In which Andrew didn’t choose Exy but still chose Neil, which meant Neil had to learn how to talk about something other than stick-ball.
warning, mention of implied sexual assault/non-con
Lucy had not anticipated what she was dealt.
Her first day of second year brought a tone of finality to it all: it wasn’t just a year-long dream of terrible decisions and alcohol and chaos. It continued on, and so would she.
Her first day also happened to bring Professor Andrew Minyard, five feet and blond and utterly terrifying.
Introducing the course had started off mundane enough, until Eddie Court – an asshole she’d regretted sleeping with dearly – decided to lean over her shoulder. He never got the chance to say anything because a pencil dotted him squarely in his forehead, so hard that a tiny droplet of blood threatened to bead.
Everyone stared. Shocked, confused, but remaining in complete silence as they – Lucy included – tried to remember if anyone had mentioned anything about the man, whether or not this was normal or out-of-the-ordinary behaviour.
“Name.” He sounded bored.
Eddie rose his fingers to brush his forehead, smearing the tiniest of droplets. He stared at his fingertips, then at Minyard, then at the pencil that had clattered on his desk. Then at Minyard again. “Eddie Court.”
“Court. Christ.” The professor said, with a palpable distaste to his tone. “I will say this once, despite having to repeat it every year, because students seem to get thicker with every new class.” His face was blank. Stone. Lucy had never heard someone utter insults with such apathy. She didn’t know whether or not to be scared or curious: Such a mask was difficult to maintain. “Shut the fuck up, or get the fuck out. Understood?”
Swearing in class. At the students. Completely against protocol.
Lucy couldn’t help but smile. Just a little.
Within weeks, the class had learned how to abide by Professor Minyard’s rules. His previous students were sought out, but they merely grinned at the mention of his name. One student dared to ask another law professor, questioning the teaching methods of the criminology expert. They shook their head, leaning to the professor next to them and sharing a laugh, an inside joke that none of the second years were a part of.
Curiosity won out over fear eventually, and what that said about Lucy, she wasn’t sure. Eventually, he won her respect: The piece of white chalk he’d flung had imbedded itself in her tightly curled hair when she’d fallen asleep at the eight AM lecture on a Tuesday morning.
“You think I want to be here, Rone?”
That piece of chalk rested on her bedside table. Lucy didn’t want to be weird, especially considering her professor hadn’t played Exy since college, but he’d played with Neil Josten and Kevin Day. The Neil Josten, and the Kevin Day. And if she had spent nights watching old Palmetto State Fox games, sitting in awe as she watched him flick balls away from the goal like it was absolutely nothing, no one was going to know.
He was just as apathetic as he had been back then. Lucy had decided he was just emotionless: That didn’t make him any worse at teaching, so it wasn’t really her problem.
And then she became his problem.
Her grades had dropped dramatically low. Andrew stared at the results that he’d just drawn up, picked the paper up off the desk, and leaned back in his chair.
It was a midterm. He’d eyed Lucy Rone’s bad results in the past two mini-quizzes, her surprisingly worsening attendance, and this was enough to force his hand.
Half an hour later, he was convinced this was abnormal behaviour, if her patterns rang true.
Caring, caring. Perhaps the internal monologue would never leave him alone, but he knew better than to listen to it’s mocking tone. Watch yourself turn into Wymack, why don’t you. Call Dan and say you’re taking over as coach of the Foxes.
He almost told himself to shut up, but the chime of his phone snapped him out of his head. It kept chiming and he sighed, picking it up and wedging it between his shoulder and ear, returning to stare at the mark scrawled in the corner of the exam paper.
“Are you going to be here for dinner?”
“Not if you’re attempting to make something.” Neil had improved past the broke-college-student level of cooking skills, but he wasn’t apt enough to cook dinner without some form of disaster.
It hadn’t taken long for Andrew to learn the sound of Neil grinning through the phone. A particular tone of voice, a particular exhale. “It’s already done. Just has to be heated up again.”
“Can’t really be the judge of my own creation, can I?”
“I’ll be home soon.” Andrew liked the way his mouth curled around the word home.”Lucy Rone. Sound like someone problematic to you?”
“Not particularly. Lucy’s always been the name of that old woman sitting on the front porch, knitting. Five cats, crocheting and all.”
“If old ladies swung heavy sticks at other people, sure.”
