#u looked at my art past a first glance

[septimus-heap]

Okay wait I made this very long and ranty post and said I wasn't going to link the post I saw bc I didn't want to get harassed but it's so hard to explain what im trying to say without linking it so here it is. Anyway. This specific bit is part of what drives me insane:

so your goal isn't for more people to delight in your content; it's for more people to see your content, and for each of them then to make even more people see your content in turn. and so on. infinitely. just sharing. just exposure.

Like. They were so close. They were so, so close to understanding why we beg for reblogs,, I WANT more people to delight in my art (not content, get fucked) and yes I WANT more people to see it as well??? Because if no one reblogs it it stays with the followers I have and no one else ever gets a chance to enjoy it. And also I think it's partly bc they r misunderstanding who is begging for rbs. No one is saying u look rude if u don't reblog shitposts. The people who r trying to "control the way you use this site" (<-not smth this person specifically said I don't think but a very common phrase I see used by ppl who act like there's a gun to their head to rb things) r the artists and the writers and the other creatives that use this site like. Idk. I'm not in the wrong for getting upset abt the like/reblog ratio on my art. You're not in the wrong for not reblogging, but I reserve the right to block you for contributing nothing to my blog. You're no better than a bot if u don't reblog my art

[sixosix]

SLEIGHT OF HAND | LYNEY

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

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

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

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

“500,000!?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah,” Aether says.

“500,000,” Paimon reminds him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Still a student through and through, huh…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She peers below, unworried—silent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CRASH.

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

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

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

(His hands were shaking.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Generously,” Aether adds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink. “Are you saying—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hesitate. The hat is so close to him.

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

“The hat’s empty.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Rainbow rose?” Aether supplies.

“Yes! It means—”

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

His smile is a little devilish, you now realize.

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

His ears were red.

“You’re still staring.”

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

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

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

“He did not.”

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

“What does this flower mean, Paimon?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please, we want to see!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? It was empty!”

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

“Are you a magician, too?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stare, unimpressed. “Sure.”

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

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

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

You nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you trying to say right now?”

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

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

“I almost want to disagree.”

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

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

“Absolutely not.”

“So still you’re letting me?”

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

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

“No tricks?”

“No tricks. No strings.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Speak of the devil…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No tricks.

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

No strings.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why? Missed me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lyney is a magician, first and foremost.

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

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

“Brother.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” you say.

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

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

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

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

You sigh and call for the aquabus.

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

“W-What—”

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

“I—I’m sorry—”

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

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

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

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

“How did you even know I was leaving?”

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

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

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

“It’s not like I’m leaving forever.”

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

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

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

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

“Y/N,” he whispers.

“Lyney,” you call back as gently.

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

This is different from the last kisses you shared.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[sorrowsofsilence]

I Was Always Yours

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Words: 4.1k

Part Two

Warnings: smut 18+, fluff, swearing, unprotected s*x (pls wrap it b4 u tap it), female recieving, PnV penetration.

Summary: You grew up with Nick Ruffilo and Noah, but its been years since you’ve seen your best friends due to them being away touring. When Ruffilo came back to your hometown, opening his home tattoo studio, you get the opportunity to reconnect with him, and Noah. Deep down you’ve always had something for Noah, and it turns out he’s always felt something for you too. Perhaps seeing eachother years later, after you’ve both changed, sparked something.

Author note: This is short haired Noah era! <3 I just couldn’t resist using the beautiful photo of Noah above :3 Also, I haven’t written on tumblr in years, but I thought I’d come back with this fluff/smut! Enjoy if this finds you! <3

PS. THIS IS A FANFIC ABOUT REAL PEOPLE IN FICTIONAL SCENARIOS. I AM NOT IMPLYING THIS IS HOW THESE PEOPLE ARE IRL OR THAT THIS SITUATION WOULD HAPPEN. IT IS FOR FANFIC PURPOSES ONLY!

I finally gathered the courage to turn off my car, letting the crisp autumn air bite at my cheeks as I stepped outside. Taking in a shaky breath I allowed my legs to carry me towards the door, my hands clammy and fingers fidgety.

The boys were always simple- and even their nice townhouse was in an everyday neighbourhood, with nothing elaborate on the outside. Just as it had always been, as if time never flew by.

I didn’t know why I was so nervous. I’ve known Nick and Noah for years. We were neighbours growing up, went to high school together, and even shared memories from our adulthood. These boys knew me and I knew them, but I knew that things were different now. 

The boys had just finished tour, and have grown exponentially in their music careers. They walked around with security now, and had fans dedicated to finding out everything about their lives- they’ve become a spectacle; no longer just Nick, or just Noah. 

The nerves also came because I didn’t even know if I’d be seeing Noah. Admittedly, he was my first crush; and really, I don’t think it ever left. When I first met him in seventh grade he sported a shaggy haircut and a dorky grin, and he’s held my heart with iron bars ever since. Over the years I had just accepted that my feelings would never be reciprocated, and we both dated other people on and off. 

It’s been almost three years since I last got to see him due to the pandemic, and we only ever texted each other on big life events, like birthdays, or during the release of their album. I knew the boys were back when Nick sent out a message that he was looking to tattoo again. I sported a few of Nick’s pieces, but I was looking to get a cover-up of a bad decision I made during a past relationship. I texted Nick asking if he was available, and here I am; right outside Nick’s house. 

I sighed deeply, trying to persuade the anxiety out of my lungs, before knocking, following the pattern I had always used when I was younger. Within seconds I was greeted by a pair of grey-green eyes and a wide smile, my nervousness beginning to cease.

“Y/N!” I was pulled into a bone-crushing hug, and I let out a sigh of relief I didn’t know I was holding in. My grin matched his own as I wrapped my arms around him, squeezing back, laughing.

“It’s nice to see you Ruffilo.” 

We pulled away from each other and shared another smile. I took off my leather Doc Martens, straightening my fuzzy red polka-dot socks before giving him another hug, smiling into his neck.

“It’s been way too long,” Nick said, giving me an empathetic glance as we separated. “Life has just been crazy.”

“Yeah, I almost wonder if I should be bowing to you right now considering how famous you’ve gotten,” I couldn’t help but laugh, and Nick rolled his eyes, leading me down the hall. The place was neat; white paint, and light flooring. Various Bad Omen’s posters and records hung neatly on the wall, along with other abstract art pieces. It was delicate and simple, just as they way they always kept it. It’s nice to see that they haven’t changed in that regard. 

“Trust me, no bowing is required.” Nick turned back to face me, his smile radiating, before motioning at a door ahead, and I walked into a small office filled with tattoo supplies. It was Nick’s mini-home tattoo studio. 

“Wow, this is awesome Nick. You’ve always wanted your own little studio.” I said, looking at his work plastered on the wall, soaking it in with awe.

He sighed happily, “Yeah, when we were looking for a house that was one of my requirements. I needed my own space; just because we make music doesn’t mean I’ll give up tattooing.”

I nodded, taking a seat on the chair. “Thank you for seeing me by the way, I appreciate you squeezing me in.”  

“Hey, for you, I’d do anything.” He smiled warmly, sitting across from me. 

Nick and I chatted for almost an hour before even starting the tattoo. We caught up and talked about tours, and I loved getting to listen to his stories about performing and getting to travel the world. It seemed like the dream, especially considering that before the pandemic, they joked about only pleasing ten fans.

However, the entire time I felt distracted. The only thing my mind kept wandering to was if Noah was home, or if he was going to show up. I felt ashamed being so disconnected from the conversation with Nick; because he was someone I cared about deeply. Yet, my thoughts took me elsewhere. 

“You alright?” Nick asked gently, as he started preparing his supplies, glancing at me teasingly.

“Oh yeah! I’m good!” I smiled reassuringly and Nick echoed me, chuckling to himself.

“What?” I asked him, the cheesy grin plastered on his face making me nervous.

“Noah will be home soon, he’s just out with Davis.” 

I stared at him, my cheeks beginning to flush, “Okay, cool?” I shrugged nonchalantly, but my stomach immediately began doing spirals, nerves bubbling throughout my veins.

Nick wiped my thigh, preparing the location for the stencil quietly before asking, “You never told him how you felt?” 

I watched him cautiously, eyes flickering between his hands and his eyes, “I- I don’t feel anything,” I shook my head, ears getting even hotter. “That was so long ago.”

Nick looked up through his lashes, looking very unconvinced, “Sure, and I don’t play in a band.”

Rolling my eyes, I gave him an annoyed smile, “It would be nice to see him. It’s been a long time- and he doesn’t post anything online anymore, or text.”

Nick nodded as he wiped and re-drew the outline on my leg, “Noah’s been pretty recluse. He’s gotten a lot of anxiety from the fame; mostly just sticks to himself when we finish shows. Plus, he doesn’t enjoy dealing with some of the fans.” 

I frowned, feeling myself get sad. Noah has always been pretty introverted, but it looked like he was getting out of his shell on stage. He was playing into the pretty boy facade he had going, and he knew he was hot. I’ve seen plenty of videos from the tour. 

“Well, I hope he is doing alright,” I said softly, looking around the room again for any form of distraction.

As if on cue I heard the front door open, and a yell cascaded down the hall, “You better not have a girl in your room,” he had teased.

Immediately I felt the hair on my neck stand in anticipation, realizing that the voice belonged to Noah. My fingers began to tingle as all the blood rushed towards my face, my chest losing any ounce of breath I was just able to exhale.

His voice bounded across the walls again, “but, these are some pretty sick boots.”

“Got someone even better,” Nick yelled back, laughing, “In the tattoo room.”

A head of brunette hair popped in the doorway, his eyes immediately widening as if his whole world suddenly began to spin within milliseconds. A small flush of colour ran down his ears onto the tops of his cheekbones, before a wide, childlike smile appeared on his face. He stepped into the room, immediately crossing his arms, and leaning on the side of the table as if he thought he was doing something charming.

“No fucking way, look what the cat dragged in,” his Virginian accent dancing off his tongue. 

I looked back at him, my heart racing even faster. I know it’s been a long time since I’ve seen him, but he did take my breath away. Noah looked older, but healthy, becoming a lot more muscular and defined, despite his height and lank still being there. His hair was short, a layer of bangs hanging across his forehead in a messy sweep. It was the first time I’d seen him in person without his long hair, all 13 inches gone; but it suited him. I soaked in his appearance, noticing a few new tattoos layered around his fingers as well, my heart yearning. 

“Is that really my Y/N/N?” he stared at me, the grin not leaving his face, especially after using my childhood nickname. Noah walked towards me shyly with open arms, squinting his eyes in contentment as he invited me in for a hug.

“the one and only.” I breathed a nervous laugh, standing up. Shaky limbs carried me over to him and he wrapped his arms around me, engulfing me within his body. 

I composed myself, inhaling slowly, before hugging back, squeezing his torso. I felt so small compared to him, yet I still fit right between his arms, as if I was meant to always be there, a spot reserved just for me. We rocked back and forth in a tight embrace, his chest vibrating as he let out a happy chuckle. 

“Oh my god, it’s been so long.” I could hear the happiness radiating off of him.

I sighed with relief at his reaction; he must’ve missed me too. He held onto me for a moment more, and I breathed in his scent, recognizing his favourite Dior cologne. Smiling into his chest, It felt comfortable- it felt familiar. Years of memories flooded back, my heart recalling, reminding myself that he was who I had been missing in my life all along. 

“Wow, you’ve changed Y/N,” Noah said as he pulled away, stepping back slightly, taking me in with a look of awe. He absorbed all of me, drinking in my image, before grabbing the sides of my face, and staring into me with an immense amount of appreciation. 

I looked up at him in admiration, studying his deep October eyes as they sang unspoken words, retelling a story that only our bodies knew. 

“Your hair,” I said as my hand unconsciously found its way to his locks.

My fingers flowed down his no longer existing threads, reminiscing of his past image. That chapter of his life was gone. He’s been reborn into a much more confident man, a newer version of the Noah that once was. I almost longed for his old appearance, because I didn’t know this Noah- but by the way his eyes gleamed, he was still mine. 

Noah chuckled, “Yeah, I was tired of getting it in my mouth when singing.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, leaning into his hand, before pulling away to look at Nick.

Nick gave us a sly smile, shaking his head gently. 

“I didn’t expect to see you,” Noah sighed, still smiling. I swear it hasn’t left his face since he saw me. He looked over at Nick, “And you didn’t even tell me?”

“I thought it would be a fun surprise,” Nick looked at Noah playfully, before patting the tattoo chair. I took a seat again, positioning my thigh within Nick's reach. 

“You’re getting some ink?” Noah asked, folding his arms in approval as he leaned over me, looking at the stencil outlined on my skin. 

“Yeah, Nick said he wanted to tattoo again, and I needed an excuse to visit,” I said cheekily. 

Noah nodded repeatedly, still analyzing my thigh. “You never needed an excuse. You should’ve texted us. Texted me.”

I shrugged, “I didn’t want to get in the way. You guys are busy- especially now. the last thing you need is unnecessary messages or phone calls.” 

“I haven’t seen you in like three years Y/N,” Noah said, sighing a sad smile. He sat down on a stool, folding his ankle over his knee. 

Nick began to outline the tattoo, and I winced briefly,  “I know.” 

“You never came to see us on this tour.” Noah looked at the floor, analyzing the outline of his white vans. I glanced at him quickly, before concentrating on Nick’s hands. “You know we’d have gotten you in right?”

I gave him a mournful look, “I’d pay just like everyone else, Noah. I don’t expect anything…but I honestly just got super busy.”

“I was really hoping you’d be there.” 

I felt my heart clench and my chest tighten at his words. “I’m sorry.” I peered over at him, barely being able to maintain eye contact as I chewed the inside of my cheek.

“I’m sorry I didn’t invite you either; it does go both ways,” Noah said, and we shared a wry smile. 

“You should come see us this weekend,” Nick said while concentrating. I furrowed my eyebrows as he scratched along my skin, the area beginning to redden. Despite having multiple tattoos, I never enjoyed the experience of getting them. 

“What time? And where?” I asked, biting the inside of my cheek, and closing my eyes at the burning sensation. 

Noah scrolled on his phone before I felt my own buzz. Looking at it, I saw a message from Noah. It was a ticket with VIP access. 

“I don’t need VIP,” I looked at him in appreciation. 

Noah smiled down at his phone, “Well last time I checked, VIP stands for ‘very important persons’, and arguably our childhood bestie is in that category.” 

“Well, thank you.” I smiled gratefully, butterflies still knocking on every organ in my body.

“So,” Noah began, shifting positions so he was leaning his elbows on his knees, peering over to stare at my leg, “You and Sean broke it off?”

I followed his gaze, staring at the faded puzzle piece beneath the purple markings of Nick's outline. 

Sean was my first serious boyfriend. We were friends in high school, and admittedly always had some sort of connection. We started dating, and were together for four years; before I found somebody else sleeping with him in our bedroom. 

I looked longingly at the puzzle piece, my eyes snapping away once Nick began lining on top of it, covering away the layers of regret, “He cheated on me.” 

Turning to face Noah, his face immediately shifted from sympathetic to anger, “What a complete fucking tool.” He spat, folding his arms in the chair. Noah’s reaction surprised me, but I nodded in agreement. 

“Yep.” I sighed, shrugging my shoulders, “Note to self, don’t get a matching tattoo. You probably won't be with that person forever.” I said, pessimistically. 

Noah was quiet for a moment, his teeth chewing on his bottom lip as he contemplated his question, “Did you catch him?”  

I nodded, furrowing my eyebrows in annoyance, “In our bedroom too.” 

Noah scoffed, audibly groaning while he tilted his head back in hostility, “Pathetic piece of shit. I never liked him being with you.” 

