something he was sure she would reply to. But when he hit send, Lucy didn’t reply. 

There were no dots. No reply. Just the small message below his own text: READ.

***

Edmonton Oilers vs Dallas StarsConference Final

Mikko sat at his stall in the dressing room, his hair sweat drenched from warmups sticking to his forehead as his head hung low on his shoulders. Around him, the team was loud as they hyped themselves up for game time. Some shouted, others jumped from one skate blade to the others, and the coach would be giving his pregame speech soon. There was chaos around him, but Mikko was focused on nothing but the tapping of his stick on the ground in front of him. 

It was game five. The stars were down in the series 4-1. If they lost tonight, they would be eliminated and his dream of winning a second Stanley cup would be over. 

Yet, all he could think about was the first game he had played with Dallas. It had been against Edmonton, but at Roger’s Palace. They had lost 5-4. He hadn’t performed the way he would have liked to that game, but since then? He had found himself again. 

And they were playing in Dallas now. 

They had home ice advantage. 

Dallas as a city and a team felt like home faster than expected. And with that comfort, he found his game again. In the playoffs alone he had twenty-one points in seventeen games, and he had been the reason they had won games they should have lost.  

They had beat his former team, Colorado in seven games. 

It had only taken six to beat Winnipeg. 

They wouldn’t be winning the series against Edmonton that night, but Mikko was determined for the series not to end. Not with them on the losing side. 

The coach finished his pregame speech and the locker room erupted into hoots and hollers as they all got to their feet and fell into a line. 

Adrenaline hit him like a wave, all consuming, almost suffocating as they made their way out towards the arena. The building seemed to rumble with the excitement of the crowd. If it were any other team, their confidence would have waivered, but Dallas was resilient. The voice of their Captain giving one last shout of encouragement was almost lost in the crowd's cheers as the team erupted from the tunnel and took to the ice. 

The lights were low as they sang both the American and Canadian national anthems, the adrenaline keeping him on his toes as the bright colored lances danced over the crowd, sending them a glow in victory green. When the lights went up, the fans roared louder than when they had arrived. 

They had to prove that they deserved to be in this series. That while Hintz was hiding the limp that game with breaking his foot, and Seguin was playing with an injured shoulder, that they were the tough team in this series. And Mikko? He could take the weight of carrying them to victory if he had to.

He was fighting just like the rest of them. 

This was his team. 

Not Colorado. 

Not Carolina. 

Dallas. 

He would prove that they made the right call trading for him.

They had to win. 

***

When the final horn sounded in American Airlines Center, Mikko skated right to the board by the bench and bent over it. His mouthguard hung loose from his lips, and his eyes were shut in a long, tired blink to keep himself from looking back at the ice. 

Behind him, the entire Edmonton Oilers bench had exploded onto the ice. They had won the game 6-3, sending them back to the Stanley cup final for the second time in two years. 

And his season was officially over. 

Mikko had done everything he could - his name on the score sheet again as he assisted on Jason Robertson’s goal midway through the third period. But it hadn’t been enough. Not when the goalie got pulled – not when everything that could have gone wrong seemed to all at once. 

The handshake line was a blur, his sportsmanship something done out of habit as he wished McDavid, Draisaitl and the rest luck in the finals. What they said to him, didn’t register. 

His mind was already lost as he walked back to the locker room, removing his gear out of muscle memory in a solemn silence. Mikko skipped the shower, choosing to get dressed sweaty in his suit just to go home. As he pulled on his pants he could already feel the vibration of his phone in his pocket. One notification after the next. He ignored them until he was seated in the front seat of his car, his head leaning back against his seat. 

Exhausted. 

Defeated. 

He read through each painful media notification of their loss, looking for one thing. 

A message from Lucy.

But there was nothing there.

He thumbed open the last conversation they shared. The one she had left on read for months. Mikko kept telling himself he would try again.

Tomorrow. 

Next week. 

After the playoff. 

He had no excuses now that his season was over. But he didn’t know what he could say. There were no words that he could say to justify what he had done. Even as they had lost, Mikko didn’t regret the trade. Or the extension. But he did regret one thing. 

Only One.

***

Stars stung by 3rd straight exit in Western Final with Game 5 loss – Can’t catch up to Oilers in 4 straight losses to end season

***

One Month Later… 

Craning her neck to the side, Lucy sandwiched her phone between her cheek and her ear and welcomed the worried tone of her best friend, Piper. While Piper was already at the airport drinking her overpriced coffee waiting for their flight to Cuba to board, Lucy was staring at a bottle of sun screen wondering if it would make it through security. She shook it in her hands, contemplating leaving it behind, before tossing it in a Ziplock bag with the rest of her questionable “liquid” items. Then she tossed it in her bag that was still open on her bed, spilling over with too many swim suits, linen dresses and the kind of sandals she was already regretting bringing but knew they would look amazing in her vacation photos. 