Andrew let himself smile. He allowed himself this. The small curl up on his lips. He’d earned that, after all this time. “Sure.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“Unusually bad performance. Moved from sitting front and centre to back corner. Shit attendance.”
“You’re probably a much better judge of character than I would be, now.”
Because I’ve studied criminal, suspicious and victimised behaviour for a long time, Andrew wanted to remind him. But this was no longer a sore spot for Neil: He no longer needed to read people’s intentions in need to survive, because he was safe. He could let that overly-analytical part of himself behind. It had been almost 12 years since their first win against Edgar Allen. He was still alive, well.
Hard to believe that was partly Andrew’s fault.
Andrew emailed Lucy to visit him before their next class at nine o’clock the next morning.
She was five minutes early, he was five minutes late. He couldn’t say anything about her appearance, considering he was wearing Neil’s jersey under his coat and that he had walked out of the door with a coffee, slippers and nothing to comb his hair with but his fingers.
His students knew not to say anything.
Lucy sported a pair of sweats that had her high school’s initials printed on the front, with a pair of exy sticks embroidered just underneath. Her name was printed on the back pocket, and they only just came down to her ankles.
Exy fan, then. Andrew wouldn’t have guessed.
She didn’t say anything, sparing him a hollow looking before following him into his office. He’d used to share it, until he’d bribed the finicky financial law to move somewhere else. It was entirely his own space, clean and devoid of decoration.
He motioned towards the desk and she leaned against it, clutching the binder to her chest.
Brown skin didn’t usually lose this much of it’s valour, even during winter.
And winters in South Carolina were hardly anything worth mentioning.
She was staring at the floor. Her eyes didn’t move when she nodded.
“All I need is a reason.”
She said nothing.
“It’d probably be easier on you if you told me. I’m your criminology professor: I’ll find out eventually.”
“I’m not on drugs.” She said, quickly, but not so quickly that it was an immediate red flag. An orange flag. Andrew settled back into his seat and propped his ankle on his knee.
“Never said you were.”
Andrew gave her a flat look. “You know who also says that?”
She shook her head.
“Surely someone who still wears her high school’s exy uniform would have an inkling. Yay-high, hair like a fire-engine siren, mouth like one too.”
Her eyes lit up. “I’ve always wanted to ask if he knows that you wear his old Palmetto jersey. I thought he hated you?”
“I hated him.” Andrew corrected her. “I hate him.” He corrected himself. “And he knows.”
She looked wistful. “Cool.”
She looked back at him.
“If there’s a problem, you come to me. Alright?”
Her eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”
“Because you can trust me. I can be a lawyer, a therapist, an advice column, what have you.”
“Can I trust you?”
“When you’re ready to.”
She seemed satisfied enough to nod, murmur a timid thank you, and slipped out the door.
Lucy banged on the door, feeling sick. She couldn’t go back to her dorm, because it made her want to crawl into a corner and be enveloped in a shadow. To be the smallest, most insignificant thing.
She wasn’t sure how on earth her criminology professor was supposed to empathise with her, when he was the human embodiment of a brick wall, but here she was, trembling, feverish, panicked, and knocking on his office door at ten o’clock at night.
He opened the door with a mildly annoyed expression, which flattened out immediately at the sight of her.
She’d only seen him this morning, but that felt like a whole world away now.
She wanted to ask why he was still here, on campus, this late at night. What on earth he could possibly be working on, at ten o’clock on a Tuesday evening. Instead, she blurted: “What does it mean if I didn’t say no?”
Too much, too much, too much: She had asked too much of him, a middle aged professor who apparently had two cats and a boyfriend, if the senior’s rumours were true. Criminology professor aside, this was the last thing someone like him would want to be dragged into –
He stood aside and motioned for her to come in. She shuffled by him, arms around her stomach. He shut the door.
Lucy wanted to be sick.
He pulled a pen out of his pocket – professors always had pens on them, didn’t they? – and tore a corner off a piece of paper, scribbling down a phone number.
“This woman helped me.” Betsy. “She can help you, too.”
“You said you could be a therapist.” Lucy hedged.
He sighed, and she’d never seen him so reflective. “I have my limits.”
She nodded. She took the piece of paper. She left.
“Where the fuck is Court?” Andrew leaned on the edge of his desk at the front of the lecture hall, eyeing the empty seat. Second lesson in a row.
Lucy Rone sat in front of it, back straight, gaze steady.
Andrew looked at her. “For how long?”
There was a hesitant smile. “Undetermined. Charges have been pressed against him.”