My heart raced as Noah glared at the puzzle piece that began to disappear on my thigh, “At least now you’ll get to have a better piece of art on your body.”

“Exactly,” I smiled proudly, watching Nick’s hands run along the skin, “and it’s the one and only Nicholas Ruffilo’s handy work too.” 

Nick glanced up smiling. It was quiet for a moment, and I chewed on my lip, anxious to ask.

“What about you? Any ladies?” I said to Noah playfully, winking. Deep down though, I was hoping the answer was no one.

Noah gave me a small smile, “No one at the moment, last relationship ended poorly.” 

“That makes two of us.” I chuckled sorrowfully 

+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

Noah pushed me against the bedroom door, lips attached to my own hastily. His kiss was desperate and hungry as he cupped my face in his hands, and I felt weak in the knees as our hips were pushed together, the heat radiating off of him. 

“You have no idea how long I have waited to do this.” He breathed between kisses.

My hands found their way to Noah’s hair, rubbing my fingers along his scalp affectionately. I smiled through his lips, eagerly holding myself against him. 

“It was so worth the wait.” He whispered, pulling away and putting his forehead against my own. He stared into me, right through me with so much intent. I had always wanted to kiss him, and my heart skipped a beat as I realized where he was, succumbing to me. 

I closed my eyes, smiling, “you have no idea how badly I wanted that too.”

He smiled widely, glancing down at my lips again, this time pulling me into his arms while kissing me with force and passion.

“Tell me how badly,” he whispered, running his fingers delicately across my waist and I melted into his touch.

“Honestly? Probably ever since we met.” I admitted, my face turning red with embarrassment at the confession, “and it’s never gone away.”

“Then why didn’t you?” Noah pulled away from the kiss, running his hand up my arm to cup the side of my face again, thumb tracing a gentle circle along my cheekbone. He looked desperate for an answer as if this was all he’s ever wanted to hear. I felt Noah’s heartbeat racing rapidly through his chest, which heaved heavily against my own. 

“I never thought you felt that way, and I didn’t want to push anything because I didn’t want to lose you,” I confessed, looking away nervously. 

Noah hummed quietly, pulling my chin towards him in another delicate kiss. His lips were warm and gentle. “You’ll never lose me. No matter how long it’s been.”

Noah began running his hands up and down my sides before sliding them between my skin and the hem of my jeans. Immediately I felt flush, and I let my own hands ride up his black t-shirt. His skin was soft and warm, and my fingertips began to tingle with nerves.

Noah hooked his fingers in the loop of my jeans, tugging me towards him and trailing us toward his desk. My thighs hit the back of it, and Noah lifted me gently, placing me on top, and positioning himself between my legs. His warm hands caressed my lower back, creating goosebumps as his nails trailed up and down the skin lightly. I shivered from the sensation.

Noah’s tongue swiped my bottom lip, and I allowed him to kiss me deeper, our tongues melding together. I began tugging at his shirt, and Noah let out a low chuckle.

“You sure you want to do this?” Noah pulled away from my lips to stare into my eyes, looking at me sternly, and analyzing every movement I made.

“yes,” I whined, almost embarrassingly needy, “Do you?”

Noah hung his head, shaking it slowly, “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to fuck someone so badly in my entire life,” He looked up with hooded eyes.

“Then take me however you want.” I sighed, pulling at his shirt again, and Noah looked at me darkly with lust, his October eyes fading into an onyx abyss.

Noah pulled his shirt over his head, exposing his tattooed chest; I stared at the ink longingly, remembering when he first got his desolate tattoo. I traced my fingers over the letters delicately, smiling to myself. This moment between us felt like I was reminiscing over all my lost time with Noah.

“Do you still feel this way?” I asked softly, as Noah pulled off my own shirt, leaving me exposed in my pink laced bra. Noah placed his hand on top of mine as I traced the last letter.

He shook his head, “No, but it will always be a reminder of when I felt empty.”

“I'm glad you don’t feel that way anymore,” I whispered, and Noah’s hands explored my body once again, before pulling on the hem of my jeans.

Bringing me into a kiss again, he fiddled with the zipper before tugging my pants down my legs, leaving me exposed in my underwear.

“I’ve probably envisioned you naked weekly.” Noah admitted as he kissed down my neck, hands roaming over every inch of skin in desperation, “I need to taste you, princess.”

I blushed at his words, and Noah’s kisses trailed further from my neck, teeth grazing across my collarbone to between my breasts. His breath quickened as he kissed lower and lower, licking down my stomach until he stopped right at the edge of my underwear.

“This okay?” He breathed heavily, his own face flushing. I nodded, and Noah pulled at the lace, revealing me.

“Fuck,” He groaned, looking up through his eyelashes briefly before placing his mouth against me, letting his slim fingers trace patterns across the sensitive skin.

Noah’s tongue circled me before he inserted two fingers, and I let out a moan. He pumped slowly, moaning quietly against me, “Oh, you wouldn’t want Nick to hear.”

I squeezed my thighs together around his head in pleasure, and Noah’s free hand gripped my thigh, pulling me even closer.

I began to pant faster, trying to be quiet, “Oh my god Noah,” I let my head fall back, resting against the wall as Noah ate me out feverishly, like this was his last meal. His fingers curled upwards, the repetitive motion sending my abdomen into a knot of fulfillment, my legs shaking against his body.

“Fuck, I need to stop or I'm going to come in my pants- and I don’t want to yet.” Noah’s eyebrows furrowed with pleasure. Taking his fingers that were inside me into his mouth, he licked them clean before pulling himself up. I watched in disbelief- that was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen him do; even compared to Noah’s stage performances of The Death of Peace of Mind. He grabbed my ass, hoisting me up and I wrapped my legs around his waist. Noah was extremely hard, his clothed member digging into me as he carried me towards his bed; he kissed me again and I tasted myself off of his tongue.

Noah laid me on the bed, kissing along my neck again as my hands roamed his hair before he unclasped my bra and pulled my panties down, exposing me fully to him.

“You are gorgeous, shit,” Noah mumbled, absorbing me with his eyes as he pulled his shorts down hastily, and I couldn’t help but let my own eyes wander across Noah’s fully exposed body, swallowing hard.

A new warmth washed over me as I got even wetter between my legs, the familiar feeling of excitement preparing my body for Noah’s; but this was different. This time it was Noah, here in front of me. Noah ran his fingers along my folds, moaning and internally begging to replace his hands with his own heat longing to be touched.

Noah spit into his hand and I watched attentively, following his every move as my body shivered. Noah rubbed along himself, before positioning his body above mine.

We shared eye-contact again and I nodded in approval before Noah pushed inside, his body immediately shuddering as I moved my hips against his, and he sighed deeply, squeezing his eyes closed briefly.

“God fucking dammit, you feel so good, princess.”

My legs parted as Noah’s body sunk into mine, his thrusts getting deeper and heavier. I let out another moan, “Oh- my-god-Noah.”

Words were coiled at my throat as Noah pounded into me, hands on either side of my head, his necklace dangling in my face.

“Look at me.” Noah’s voice was rough, and I stared into his eyes. He watched me with every thrust, and I mumbled a string of messy swears, my body clenching around his.

Noah’s arms wrapped around my body, pulling me up so I was positioned on top of him, but so that there was enough leverage for him to continue to thrust into me from below. This new position allowed him to penetrate me deeper and groaned with every entrance of his body into mine.

Noah grabbed the back of my neck and the middle of my back, holding me still as he fully gave himself into me before pulling me into another kiss. His mouth attached to mine hastily, bucking his hips aimlessly. Noah’s moans were almost louder than mine as he shamelessly allowed himself a pleasure.

“Mark me, Noah, show me I was always yours.” I whimpered, and Noah immediately attached to my neck, biting and sucking against the delicate skin that was pinned along my neck.

I heaved into his ear, resting my forehead on his shoulder as he held my hips, allowing myself to completely undo myself, moaning as my body reached my climax.

“Fuck me, Noah,” I panted, gripping his arms as I clenched around him, letting him thrust into me as I rode out my high.

Noah pulled my neck back to look at him again, sweat dripping across his forehead and his eyebrows furrowed in rapture, “please let me cum inside you Y/N.”

I nodded, kissing him eagerly, our saliva melding together as Noah moaned into the kiss. His body quivered as he released himself, exhaling in short breaths of satisfaction.

“Holy shit,” Noah mumbled into my neck, and I held onto him, a smile plastering itself onto my face. We sat there for a moment, panting against each other as our chests heaved, sweat attaching us together. I ran my fingers along Noah’s hair again, absorbing his handsome features, and taking him in.

He looked up at me, his eyes back to their October glow, but now replaced with a gleam of devotion. He tucked the loose strands of my H/C hair behind my ear.

I placed my lips lightly on his, “I missed you so fucking much Noah.”

“I missed you so much princess,” Noah’s hand grabbed the back of my head gently, caressing me into his chest and holding on protectively. He pulled a blanket over us as we lay together out of breath, both relishing the high of our orgasms and the story we just created together.

“I guess I thought you got too busy to be my friend,” I whispered vulnerably as we lay underneath his covers, the story we created longing against my skin.

Noah’s head rested on top of my own, and I felt his body stiffen slightly, “life has been crazy, everything is so different now. We are no longer just screaming in my garage.” He rubbed my arm, nails trailing across my skin once again.

I nodded against him in understanding, “I know. I hope you know I watched every single concert online that I could. I followed so many fan pages just to keep updated on how you were doing.”

Noah pulled me away from him softly, he looked at me with awe, “Did you really?” 

“Of course.” I looked up, smiling at him in adoration. 

“I was always hoping you’d show up again at my doorstep sometime. You have no idea how happy I am right now.” He laughed, pulling me into him again. I smiled against his chest, absorbing this moment, worried it might be my last.

“I love you, Noah Sebastian Davis.”

“I love you most Y/N Y/L/N.”

Part Two if you want more smut ;)

[leavingsunsets]

Helllloo!!

I would like to request a senkuu x reader if possible! (Preferably some angst + romance but anything works!) Been looking for some inspiration and I love your work!

Also hopefully you're okay if I draw some of your work too

Thank youuuu!! (>u<)/

im okay with you drawing my work! saw some of ur art, and wow! glad ur a fan tehee :33 i see you've given me an angst plot, with romance? yes i will definitely fulfill this. i waaaassss ssupposed to make this action filled with scene wit reader dying in battle of treasure island arc and senku going "WHAT" and head in hands and sobbing and the gang has to go back to the mainland hat on stomach like ":(" but exams and research defense finished and i also jus watched cute little vid of an old couple so this is jussttt hmmm a softer angst set between events ig

"ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴍʏ ᴡᴀʏ."

[ꜱᴇɴᴋᴜ x ɢɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

It wasn't really a secret. You didn't even try, honestly.

Since the first of times of where you'd glimpsed his face at school, to the latest catch of him swirling fluid in a beaker, you've always been confident in your feelings.

Albeit a bit clumsy in your attempts, you were honest, never mincing them, never embarrassed.

"Senku, I really really like you!"

"Yeah, okay, could you pass me that screwdriver?" he says, both of you 6 years old in his room, as he gestures to the tool beside you.

"Senku, I want to date you. I heard Aimi had a boyfriend recently and I was thinking-" your voice goes interrupted as the loud sound of Senku's machinery overpower yours. 13 years old, another one of his favorite past times.

"Senku, if we were both nobles in medieval fantasy and I had to marry someone in order to get a persistent suitor off my back, I'd go to you. Offer a contract with an eventual divorce, but then we fall in love in a slow burn romance and start rethinking about our agreement."

"Can you- just- HELP ME, DAMN IT." Senku heaves, 16 years old, face turning red as he struggles to hold the boxes of equipment you came to help him with.

All these confessions, all these words, even before everything changed. The clatter of a can hitting the ground.

...

In this new life, surely, you know, Senku's had an absolute goal for this world. To rebuilt it as it was, from his own two hands. In your own way, you've had to learn how to pace your feelings.

Instead of words, as you always did, you decided to translate your affections into a language that matters most in a time like this.

Actions.

For every problem, every step he takes, you take with him. Express your thoughts, concerns, ideas. Any progress, you're there to celebrate with, any process, you're there to assist.

Declarations of love aren't so frequent, though you do like to sneak it in rarely. Announcing it in bursts of passion at the top of your lungs. Quite an antic you do, much to his embarrassment. It's become a well known fact, and often a joke between company.

Though, sometimes you wonder if it's what makes him doubt it. Your overt confessions, cheesy poems and bustling energy that could rival Taiju's. Was it too clumsy? Too obvious that he feels it's an exaggerated farce for show?

To this, you whisper gingerly in the dead of night, in the earliest of mornings,

"Senku. I really really like you."

In the times of uneventful hours, peacefulness in comfortable silence,

"Senku,"

You know, of course you do, of all people.

No one knows him more than you and that fact would've made you happy of such a thing if it couldn't break your heart more. The love of your life, saying everything said in a language that matters most in this time.

An unreadable glance. When the sun beams down brightly and you stare at him lovingly like he's hung the stars in the sky.

Winter strikes mercilessly, days are rough, tensions are high. When everything's all good and done, a bold pinkie inches towards his own. He doesn't pull away, but his hand moves back just as further.

Late at night, behind the tree he leans upon, watching, just watching. His ruby eyes enraptured by the night's celestial pearl.

Gaze too high, to see you.

You close your eyes.

You don't think you can ever stop loving him, despite that. That man doesn't like dragging things out, so you're sure a rejection is soon to come. Whether you approach first or not.

Why he doesn't do it sooner? You know why. As much as he doesn't reciprocate, you know how hesitant he is when it comes to close relationships such as you. Is he scared of breaking your friendship?

It's not the warmth you're looking for, but it's the warmth you can get. Even so, you would never expect him to return just as much as you've given. You love him for him, and not for anything else.

Tragic, how terribly you do.

Maybe one day, you'll learn to forget, to move your heart from where it isn't supposed to be. Maybe one day, you would stop gazing at him with something much more than fondness, waiting for his eyes to find its way back to you.

But until then,

"-I love you."

[prkwook]

MUSE 🎨 shen ricky

☆ pairing: artist bf!ricky x gn!reader

☆ genre: fluff

☆ wc: ~ 0.9k

☆ summary: ricky finds a muse in a stranger that would eventually become his one true love

☆ warnings: use of petnames (love, babe, hot stuff), y/n is called beautiful by ricky

☆ note: based on a req i got recently asking for artist ricky & of course i had to bc who doesn't love artist ricky?

"the gracious muse who tuned my soul to pure harmonies, i became fond of her, and, as it often seemed to me, she of me." - ludwig van beethoven

Being a musician, you always heard talk about having a muse but you never expected to be someone’s. You certainly had found your own in your longtime boyfriend, Ricky. When you love someone as much as you loved him, creating art with them in mind becomes second-nature. Little did you know that he felt the same way about you long before you met.

“Hey y/n, do you mind if we stop by my studio on the way home? I forgot my paint brushes there this afternoon and I need them for class tomorrow. It’ll be quick, I promise.” your blond-haired boyfriend says to you as he helps you get your coat on.

“Yeah, of course!” you respond with a smile. You secretly love going to his art studio. You’ve always loved seeing his art, seeing the things he can create with just a pencil, some paint and paintbrush. In the past 3 years you’ve been together, his talent has never ceased to amaze you.

“Thank you, y/n.” he says, giving you a kiss on the forehead. The familiar feeling of butterflies creeps up and makes you blush. In order to distract him from your rosy cheeks, you take hold of his hand and lead him out of the Thai restaurant you were regulars at. 

As always, he walks over with you to the driver side of the car he bought you for your first anniversary and opens the door for you. In an effort to make you laugh, he pretends to climb into the driver seat. He pats the covered passenger seat and without missing a beat, he says “Hop in, hot stuff, let me take you for a ride.” in the most Chad voice ever, finishing off the bit with a wink. You laugh and give him a small slap to the arm. Mission = success! 