“I know I'm late,” Lucy groaned into the phone, hoping she might accidentally hang up on Piper's unimpressed hum as she flipped her suitcase closed and pressed it down to antiseptic the zipper along its track. “But I'll be there. My Uber is almost here – just don't board without me!” 

Piper's laughter echoed through the phone, “By the time you get here, I'll be on the beach at the resort drinking a Margarita. Because the traffic to get here was hell, babes.” 

Lucy cursed under her breath as she dragged her suitcase with two hands towards the door. “I’m gonna be there, P,” Lucy assured as she turned her door handle just enough to pull it from its hinge. She kicked her foot inside. And use it to pull the door open as she lunged for her sunglasses on the table by the front door and it left her stumbling out into the hallway and right into a moose of a human being. 

Her phone dropped, but her gaze traced up a familiar, muscular silhouette. 

“Mikko?” 

Lucy stood frozen in the hallway, eyes wide and her heart pounding so hard in her ears that she almost could hear Piper calling out to her from the floor where her phone rested face down against the carpet. 

Mikko looked taller than she remembered, or maybe it was just the way he filled up the narrow hallway, looking so out of place in a space she never expected to see him. She had never invited him back to her place, they had always gone back to the hotel. Yet, there he was, with his messy blonde curls and soft blue eyes gazing at her just as they had the night before he left Raleigh – and it hit her. 

He knew.

He just couldn’t bring himself to tell her. 

Her stomach suddenly felt heavy as she knelt down, picking up her phone from the floor and muttering a quick, “I’ll have to call you back,” before hanging up.  

Lucy looked up at him, a heavy silence falling between them. Even after coming all the way to the door, Mikko seemed to struggle to find the words he wanted to say – and that hurt her more than him not telling her at all. 

“I have a flight to catch,” Lucy bit out in a strong moment of self confidence that wavered when Mikko finally spoke. 

“I only need five minutes to explain,” his words were quick, natural, as if he had practiced begging her for just a minute of her time on the drive over. 

Lucy hesitated, her hand clutching the handle of her suitcase so hard it made her palm ache. She had already been given a minute too many, and when she thought she found the strength to walk away, she nodded. 

Lucy needed to hear what Mikko had to say. 

“I should have told you I was leaving,” Mikko started, his voice wavering as he reached up to wipe the sweat from his brown. 

Lucy couldn’t help but wonder if it was because he was nervous, or if it was just from how hot it was outside. 

“I never wanted to leave Colorado… and I never wanted to play for Carolina. I was never going to stay,” Mikko could barely meet her eyes as he spoke. But when he paused, his shoulder shaking with a deep inhale, they found her and Lucy could see the pain he had in them. They were heavy with the weight of what he had done, and so glossy he thought he might be holding back tears while her stomach felt as if a blade had been shoved right into it and twisted with his every word. 

“I led you on,” he added, his tongue slipping out from his perfect lip to run over his lower lip, “but only about the team. Not about us. I didn’t know what we were, or how to say goodbye to you, because I don’t think you really knew what we were either. And I-” his words caught trying to force out all of what he needed today before she decided his time was up, “And I couldn’t say all I needed to say over a text, because it wouldn’t have been right, and I don’t think you would have believed me.”

“I still don’t understand what you’re trying to say,” Lucy countered, her hand falling to raise on the swell of her hip as her eyes glanced down at her phone to check the time – worried that her Uber driver would have fully given up on her. 

“I care about you-”

Lucy’s breath caught. 

“I knew it when I left,” his voice was soft, “I mean, I must have felt it before. But when I got to Edmonton, Vancouver and all the way back in Dallas. I couldn’t sleep. And I know now that the reason was you.”

Lucy’s eyes burned as tears threatened to spill. She had been feeling so many emotions that she couldn’t fathom how to reply to what she just heard. She hated that he had kept leaving Raleigh from her. That he lied about staying in Carolina for so long that she still was clearing real estate ads from her browsing history. And she hated that he cared, because she cared for him too. 

It would be so much easier to forget the pain he had put her through if she had never cared. 

Instead of telling him how she felt, Lucy’s mind focused on the one thing she knew how to put into words at that moment. “I have a plane to catch.”

“Okay,” Mikko nodded. If her aversion to his confessions hurt him, he didn’t show it. Instead, he smiled softly as he reached for her bag and spoke without hesitation. “I’ll drive you.”