Andrew drew a long line through Eddie Court’s name on the attendance.
Lucy waited by the door and saw her professor approaching, with the stack of papers in his hands. She was anxious about this mark, more-so than the others. Her dip in performance would be hard to get back up from, but if she could do it in criminology, she could do it in the rest. There was a cluster of students waiting to get their essay’s grade back, but Lucy was first in line.
“Yay or nay?” She asked.
Professor Minyard gave Lucy a flat look, and opened the door.
Lucy promptly had a heart attack at the man beyond the door.
“Feet. Off.” Her professor said, looking flatly at Neil Josten, with his feet propped up on the desk, arms folded. He, too, was wearing a faded jersey of the Palmetto Foxes’ colours, but it was too bunched up for Lucy to read the name.
“Surprise.” Neil Josten said, and Lucy wanted to scream.
“Get your fucking feet off my fucking desk.” Her professor dropped the large stack of papers next to where Neil Josten had propped up his heavy boots. Neil did not get his fucking feet off the fucking desk.
Lucy almost had the nerve to scream: do you know who that is? Do you have any clue how famous he was? But she remembered that the two of them were friends. Sort of. She held her tongue, and let her heart thrum in her chest, happy to be completely ignored.
“Leave.” Professor Minyard flicked Neil in the temple.
Neil smiled. Neil Josten smiled.
Lucy was having heart palpitations.
He slowly drew his feet away from the desk to stand, still smiling. “Have a nice day.”
“You weren’t meant to be here till tomorrow evening, Josten. Explain.”
“You’re busy. Later.”
Lucy watched her professor’s arm reach out to brush along Neil Josten’s forearm as he slid past, and there was a startlingly foreign crinkle of warmth in his eyes.
The back of Neil’s Palmetto jersey read Minyard. A thin platinum ring, identical to the one her professor wore around his neck, clacked against the doorknob as he pushed it open. She remember her professor occasionally wearing Josten.
There was a startling curve of her professor’s lips, an almost smile that made him look almost human.
Neil grinned before slipping out the door.
Oh, Lucy thought, and then she said it aloud.
Her professor turned on her, pointing. “If you dare to ask me for a single autograph, I will fail you.”
Lucy was still smiling.
“If any word about this gets out, I will fail you.” He warned.
“Are you married?” Lucy laughed.
His face was stone.
“Holy shit. Professor Josten-Minyard. Two cats and a husband.”
“It’s Minyard-Josten.” He said coldly. “Get out.”
Lucy got out.
By the next class, everyone knew, despite Lucy not breathing a word. Which meant the entirety of Neil Josten’s personal but still public Instagram account displayed his home life. But that was none of his student’s – or anyone’s– business.
And if Neil started coming in with breakfast on those Tuesday morning lectures during his off season, that was none of their business either.
Here are some matching icons for your friend, lover or anyone who’s special to you❤Im in a row with the colorings are you guys proud 😂Im doing my best to make it up with you guys so i hope you guys are liking it 💞
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The wind gently rustled the tree tops. All around them, birdsong drifted through the air and brought magic to the forest. Lucy had rarely felt more peaceful than in this moment.
Her feet were bare, her boots discarded after the long walk. She wiggled her toes and relished the fresh breeze that tickled them. Natsu had felled a few trees and disturbed a few birds and hunted a boar and, finally, had burned through all of his energies. Now he sat beside her with a perfectly content smile on his face, on the verge of falling asleep. Only Happy was still munching away at the leftovers.
She could have lived in this moment forever.
And who was there to stop her? Lucy smiled. It was a lazy day and they had all the time in the world. Life could excuse them for a little while longer.
“It’s so nice here,” she sighed, and Natsu affirmed this with a grunted sound of approval. She glanced over and saw him blinking away the sleep in his eyes. This was the one battle he would lose. He caught her looking and grinned lazily.
“I’m so full,” he said and yawned, stretching his arms above him.
It was the most contagious thing and Lucy could not and did not want to resist. When he brought his arms back down he had somehow moved closer, brushing against her shoulder. Lucy was oddly aware of the contact, but it was very welcome.
Natsu seemed to feel it too, and hesitated for a moment. Then he relaxed and leaned further into her, melting against her side as he exhaled. An involuntary smile spread widely across Lucy’s face, and she reached up to take a hold of his arm and rest her head just under his.