Still laughing, you respond with “Okay Max Verstappen… you and what license?” As he climbs out of the car, he says something along the lines of “fair” and then offers you his hand to help you into the seat he had just occupied. Once he’s seated in his passenger princess throne, he queues up your go-to playlist and buckles up. You don’t need any directions since you know the route by heart. You can’t even count how many times you’ve driven these roads, bringing pick-up to his studio so you can keep him company on those inevitable late nights. 

You park in your usual spot and hop out. Just like the gentleman he is, Ricky is already at your side, ready to offer a hand for you to take and as always, you take it and walk with him into the studio. Once you walk in, Ricky departs to go find his missing items with a “I’ll be right back, love.” and you’re left by yourself and his art. Looking around, a sketchbook laying open on his desk catches your eye. At first, you don’t want to look but curiosity gets the best of you and you sneak a glance. It’s a sketch of you sitting on stage with your cello, deeply immersed in the piece you were playing but somehow you still look completely at peace.

You remember that day like it was yesterday. It was the spring talent show and your high school orchestra teacher had signed you up without you knowing. You found out a day after the deadline to drop out, so you were stuck doing it. The day of, your stage fright was so bad that you almost considered just not showing up, but something in the back of your mind told you that you had to go and so you did. When it was your turn, you walked nervously out onto stage with your cello in one hand and your sheet music in the other. Once seated, you looked out into the audience and made eye contact with a red-haired boy. He smiled at you and nodded, as if queuing you up to start. During the song, you would periodically glance over at him and he was always there with a smile and a look of encouragement. That red-haired boy not only turned out to be the boy you now call your boyfriend but also that was the day that you discovered your love for the cello. 

“Hey babe, what is this?” you called out to Ricky, who was now walking back towards you, paintbrushes in hand.

“Oh, this? Nothing, just my old sketchbook from high school. Why?”  

“Look at this. We didn’t even know each other then.” you say with a laugh. 

“I know. I just thought you looked beautiful while playing. And clearly, I like drawing beautiful things.” He gestures to the wall behind him that’s full of sketches and paintings clearly inspired by you. 

“Wait… when did you do this? I’ve never seen this before.”

“It was kind of supposed to be a surprise for your birthday but I forgot so … Surprise!” He sheepishly grins and attempts to do jazz hands.

All you can do is laugh and pull him in. You give him a kiss and look him in the eyes. 

“Thank you, sweet boy. It’s beautiful.”

You realize in this moment that you would give anything to be able to be his muse in every life.

[elli3luvs]

falling in love at a coffee shop [ELLIE W]

summary: the barista at the coffee shop has you in a grip. even though you hate coffee.

genre: fluff

w.c: 1.3k

a/n: this is my first time writing in a looonnngg time so sorry if its not that good! lmk if you want a part two <333

Coffee was disgusting. The bitter-tasting bean couldn't be covered up with even copious amounts of milk and sugar. You hated the way it hit your tongue, spreading over every single taste bud and lingering there. Your face pinched with every single splash of liquid. Dina rolled her eyes every time but you couldn't help it.

There were only two things that made you come back to the coffee shop day after day. The way it smelled was one of the two reasons. Even as a proclaimed coffee hater, you could admit the smell of the roasting beans was good.

The only other reason was the barista that was behind the counter. From the first day, Dina dragged you to this shop, your eyes were locked on the barista. She was in your opinion the most beautiful girl you have ever seen. The way her hair fell over her face as she ground the coffee beans and steamed the milk was like a piece of art to you.

You wondered if this was a normal thing to do. To put yourself through what you considered mental torture just so you could glance at the barista every couple of minutes.

Dina knocked your leg under the table once again. You grabbed your cup to stop it from spilling, "Dude, you're staring. Again." You finally peel your eyes away from the auburn-haired barista to look at your friend.

"Is it obvious?" You whisper and she rolls her eyes. Her expression is going to get stuck like that one day.

She puts her pen down, stopping her studying to look at you with a pinched expression, "You remind me of a man right now. Staring at the poor girl just trying to do her job," You lean back in your chair, nibbling at your bottom lip, "We have come here for the past four days, in a row might I add, so you can stare at her. I have spent over 30 dollars in four days on coffee! Stop being a pussy and ask her for her number!" She stares at you, waiting for your reply.

You shake your head. What kind of person does she take you for? Surely she knows you well enough to know that asking someone out is one of the things you would rather die than do. Dina groans at your reaction, rubbing her fingers on her temples to soothe the oncoming headache.

"I, like," You start to explain your side to your friend who has her head rolled back with an exasperated expression pulled on her features, "What if she doesn't like girls?"

Dina suddenly cackles loudly at that, "She has a fucking forearm tattoo!" She noisily replied. The coffee shop patrons turn to look at your table. Dina just smiles at them.

You could crawl up and die.

You peer over your shoulder to see the barista looking at you two with an amused expression. When she catches your eyes she chuckles and goes back to steaming the cup of milk in front of her.

Dina doesn't look the slightest bit remorseful. She even looks a bit proud of herself, "Well, at least she knows we are talking about her now."

"I'm literally going to end your life."

---

You should've ended Dina's life when you threatened it a couple days ago. It could've saved you from facing the same coffee shop alone.

About 15 minutes ago you received a text message from your friend, one that you wish you didn't read until it was too late.

FROM. DI &lt;3 bought some coffee to-go but im studying sooooo hard rn… pick it up for me?

TO. DI &lt;3 no

FROM. DI &lt;3 please :( please :( please:(

please :(

Please.

PLEASEEEEE

TO. DI &lt;3 if i go get it will u shut tf up?

FROM. DI &lt;3 THANK U!!! btw it's under ur name so hot barista knows who u are hehe MWAH!!

You stood in front of the pickup area, fidgeting with your bracelet as you waited for the barista to make an appearance. You check your phone again to see it's been around 4 minutes since you arrived. There weren't any drinks on the mat so you could just grab and go, with no interaction at all. Sadly not. You began to wonder if the barista had decided to quit mid-shift as the minutes continuously went by with no view of her.

You turn around to look at the store hours on a sign sitting out front when the wooden floors creak behind you, "Oh?" You hear a voice.

You turn back around. It was her. Your heart felt like it was about to fall out at the sight of her. She had her auburn hair up in a half-bun and her t-shirt had rolled-up sleeves, showing off her sleek muscles. If you didn't know any better you would've thought you were having a heart attack from how your chest feels.

She looked at you with confusion plastered over her features, "Can I help you?" Her voice was the perfect mix of gravelly and deep. It was perfect. She was perfect in your eyes.

"Um," You scratch your arm nervously, "My friend said she put a to-go order in under my name."

Her laugh catches you off-guard. Your eyes shift around the small shop as you wait for her to explain her sudden onslaught of giggles. Tears prick the side of her eyes as she continues to laugh.

"Uh…" She calms down slightly, holding her stomach, "We don't do to-go orders. Your friend definitely lied to you about that but I can just take your order if you want me to?"

You really should kill Dina when the chance arises. Tonight does seem like a perfect night to become a murderer.

You snap out of your thoughts. Deciding to be a normal person, you reply with a smile, "Yeah… that works too," She motions you to come over to the register, "Can I just get a-"

She cuts you off, "Iced latte for you and an Americano for your friend?" She looks at your surprised face with a bashful smile, "I may not take the orders but I do make them and well… you and your friend have ordered the same thing the past four times. Now five."

You let out a small laugh, "We are both creatures of habit."

She nods, "Me as well," She licks her bottom lip, leaning on the counter, "What's the name of the order?"

She smiles as she gets your name, writing it down on the cups, "You have a pretty name. It will only take me a couple minutes to make these so you can sit if you want to."

You nod as she turns her back to you but you can't help but feel ecstatic at her calling your name pretty. Was this flirting? Or was this just normal conversation? God, this sort of stuff flew right over your head. The last time anyone said anything about you was pretty was when you first met Dina around four months ago. She said your hair was pretty as she sat down next to you in class. But this felt different. Maybe it's because of how undeniably you were attracted to this barista. It made your head spin as you went over the interaction a million different times.

Her calling your name out is the only thing that snaps you out of overthinking.

"Here you go," She hands you the drinks with a smile, "Hope they are good."

You take them, "They always are," She rubs the back of her neck at your words, "Thank you! See you later?"

Was that weird to say?

"Yeah, see you later."

Maybe not.

As you make your way out of the shop, you look down at your iced latte to take a sip when you notice black sharpie on the top.

In awful chicken scratch handwriting was the message of your dreams.

Call me? Ellie xx

With her number right beside her name.

Maybe Dina's shenanigans weren't always bad. She gets spared another day.

next part

[qawcamiz]

"What if somebody sees us?"

NSFW : The argument was the first thing halting you, but After not seeing each other for a long time, Al Haitham surprisingly manages to calm your 'nerves.'

warnings: violence, strong language, sexual content, (dominance, degrading, praise, riding, penetration, semi-public sex, academic rival, etc.)

notes: I was planning to leave this on scrap but since I love u guys 😍😘🙌

"Oh hey~ If it isn't the 2nd place!"

"How does it feel to have your title taken by the new student?"

'At least I have the knowledge to be placed 2nd unlike you peasants.' Was what you wanted to say, but you're more mature than that, well maybe.

—

"98/100? Are you making a fool out of me?!" You whisper and shout as you crumpled your test paper in your hand, tears streaming down your cheeks.

As for others, "but y/n! that's too much already! I can't even get 70! you should be proud of yourself for reaching 90 above average!" Was what they always say, but they just never really understood the consequences, do they?

This is between you and your dad, who's been getting harsher with each passing day, you had hoped at least he'd let you get another mark lower to pass, but instead now here he is yelling at you because "it's for your future!" As if your current grades didn't help,

they only worsened every passing second, making them even harder on you. "What's gotten into you lately?! Why can't you get full marks!" He said. "you're such a failure!" You were sobbing, you couldn't stop yourself.

—

"Eh Really? The new student got a full mark this semester? Lucky... I can't even keep up with my class anymore..." The girl said with sympathy. "Mhm! Not just that! I also heard he will be the top 1 for this year!" Said the other girls in excitement, but not like they were talking about someone else's schoolwork.

"Huh? So it's not y/n anymore? Looks like she got someone to replace her. Maybe next year we'll see who gets the position after all..." She continued, oblivious to how you felt about all this. You hated this. This was not your fault! How could she act so carefree? Did she even care about other people's feelings? Was there even any compassion within her body or mind?

You knew who they were talking about, It's Al Haitham, 'Why is he even here?'

Your thoughts were interrupted when they turned towards the door, "oh look! It's him! Let's go say hi!" They cheered as they gathered around him. You couldn't hear anything clearly from the distance, but what you did hear was enough to make you want to punch something.

You sat up from your seat and made your way out of the classroom with clenched fists. You would not cry again. You had no time for it.

You weren't going to cry ever again, especially not over some stupid loser. you opened the art room and walked to your usual spot, but instead of sitting down in your usual spot, you went straight to one of the tables near a corner, where no one would notice you at first glance, and started playing games, you needed to preoccupy yourself,

'game over'

You sighed and put away your phone. you heard your stomach growl, making you realize you hadn't eaten yet today. Now you felt bad for not taking a break earlier.

Abruptly, A sandwich is being offered to you, You looked up to see Al Haitham standing in front of you, offering his food once more. You rolled your eyes. "I'm not hungry", you said quietly, trying to ignore the fact that you did start to grow hungry. Al Haitham scoffed at your lack of manners, "Don't let our past affect your starving present." You rolled your eyes once again as you accepted the food and ate it slowly,

He sat beside you as your shoulders brushed lightly with each other, you tried not to flinch but still felt your skin prickle at his presence. "So," he began, avoiding eye contact, "Why are you here? Didn't we agree not to talk to each other anymore?" You asked, voice slightly raising, feeling defensive.

"You were the only one who came to terms with that, (y/n)." He said coldly as he continued to eat, "I guess you've decided to forget everything that happened between us and move on with your life. Good for you, I suppose." You were shocked, "That's not..." You protested weakly, knowing fully well that it was only a matter of time until you gave in.

"—Then what is the real reason that you ran away, (y/n)? Do tell."  Al Haitham asked as he stared directly into your eyes, You froze for an instant before you remembered why exactly you left, "It's none of your business!" Your tone raised a little more. "Is your father still pressuring you to get the scholarship?" He asked, ignoring your last statement completely. You glared at him,

"Why do you care?! If it wasn't for you, none of this would even happen! I could've pulled that first place! Don't come lecturing me about how my father is just being a dickhead, you're the one that made things worse in the first place!" You shouted, getting angrier by the minute, you were losing control over your temper and you didn't know why,

What you weren't expecting was for Al Haitham to grab your hands and pull you into a warm embrace, you tensed up but relaxed as he held onto you tightly, you could feel your face becoming redder and hotter as you realized what was happening. 'this bitch...'

"If it wasn't for your father... We would be still together, right now. And you know that." He said, voice hushed, causing you to finally relax and bury your face in his chest, "I thought If I answered the last number incorrectly, you'll get the 1st place, and then the two of us can continue on our life." Al Haitham whispered into your ear, giving you goosebumps.

"Bastard... That's easy for you to say because you can easily take the spot without even trying but What about me?" You said back angrily, trying to break free from his hold, you knew you wouldn't win a fight against him anyway, so you might as well give in to this situation.

"Y/N do you realize that you're just turning yourself into what your father wants you to become?" Al Haitham whispered into your ears, "Even if I took that spot, you know nothing would change. I wouldn't care about that scholarship, and neither would you. Even if you did what your father told you, does it ever please you? Is it worth the amount of effort you put in? The hours you had to devote to your studies? I think not, (y/n). he's just driving your happiness away." his words seem to melt your anger and frustration away, leaving only guilt and sadness behind, but also a relief because maybe you can finally understand where he comes from,

"I... I'm sorry, I shouldn't have reacted that way..." You said as you wrapped your arms around Al Haitham tight, You couldn't believe that you'd wasted so much energy trying to push away people who cared about you. "Are you alright now?" He asked, his voice filled with concern. You just nodded as you buried your face deeper in his chest, "I missed you, 'Haitham." You muttered softly into his chest as his grip on you tightened ever so slightly,

"We both do," He lifted your head slightly and leaned to give you a kiss which you gladly returned, His lips were soft, and although yours felt dry and chapped due to all the lamentation, he seemed to appreciate it because he kept kissing you. The warm kiss turned into an agitated makeout session. Your hand slowly moved upwards along with his shirt buttons,

He eventually moved his lips to your cheek and then your jawline and neck. His fingers found their way up your uniform under the collar of your jacket and started unbuttoning it, causing you to squirm in response.

he chuckled in amusement as he kissed your collarbone and slowly began working his way down to your cleavage, to his surprise, you suddenly pushed him to the bench and straddled him before he even knew what hit him.

As you grabbed his shirt collar, he removed the last button of your blouse, and as he trailed light kisses up your chest, you began undressing his top, leaving him shirtless, your hands roaming across his torso, "Fuck... are we seriously going to do it here? What if somebody sees us?" he said breathlessly as your fingers found their way between his legs.

"You're seriously concerned about that, Doesn't it make things more exciting? What will the students think when they see their heartthrob beneath me?" You smirked before grabbing Al Haitham's hips and pulling him closer, causing him to moan lowly, "You're getting a kick out of this aren't you?" He whispered as he slipped his hands into your skirt, massaging the already sensitive area as you bucked your hips down and bit your lip.

"Let's do this quick, Show me how much you missed me.” He said confidently and quickly pulled down your underwear, exposing your wet cunt. Al Haitham smiled triumphantly when he saw how turned on you were by the whole situation, he positioned himself between your legs as he slowly lowered himself inside you and ground his hips against yours in slow movements.