***

The drive to the airport was quiet, the only conversation made through lingering glances. Even when stuck in traffic – when her mind and heart racing because of the sheer presence of him – she couldn’t find anything to say. Instead, she sat with her hands clasped in her lap, her eyes stealing glances when she thought his eyes would be fixated on the road. But at stop lights, or when they were left kissing the bumper of the car in front of them, she would catch his eyes lingering on her just long enough for the corner of his lips to form a soft smile. 

When they pulled up to departures, Lucy got out of the car before he could even think about saying goodbye. She pulled open the back seat, grabbed her bags as if her flight was going to take off any minutes without her – because she knew it was – and turned on her heels to make a run for it. 

A run for the plan and away from facing the reality that was Mikko flying all the way to Carolina. For her. 

But then she froze. Hesitation holding her in place on the curb. Her luggage fell from her hold, clamoring against the ground as she turned to face Mikko. He was standing just outside the driver’s side door, his arm slung over the driver’s side door as he watched her. 

Then, before her brain could register what she was doing, Lucy stepped off the curb. Quick steps carried her around the car rushing right to him. Her arms stretched out, wrapping around Mikko’s neck as he leaned in to meet her. Their lips met in a firm kiss. One that was deep, and quick, and desperate to make up for the too many days they had spent apart – and all the mistakes that were made. His arm wrapped around her, his large hands splaying over her back as if he could draw her in any closer. And the tears she had been holding back, were finally slipping down her cheeks. 

When they both finally pulled back, Lucy was clinging to him. Not ready to let go. Not yet. Not when there was so much left to be said. 

“When do you get back?” he asked slowly. 

“In a week,” she whispered. 

“When you do…” he spoke slowly, cautiously, “I’d like to pay for you to come visit me in Dallas.”

She nodded slowly, her face nuzzled into the crook of his neck just a little closer. 

“And until then, I’ll call you? You’ll answer?””

“Yeah, I will,” she assured. 

“Good,” Mikko sighed, a smile tugging wider, “Because if I’m going to convince you to come to Dallas with me, I’m going to have to start now.”

“I’d like to see you try.” Lucy scoffed slowly. 

“I can be very persuasive, Lulu.” 

“Don’t tease me with a good time Mikko,” Lucy sighed, her playfulness beginning to leech back into her words. “Not when I’m about to fly away.”

Silently, Lucy pulled back her eyes fixated on him until she joined her luggage on the curb. She gathered it quickly, praying that she could make it through security and to her terminal before final boarding. 

She ran through the airport with a smile that she hadn’t worn in months. Even if running made her ass jiggle, her breast hurt, and her shoes were in no way made for running. There was no amount of discomfort that could take away from what she had to look forward to when she got back. 

She would see Mikko again, for this wasn’t goodbye. It was just the beginning for something and she was ready to see where it led. 

***

One Week Later…

Lucy was tired of travelling. From the delayed flights, to the child that kicked the back seat the entire way to Dallas, it made her never want to set foot on another plane. Or maybe it was the dehydration from her steady diet of complimentary resort alcohol, her aching sunburn, or the ungodly number of hours she had spent in airports just to get to Dallas. She’d flown from Cuba to Atlanta, then Raleigh, only to turn around and connect to Dallas — all because she needed more than bikinis and a sarong to survive Texas. But it was finally over.

She followed the crowd through the airport, her carry on slung over her shoulder and her headphones in. The crowd slowly began to thin, people staying off to baggage claim, but she pushed onward. She had only travelled with the one bag. Her stepped hastened, her heart thundering in her ears, drowning out the music as she rounded the corner into the arrivals area. 

There she saw him. Standing tall and holding a sign with her name written across it in bold as if she wouldn't be able to spot him in the crowd. He held it high, his eyes searching for her – and when he saw her his smile grew and lit her with an excitement she felt every time they were in the same room.

It took all of her strength not to run to him, but there was no being coy about how much she missed him.

He dropped the sign the moment she was in arms reach, their bodies finding each other in that same embrace she hadn’t wanted to leave a week before. 

“I was going to get an Uber,” she muttered. 

“I thought I’d give you a ride,” he spoke into her hair, the heat of his words blossoming over the top of her head – fuck, she would never get over how big he was.

“I think someone missed me,” she teased. 

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he admits in a quiet confession, “I have missed you every single day since I left Raleigh.”

She tried to swallow back the lump that was suddenly in her throat, but couldn’t quite make it go away. There was no avoiding the conversation now. Not when she had flown all the way there to face it. 