They didn’t speak, and she wasn’t sure if it was because sleep was taking them or because there wasn’t anything that needed to be said, not really. There was a wonderful, silent agreement between them: that this was good and right and didn’t need to be questioned.
His head drooped, chin resting on her hair, and slowly but steadily he reached for her hand and pushed it down until it met his. He mumbled something she couldn’t even make out anymore, but it didn’t matter. She laced her fingers with his and opened her eyes one last time.
She saw their little fireplace, tree trunks and ferns and leaves and green, so much green. She thought she could even smell it. She caught Happy, too, who was snickering to himself at the sight in front of him, but she couldn’t even bring herself to bicker. He could snicker all he wanted.
She felt warm and comfortable and loved and she was not ashamed of that.
Smiling with her eyes closed, she reached out her free hand. Happy promptly accepted the invitation and, with a yawn to rival Natsu’s, snuggled up against her thigh. Soft little snores began to fill the air, and Lucy knew she had to fall asleep quickly before Natsu kicked into full gear. It wasn’t hard at all.
They didn’t move for a long while.
(Until Natsu drooled on Happy’s head and sparked a chain reaction of rather unfortunate events.)
“What’s up, Gabe?” you asked curiously when you saw the strained look on his gorgeous face. He responded by grabbing your face and kissing you roughly, immediately wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you close. “Need you…” he groaned. You were always quick to respond to your angels’ requests, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, allowing him to fly the two of you into an empty bedroom. You didn’t really have any assigned bedrooms, you all just slept where you felt like, sometimes alone, sometimes together.
Steve x Reader WC 2001 Summary You get a text message from an unknown number and it sets the ball rolling into what could be the start of something wonderful. Warnings swearing, fluff :D AN This was written for @howlingbarnes challenge (Happy birthday!). The word I chose was Forelsket (Norwegian/Danish) - The intense, almost unreal feeling that comes with the beginning of love; when you start to fall in love.
Your phone went off, startling you from your painting.
See you at 8!
Furrowing your brow, you panicked. Did you have plans with someone and forgot? You often did that, especially when you were in your zone. Quickly glancing at the contact you noticed that it was an unrecognized number. Breathing a sigh of relief, you texted back Wrong number! Sorry.
A few moments later, you phone went off again Isn’t this Cynthia?
Now you were getting annoyed No.
Your phone rang. Who actually uses a phone to make phone calls? “Hello?”
“May I please speak with Cynthia?” The voice was deep and not unpleasant.
“Sorry buddy, you’ve got the wrong number.”
“I see. And whom am I speaking with?”
Sighing heavily, “My name is Y/N. Who’s this?” Why would you just give this strange man your name?! What the fuck is wrong with you?!
“Y/N. That’s a really pretty name. I’m Steve. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
You couldn’t help but giggle, “Hi Steve.”
“Well isn’t that the prettiest sound.”
You could feel your face heating up with embarrassment and you cleared your throat, “So, um, Steve, this has been lovely but I’ve got to go and you’ve got to figure out how to get in touch with this Cynthia lady.”
He let out a chuckle, a low, deep sound that made you smile in spite of yourself, “You have yourself a lovely evening, Y/N. Talk soon.”
“Wait, what?” but he had already disconnected the line. Talk soon? Why? You shook your head and went back to your painting but your focus had been interrupted and you couldn’t get back into it.
Could you possibly do a Nalu photographer shoot AU? Natsu being the Model and Lucy being the photographer. Thank you!!
He’s A Natural
Word count: 1397
A/N: Have some Scottish Natsu! And Canadian Lucy, but that’s more from me using my own euphemisms lmao. This could get so much longer, and maybe ‘ll continue it when I’m not swamped! So model Natsu is always a fun thing, and tbh hot damn.
“It won’t be hard, they said.
“You seem so much more comfortable behind the camera, they said.
“Just one photo shoot, they said.”
Lucy grumbled to herself, pacing in the space set aside for breaks. The white tent was partially open, but it still managed to hide her from the source of her spiking anxiety. The very attractive, very pink, and very naked source.
“Do a natural outdoor scene, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.”
“Are you done talking to yourself or do you need another five?” Lucy sighed loudly, glaring at Loke’s head where he peeked around the corner of her sanctuary. “Seriously, the poor guy’s gonna freeze his dick off.”
“Then maybe he should put on some pants.” Lucy snapped, slumping into a chair and burying her face in her hands. She didn’t know why he was affecting her like this. Not only had Lucy worked with gorgeous models before, but she had also seen them naked! In her bed! Genitals did not faze her normally, so why was she losing her shit?