You started to leap on his cock, your eyes squeezed shut as your moans grew louder and louder while al Haitham looked at you with pure passion in his eyes. He reached his arms out, wanting to cup your ass as he watch you ride his cock in rhythm.

Your thrusts became faster and quicker, "Slowly, baby, I’m not going anywhere." he said teasingly. Your eyes remained closed as you were riding him furiously, feeling him fill you up with his length. You could feel the tips of your hair being tugged at causing you to moan softly, he smiled against your skin before pulling you closer to him, and you could feel the heat from his body radiating off his body and into yours, Your nails dug into his back, your fingernails digging deep enough that you were sure they would leave bruises.

"'H-Haitham... I'm cumming!" He grunted loudly as you rode him relentlessly, both of you moaning as pleasure filled you to the brim, Your orgasm hit like lightning, making you lose all control of your hips and thighs, causing you to cry out in delight as you came with waves of pleasure, Al Haitham grunting as he felt you clenched around him, his thrusts becoming rough and hard as he came undone.

After your orgasms, you lay limply on Al Haitham's lap, breathing heavily as you enjoyed every second of your release,

"Wanna continue this at home?"

[neverinadream]

I P I C T U R E M Y F U T U R E W I T H Y O U

Summary: Your first trip to Jupiter has you and Christian discussing a future you could enjoy together.

Pairing: Christian Pulisic x Fem!Reader

Requested: Yes & Yes

Song Inspo: Share Your Address - Ben Platt

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, fluff, boyfriend!christian, archaeologists!reader (self indulgent because HISTORY), dom!christian, sub!reader, dirty talk, pet names (baby, sweetheart, good girl...), praise kink, degradation kink, public sex, boat sex (???), hair pulling, slight choking, teasing, begging, thigh riding, oral (female receiving), fingering, checking in, aftercare, talks of marriage, talks of the future, the reader comes from a big family (that's my own self indulgent right there, sorry), not proofread

Notes: so this essentially could act as like a prequel of sorts to my dad!christian piece (which can be found here). also, the smut was going to be a lot longer but unfortunately i could get it to flow right, so i ultimately gave up on adding more. feedback is always appreciated, like please it let's me know if i'm doing it right. the end is clunky, i know, you don't have to tell me. anyway, enjoy!!

With one hand left on the wheel, the other creeps around your waist, his fingers hooking around a belt loop to pull you close. A giggle pushes past your lips as you shake your head. "Two hands on the wheel, perhaps?" You suggest, feeling his hand slip inside the back pocket of your denim shorts.

He casts his eyes in your direction, the ghost of a grin printed on his lips and a playful glint in his eyes. "My hands are right where they need to be," he replies, chuckling as he catches you rolling your eyes. You mumble something under your breath about him being cheesy, but he doesn't quite catch it. He's too distracted by his wandering eyes.

"Eh, eyes front and centre, buddy," you jab your finger softly into his side, causing a low 'oof' sound to fall off his lips. He had been taking not-so-subtle glances at your chest since you had changed into the bikini. It was a new piece purposely purchased for your first time staying at his place in Jupiter, so seeing you for the first time in this new cobalt blue set was driving him crazy. He wanted his hands on every single part of you. "I don't want my first time on a boat to end with us capsizing because you've got the hormones of a teenage boy who has just discovered the ancient art of wanking," you joke, shaking your head.

"Oh, I love it when you speak dirty to me," he counters, chuckling once more as you give him a not-so-amused stare.

He sighs happily. This was all he had wanted since the start of your relationship a little over a year ago. You and him, together, in a place that made him happy. He wanted to bring you to Jupiter on his last summer break, but you were hesitant about meeting his parents and the rest of his family so early into your relationship. Amd he respected that. But now his family loved you; you were close with his sister, his brother asked more questions about what you were up to than he cared to ask about Christian, and his parents regarded you as one of the family. He almost didn't like how well you got on with his dad, mainly because he was the target of many, many jokes.

"What's today's 'Fact of the Day'?" Christian asks, pulling you even closer to his side.

"Let's see," you hum, leaning your head against him. 'Fact of the Day' was something Christian had come up with. It was a way for him to learn something new and exciting daily. "Christopher Columbus probably wasn't at fault for introducing syphilis to Europe," you tell him, peering up to see him looking a little bewildered, "you know, the guy who supposedly first discovered the Americas."

"What do you mean supposedly?" He quickly asks, frowning as he quickly glances down at you. "I thought he was the guy who discovered the New World?"

"Well, technically, it is now believed that Vikings had landed on American shores long before Columbus ever did," you explain to him, placing a chaste kiss against the side of his chest, "but back to syphilis, so shortly after 1493, when Columbus and his crew sailed back to Spain, there was an epidemic all across Europe, with many historians and archaeologists buying into the Columbian theory, that Columbus and his crew were to blame for this outbreak. And the evidence for this theory comes from the bone lesions believed to be a result of Treponemal diseases like syphilis found on the skeletons of Native Americans who had died before Columbus's arrival."

Christian tried to follow along as best as he could. He learnt quickly that you tended to get excited talking about all things historical, often speaking at a pace that was sometimes hard to keep up with. One minute you could be rambling about one topic, and whilst he was just getting to grips with that first topic, you could've already moved onto a second topic.

"But they weren't to blame?" He asks, aiding you to stay on topic.

"No," he light-heartedly chuckles as you shake your head enthusiastically, "well, not necessarily. More recent studies on skeletal remains, some that are as early as the 14th Century - so before Columbus - have similar lesions on them, which suggests that there were already strains of syphilis in Europe."

"That's it?" He asks, quickly glancing at you, "that's my 'Fact of the Day'?"

"Yep," you pop the p, "that's your 'Fact of the Day'."

He leans over to you and presses a kiss on your cheek. "You look fucking gorgeous, by the way," he whispers into your ear, slipping his hand out of your pocket to cheekily squeeze your bum. You jump a little, gasping as you do. There must have been something in the air because you had never known him to be so handsy. And you were more than well aware that you weren't far enough away for his neighbours not to see. "I always love seeing you in blue," he continues, all movements of the boat ceasing as he takes his hand off the wheel.

"Christian," you warn, checking over your shoulders, but clearly he doesn't seem to mind displaying his affection for anyone to see.

His hands rest on your bum, gripping your cheeks as he pulls you against him. His mouth has found its way onto your neck, kissing you gently and creating a line of small doses of affection from the top of your neck down to where it meets your shoulders. Pulling away, his face hovers in front of yours, his lips within touching distance of yours, just begging to be kissed. A smirk tugs on his lips when he catches you taking glances at his lips, but he leans forward, omitting the teasing for now, and kisses you.

You pull away, whimpering as he latches his lips back against your neck. He was rougher this time, nipping and sucking at your neck and soothing the sting with his tongue. "Chris, people can see us," you give him a second warning as you feel one of his hands slipping between your shorts and your bikini bottoms.

"And?" He mumbles, kissing along your shoulder.

"Christian!" You gasp, not hiding the giggle that rumbled in your throat. This wasn't like Christian at all. "What has gotten into you today?"

"You weren't complaining about it this morning-"

"And this morning, we weren't at the risk of being reported for public indecency," you interrupt him, wiggling in his grasp as you feel his fingers tugging on the string of your bikini, "or probably something worse."

He whines, scrunching his nose up as he hides his face in your shoulder. "It's this bikini, baby," he mumbles, wrapping the end of the string around his finger, "it's driving me crazy." You bite your bottom lip, suppressing another whimper as he leaves another hickey on the base of your neck. You would have a lot to do a lot of work tomorrow to hide these from his parents. "I just want to take it off," he begs, pulling away to look at you, "please, baby?"

"If you think the top looks great, wait til you see the bottoms," you tease him, wrapping your arms around him, "they're so tiny."

"C'mon," he groans, "don't tease me like that."

"Take us somewhere more private, and maybe I'll let you take a peek." You giggle as the excitement lights up his eyes. He was like a kid on Christmas morning, giddy and ready to unwrap his presents. You being his present, that is. "What are you waiting for?" You raise your eyebrow. "This boat isn't going to move itself."

His fingers played with the cobalt blue strings of your bikini bottoms, wrapping and unwrapping the ends of the bows around his fingers, as he listened to you talk about the current book you were reading. It was a piece on the most impactful archaeological discoveries to date, which he knew you would know more about than he ever would. That's what you wanted to be - an archaeologist.

When you first met Christian, you had just graduated with a degree in Archaeology and Anthropology. You were like a breath of fresh air to him in a nightclub stuffy with people who only wanted to get close to him because of his profession. He spent most of the night getting you to talk about your degree and never once did he have to talk about football. And now, over a year later, you had a Master's and would be starting an internship in October.

And Christian couldn't be more proud of you.

"Christian?" You find him staring into space as you turn to look back at him, leaving you uncertain if he was listening to you or not. "Christian?" You repeat his name, giggling as you wave your hand in front of his face. He blinks, giving you a half-smile as his eyes catch yours. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Course I am," he replies, dipping to kiss your shoulder, "you were..." He pauses, squinting his eyes and scrunching up his nose as he tried to remember what you were rambling about. "You were talking about old fruit!" He says a little too loudly, with the tips of his ears turning pink.

"Okay, I'll give you that," you giggle, twisting back to kiss him. In essence, you had been talking about old fruit. You had been talking about the discovery of the remains of fruits, nuts, and meats found in the Colosseum. To you, it was exciting; it told you about the types of snacks attendees would've eaten.

You sigh happily, feeling his chin resting on your shoulder. "You're so smart," he affectionately says, wrapping his arm tighter around you, pulling you closer to his chest. His beard tickles as he nuzzles his face into your neck, kissing over the hickies he had left earlier. "I hope our children are as smart as you," he says, but your neck muffles his words.

"Our children?" You hear him curse under his breath like he shouldn't have said that out loud for you to hear. His arm loosens and eventually releases your waist as he pulls away from you, leaning back in the chair. "Christian?" For a brief moment, you're back on your feet, turning yourself around to face him. But he isn't looking at you. He has his eyes pointed to the ground, with his hands running idly through his hair. "Christian," you hook your fingers under his chin, "what do you mean 'our children'?"

He shakes his head, his cheeks flushing red. "Just forget I said anything."

"Forget it? Baby, that's a hard thing to forget," you tell him, sitting yourself down on his lap, your legs straddling either side of his thighs. Looping your hands around his neck, you brush your thumbs soothingly against his jaw. "You think about having kids with me?" You question him, giving him a small smile as he nods. "How many?"

"Three, just like my parents," he answers almost instantaneously, "but the opposite way around: two girls and a boy." He holds onto your hips, dragging you further up his lap until the end of your knees have hit the backrest and your chest is pressed against his. "I know we've only been together for a year, but these are the things I've been thinking about," he confesses, waiting anxiously for you to say something. Anything. "When I think of the future, I can only picture a future that has you in it."

"And what would their names be?" You ask, still inquiring about the imaginative children he had come up with inside his head.

"Whatever you wanted them to be."

Your cheeks burn with cheerful warmth as you crack a bright smile. Suddenly and all at once, you had fallen in love with him like you were falling in love with him for the first time again. Your grip on the back of his neck tightens, pulling him towards you as you leant forwards to crash your lips upon his. He kisses back, letting a hand drift away from your hips and cradle your face. The love you had for him poured its way into the kiss, leaving you both feeling light-headed and needing to take deep breaths as you pull apart.

"Do you have any idea of how much I love you?" You ask, your cheeks beginning to ache from all the smiling.

"I might do," he chuckles, tracing soft circles against your cheek.

"I'm gonna need more than three kids, though," you lean back, letting your hands drift onto his shoulders and down onto his biceps. He gives you a look that says, 'oh yeah?' "Of course," you nod your head, "I'm one of seven, remember?" Of course, he remembered. He almost didn't believe you; the thought of you having four brothers to impress and two sisters to win over frightened him. But luckily, they love him. He surprisingly fitted in with your often hetic family. "I want a house full of little ones."

"You're not joking, right?" He asks, a flicker of doubt plaguing his happiness.

"You said it yourself, Christian; I can only picture a future that has you in it," you reply, kissing both of his cheeks, "it just took for you to say it for me to see the picture clearly."

He hooks his fingers under your chin, beckoning you closer, mumbling, "come here," as he leans in to kiss you. You gave into the kiss, whimpering against him as you felt his tongue gently exploring your mouth. The two of you become glued together, melting into the other's embrace and desperately clinging to the other simultaneously. But he's the first to pull away, with a chest heavy considerably to help him catch his breath.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he says breathlessly, admiring your face and body as he leans back. His arm extends to touch you, tracing his fingers gently between your breasts and down the centre of your stomach, stopping below your belly button. His touch leaves goosebumps to prickle your skin, making your eyes close as you enjoy the tingling sensation. "How did I get so lucky to find someone so beautiful on the inside and out?"

"It's that bank account of yours," you joke, winking at him, "it's just so attractive." He makes you gasp, grabbing your arse with his free hand and lightly slapping it. It was like a little warning to watch what you were saying. "Come on, you thought I was attracted to you because your eyes look like honey under the lights?" You ask, running your fingers down his chest. "Or because the sun brings out a constellation of freckles across your face? Absolutely not." You scrunch up your nose and shake your head. "Nope, that could never be it."

He chuckles, sitting up as he snakes his hand around your neck, using it to pull you closer to him. "Whatever it is," he mumbles, raking his eyes up and down your chest, "it means I get to have you." A shot of pleasure tingles down your spine as you watch him lick his lips, his eyes pulled down towards your chest once more. "All of you," he speaks in a low voice, "fuck, sweetheart, it's just begging to be taken off."

"Then what are you waiting for?" You cock your brow. "Take. It. Off."

You bury your face into his shoulder, breathing in the scent of his cologne and the traces of the sunscreen you had to fight to put on him this morning as you whimpered against him. He flexes his thigh and pulls you down harder against him, rubbing your throbbing clit against it, aiding you as you roll your hips. "Fuck," you curse, hearing him hiss as you tighten your grip on his biceps, leaving crescent-shaped indents on his skin.

"No, no, sweetheart," his hand wraps around your neck, pushing you away from him, "let me see that pretty face of yours." He smirks, taking in your swollen lips, the hickies on your neck and chest, and eyes darkened by desire. Seeing you like this had his mind racing and his dick twitching. "I didn't tell you to stop, though, did I?" He raises his eyebrow, tapping your hip as an incentive to start moving again. "C'mon, ride my thigh like I know you can," he encourages, aiding you as you resume your previous movements, "keep making a pretty mess on my thigh, baby."

His hand reaches around, grabbing you by your arse, squeezing at your cheeks, and setting a pace he now demands. You whimper his name, but he can barely hear it as it spills from your lips. "Louder, baby," he chuckles, releasing his hand from your neck, "let all of Florida know." His hand drops down to your breasts, his thumb brushing over your nipple whilst dipping his head to pay attention to the other. "Let all of Florida know just who's making you feel this good, baby," he encourages, dragging his teeth across your nipple, soothing the sting with his tongue.

Your hand fists in his hair, tugging his curls and gasping his name as he latches his lips around your nipple. His tongue swirls around the hardened bud, grinning as you arch your back, trying to push as much of your chest as you possibly could. "Fuck, feels so good,' you whimper, grinding yourself faster against his thigh. It was there - your second orgasm. So close that you could almost touch it. "Close," you manage to tell him, pulling him off your chest and bringing him closer to kiss you. You moan into his mouth as his tongue pushes past your lips and moves against yours, ultimately giving up all control.