“Sounds like you’ve had a steady diet of adrenaline and regret.”

Mikko laughed softly, “Something like that, yeah – don’t tell anyone I’m telling you this, but the Dallas nutritionist has nothing on you. Their smoothie bar is–”

“You still drink it?” she cut him off with a laugh. 

“Of course I do,” Mikko said and his arm fell around her shoulders, carefully guiding her off to the parking garage. 

“Good, means you didn’t just bring me over here to make you smoothies,” her tone was teasing before it fell back into the seriousness of their conversation. “So, what happens now?” 

“Well…” he hummed, taking her carry on from her casually. “You’re here for just a few days right?”

“The weekend.” 

“Well, I’ll show you around. My apartment, and Dallas.”

“And then?”

“That depends, what are the chances I can convince you to stay longer?” 

Lucy stopped  just outside the airport doors, her head leaning back to look up at Mikko as he towered over her. “How much longer?” 

Her heart hammered against her chest

Mikko stood across from her, looking down at her with a playful smirk. “I was thinking eight years, at least.”

“That’s going to take a lot of convincing,” Lucy had meant for her words to be playful, but they came out as a mere whisper. 

“I’ve found I can be quite persuasive,” Mikko countered. 

He leaned in just enough to tease her with the ghost of a kiss that he could have given her. Then, he drew back, his hand slipping down the length of her arm to hold her hand as he led her out into Dallas. His home, and if he played his cards right, it would be her home too. 

TAGLIST: @mp0625 , @starshine-hockey-girl , @wingedwheelprxncess , @kurlyteuvo , @couldawouldashoulda50 , @hagelpoint-3821 , @macklin-celebrini-71 , @m00nlightdelights , @laurenairay , @idonthaveaclue , @dasiysthings

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[beat-the-morning]

🎭💛 I Don’t Wanna Be Fine (I Want You) || Hozier x Reader 🖤

Chapter 2: Such A Fool For You

Prev (Ch.1) || Next (Ch.3) [SOON]

READ FULL CHAPTER UNDER CUT || READ ON AO3

Rating: 18+ || Smut

Tags: slow burn, strangers to lovers, celebrity crush, celebrity/fan, masturbation, sexual fantasies

Summary: Hozier doesn’t know what to do with himself. You receive some exciting news.

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Heyyy, it’s sunday here already so I’m posting it now because I’m impatient🖤 I hope you all like my delusions and crazy ideas because this fic makes me giggle each time I write for it. Expect a free-standing smut fic soon if I haven’t posted one already today(yesterday? On Saturday. For me.) I’m writing this on Saturday morning because it’s when I finished writing the chapter and I’m waiting for soemone to be available to beta read lmao

Huge thanks to a few twitter oomfs abd to @shimmerwindow here on tumblr for being my beta readers!! Go read their fics they’re so good!!🖤

💛FULL CHAPTER UNDER CUT💛

A few weeks had passed since you had, unknowingly, let Andrew into your private account. He wasn’t one to reply much, not directly under your posts, but he liked most of your tweets and would usually tell you his thoughts in a DM. He hadn’t liked any of your posts thirsting after him, or more so Hozier, since you didn’t actually know it was him. He thought it’d be weird, and slightly creepy to do so, after making it very clear to you that he was not, in fact, attracted to Hozier at all, or any man for that matter.

In any case, Andrew had been making an effort to get to know you and your interests better, mostly to have more conversation topics with you, but while watching your favourite shows, movies and starting some of your favourite books, he’d found many new things that he liked and had now become a fan of. He also realised that the two of you had much more in common than he initially thought, a fact that brought him comfort while also feeding into his delusions that the two of you could definitely end up together. Plus, it’s not like your horny tweets about him helped dissipate them, if anything they made them worse.

He had lost count of the amount of times he’d gotten hard just from reading the things you tweeted about him, the fantasies you had, what you wanted to do to him, what you wanted him to do to you. He’d never touched himself to them, not yet anyway, always choosing to put his phone down and taking a little breather before doing anything too creepy. Today was different though, it was late at night and he was laying in a hotel bed the day before a concert. He hadn't touched himself in weeks, be it the lack of time or because he didn’t want to be a creep when it came to you, but today he couldn’t stop himself anymore. He opened his phone and immediately went to his gallery, opening a folder labelled with a black heart, which contained screenshot after screenshot of your fantasies about him that you’d tweeted on your private. There weren’t too many, you were usually vague when thirsting after him even if it was in your private account, but each time you hadn’t been, he had a screenshot of it.