“You ready, Drama Queen?” Loke asked. Lucy pouted, accepting his hand and looking up at him.
“Fine, but if anyone’s going to be taking him home it’s me, got it?” Lucy said sharply. Loke cackled, throwing his head back. He raked his hand through his wild, ginger hair as he grinned down at her fondly. Lucy liked to tell him it looked like a lion’s mane after she had had one too many drinks.
“Whatever you say princess,” Loke purred, hooking his arm through Lucy’s and leading her back out to the meadow they were shooting in. “But first you have to talk to him. Maybe learn his name.”
“Shut up,” Lucy grumbled, leaning her head on his shoulder.
“Thought I scared ya off,” the model joked as they approached, scratching the back of his head bashfully, towel wrapped around his waist. A very, very small towel, fluffy and white, which only made his deep tan stand out more. Who knew pink hair and brown skin went together so well. Or that Lucy had a thing for Scottish accents.
“What’s your name?” Lucy asked, loudly and suddenly. She felt her face flush hot when the model cocked his head at her, confused smile pulling his lips at her outburst. God, please let a random tree just crush her now.
“It’s Natsu,” he said, holding out his hand. Lucy took it, swallowing around her dry mouth at how big his was compared to hers. And she knew what they said about big hands and big feet…
Lucy yelped when something sharp dug into her side, pouting up at Loke before realizing why he had to shove his bony joint into her ribs in the first place. Her eyes snapped to Natsu’s, deep green almost black and sparkling with impish joy. He knew. And he knew she knew. And she knew he knew she knew. And Lucy was really praying for that stray tree right about now.
“Lucy. My name- uh, my name is Lucy.” She managed out, blushing deeper at his amused and teasing smile. Oh, he had freckles. Wonderful.
“You can let go of his hand now,” Loke said, grinning down at Lucy smugly.
“Maybe I like holding his hand,” Lucy retorted, glaring up at her friend.
“He likes holdin’ your hand too,” Natsu said. He winked at Lucy’s squeak, deep laugh shaking his chest as she dropped his hand.
“Alright! Either we start now or you’re all walking home!” Gajeel boomed. Lucy rolled her eyes at their equipment manager, ignoring his threat. He’d only followed through with it a couple times. Everyone wandered off to their positions, Lucy fetching her camera and fiddling with it as she kept her back to Natsu. She could do this. Be professional. Don’t take a picture of his dick. All things that Lucy could do.
Lucy turned around, and marched herself to stand in front of Natsu. Who had lost the towel, and was standing legs spread and unashamed, basking in all his Scottish glory.
“Do you dye your pubes?” Lucy squeaked, hand slapping over her mouth in horror. She was fired. This was it, her first time as the photographer and she had blow it oh God Jason was going to kill her and then fire her-
“Ain’t ya a spit fire?” Natsu cackled, easy as he smiled at Lucy. “And I do no’ dye anything. All natural ‘ere.”
“Oh,” Lucy breathed, some of the awkwardness melting off her at Natsu’s openess.
“And before ye ask, I’m a grower, not a shower.”
Ahh, there was the mortification.
“You don’t have to be crude!” Lucy gasped, smiling as she tried turn her face away from him.
“Ain’t I ‘posed to be the shy one?” Natsu called. Lucy laughed, rolling her eyes before sticking her tongue out at Natsu. They continued to bicker as Lucy directed him this way and that, trying to find the best angle before snapping a photo. Honestly, all of his angles were good, what with his strong cheek bones and slightly pointed chin giving him a playful and boyish handsomeness, slanted eyes bright and framed with thick lashes, nose a little crooked at the bridge but still broad at the tip. And then there were the freckles scattered across his face, like little deep brown constellations.
“Close your eyes and tilt your chin up. No, not that much. Okay more. Less. Natsu now you’re just doing this on purpose!” Lucy laughed, slightly exasperated by his exaggerated movements. She snapped a picture of his profile, eyes closed and tilted towards the sun, grin pulling the corner of his mouth up, the image on the camera looking as if he was a woodland imp who knew a secret and you didn’t.
“So bossy,” Natsu teased, opening his eye and looking at Lucy from the corner of it. Lucy snapped another photo, breath catching as she looked down at the screen.
There sat a picture of Natsu, seductive as he looked at the camera, gaze sharp like a wolf and just as hypnotic. Lucy’s mind shot down to dirty, dirty, places the longer she looked at it.