He nips at your bottom lip, giving it a gentle tug as he pulls away. "Not yet, baby," he denies you the chance to cum, shaking his head and smirking as you whine. Pressing his finger over your lips, he shushes you, stopping your attempt to defy him. "Stand for me," he instructs, shuffling to sit on the edge of the seat, fixing his shorts as he does so. "God, these really are fucking tiny, aren't they?" He finally removes the matching cobalt blue bikini bottoms, tugging forcefully on the strings and snatching them away from your body.

"I did say so," you mumble, lifting your left foot to rest on the edge of the seat.

"You did, didn't you?" He mumbles, hooking his arm under your thigh. You sigh, rolling your head back a bit as he kisses the inside of your thigh; his beard scratching against you feels nicer than it should. "Come here," he beckons you closer, hot breath hitting your core as he tightens his grip on the top of your thigh, pulling you into him. He hums when he finally tastes you, licking from your dripping entrance to your clit. "Beautiful," he looks up at you, groaning as you look back at him.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling on his curls and moaning as he pays close attention to your clit. He switched between licking it and sucking it, listening closely and smirking every time you'd pull on his hair or moan a bit louder for him. "Just...That...Fuck..." Your chest heaves as you struggle to speak. The words were on the tip of your tongue, ready to praise him, but you couldn't do it. He rendered you speechless.

"Got something to say, sweetheart?" He teases, replacing his tongue with his thumb, applying deeper pressure as he rubs your clit in circular motions. He kisses the top of your thigh and kisses both hips. Your hips were a particular favourite feature of his. He always wanted to be touching them. "What were you gonna say?" He asks, rubbing his fingers at your folds, letting you drip over them. "Tell me what you were gonna say," he bargains with you, teasing your entrance with the tips of his fingers, "and I'll let you cum."

"Or, stop me if you think this is too radical, you could just let me cum," you bite back, using your other hand to wipe yourself off his chin.

"I could, couldn't I?"

"Yes, you should."

He shrugs his shoulders, pushing his fingers inside you, chuckling at you shudder and gasp at the sudden intrusion. His tongue returns to your clit, working together with his fingers to play you like you were an instrument and wrangle the music out of you as he curls his fingers, brushing his fingers against the sweetest parts inside you. Gazing up, he finds you with your head hung back, your swollen lips parted to pant and moan his praises, with your eyes squeezed shut. He loved to watch you come undone. To witness your state as you teetered dangerously on the edge, ready to let go and jump.

"Let go for me," he encourages, dragging you back onto his lap, his fingers still pressed inside you. You straddled his lap, grinding your clit into the edge of his palm, and hiding your face in his neck. The coil in your stomach was unbearably tight. If it became any tighter, you were sure you would physically break. "That's it," he groans as you accidentally bite down on him, his neck muffling your moans as you finally come undone on top of him, "be a good girl and just let it all out. Soak these fingers again for me, just like you did for me earlier. Show me who I belong to." He peppers your shoulder with soft kisses, groaning louder against you as you squeeze around his fingers. "Fuck, you might just break them, baby girl; you're squeezing them so tightly."

You lazily cradle his neck, kissing over where you had bitten down, travelling up his neck until you meet his jaw. "Jesus," you giggle, feeling a wave of post-bliss giddiness wash over you. Your body tingled, and your legs were sore, but you craved more. "I want more," you mumble against him, kissing him as you turn his head to face you.

"More?" He raises his eyebrow. "Think you can take another finger?"

"I don't want more of your fingers," shaking your head, "I want you to fill me up, baby, make me feel nice and full."

"And I would love to give you what you wanted," he replies, retrieving his hand from between your legs and running it up the small of your back. You could sense there was a but coming. "But," he chuckles as he catches you rolling your eyes, "I don't have anything on me."

"What? No secret stash of condoms on here?" You tease, planting a quick kiss on the corner of his lips.

"Unfortunately not, princess," he shakes his head, hooking his fingers under your chin and drawing you closer to kiss him. It's slow and sweet, unlike the others you have been sharing. You had the time to savour it. He caresses your bottom lip as he pulls away, gazing at you with warmth in his eyes. "Do you want my shirt?"

"I want us to christen this boat, " you joke, dipping to kiss each of his shoulders, "but since you're so adamant about using protection, I'll guess I'll just have to wait until we get back to the house." You watch his expression change, his features softening as he realises the meaning behind your words. "Oh, there it is," you giggle, tapping the end of his nose, "figured it out yet?"

He clears his throat as his cheeks blush bright red. "But we've never...you know...before."

You rub your thumbs over his blushing cheeks, finding them to be so endearing. "What's the matter?" You tease him, already laughing before you can get your words. "Scared you'll be repeating your prom night all over again?" He leans his head away from you, his eyes slowly closing as he brings his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "What did you say it felt like again?" You continue to tease him. "Thirty seconds?"

"I'm beginning to wish I had never told you that," he chuckles and groans simultaneously.

"At least you didn't send the poor girl to A&E with a condom stuck in her vagina," you confess, still feeling weak on your feet as you stand up. His eyes snap open, giving you a look that matched the rest of his confused expression. You roll your eyes as he attempts to stifle his laughter. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Mr Thirty Seconds," you give him one last jab, leaving to search for his shirt.

"And who says I haven't already done that?" He calls after you, adjusting his shorts as he stands.

"Done what?" You call back, hearing him approach from behind.

"Christen the boat?"

You managed to swallow your laughter, but a smile still twitched on the corners of your lips. "Because I know you, Christian," you tell him, pulling his shirt over your head, letting it cover most of your upper half, before spinning around to face him. It was no secret that you were his first girlfriend in a very long time. He was open about it to you - just like he was aware of your past relationships and flings. There were no skeletons in the closet or dark, nasty secrets that had to be kept hidden for the sake of the safety of the other. That just wasn't you. You were two very open books. "The only other women who have been on this boat are your mum and your sister," you deliver the punchline, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"And now you," he mumbles, circling his arms around your waist to pull you closer, "the most important woman in my life."

"I like the sound of that," you whisper, just managing to get the words out before he kisses you again. You fist your fingers into his hair, trying to stay steady on your feet as his arms squeeze around you. In that moment, you were the air he was breathing, his only source of oxygen and a chance at eternal life. It was an intensity you hadn't experienced before, but it made you aware that were his everything.

And you were.

From the first time he kissed you, he was hooked - addicted to the electrical spark he felt every single time he kissed you. He knew no one else would ever make him feel the same as you do. From that day on, he knew he would follow you to the end of the earth.

One hand drifts away from your back and traces the outline of your jaw as he pulls away to look at you. You were a vision of beauty, and it left him with a warm, fuzzy feeling like butterflies fluttering in his stomach. "Can I ask you something?" He asks, almost whisper-like. There was no better time for him to ask.

"Anything."

"Will you marry me?"

F O O T B A L L T A G L I S T

@shanoontje @maseandkepa @theblxefox @blueathens  @ofxinnocence @1-800-benji-chilwell @mrschilly @geek-and-proud @in-my-body-bag @laurasstufff1 @mountchilly @spicysainz @greykitkepa @thoseboysinblue @mountpulisic @dinonuggiesforliferz

[rabarbarzcukrem]

Hi, this is my first time posting fanfiction. Please keep in mind that I am not a native English speaker and be kind enough to excuse any mistakes.

This short fic was inspired by these two lovely pieces of art by @helloanthy and @biruesque:

Ship: Utena Tenjou x Anthy Himemiya

Contains: one shot, post-canon, reunion, Anthy is a badass now, Utena doesn't remember Ohtori but experiences lesbian feelings nonetheless

~~~~~~~~

Utena was waiting outside the store that she worked at, with her backpack slung over one shoulder. The setting sun gilded the usually dull and grey concrete of the parking lot.

"It's getting colder, I guess autumn is coming soon..." she thought absent-mindedly, casually stretching her arms one after the other. When she had mentioned that she is looking for an apartment during a conversation with her colleague Kokomi the day before, she hadn't expected that an opportunity would present itself so soon. Her friend had instantly lit up and started rambling on about some girl that she knew, who was apparently looking for a roomate right now.

Utena glanced at her phone screen. Half past six.

The girl was supposed to pick her up after work - so about 15 minutes ago - so she could see the apartment. And although Utena had assured that it's unnecessary and she is perfectly capable of getting there on her own, Kokomi replied that the roomate-to-be presented the idea herself and would gladly give Utena a ride.

"She'd better hurry up, it's gonna start getting dark soon..." she sighed to herself.

Suddenly, a pink motorcycle pulled into the parking lot and stopped just a few meters in front of her. The person driving the vehicle took of their helmet.

"Tenjou Utena, right?" they said, giving her a warm smile. For a moment, Utena forgot how to speak. The girl standing before her had skin of deep brown, glistening emerald eyes and tumbling purple curls, tied into a high ponytail revealing her undercut. There was a Hindu red dot between her eyebrows, which Utena recalled was called 'bindi'. She wore a truly punk outfit - ripped jeans and a leather sleeveless vest with lots of pins, in her ears and on on her face glistened various silver piercings.

"This is the girl?!" thought Utena, shocked and quite intimidated."Just what kind of people does Kokomi hang out with?!"

"U-uh, yeah, that would be me... Kokomi said you're looking for a roomate...?" she managed to choke out awkwardly, scratching the back of her neck with a nervous smile.

The girl nodded, unbuckling a second helmet from the seat and handing it to her. Utena suddenly realized in what way they were supposed to get to the apartment.

"I-I've never ridden a motorcycle before...To be honest, I was expecting a car " Utena explained, a bit embarrassed.

"Don't worry." replied the girl kindly. "Just sit behind me and you'll be alright."

This openly and assuredly tender, affectionate way she was looking at her made Utena feel bashful.

She let out a small breath and put on the helmet. She expected a longer conversation, some questions at least... Maybe the girl wanted them to discuss the details on the spot? Then again, the quiet between them didn't feel uncomfortable, somehow.

As she was getting on the vehicle, Utena realized how close to the girl she would actually be sitting and suddenly felt her cheeks burn. She also smelled a nice, distinctive, floral smell which enveloped the mysterious stranger. Despite how shy and flustered she felt for some reason, there was something that drew Utena to her. And not just because the girl was plain gorgeous, but also due to a strange feeling of comfort and familiarity that the girl induced in her, as if they had known each other for a very long time.

"I could use something to hold onto" Utena thought, considering grabbing the seat, if only to do something with her hands.

As if she was reading her thoughts, the girl spoke calmly:

"It's okay, just put your arm around my waist."

"Ah."

Utena complied carefully, trying very hard not to be too weird about it and ignore the pounding of her agitated heart. And suddenly there was that strange deja vu sensation again - as if she had embraced her this was a hundred of times before. Utena felt like she was forgetting something. Had they maybe...met in the past..?

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I caught your name" said Utena, suddenly realizing that.

The girl was silent for a short moment.

"Anthy" she said, quietly. Was her voice a bit sad, or did Utena just imagine it? "My name is Himemiya Anthy".

And she started the engine.

~~~~~

By the time they got there, it had gotten dark. The apartment was situated on the third floor of a nice-looking building, in a bit isolated area of the city. As Utena followed Anthy up the stairs, listening to the clink of keys in the girl's hand, she couldn't do anything else but wonder how she might have known her. Something in the back of her mind told her Anthy was important to her - so why was her mind blank whenever she tried to remember?

"Make yourself at home," Anthy said, letting her inside. Removing her shoes, Utena looked around the apartment. Apart from the short hallway, there were two pairs of doors, probably leading to a bedroom and a bathroom, and a living room with a small, open kitchen. The main room was decorated very nicely, in a way Utena had to admit she couldn't arrange herself. It was full of pots of plants, cute pieces of furniture and all sorts of knick-knacks that made it feel more cramped than it actually was, but in a cozy way.

"Say hello to Chuchu" said Anthy, picking up something small from the table in the center of the room. She uncurled her fingers, revealing to Utena a tiny, 4-inches tall, purple monkey, with big ears and a curled tail, which appeared to be in the middle of attempting to smallow a chocolate bar whole.

"Um...Hi, Chuchu" said Utena, extending her index finger towards the creature so he could shake it. It was so adorably small and goofy Utena couldn't help but smile.

"He's very cute. Is he your friend?"

Anthy looked at Chuchu with fondness.

"The best of all that I have."

She kissed him on his little forehead and placed him gently on the countertop of one of the cupboards, then walked over to the counter in the kitchen.

"Tea?"

"Um, sure. Thanks."

Utena sat at the table. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a terrarium standing by the wall. It took her a moment to realize that several other living creatures were also moving freely around the apartment.

"Who is this?" Utena asked, a bit surprised, pointing to one of them.

"Oh, my hen, Miss Milly."

"And these?" Utena pointed to another ones.

"Just my kitties, Theodore and Wolfgang."

"And this?"

"My dearest mongoose, Sweet Biscuit Jr."

"I suppose all the ants probably have names as well, huh?"

Anthy smiled at her softly.

"Would my animals be a problem for you, Utena?"

"No, I just... didn't think you were that kind of girl" she said, before thinking.

Anthy turned towards her, intrigued.

"That kind?" she asked, more curious than offended.

"It's just, because of the way you dress, I thought you were one of these, hardcore ones, not the type to care about animals and stuff" said Utena nervously, wanting to explain her poor choice of words, but realized that she just made it worse. "B-But for some reason, it feels right, you know?" She added quickly. "It makes sense. If anything, I think it makes you...even cooler..."

"Ah, a pretty, totally badass girl brings you to her house and the first thing you do is embarrass yourself!" she scolded herself in her thoughts, but the only thing Anthy did was chuckle softly and say "Thanks", before geting back to preparing tea for them.

For a moment a calm, comfortable silence fell upon the room. For some reason, sitting at that table filled Utena with a warm, nostalgic feeling inside, almost as if... she had finally come home. What a silly thought. Utena was an orphan, she didn't have any family that she knew of, there was no home waiting for her. And yet...

"Himemiya" Utena said suddenly, which she noticed made Anthy flinch. "This may sound weird, but have we....met before?"

The girl turned around to face her, with the warm smile back on. Utena expected an answer, but Anthy kept quiet.

"I'm thinking we may have gone to school together or something" explained Utena hurriedly, thinking Anthy didn't understand. "Like, maybe we were in different classes...I suffered an injury in middle school, I admit I don't remember much of that time."

Anthy stared at her in silence for a moment, her expression unchanging. Utena guessed she may be lost in thought, trying to recall something. But when she finally spoke, it was just a question, in a perfectly calm, although a bit deeper voice:

"Are you a forgetful person, Utena?"

This startled her.

"Uh...."

She didn't have a clue what to say to that. But she had a gnawing feeling that it was important, somehow.

".....Anyway" said Anthy, suddenly cheerful again, as if the previous interaction hadn't taken place. "Would you like some cookies as well? I just baked them yesterday."

"Sure..."

Utena followed Anthy with her eyes for a bit, puzzled, as the girl pulled out the cookies from one of the cabinets.

"She's avoiding the subject" she thought. "I guess I shouldn't be pushy, if she doesn't want to talk about it..."

She sighed and looked through the window. The moon was shining unusually brightly, the night sky was unclouded and full of stars. She noticed that the apartment had a balcony, and on it, through the glass, she saw....

"Are those roses?" asked Utena, standing up suddenly, something pulling her towards the balcony doors. She opened them and stepped outside, feeling the refreshing, chilly air against her skin. The balcony was, indeed, packed with pots and pots of beautiful, pink roses, which barely left any room for a person to stand comfortably.

"So this is where the floral smell comes from..."

As she was standing there, in awe of the sight before her, she heard Anthy step outside too and close the door.

"Are all of them yours?" asked Utena, smiling wide, genuinely impressed. "They probably need a lot of care... You must really love roses, huh?"

Anthy returned the smile, but there was something pained in her voice when she responded with a short, quiet:

"...Yes."