He sighed, almost disappointed in himself, it was pathetic, really, thirsting after a fan. His mind wandered off to you, to every single time you’d posted a picture of yourself, and his guilt and shame disappeared in seconds, letting in a cloud of lust and desire that made it hard to think about anything but how good it would feel to absolutely ravage you. His eyes focused once again on the screen, on what you’d written, and his hand wandered downwards towards his crotch by itself. He started palming himself through his pants, already slightly hard just from the mere thought of you.

He read the first screenshot, you described how badly you wanted him to fuck you to tears, his hand moved to be under his boxers. He swiped to the next one, you had tweeted about wanting him to tie you up and eat you out, he slowly started jerking himself off. A quiet moan escaped him, he closed his eyes for a second, the image of you tied up on his bed invading his mind, he imagined your taste, the sound of your moans, and his hand quickened on his cock.

A notification from your private account showed up on his screen, he could only see the caption of it in the little bubble. —First thirst trap in months who cheered—. His eyes widened at the text on his screen, immediately tapping it. The tweet loaded, it was an image of you, practically naked while standing in front of a big mirror. He moaned at the sight, then saved the image to his phone just in case. His hand on his cock quickened again, the sight of you in barely any clothing was doing things to him, he could only imagine the sounds you’d make as he fucked you, how your skin would feel against his.

Precum pooled on his lower abdomen, his eyes fluttering shut as his imagination ran wild with images of you, your voice, your body under his, your lips, your taste. He imagined his hands all over you, squeezing and caressing, he thought about biting you, how stunning you’d look with hickeys all over your neck, the beautiful noises you’d make as he marked you. His cock twitched, a moan escaped him, he was close, so close. He moaned louder, his eyes fluttering open and closed as his mind was consumed with the picture of you. His eyelids closed, but he could see you better than ever, it was as if you were there, like he could reach out and hold you.

His hips buckled into his fist, he whined softly. Usually he’d slow down around now, edge himself a bit, but today, with the perfect image of you in his head, he couldn’t, something had taken control of him and he couldn’t stop. His mind made up images in his head, you were laying down on a bed, your hair messy, a thin sheen of sweat over your body, and his face buried between your thighs. He could practically taste it in his mouth.

All inhibitions went out the window, he repeated your name in soft grunts and moans over and over like a prayer, he was desperate for you. His hand was fast, hips still moving into it, then, out of nowhere, pure, overwhelming pleasure ran through his veins as he came, white ropes shooting out of him. He cursed loudly, calling out your name in whines, calling you petnames even if you weren’t really there.

Andrew’s eyes opened to the empty hotel room, the only sound inside it being his own panting, he felt an overwhelming sense of shame and, somehow, a bit of sadness, too. The fact that you really weren’t there was almost heartbreaking for him, he’d always liked to cuddle after sex, and even if this hadn’t been that, even if he’d been alone in the hotel room the entire time, the need to be with you in that moment almost made it feel like you had just slept together but you’d walked out right after it. He knew that the feeling was irrational, and yet, he missed you more than anything.

He looked down at himself, getting dragged back to reality by the feeling of his cum sprawled across his tummy. “God, I’m pathetic.” He sighed, cleaning himself up with a tissue before getting up to have a proper shower before bed.

***

The day after had not been easy for Andrew, he’d woken up after dreaming about you with another pit in his stomach, he felt like he missed you, even if you’d never met. He went on as normal though, doing everything he always did on a show day.

Meanwhile, you had received an email from a university in Dublin, informing you that you’d been accepted for your dream course. You were nothing less than ecstatic, especially since you had only applied as a joke, though in any case that was irrelevant now, you were moving to Dublin, and quite soon in fact. It was a very wild decision, and you definitely should’ve planned it out more, but it was too late to go back now. You spent the rest of the day planning everything out and looking for apartments.

You talked about it all in your private, Andrew saw it while he was resting after soundcheck, and his heart did a flip in his chest. He messaged you immediately, and you spent the next hour or so talking with him about your plans, he was so excited for you, hearing your smile in the voice messages you’d sent him was giving him butterflies, and the next message you sent practically killed them.

🐿️🌻 @honeydontfeedme

< also since im gonna be in ireland now that means we can actually meet up if you want 😋>

Andrew felt sick with anxiety, he wanted to meet you so badly, but he was so, so scared that you’d reject him or get scared once you knew it was him. Still, he couldn’t say no you, so of course he agreed, he would find a way to fix this later on.

In the end, you made plans to meet up in late September, so you had some time to settle into a new routine before actually making plans, especially since you’d be moving in just a few days before starting class.