“Oh, that’s a good one, ain’t it,” Natsu said, leaning over her shoulder. Lucy squealed, clutching the camera to her chest protectively. Lucy flushed when his eyes followed her motion, lingering a few seconds too long on her cleavage to be innocent. He coughed, eyes flicking away as pink coloured his ears.
“You two can fuck later, let’s just get a move on to the body shots!” Gajeel called, ripping Lucy from her stupor. She threw her middle finger up at him, glaring when he waved her off and walked away, probably to harass the interns.
“Ignore him,” Lucy smiled at Natsu apologetically. “His girlfriend’s away for a month and he gets a bit crabby when he doesn’t get laid.”
Natsu’s nose twisted in a grimace even as a low chuckle fell from his lips. “He’s me cousin, I don’ think I need’a know ‘bout his sex life.” he chuckled. His grin grew warmer at Lucy’s shocked expression, arms lifting and crossing behind his head as he continued to talk. “He’s the reason I got the job. It’s me first time modelin’, but I needed the pay, so ‘ere I am.”
“Well you’re a natural at it,” Lucy assured. She could hardly believe this was the first time he had modeled, the camera adored him.
“Thank ya,” Natsu grinned. Lucy returned it, having to tilt her head up a bit to look at him, standing as close as they were to one another.
“Seriously, make yer bedroom eyes at each other when we’re not on the job!”
“Piss off ya walkin’ pin cushion!”
Lucy laughed, half hiding her face as she shook her head. Natsu beamed down at her, sharp canine revealed by the curl of his lips. She shooed him further back, taking in a deep breath. Looking at Natsu fully, standing buck-ass naked in the middle of a spring meadow just starting to bloom, Lucy couldn’t help but bite her lip. God, she had no idea what he did for a job, but Lucy was leaning towards boxer if the grooves of his muscles on his chest and abs were any indication. Not to mention his thighs… or his forearms…
She was definitely going to take Natsu home. Or at least out for drinks.
She needed to know the dirt Natsu had on Gajeel from when they were kids. And just how much of a grower the pink haired model really was.
A/N; Sorry this took so long, been working on a few things at the same time and actually working lol! Enjoy!
“Don’t be fucking rude.”
“Oh my God Lucy you are such a meme!” Cana cackled, arm slung over Lucy’s shoulder as she tried to wedge her face between Lucy’s phone and her ear. “Besides, it’s girls night! That means no dicks!”
“Cana,” Levy sighed giving her a pointed look.
“Your dick is female, it doesn’t count. Now take your shot and spin the wheel of awkward sexual questions on your phone.”
“Does that mean Juvia’s beloved can join?”
“You know if you would just stop making everything about dick this would stop happening,” Lucy commented innocently, grinning at Cana’s disgruntled look. “You don’t even like dick.”
“Oh I like dick, just not what ninety percent of it is attached to.”
“Can you guys stop saying dick?” A tired voice asked from the phone. Lucy squeaked, shoving her hand in Cana’s face and pushing her so she fell backwards over the couch.
“Sorry Natsu,” Lucy sighed, glaring at her pack of giggling friends and making threatening gestures with her hand as she left the room. “You know how they are.”
“I did grow up with them,” he said dryly, Lucy hearing his smile in his voice.
“Then you should be used to the word dick,” Lucy teased, grinning at his scoff. ”Would you rather I say penis?”
“Oh Luce, you know I beat you at the penis game.” Natsu purred. Lucy was thankful that he was half a city away and not able to see her face, because that meant she didn’t have to suppress her shiver or stop herself from biting her lip at his deep voice. Yes, Lucy thought to herself, I’m sure you could definitely beat me with your dick.
Alrighty, that was a sign for her to stop taking every drink Cana offered her.
Time to stop being creepy about her best friend. “You wish,” she said instead of anything she might regret.
“Excuse you I totally won the round in the library yesterday!”
“Because I wasn’t playing,” Lucy huffed, smiling as she twirled a strand of hair around her fingers. “You and Gray started it, I just got kicked out alongside you!”
“Then maybe I was just imagining you screaming,” Natsu said, voice low and rough through the phone. Lucy’s heart stuttered, mouth suddenly going dry as her mind whirled.
“What?” she asked, clearing her throat awkwardly at how her own voice sounded. Thank God Cana was too busy climbing all over Kagura like some alcoholic cat.