Looking into the girl's eyes, under the starry sky, she couldn't shake off the feeling that there's something she should say, something she should do, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't figure out what. Her throat tightened, some weird, intense feeling was building up inside of her, under her skin, she couldn't stand it-

"We should probably get back inside, it's getting cold" she turned around quickly, too quickly, and stumbled on one of the pots.

In a split second, Anthy lunged forward and caught her by the waist, her other hand gripping Utena's, bringing them close.

In that moment, a wave of memories washed over her, and she remembered everything. The academy. The crushing weight of the swords. The struggles they had faced together, the fights she had fought for her, the illusions, the cruel, cruel lies... All the suffering and the horror...And through all of that, Anthy's hand in hers, time and time again. The love.

"Someday, together..."

Overwhelmed, she felt her eyes fill up with tears. Upon seeing this, Anthy's face softened in understanding. She let out half a chuckle, half a sob.

"Utena" she said, her voice trembling with emotion, but so, so loving. "At last...we meet."

"You escaped. You got out of there."

"I wanted to find you."

Utena couldn't bring herself to say anything else, there was no need to. No words could ever describe what had happened between them, the feelings they had for each other. Instead, she intertwined their fingers together, and the act of it felt like putting together two halfes of a broken heart.

A loud, unpleasant whistling sound filled the air.

Anthy let out a small breath and smiled in amusement, lowering her gaze.

"The tea..."

There they were, sitting at a table again, with two cups, a plate of cookies, and ChuChu sleeping peacefully beside them. Anthy took both of Utena's hands in hers, and squeezed them gently. Right now, neither of them felt like drinking. No words were spoken that night. Just tears of pure joy spilled, and knowing, tender smiles exchanged. It wasn't a happy ending, it was hardly an ending at all. The next day, there were other hardships for them to face. But in that moment, none of that mattered, because these two girls found each other, and at last - were free. Finally, together, shining brighter than the stars in the sky.

[creaturing-your-faves]

(If you're comfortable with this) could you make a tutorial on how you make your creations??? It'd okay if not, thank you for making them :D

WAA i can try!! baby's first tutorial ft. this guy

🐾 first, a picture of your blorbo

i use waifu2x to up the quality, not always neccessary but it makes everything a bit easier and prettier. i use firealpaca to edit but you can use whatever you like, im not your mom

🐾 probably get a reference

yeah i dont always do this. but you should! i should! so google whatever creature you want to turn blorbo into and maybe scroll for a bit to get a feel for what they look like :3

try to find one at a similar angle to your blorbo picture and paste it/open as a layer. look this is close enough ↓

🐾 onto the actual editing! human ear surgery

in case you prefer just one pair of ears. you have to understand the style so you can imitate it.... so look at their hair, maybe theres more colors or gradients than you can see at a glance or something ! i colorpick a bunch of them and put them over their ears, then blend them together with a low opacity watercolor brush

ALSO, notice the.. lighter glowy aura thing around his ear in the og? i try to imitate details like that too, used watercolor for this again

now maybe you wanna make it look like theres something covering that spot, since theres kinda nothing there now. soo if that looks weird to you, (open a new layer and) put some hair over it. i cant tell u how to imitate Any style so just. study it and keep trying

with enstars here the lines are pretty soft, so i go over it with watercolor brush after doing the general shape. with a higher opacity you could probably just use a softer brush from the start, i just like starting with the basic pen

🐾 the lines!!!

nowww i lower the blorbos opacity to around 50%, bring the reference somewhere i can see and just kinda... start sketching. lot of redrawing and transform tooling here sometimes

TIPS 1. you can clean the lines up at the end so dont stress

2. think of your blorbos new ears as a real tangible part of their body and how they fit on their head since you dont wanna make it look too flat !

3. and for the placement i always end up at roughly one human ear length above their og ears if that makes sense. tried to visualize it

as for inner ear fluffs phew i dont know either. draw a circle and start from there? maybe there are actual animal ears in blorbo artstyle out there you could reference

🐾 coloring 🏳️‍🌈

finally some progress huh. i color the lines in a contrasting color first so i see the lines properly and dont miss anything, then fill it in with the actual color :3 OH and for gradients i just use the airbrush at the ear tips or sides

noww shading! new layer, basic pen brush and try to follow the shapes in the og art. it's best if you pick the colors from the actual picture!!! take notes mentally and just do your best i dont know how to explain this more

taking this as an example, the shading is mostly in pretty simple wider areas, so not a lot of seperate strands in there. and its again pretty soft around the edges of shades and highlights, so i'll go over it with my beloved watercolor. keep things like that in mind so the creaturing blends in well :3

if you like more detail better you can still go with that. or less detail on a complex artstyle. the world is your oyster

🐾 and the rest

what else could there be???? making the lineart more cohesive for example ★ oftentimes it's not one solid color, thicker or thinner than yours, things like that.

for things like piercings or fangs you can just draw them on top i believe in you <3 if its like an intricate earring use the lasso? magic wand? the one that lets you select an area to copy and move on top of your ear layers

+ remember details like shadows, if you put a tail on top of say blorbos leg there's gonna be a shadow under it! put a layer under the tail ones and freehand draw the shadow, OR copy the tail layer, put the copy under the og one and change color/opacity until it fits

[starseneyes]

Chenford - Lucy Chen / Tim Bradford - The Rookie - Season 5 - Ep 11

"The Naked and the Dead" AKA "Chenford is SOOOO married"

SPOILER WARNING: I will spoil the entire episode, likely the entire show, and I am addicted to details. Please proceed with caution.

Everybody primed and ready to go? Let's dive in!

"Hey, let me do it."

Timelines are tricky on this show, so I really don't think this was after the "second" date, but later. We saw in the cold open that Nolan and Celina were on a case during the day, so I think Tim and Lucy have been sneaking in dates and we're MAYBE a few days or a week past the end of the last episode.

So, that cute little glance Lucy gives Tim before uttering "let me do it" made me squee. Yes, I squee like a little girl kicking in a too-tall chair. Let me flail. I'm good at it!

Tim steps back and lets his wife girlfriend get to work on the coffee machine.

We know he's into black coffee (and clearly she knows his order after all the years on the job together), and I bet if he has a machine at home, it's either a grind-and-brew to give him whole bean goodness in a more instant form, or it's that "one cup" model I gave my husband to keep at work. Insert coffee. Insert water. Brew.

"So, what'd you guys get up to last night." "Nothing!"

Tim. Oh, Tim. Remember last week when I said you should stop lying? Yeah... maybe time to take my advice because your "nothing" is louder than a lot of "somethings".

To be fair, Nolan did say, "You Guys", which might trigger Tim's Fight-or-Flight response. Fleeing the scene might have appeared less suspicious.

Lucy slips in with her well-practiced UC skills on full display. See, she's had time to prepare, this time, and she's not going to get caught in the early stages of her secret romance.

She rattles off her love of the new Chagall exhibit while Tim suddenly gets lost in the aroma of his coffee so he can't open his big mouth, again. He seriously can't even look at either of them.

Tim finds a spec of dust on the floor to admire, sips his coffee, and hopes nobody notices.

Also, can we talk about Lucy handing Tim his coffee!? I know she could have done it at any other time in their relationship. I mean, she was his Boot and then his Gofer. She's handed him MANY a cup of coffee over the years.

But there is something so bloody domestic about Lucy Chen handing her boyfriend a cup of coffee.

"Nothing? You had all morning to come up with a cover story and that's what you went with?"

First off, I love the tone change from Lucy sending Nolan off to confronting Tim.

Second, I love how Tim immediately has to right the wrong of him being perpendicular to her and set himself directly in front of her, feet pointing towards what he desires. (Any New Girl fans out there?)

"Woah, woah. He bought it, didn't he?" "Uhhh."

I love this teasing. Both Eric Winter and Melissa O'Neil excel at something I adore in actors... the Art of the HUM. It can be "uh" or "hm" or "mm".

I don't care which of the "H" "U" "M" s you use and in what combination, a great actor can use them to add layers to a scene and make it feel completely natural rather than written-in.

Chenford fans are blessed with both actors masterfully pulling it off. Think Matthew Goode in A Discovery of Witches. If there's a King of the HUM, it's him.

But these two are pretty high up there in terms of mastery.

"What if he had asked you a follow-up question about the exhibit?"

There's that competitive spirit coming out with these two. Tim wants to prove that his excuse is more fool-proof than hers.

And, Tim, while you may be the Master of Tests, Lucy is the Master of Cover Stories. Remember Dim and Juicy's meet-cute Lucy created that made you think naughty thoughts you tried to cover up with veiled barely-there compliments? Lucy's gonna school you, former TO.

"Let him. I read the catalogue to the exhibit cover to cover."

First off, how the hell does Melissa O'Neil make that line sound hot? The world may never know.

Secondly... BOOM, Tim Bradford! You've been schooled by the master! Lucy is the queen of preparation. For goodness sake, she read psych journals trying to prepare to break up with her ex-"Work In Progress".

Lucy has a pattern, and it's a good one when your SO becomes your SO and you don't want anyone to know... o.

"Mmhmm"

See? Master of the HUM.

"I hear you have Citizens Academy today." "I do. Do you have any tips?"

She trusts him completely, and I love that he immediately rattles off information to help her. At this point, he knows exactly what she needs to hear, and what will be useful to her.

Also, Tim's disdain for screenwriters is strong. Or someone in the writer's room is really tired of unsolicited screenplays in their inbox.

"So... um, what are you doing tonight." "Nothing... I hope."

Ooooh, Velvet Voiced Tim is back! Eric Winter puts this velvety quality into Tim's voice when he's in boyfriend-mode, and it's so bloody delicious.

I did VO for over 20 years, so I get SUPER excited about these little shifts in performance. Immediately, we know what he means. Yowza.

"Nothing sounds perfect."

Okay, I have to be upfront and honest, here. My original prediction was that they would not have sex for the first time off-screen and that they would not have sex this episode.

But when this scene dropped as a promo (and I love that they did widescreen with wings when it was too awkward for the crop), I second-guessed myself. Did they... do it off-screen!?

No. Now, I firmly believe, no. But this scene had me going for a minute!

Narratively, it makes more sense to drag it out. Yes, I know that in real life some people sleep with one another the moment they meet. But I believe for these characters in this moment... it makes sense to take their time.

But when I first heard they were doing "nothing" and they'd also done "nothing" the night before with only the morning to make up a cover story... I questioned my choices hard.

And now my mind's in the gutter.

Okay, readjusting. Let's get back to Tim's beautiful smirk as he watches his woman depart. "I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave", anyone? Our kitten is smitten.

Lucy On A Mission

Lucy works at the computer, lost in thought and using that big brain and compassionate heart of hers.

Aaron slides up, completely unaware of what's on her computer. He's ready to spill the tea, and the tea is standing right beside him.

"You'll never guess who's coaching Little League." "Nolan?" "No. Sergeant Friendly."

I love the glare Tim gives Aaron. Because it's his damn fault. But I also love Aaron poking fun at Tim. Their dynamic's been a lot of fun to watch this season.

"Whu- How did that happen? Can I watch?"

Ma'am. This is a PRECINCT. Please pick your panties up off the floor and resume normal operating function.

I mean, wow, Lucy! There was some heat in that question and Aaron is right there!

Lucy Materializes Out of Thin Air

I had to watch it twice to pinpoint where the hell she came from at the ball park. So, my initial surprise was akin to Tim's.

"Hey." Hi."

How. Is. This. HOT!? They're just saying "hi" and it's so charged with electricity the baseball field lights are about to turn themselves on. There is absolutely zero chill with these two since they started dating, let's be real.

"Um... who are you?" "What?" "I... the... a lot of heart? They're kind of a mess." "They're kids. It's supposed to be fun." "Yeah..."

I hear that edge in his voice on that line.

It's the same edge that gets into his voice anytime he discusses anything remotely connected to his father or childhood. So many of his choices are informed by the scars he still bears—physical and emotional.

Tim walks away, a little frustrated, because he can see Lucy doesn't get it. To be fair, he isn't explaining it. He's not communicating with her at all here.

But, also to be fair, he's never sought counseling or therapy for what he survived. There's a lot bottled up and it can be hard to pour it out in digestible bits if you've never learned how.

Genny fills in the gaps. That's all Lucy needs to process where Tim is and what he's going through.

I grew up with a lot of yelling, name-calling, and verbal and emotional abuse. Manipulation. Control.

One of my greatest joys is breaking those cycles with my own children—giving them a better childhood.

Tim watched the anger and the volatile nature of the last coaching situation here. He remembers his own father. He wants different for these kids, even if they aren't his own.

"He's trying not to be like him." "Yeah."

Lucy deflates a little, here. It was only silly puffery meant to tease, but now she gets it. Now she sees where this comes from, and she feels a little guilty. Of course, she didn't know, but now she does.

*Tim thumbs ups a kid dropping a ball* "Well, I mean, there is such a thing as over-correcting."

Here's where Lucy knowing Tim so well comes in. She doesn't try to talk to him about it. She doesn't try to tell him what to do.

Instead, she gets in there to help course-correct so Tim can keep being supportive, and she'll provide the structure so he doesn't have to have the anxiety of in any way resembling his father.

This is such a demonstration of love, to me. She knows he's not ready to deal with all of this. There will be a day—perhaps when his father dies—that he'll start to process through everything that happened. But, in the meantime, she'll help him through.

This is where Tim and Lucy live, now. It's a "we". It's an "us". It's something neither of them has ever had to this degree, before, even though Tim was married once-upon-a-time.

Lucy and Tim are a team, now, and this episode highlights why—they complement each other. They balance each other. They sharpen each other.

And in this way, Tim's very fortunate to be falling in love with someone with a pysch degree who can understand what's needed. She's the ideal partner to help with this because she knows him enough, now, not to push. But she also knows enough to provide a safe space for when he is ready to discuss.

"What are you doing?"

You never know what your girl is gonna do, do you, Tim?

To note, the last time he asked her this was when he was in the hospital recovering from spinal surgery. She was supporting him, then, too. She has a knack for it. (and I think the time before that was when he caught her putting boots in his locker... she also has a knack for pranks, of course)

"My name is Lucy. I am Coach Bradford's... friend."

Look. At. Tim's. FACE. Look at that bemused smile when she asserts she is his "friend". There was a time when he wouldn't even have accepted that moniker.

It wasn't until they were discussing her love life in the shop during the last 30 days of her training that she said, "we're friends" and instead of refuting it, he simply made a face.

And I love that she remains his friend even as they're transitioning into everything else. I often tell my children that my husband is my best friend—and I mean it. Nobody supports me like Matthew, lifts me up like Matthew, understands my trauma like Matthew, and makes me laugh like Matthew.

I love every layer of that man. And he loves every layer of me. And friendship goes a long way to getting to that point, I think.

Lucy rattles off instructions for how to throw a ball while Tim side-eye-fucks her and thinks of other things she can do with her hands as she's acting out the motions.

Come on, I'm not wrong here, people! Look at his face and tell me there aren't a few things happening in his mind that are not baseball-related but might involve running some bases.

Lucy disperses the kids, and Tim fires off a "You heard her" which is the Chenford Coaching Team equivalent of "Listen to your mother!"

He looks her up and down and smiles deliciously at Lucy, activating her praise kink in a delightful motion of her head.

Yes, Lucy Chen absolutely has a praise kink. And there's nothing wrong with that! But I love how Melissa O'Neil has been consistent with that little head swish Lucy does.

We've seen her do it throughout the years ("Maybe one day she'll be as good as you" comes to mind), and it never stopped. It only morphed.

Look at it at Lopez's wedding when he compliments her (in his way) and then asks her for a dance. Praise Kink Activated.