***

Time passed and you finally moved to Ireland, you were in a student residence sharing a room with some other poor soul while you looked for a more permanent place to live in. You’d also found a job, it was just working at a random pub near Dublin city centre, it was busy and a lot of hours standing and walking around, but it was also the first place that called you back after you moved so it’s not like you had a choice, and the pay was decent, too.

Andrew was still touring at this time, it was close to ending but he hadn’t gotten to go back home yet, and knowing that you were in Dublin right now, while he was on the other side of the world was hell for him, he debated going to the pub you worked at when he got back without telling you, just to see how you’d react to seeing him in the context of him being a celebrity, maybe he could even ask for your number like that, make an actual relationship instead of trying to get close to you online. There were too many ways for it to go wrong though, knowing himself he’d end up saying something about twitter and ruin it all on his own, so he decided to not do it in the end.

You kept texting with him, updating him about your life in Dublin, he was falling more and more in love with you each day, every picture you sent him, usually just little things or something you found cute or fun as you adapted to the city made him love you more. Meanwhile, you could feel yourself falling for him, it felt stupid, really, you’d never even seen his face or heard his voice, you didn’t even know his real name, you’d just been calling him “Woods” because of his display name on twitter, but there was something about him that was just so charming and endearing to you, you didn’t even know if he was aware of it, you hoped he wasn’t.

[creatingblackcharacters]

Hello, thank you for this blog and your art! i have a question about a fandom AU i've encountered.

There is a character who is like an abstract-looking living shape, but has a humanoid face and is coded as white. Later in canon they assume a more human 'form' that looks like a white person. I've seen fanartists reimagine the character as Black in their human form but keep their abstract form the same as in canon, so, for example, if the artist uses the simple style of the canon media, the shape of their nose is completely different between two 'forms'.

It felt like the artists just didn't care, but recently i saw a variation of the same scenario that, i think, implied that the character in question had chosen to look like a white person in canon only because they were surrounded by other white characters, and since in the AU they have a found family dynamic with a Black character they would choose to appear as a Black person. The artist who drew the AU is white.

What do you think of a white coded humanoid character choosing to look like a Black person because of their affection towards another Black character? Does it have implications of the blackface because their previous form has white features in the AU itself, not just in canon?

Well what's interesting to me here is that this alien race, that can take on the features of anything it sees, is by default white coded. Why do they look like that? Why, out of the entire universe, were they baseline white? Making them that as the default state is really what causes the issue here, but that's a problem with the canon.

I can see what the artist was talking about; if these are creatures that can morph and have no singular form, I don't see why they wouldn't decide to take on the visage of Black if they were surrounded by the kindness and community of Black people. To me, if these were aliens that had no race, and morph to fit in, I don't see the issue. Because they weren't actually "white".

That said, I can see the issue on your end, which is that this is blackface. My solution to that would be that we don't forget that this character is an alien. Like, they're not going to just suddenly be "perfectly Black" just because that is the features they took on. This being is a chameleon. I will admit, I'd feel more comfortable if it were a Black person writing an AU on this topic, but I'd be willing to play along to see where it went.

[aziraphales-library]

Lost Fic #319

1. Hi mods, Thanks for running this! I'm looking for a cross-over fic from GO/Discworld (think the Witches abroad setting). I know quite a lot of details, but can't find it anymore. Hope it wasn't pulled off. What I know: –A&C were transported to Discworld through L-Space in A's bookshop –They had to do/finish something to be able to go back –The witches were in the story also –They were at some point in the Lancre castle, where they were locked or hiding in a room (and there they finally confessed) –It was very funny, a couple of chapters long if I remember correctly –It was published before we even knew there would be a second season. Thanks for all your great work! - @j-bel

2. Hi! I can't remember this fic, but it's about Crowley and Aziraphale before the fall. They know each other and end up starting a relationship with one another. The fic jumps between their time and heaven and after the fall. Aziraphale knows that it's Crowley when they first meet in Eden. I remember Aziraphale thinking that Crowley looked like his past angel self while they're having sex on a beach. Crowley ends up asking Aziraphale who he was as an angel at some point. Then at the end it's revealed that Crowley was Raphael. The text when they're in heaven is also blurred out so that you don't know it's Raphael until the the very end. I'm sorry that doesn't make a lot of sense, but if you could find it that'd be great! Thank you!!! - anon

3. Trying to find fic where Crowly dies on a ferry after deciding to come live with Aziraphale and Aziraphale meets his ghost on a cliff. - anon