She does it at the end of 5x08 as we wait to fade to black, and there's a softer version of it when she's basking in Tim's adoration at the end of their first scene of 5x09 in the Watch Commander's office. Girl's got it bad for Tim Bradford.

He offers her the ball... but no he didn't. And I'm giggling like Lucy last episode because he's such a teenager around her, sometimes.

I've heard the expression all my life, "Love makes you young". I often think of Patrick Stewart wearing the Elf Song Hat while his wife recorded him (Google it... you'll die laughing).

With Tim, I feel like it resets him to before all the hurt and heartache in his love-life with Isabelle. He can be... free. Flirty. Fun.

But, seriously, Tim's the one who is going to get them found out for sure. Because, you know who had a front row seat to that eye-fuckery? Genny, that's who.

Y'ain't fooling anyone, Timothy.

"I think you two should co-coach. You were great together." "Oh, no, no. I'm ready to hand over the reins, entirely." "Not a chance."

I've thought about the layers in this little interaction quite a bit. Genny sees something here—whether it's the romance, the layered friendship, or the true partnership they've developed over the years.

But I feel like Tim's dealing with some self-doubt, here, and Lucy catches onto that.

I have a husband who deals with self-doubt. He's an incredible human, but I can tell when he's leaning into that and when I need to pull him back out and remind him how awesome he is.

I get that feeling here with Tim and Lucy. Maybe I'm projecting. But, I feel like he's saying, "She's better than me" and she's saying "No way, no how". Because he's not bad at this. Yes, he over-corrected a bit, but kids do need the support he offered. And Lucy brought the structure. They're better together.

I mean, just look at the way they're cleaning up together. Lucy's handing the bats to Tim and Tim's putting them away. They're doing it instinctively because helping one another and working together is completely natural, by now.

It's not something they have to discuss or consider—it's instinctual.

I've seen this in nature, before. A client of mine (yes, same client from last Meta) flew me out to Los Angeles a few times for work. I stayed with him and his wife, and I got to watch them work in the kitchen together.

After decades and decades of it being the two of them together, with no kids or anyone else in the way... it was like watching a dance.

That's Tim and Lucy. They move together rhythmically and naturally. May it be so in all aspects of their life—but I'm skipping to another episode that hasn't aired, yet, now!

"No, but seriously! I saw today why you work so well together."

And, Tim, poor, sweet Tim, opens his mouth. Tim can't get words out, and one look from his wife, and he knows to shut that mouth.

"We spend so much time together on, out on the job. It's so great that Tyler has been making friends so quickly after moving here."

Anyone else thinking Lucy's UC school was solely so she could cover up for her and her not-so-secretive secret boyfriend? Because, hello, it keeps coming in handy!

This is classic redirection. I use it with my children all the time. Just this morning my 5-year-old daughter was having an unusually hard time saying goodbye to go to school. Usually, she walks in without a glance back. Today, it was CLING city.

So, I went through the room until we finally finally found something to get her mind off of me so I could slip away.

Lucy's doing the same thing. She's pointing at something else in Genny's life to let that thought of "Tim and Lucy" slip away. It gives Genny something more personal to her to focus on, and shifts the conversation gently.

"We'll make sure he gets the best seat in the house."

Just thirty seconds ago, Tim was trying to get out of co-coaching, and they were both deflecting why they're great together, but now we're back to "we". Heck, we never left "we" for Tim and Lucy. They're a unit, now.

"What's wrong?" "There's something going on with my Domestic." "You want me to come? "No, it's okay. I got it."

Oh, how far we've come. In the past, if Tim said, "What's wrong?" to Lucy, it was surprising that he was taking interest. But, this is his girlfriend, and he knows her well. He looks to her phone for a clue as she approaches.

Then, he offers his help. This isn't TO Tim who wants to make sure his Boot doesn't mess things up. This isn't Sergeant Tim who is going to be backup for Officer Chen. This is Boyfriend Tim willing to be there for his woman, but asking what she wants because he knows she's more than capable of handling herself.

That's what hits me the hardest about this—he knows she's got it, but he's there if she wants him.

And I think that's why her "No" and the head-tilt comes off as intimately as it does... Lucy knows what Tim's offering and why. It's love he's demonstrating and she's sending a "message received" with that look.

And Tim's little "okay" downturn of his lip at the end of the clip even shows how he's not worried a bit. But he was going to offer. And I bloody love that.

Tim and Lucy and Wesley

I love this scene. It's so small and seemingly insignificant plot-wise, but it's the heart of the story, here. Okay, I'm tearing up a little.

PAUSE: TW Abuse CW Abuse

I don't want to give details, but I have people in my life who have been where these women are in the story. So, to me, I don't see the characters. I see my cousin. I see my friend. I see the girl when I was in college who was murdered by her boyfriend in the dorm.

In the case of the plot, this scene isn't necessary. But in terms of the context, it adds so bloody much. It's the message. It's the truth of what happens all too often. Gabby Petito is a recent case that made national headlines, but this happens all over, every day.

And what can we do? What options are there? How can we help? There is some heavy stuff in this episode. But, it's important for us to listen and learn.

END TW Abuse CW Abuse

I love that Tim has Lucy's back, here. She could have done this alone, but I bet she asked him along for his experience and for the weight of his strips in the discussion.

And I ADORE Shawn Ashmore (the sharp-eyed twin, as I've always thought of him), and there's something so irreverent about him sitting in that suit atop the desk that made me giggle a little the first time I saw it.

"Him and Bailey are just way too nice to be landlords." "Totally." *aggressive head-nodding Tim*

And like the Fool who took the stage immediately after the gruesome murder in the Royal Shakespeare Production of MacBeth (the Scottish play for my theatre siblings), there's the levity we need to help transition to what's next.

It's the rhythm of the scene and script where somehow this writer's room is tasked with heartache and hilarity in the same space. It takes skill to do well, and this scene does it well.

"Okay, hold on, you are a complete badass out on the streets-" *Tim question's wife's opinion aggressively* "Off hours, you're a little...." "Easy target."

Nolan's indignation combined with Celina's face make that moment. But it's all the rhythm of Tim and Lucy that gets us there. Tim and Lucy are still Tim and Lucy.

Lucy wants to try to find the compassionate angle, and Tim's going to tell it like it is.

Chenford Coach a Game

Tim and Lucy have me smiling ear-to-ear for so many reasons in this scene. Look at how sweet he is with the kids, making sure they have a good experience. Look how competitive she is. Miss "I like trophies" is coming out, and it's amazing.

"God, every time!" "Be encouraging." "Good. Good job. Good try." "We're gonna work on that."

Married. So married. Beyond married. This whole interaction is gold. And the matching hats and shirts!? Normally, I wouldn't think Prison Orange would be a good look on a cop, but these two pull it off!

Tim is coaching Lucy as much as he's coaching the kids. I see a little "teacher Tim" in that "Be encouraging", though far gentler than TO Tim. And his face right before he tells her, "We're gonna work on that" has me rolling. That little down-turned mouth cracks me up.

We're getting a sneak peek into their future with this one. And, as usual, Tim and Lucy are balancing one another out.

That's one of the things I really love about them. They're not the same person, like Lucy says his ex was. They're very different people who are on a parallel path and are willing to put in the work to make this work because they're worth it.

"I'm excited." "I know."

AHHHHHHH. I know it's a TINY, tiny thing, but the way that he so effortlessly leans into her, the way he cocks his head as he says, "I know." It's so married.

And I have to call out the camera work, here, and the directing. If we're paying attention, we see Nyla and Angela showing up as Blake goes to bat. From the other angle you might note Blake's father shooting to his feet as Blake's bat connects with the ball.

The director is allowing us to discover the story-line without dumping us in at that shot of Nyla and Angela surrounding Blake's father. And I bloody love it.

James Patterson (pre-ghost writers) took the same approach with his mystery books. If you were really paying attention, you always had the opportunity to discover the answer along with the detective. That was something the ghost writers just always missed.

It's fun to have the chance to be detectives yourself—and this director allowed us that chance.

And, I just looked it up. Robert Bella, again! That explains the composition of Tim and Lucy with the fence during the night scene at the ball-field—having Eric Winter take the two steps up so he'd be framed behind the fence instead of in the gap as Melissa O'Neil steps away for Lucy's call.

Anyway.... back to Blake's Criminal Dad...

I had hoped this was the way the story-line would go (with Blake's father being arrested at the end of the game), but I didn't call Nyla and Angela being involved.

So, that gives two more people front row seats to "Why the Hell are Tim and Lucy Coaching Together if They're Just Friends And Holy Crap Were They About to Kiss on the Sidelines?"

Also love the Genny is up there, and that she's positioned behind Blake's father. I don't know if she did it on purpose to help make him easier to find for Nyla and Angela, but that's my head-canon.

And LOOK at Tim and Lucy cheer Blake on! Married. So married.

Plus, that hi-five. I know we're all talking about what Tim has in his hand. Is it cash? We've seen him bet on things before (including that his Rookie would smoke everyone at firearm re-certification), but did Tim and Lucy bet on the game?

She definitely grabs on after the high five, and we see his fingers wiggling. Is he trying to get out of giving her the money? We might need Eric Winter and Melissa O'Neil to chime in on this one...

I have to say, I am loving domestic Chenford, and watching them find new layers to their relationship. I know a lot of people want snogging every week, but I am a huge fan of dolling it out in smaller dollops, much as the romantic aspects of this relationship have been leading up to "Do you want to go on a date?".

Yes, in real life, some people sleep together the moment they meet. Then, you have me and Matthew, who waited four years and until we were married. Lucy and Tim are somewhere between that, and I think they're doing what's right for these characters in this moment.

And I have to separate Chenford back into Tim and Lucy, for a moment, to acknowledge what might not be seen as "Chenford" to most, but totally is to me... Tim and Lucy had separate story-lines this episode.

Yes, Lucy came together on the baseball story-line. Yes, they converged at parts on the Domestic story-line. But, we got to also see them handle themselves without the other as backup. And I think that's so important for us to see as an audience—Tim and Lucy are still Tim and Lucy. They don't have to be together every second.

Tim was highly organized and communicative as a Sergeant in the shoot-out. We got to see his military-level calm and control on display.

For Lucy, we got to see her compassion, bad-assery, and conflict de-escalation without anyone having to back her up. She's a confident and competent cop.

Together, we love them. But I'm someone who also lovesTim and Lucy as Tim and Lucy—separate from Chenford.

I think it's important for the show to remind us who they are on their own so that we can appreciate them both, and not let "Chenford" become the only story-line for either. Both characters are rich and complex, and deserve the opportunity to shine separate from one another, not only when they share a scene.

PAUSE: CW Abuse TW Abuse

This story-line really broke my heart because I know those women. I've been the one in Lucy's position trying to help before one was nearly strangled to death by her husband. And she stayed... it was rough.

If you are in an unsafe situation, please reach out and get help. Here is the number for the National Domestic Violence Hotline: 800-799-7233

I like to keep these Metas light and frothy, but I'd be remiss if I didn't acknowledge this plot line that isn't a story for two many people in this country and in this world.

Yes, we watch television often for entertainment, but there can be some truth in the messages we receive.

END CW Abuse TW Abuse

As always, thank you for reading and joining me on this ride. I can't wait to see what's next for Tim, Lucy, and Chenford.st

[valiantstarlights]

trick or treat!

(im going around my favourite tumble moots trick or treating. it can be anything you wanna share, no pressure! a snippet, a doodle, even a reading rec! even a trick if u can think of one (●'◡'●) )

I don't know what constitutes as a trick, so treat it is 😂 Here's a snippet from Vampire!Dream Soulmate AU/Lord Dimitrescu Dream AU Chapter 2 🧛‍♂️

Note: This is still subject to change so please proceed with caution. 🙇‍♀️

Hob glances up nervously as Mrs. Constantine watches him eat, liver spotted arms crossed, and one bony hand holding a wooden spoon with a handle that has a sharpened point. It reminds him of those sharpened prison toothbrushes in movies. A shank? A shiv?

She has been acting strangely (well, stranger) ever since he arrived last night. She didn't invite him inside after she opened all the ten thousand locks on her front door, only watching as he entered sheepishly and apologized for coming back past sunset. She said nothing and only redid all the locks, then pointed towards the dining table after she finished her task. A lukewarm bowl of stew had been waiting for him beside half a loaf of garlic bread. She had stared at him as he ate yesternight too, until he finished eating everything. Then she locked herself inside her room, leaving him to clear the table, wash the dishes, and turn off the lights.

And now, she is watching him eat his third bowl of garlic soup for breakfast while holding a wooden shiv-spoon.

Hob is pretty sure she was supposed to cook something else for breakfast, but he's too polite to point it out. Were he a ruder person, he would have declined eating the soup and demanded proper breakfast food. But he is English and has been taught to always be grateful to have food on the table, so here he is, finishing his third bowl after Mrs. Constanine ladled more soup into his bowl after he emptied it for the second time.

He sips another spoonful under Mrs. Constantine's beady eye and, unable to take the weird silence anymore, says, "Mrs. Constantine, I'm sorry, but is there something wrong?"

"No," Mrs. Constantine said. Then, ominously, "Not yet."

Wonderful. A cryptic answer.

"Well," Hob says carefully, "I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but...look, okay, your garlic soup is really delicious. I like the addition of the garlic bread croutons and the fried garlic garnish on top. But I don't think I can eat any more after this. And the guided tour starts in less than an hour, so..." He gestures vaguely towards the guest room with one hand, indicating that he has to go and make himself look presentable before going out. Mrs. Constantine had woken him up as soon as dawn broke, and Hob barely had the time to rub the sleep out of his eyes before he was being led towards the dining table.

He's sure he had a good dream too, though he can't remember what it was about now.

"That is last one," Mrs. Constantine says, her heavily-accented English a sharp contrast against the lightly-accented ones of the younger generation. She gestures to his bowl with her wooden shiv-spoon, pointy end towards him first. "Finish."

Hob waits for her to say more. At this point, he would welcome any additional information that would help him make sense of her strange (and lowkey alarming) behavior. But when nothing comes and she just stares right back, he sighs and does as she says.

--

Bonus doodle: Little Blanket Ghost 🖤

I rarely draw these days, but this is my art suggestion for the ghost square of the monsterfucktober bingo card, which @gil212 made even cuter in the final version. 🥰

I hope you enjoy these treats, and thank you so much for trick or treating! 🎃🍬

[sixosix]

ARE YOU READY FOR IT? | LYNEY

warnings 1.8k words, implied child neglect, the dark themes of the house of the hearth, once again i will say that this is not canon compliant

notes thank u naosaki (art) for proofreading the first ever chapter of the series!!! and being my hypeman overall LMFAO, see the end of the work for more notes + FANART

masterlist | next chapter

A deep breath. In, out. Once more. Rehearsed lines, practiced smiles, and a heart as steady as a frightened squirrel.

“Good?”

You meet his eyes. “Good.”

The corset isn’t as suffocating as you expected it would be. Aether ensures that you’re as comfortable as possible dressed in this snug bodice with a puffed-up, full skirt that drapes gracefully down your legs in a deep shade that blends in seamlessly with those of those who walk past the busy streets of Fontaine—because you’d eventually have to fight with this thing on.

The polearm feels heavy nestled in your palms. Strange, as you had never gone through a night without spinning it around your body and thrusting it into the air in the solitude of the night where no one would suspect a thing. You flick your wrist, not bothered to watch it disperse into the air. You’ve come to a point where green stems are more at home in your hands than weapons. You’re not sure why you don’t feel content with that revelation.

“Are you ready?”

Your gaze snaps to Aether, who’s looking at you warily as if standing across a ticking bomb. “Yes.” You offer a smile, hoping it comes across as comforting.