4. hi there! i hope all of you are doing well. this is a bit of an off-topic question, but i was wondering if any of you read fics on quotev? i’m looking for something i read a while back (probably about a year ago now), i don’t remember much aside from a few scenes (i wanted to see if anyone had been on quotev before explaining it, just to save the hassle and sifting through my memories for another day when i’m not tired and dazed lol), but i thought this would be worth a shot just in case. thank you either way, i hope you have a great week! p.s. thank you for running this blog 🫶 you’ve been making finding good fics so much easier and keeping me very entertained when i’m too burnt out to do anything but read, so i really appreciate you all <3 - @crowdrinkingcoffee

5. Hi!! Thank you so much for all you all do, this blog has helped me find so many good fics! I’ve searched absolutely everywhere for this fic and cannot find it. I’ve gone through all the tags I can think of. It was a human au where Crowley and Aziraphale were in catholic school I think. And Crowley was trying to tempt Aziraphale. I think Crowley was a bad boy and maybe a little dark. I think there were definitely a lot of religious themes. I recently read Just Like Heaven (which was absolutely excellent, btw) thinking it might be it, but it was not. Does anyone have any idea what I am looking for? - anon

If you know any of these fics please include the number in your reply! Thank you :)

- Mod D

[ladyloveandjustice]

It's Themyscira, not scara.

Meanwhile none of the mainline Amazonian heroes have female or gender queer romances because that was never their story just a neat side effect of the premise.

What are you talking about? Yes they do. You've been given examples in this post. Nubia is very much a mainline WW hero! She's had her own series! And she has a gf currently! Hippolyta is Wonder Woman's mom and was Wonder Woman in the 40s according to current DC continuity. She has a wife. It wasn't a "neat side effect of the premise", the queer romances are there.

Listen, if you'd just said "I think the X-men cover a larger range of gay experiences because gay men are included" (and nb people? I assume? Are there nb X-men? If so idk why all this defense has been so solely male focused. I think nb Amazons could conceivably exist but it's not canon--getting off topic though) and left it at that, whatever, we wouldn't be here.. But the examples you chose were confusing to pople, you phrased it terribly, it was a shitty joke that you doubled down on, and now rather than just take that criticism gracefully you continue to try to turn it around and...make weird personal accusations at me?

If you're a lesbian who's trying to defend lesbian only places as a good idea then you missed the point of Wonder Women.

Thanks for informing me of the point of Wonder Woman, I thought it was like feminism or being a good person or something, but apparently it was a cautionary tale against lesbian only communities this whole time. But hey, good thing I was never actually advocating for lesbian only communities then! Just pointing out that queer women aren't all lesbians, your phrasing sucked, etc.

Yeah, the Amazons isolating wasn't perfectly healthy, that's literally the point. They were able to thrive on their own, they didn't need men, but an important part of trauma is to eventually move past the "take time to yourself, rebuild your life, learn to thrive" and reconnect to the world. That's what Diana does for them. But it doesn't make their society any less cool or any less of a haven for queer women, and who cares if it makes them less "special" to be connected to the outside world again?

If you're a lesbian who views criticism of lesbians as attacking them then that is exactly the us v. them narrative that leads to that kind of isolation.

I mean, I'm not, so I don't know why you're telling me this. There wasn't any legitimate criticism of lesbians in this post because we didn't do anything to you. You saw a comic poll involving fictional gay women and said some weird sexist shit, no lesbians were involved. You were the one who equated all queer women with lesbians, you were the one who chose offensive phrasing, and me saying "hey that's weird" isn't an us vs them narrative.

At this point, it's it's clear a productive conversation is not happening here, and it's getting boring. I've said all I wanted to say, so this is my last word. Thanks for giving me an excuse to spread my love for Wonder Woman at least.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sense and Sensibility 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Peter Parker (reader is Kitty from Death Wish)

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: Things in your life are changing and a new face is just one of many startling new realities.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Curly brown hair with undertones of red. Familiar. You finally place it as you check the black-eyed susans. The rain knocked off a scatter of yellow petals. 

He's there. Across the street. The same man from the cafe. You noticed him then too. Watching you drink your tea. A bit too interested. 

You linger by the flowers as if you're engrossed. You're trying to figure out what to do. Is this one of Bucky's men? Watching you to be sure you're not trouble. 

Like the man attached to your sister, this one is danger. How ridiculous for him to think you could be. In your experience, it seems men tend to look for problems where there aren't any.  

You stand and make up your mind. You turn and cut across the grass. You stop at the pavement.  

"If you want to come inspect the garden, don't step on the daisies." You call across the street.  

The man tilts his head and drops his arm, letting is hang across the open car window.  

"I'm good. I got allergies," he tosses back casually.  

He starts the engine. He's been caught but he isn't frantic. He puts a hand on the steering wheel and waves with the other.  

"See ya around." He pulls away from the curb and smirks as he rolls by.  

His lack of shame worries you. None of the men have any. You're father didn't either.  

Your shake your head and retreat. That man is keeping an eye on you and you'll keep one on him. You don't know you'll have better luck than Stony. 

Adrienne is inside. The house has changed. It was always quiet between the festering storms but now, the silence persists. There’s a dormancy that makes you uneasy. As if you’re waiting for something but you just don’t know what. 

Your youngest sister dusts the front of the mantle for the dozenth time in the last two days. As much as you, she doesn’t know what to do. You should, though. You’re the eldest. 

You watch her from the doorway. 

“Ade,” you say. “You notice anything lately?” 

“What do you mean?” She turns and twists up the clean dusting cloth. 

“Just around here. Anything out of the usual?” 

“Do you mean Mr. Barnes?” She asks. 

You could sigh. She’s still so naive. It worries you and reassures you. You tried so hard to keep her behind you all these years. To keep her safe. Stony, too. 

“Me either,” you lie. “Have you eaten?” 

Bucky’s sister brought over all that food. That’s what family does, she said. That was the explanation. But like that man in his car, you know, she’s checking in. 

She shakes her head. “Have you?” 

You shrug. “We should. I just haven’t been hungry.” 

You go to the kitchen. She follows. You take the thick loaf of sourdough and slice it. You put two slices in the toaster. She hovers by the table. 

“Do you miss him?” Adrienne asks. 

You scoffs. “Not a day in my life.” 

“I don’t either. It just feels... empty.” 

“Mhm,” you hum thoughtfully. There’s this thought that’s been brewing. You haven’t said it out loud.  

The bread pops up and you butter the toast. You give a slice to Adrienne and sit at the table. She pulls out the chair across from you. You can’t let her know what keeps tugging at you. No use in worrying her. You just wish Stony would stick around long enough for you to get an answer. 

A car engine putters past. You look at the wall, toward the front of the house. You chew the crust. 

“Stop cleaning. Read a book,” you say as you stand. “Things will change. Eventually. Enjoy the time we have.” 

“Change?” Adrienne squeaks. 

“Think about it,” you wipe your hands on a paper towel. “How long did you want him gone? What are all the things you thought of doing without him?” 

She picks apart her half-eaten slice. “Movies. I always wanted to go to the movies. Like when mom was around.” 

“Sure,” you say. “We’ll do that.” 

You leave her and go to the front door. You look through the window next to it. The same car. That man coasting by. It’ll be good to get out. 

🌻

You slide the drink into the cupholder and sit. The preview roll as you stir around in your purse. Adrienne’s beside you, slurping loudly. 

“Don’t drink too fast or you’ll have to pee before the titles,” you chide. 

She chuckles, “I already have to.” 

You roll your eyes and pull out the baggy of cookies you packed. The food there is too expensive. You raided the food basket from the Barnes’. Can’t let good food go to waste. 

There’s a bag of caramel corn too. Adrienne as good as snatches it from you. You don’t like the kernels anyway. 

She tears it open and digs in. You yawn at the trailers. You don’t know any of these actors and everything is a continuation of something else. 

“You’re right,” she stands and hands you the bag. “I gotta.” 

“Ade, it’s about to--” 

She walks way before you can finish. The lights dim as she gets to the end of the row. Her loss. 

You sit back and stare at the screen. The person behind you inhales deeply. You sense them lean forward. 

“What kind of cookies are those?” The man’s whisper gives you a start. You know who it is. The one who’s been hanging around. 

“Mine.” You insist. 

He laughs. “You seen this before?” 

You don’t answer. He grips the chair behind your head. You focus on the screen. 

“I hear the main star is hot. What do you think?” He asks. 

You grip the top of the cup. 

“Shh, I’m trying to hear,” you whisper back. 

“Not your type, huh?” He scoffs. 

You twist and peel the lid off the soda. You splash it over the back of the chair and he gasps. Several other movie goers hush him. “No, you’re not.” 

You turn straight, heart racing, and stare at the screen. You can’t believe you did that. To him. You know he’s one of Bucky’s. Just because Stony is marrying him, it doesn’t mean you get a free pass. It doesn’t protect you, only here. And maybe not even. 

“Mm, orange soda,” he stands and his shoes squeak. “My favourite.” 

You don’t move as he struts away. Some grumble at his passing but he doesn’t stop. You only look as he gets to the end of the aisle. He’s just a shadow. Adrienne appears beside him and apologises as she squeezes by. He stares after her for a moment before he goes. 

You know better than that. It’s better to just be quiet and hope they go away.