Aether tries for a smile back, though it looks more like a grimace. You can see it in his eyes: he doesn’t trust you. But his desire to learn more overpowers his wariness, and now, you’ve struck a deal. So long as you’re wearing this disguise, you are allies.

“Paimon is starting to miss your muddy apron,” Paimon says, wilting as you twirl around. “You look a lot less like Y/N.”

“This is who I really am, Paimon.” You glance to the ruffles and the thick coat, engulfing you in everything Fontaine. 

Paimon tilts her head. “Who?”

You cast her a dry smile. “Runaway coward, fraud, and Fatuu.”

YEARS BEFORE.

For as long as you can remember, you’ve been an orphan under the care of ‘Father’.

If you were to shut your eyes and reminisce about life before the orphanage, you’d catch a fleeting glimpse of your mother’s face as you were surrendered over to grand doors, ones that felt like they were fifteen feet tall and thick enough to keep you from your family. You don’t know if your mother was kind or if she intended to leave you here long enough for everyone to call you an orphan. You eventually stopped dreaming about her.

You find that it doesn’t matter because you’re already here. You wouldn’t know where she would be. Waking up spelled out another day of pushing through.

“Hush, child,” a voice whispered as you hiccuped, overwhelmed with unfamiliar faces and tall, tall walls. Your chin was gripped by hands with sharp nails, but they didn’t hurt you. “Save your tears. You are safer here.”

You blinked rapidly, tremors jostling your shoulders with each ugly sob, tears rolling down your cheeks. Your breathing slowed as the shed tears cleared your vision, finally seeing the woman in front of you. She looked as if she had just done something horrible; she looked as if she wouldn’t hesitate to slit your throat if you screamed and thrashed around her hold.

You looked at her and saw someone you knew would protect you.

It became a little less dull when ‘Father’ let you borrow one of the weapons from the stash. The one you chose reeked of dried blood and looked dangerously unused, its surface marred by rust. It was long, and you concluded from the tip that it was no sword; it was all too different from the weapons you’ve seen around. On your first swing, you stumbled and nearly let it slip through your fingers.

“A polearm,” ‘Father’ noted, staring down at you in a way that felt as if she was scrutinizing every action and every thought running through your head. “Would you like to try it out?”

It was difficult. Each swing felt as if you were inches away from hitting your own head—or, even worse, felt as if you would make the wrong move and hit ‘Father’, who’s watching you in silence. She doesn’t stand from where she’s seated, though she does speak here and there. Stand straighter; don’t hold it too tightly; watch your balance.

You loved it. You held onto the rusty polearm more than you breathe. You train, and train, and train until it twirls around your fingers seamlessly, like water rushing through smooth rocks, until it’s as easy as a second limb.

That is how you made a name for yourself in the House of the Hearth.

During the times ‘Father’ returned briefly from business trips, you’d make her watch you train. You made her see how far you’d come, and she knew it, too. She’d even invite the other orphans to spar with you, but you were never defeated.

The orphans would hear your name, and they’d either scrunch their noses in distaste or brighten up in awe—it’s all the same, in your opinion. They hear your name and think of how fondly Arlecchino favors you.

The next one, they whisper. The next king.

The House of the Hearth became something greater than a home. It became a training ground for future soldiers, disguised as an orphanage, yet it treated you far better than your own household. Here, you've matured in wisdom with each thrust of your weapon and with every hidden truth that Teyvat conceals; it's where you learned to sharpen and embrace them all. Here, no one can hurt you. No one tries to break down your walls or question why you have them up in the first place. 

‘Father’ took you in and gave you another chance. ‘Father’ saw your battered arms and torn faith and introduced you to a house where you wouldn’t ever have to feel this broken again. And you, too young and too aware of the creeping loneliness clawing at you, took her hand and never looked back.

The House of the Hearth is where you learned what it was like to feel respect. Fear goes hand-in-hand with it, but you can’t help it if it can’t bring you down because you’ve climbed far too out of reach.

“That was a really good match,” Freminet mumbles as you walk over, sweaty all over and panting from exhaustion—but there’s a wide smile on your face, only ever appearing after battling someone.

You beam at his praise. “Yeah? I was testing a new move last night. It didn’t work, though.”

“I didn’t even notice you slipping,” Freminet says, puzzled, prompting a burst of laughter from you.

This side of you is only reserved for Freminet. To everyone else—and especially ‘Father’—you’re cold and cruel, and you don’t like wasting time with other people. But you’ve grown fond of Freminet, just as his quiet murmurs and hours-long of whispers are meant just for you. It’s a strange friendship. Everyone else thinks you could never get along.

What everyone else thinks doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters, not when you’re something here.

“‘Father’ is calling for you,” Freminet says, gesturing vaguely to the side.

You pat Freminet’s head and flick the polearm back to life, materializing in your hands. “I’ll see you at dinner, ‘kay? Don’t sneak off this time.” Freminet pretends to think about it, humming thoughtfully, then smiles when you nudge his shoulder before darting off.

“Every kingdom would have the next king,” is what ‘Father’ says when you’re a few steps across her. There’s a ghost of a smile on her face—or at least is what you like to think. Your heart races. “I see it in you, child.”

Warmth fills your chest. You bow your head to hide the unprofessional and childish smile.

“Ah,” she continues, looking off to the side. “Before I forget…fetch your siblings. I have news to share.”

You frown, failing to hide your disappointment. You were hoping for a bit more. “Of course, ‘Father’.”

The House of the Hearth was perfect. This was where you thrived—where no one else could take this victorious feeling away.

But then Lynette became a part of the ‘family’, and with it, she dragged along Lyney.

Lyney, with his slicked back, matted hair, violet eyes wide yet somehow dim, and figure thinner than a stick—the picture of every orphan stumbling into their new home for the very first time. Lyney, who stands beside ‘Father’ as they’re introduced, his gaze wandering the room, the unfamiliar faces, then your unimpressed eyes. Lynette is behind him, peeking out from his shoulder.

‘Father’ gives them the usual: a promise of no betrayal, a promise of a bond as strong as the blood shared between the twins. They listen. You scowl.

It is also here, in the House of the Hearth, where your world is flipped upside down, all because of violet eyes that seem to have never left yours.

There’s something about Lyney that unnerves you.

You assure Freminet that it’s not just because you’re miffed that The Knave is paying too close attention to the twins. You would get over the jealousy—you knew it was for the twins to feel at ease as they settled in; she’d done the same to you (the only difference is she never stopped). But Freminet has also taken a deep liking to them, saying you’re wary for no reason.

He isn’t wrong. You’re wary for a reason you’re not sure why just yet.

It was just that Lyney’s face pissed you off.

He keeps staring from over ‘Father’’s legs, sharp eyes following your movements. His face is blank, keeping you from reading his thoughts, yet his eyes are wide. You can’t tell if it’s akin to a trembling puppy or a cat prepared to pounce. You hate the feeling of his eyes boring into your skin.

You tell ‘Father’ all of this as the other orphans scurry off to bed, and you’re in charge of cleaning the dining table. With each plate stacked, venom spits from your mouth, brows knitted, and teeth bared in a snarl. You haven’t questioned any of ‘Father’’s decisions—you’re wary of this particular one, though.

‘Father’ has that quirk on her lips, amusement evident on her suspiciously bright expression. “You haven’t met Lyney yet, have you? What’s brought this reaction out of you?”

You nearly fumble with the glasses, avoiding her eyes. “I-It’s not as if I hate him. I just—I don’t know. There’s something strange about him.”

And speaking of strange, ‘Father’ has that look in her eye that you’re starting to feel agitated by. You think that the knowing smile is a nice look on her, however, you’re not sure if what’s running through her head at the moment can be considered nice.

“I see,” she says, a lilt in her tone.

“See what, ‘Father’?” You bristle when she smiles wider. “See what?”

references: kingdom and the next king — lyney voiceline: about “father”: king

BEFORE U STOP READING, Pls check out this AWESOME FANART (FANART!!!) of the first scene by akagi0021

taglist @thenyxsky

[heartfullofleeches]

hi heartfullofleeches its my b'day today and i honestly feel nothing so i wanted to ask how the supernatural harem celebrates reader's b'day? totally ignore it if it's not possible love u mwah <3

(Happy birthday! Hope this is to your liking)

"Quiet, you'll wake them before it's time."

"I don’t see why we're doing this now anyway when we can do it in the morning."

"Shut up, asshole, we have to start from the second the day begins."

You wake in the middle of the night due to commotion overhead. The faint smell of burning wax hits you before you're fully conscious. Opening your eyes, you see your three housemates hovering over you; a large tray in the arms of the demon.

"Wha...?"

All three individuals look down at you.

"Happy birthday!"

"Happy birthday..."

"Happy birthday, sweetheart."

The lights flicker on, Alasdair and Maddox sitting at the end of your bed, while Baron places a large cake in your lap with enough candles you were almost glad the fire alarm had been out of order for the past month. You look towards the clock; exactly on the dot of midnight - the technical start of a new day.

"Happy birthday, Y/n." Alasdair repeats. "It's been a pleasure to spend the time we've had together. I never imagined I'd celebrate this occasion with you, but I still plan to make it a memorable day."

Baron cuts him off. "He says that, but they both tried to stop me from waking you up."

"Regardless.." Maddox murmurs. "It's still a moment we're all happy to share with you. I'm... happy to be here for you. Being able to celebrate the life of your loved one is.. nice."

Baron grips your shoulders, nudging you in the direction of the came. "Blow out the candles so we can give you your first gifts."

Giving Maddox and Alasdair a second glance; you notice items in their hand. One, a sketchbook and the other a small box. Taking a deep breath, you blow out the candles; the small crowd clapping in cheer.

Alasdair is first, sliding the box across the bed. Upon opening it, you find a dagger about the length of your middle finger to your wrist. It had a golden handle, and a silver blade; decorated in small gems. A figure of a snake sat around the base of the blade; its jaws unhinged.

"It's a blade blessed by one of the highest ranking angels. With how the world is, carrying a little protection is needed sometimes."

Maddox is next, placing the sketchbook in your lap for you to see as they look down at their lap. Flipping through the pages, you find various drawings of yourself, ranging from realistic to their own style.

"I've got into art a while ago, and Alasdair said I had some talent in it, and you're the only thing I've been drawing recently so I thought you wouldn't mind if I did a few for you.. Hope you like it."

Baron holds his hand out to you, feeling wrapping his gift was unnecessary. Nestled in his large palm is a locket. Oval in shape, and fitted with a red gem in its center - swirling patterns engraved around it. It looked a bit dated in age, but had been freshly polished. He sheepishly rubs his neck as you take it. There's a small photo inside of the four of you or the best resemblance of one. It was from a time when you tried to take one, and it came out as good as anyone would expect. Absolute chaos.

"Dont worry, I have cooler stuff planned for later. It's may not much, but it's something personal to me and so I want you to have it.

You put the locket on, pendant falling to your chest. "I like it. Thank you, all of you."

They gather around to give you a hug. Baron on one side, Alasdair the other, and Maddox in front as the cake is moved aside. As he stands up, Alasdair takes your hand and places a kiss on the back of your palm.

"There will be more time to celebrate later. We'd like to give space to rest for your special day, but hope you don't mind us staying beside you tonight."

[dabisbratz]

omg imagine Choso as like ... a silly little barista guy HEHEHEHD

like you ask him what drink he recommended because you had never gone to this coffee shop before, and he's flustered bc of how cute your smile is, and how your eyes light up when he tells you his favorites on the menu. he might subtly give u a little discount too HENFNEJ he doesn't want you to spend $10+ on a silly drink.

and you just stare at him while he makes your drink, looking at his muscular arms flex as he works. and when you aren't looking, he looks back to get some glances at your cute little face, your nice ass, your pretty eyes. he calls your name as he finishes making your drink, and you notice that he put a ton of whipped cream on top, to where it was overflowing past the lid.

he notices it and feels embarrassed, thinking he messed up your drink and you won't like it, but you interpret it a different way. you take some of the extra whipped cream onto your finger, and make eye contact with him as you put your finger into your mouth and clean it off. blush creeps up from his neck and onto his cheeks, his mouth opening as if he wanted to say something.

your face is turning red with embarrassment as you tell him "thank you" and walk out of the shop quickly, upset with yourself that you did something so bold and stupid.

you stare at the drink in your hand, and you stop as you notice the phone number neatly written on the side of the cup, as well as a note from Choso saying when his shift would end.

and you just MSDMJDJWNSMA youre so flustered but youre not gonna complain about a cute boy giving you his number ... so you text him after his shift ends, talking for what only seemed like minutes, even though you two stayed up late into the night texting and flirting with one another. and eventually, you two set up your first date <3 Choso my beloved

cliche as hell but ermmm...... choso is silly idc

-🧌

THIS IS SO CUTEEE choso would be a really good barista!! maybe not with the whole…robotic responses repeated over n over for hours thing.. but makin drinks! n i think he’d be really good at foam art! mnot much of a coffee guy do i dunno much about it— but he’s always makin new drinks for you to try n givin you free pastries (well… they come outta his paycheck but he never tells u that!), puts cute lil messages n drawings in the foam art n n n!!! if you get a whipped cream mustache he kisses it off you!!!

[pitske]

:3 can u tell me about your ocs?

A’ight so I’m answering this as fast as I possibly can so just bear with me, please. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING BTW OMG :D I have three little main guys which, as a trio, are called Goldtooth trio. since the story I’m writing hast he draft name Goldtooth. I only ever posted OC art of Goldtooth (the Cat, the Demon and the Tooth guy) so I’m assuming you mean them?

So my three little abominations are called Yimo, Nathan and Chére (this is how you spell their names but I always struggle with putting the accent on the e when writing on my laptop, so just ignore that I’ll not add it fort he rest of this post).

ALL RIGHT THEN! So because I will physically refrain from simply copy and pasting my info cards of them into this answer I will instead give you a brief summary of the character and their part of the plot in the story.

First up’s Nate who’s, at first glance, the most responsible oft he three, since he actually has a "job" and is usually not as feral. Do not be fooled, though, cause this walking pair of dentures is filled to the brim with so much anger and is also part of an illegal bike street racing community. (which is how he makes money).  He’s being hunted down (-ish) by the local police officer similar to Chere, but unlike Chere the police do not know his name or face. He’s a major nerd, but tries to appear calm and stoic when in public- and Jesus Christ it sounds like I’m writing a tinder bio a’ight next guy then- Yimo! Yimo’s the youngest oft he three and is, like Nathan, German. Yimo is also a nerd but because of her excessive amount of free time she spends a lot of it outside, unlike Nate.  She is incredibly obsessed with the paranormal and tries to find evidence of it’s existence. Due to a lot of recent UFO sightings (or other cryptid, we’ll see how I write this) she has been actively investigating the probability of the rumored paranormal life in their city. Yimo also has a small Youtube channel and films everything. She claims it’s for paranormal investigating only, but at least half of the videos on the channel include roommate shenanigans.

(Yimo’s plot part is the one I’m most unsure about so a lot of this will most likely change…)

LAST UP: CHERE!

Okay so my buddy @tectco and I have basically made him the tumblr sexyman of the group, although this man has negative charisma and should not be allowed to talk to anyone without supervision, ever. Aside from that he’s the oldest oft the trio and does not act like it. He’s also plagued by absolutely terrible luck which made him get into the unfortunate situation of being accused of multiple murders he did not commit simply because of his murderer-look-alike. Because of this he is unable to get a job and is wanted by the police so he’s stuck desperately trying to hide from them (at Nate and Yimo’s apartment). He’s also American. And a cat. I need to stop talking about him.

I think I might’ve rambled too much. I hope this is somewhat comprehensible. Ummmmm thank you for letting me ramble about them! Have a great day, Anon!

PS: because Tec told me there's a lot of spelling mistakes. I have dyslexia, please excuse that.