#and instead of saying yeah sorry it's The Dread i was like oh shit i need to act happier

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

haven't had to make one of these for a while...

um okay anyways i'm not doing too hot mentally today!! so i'm gonna take a break for tonight and ask that you please send me Foul Legacy asks (or Arlecchino. honestly i'll take anything at this point) because lord knows i sort of need them

[whatdoidosatoru]

just like old times

sebastian (stardew valley)/f!reader | read it on ao3 you come back to the place that holds your dearest memories to take over the farm once your grandpa died, now everything feels different. your friends feel different. five years away have done their damage, now's the time to fix it. wc: 12.5k tags: eventual smut, grief/mourning, a fuck ton of flashbacks, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), creampie, fluff, slight hurt/comfort, slight angst

you stand on the pelican town ground once again. it looks like the old times, but the feeling of dread reminds you that it isn't, and it will never be as exciting as before.

for one, the bus ride seems longer. the hills and plains interchange outside of the scratched and dirty windows as the vehicle’s stiff suspension makes sure you feel every bump in the road. second, there's no more of that excitement you felt as the bored bus driver announces pelican town when the bus lurches to a stop and the door opens with a squeak. no more carefree holidays at your grandparents’ farm, no more staying out until the sun comes up and sleeping until lunch time. now it's time to gather all that knowledge of farming collected over the years, of which there is none, and take matters into your own hands, making sure the family farm is well looked-after.

you step off of the bus with a heavy sigh and even heavier bags. 

the air is cooler than usual, this might be the first time you’re witnessing pelican town spring, cherry blossom leaves filling the air with their soft pink color. 

you look around, already emotional with the realization that there will be no help in the form of the old man shouting an over-excited welcome as he makes his way shuffling across the bus stop to embrace you tightly, smelling of earth and herbs. no, there will be no help from him. time has decided so. 

swallowing your sadness, you pick up the heavy bags and start towards the farm. 

“you’re back!” a breathless shout sounds from the direction of the town square and you see the usual sight. a tall figure with a blond mop of hair on his head, a shorter one with a tidy ginger bob, accompanied by two even smaller figures. the surprise at their company stops you wallowing in sadness, breaking you out of the already set frown on your face and instead making the corners of your lips curl up slightly. 

“how did you–?” your gaze drops down to the kids following penny’s steps. the few years you haven’t been here didn’t seem that harsh, not until you notice their heights. “oh yoba’s tears, what are they feeding you two? hey guys!”

vincent sprints over and nearly knocks you over as he wraps his little arms around your waist, giving you his usual enthusiastic greeting. seeing the happiness in his action, you start feeling that growing sense of guilt for not visiting lately. jas walks over, staying closer to penny as they all approach. she shyly looks down at the ground before murmuring a hello, still as shy as ever before warming up to such a rare presence in her town. 

“gotta say, it feels like summer now that you’re here, almost makes me forget about my a-a-aller–” sam sneezes, making you lean back in surprise. funny how a few years can make you forget such mundane things like how loud sam’s sneezes are. wiping his nose with a tissue, he rambles on about some shit or other, it’s difficult to understand him when he’s mumbling. penny smacks his arm, looking at you apologetically. 

“i’m so sorry for your loss, truly.” her words make your smile drop again. you nod, taking a heavy breath as you thank her for the condolences.

“oh… yeah i’m so sorry. i didn’t wanna bring you down, but if you need anything…” sam awkwardly scratches the back of his head before noticing the heavy bags on the ground, the dye on handles already rubbed off from straining with the weight. “well, let me carry these at least.” he picks up the bags with a little less effort than you used, and starts walking towards the farm, vincent following after his brother with a happy bounce in his step. 

penny offers a small smile as you both follow after the boys, jas trailing after penny with her smaller steps.

you arrive at the creaky gates, your heart nearly rips out of your chest once the familiar green roof peeks through the treetops. it’s worse than you expected, the steps to the porch seem like they’ve seen better days, the scarecrows are barely hanging on, threadbare and spilling hay from their bodies like gutted corpses. it’s a horrific sight, tugging on the fond memories you have of the place. of the colorful fields of fairy roses you played in when you were little, of the sunflowers you ran through with your friend until grandma chased you out of them with a stern tone but a gentle smile, making you seek a way to pass the time on the beach. the beach . you wonder if she still likes the sea and sunflowers. 

shaking those memories from your mind and pushing the gate open, you follow sam’s path through the overgrown grass to the porch. 

“robin already said she’d be here today to fix these steps and the door.” sam kicks a loose plank with the toe of his shoe, waiting for you to unlock the front door. 

once the jingling of the keys stops, he takes your bags inside, leaving footprints through the thick dust settled on every surface inside. penny remains outside, keeping the kids from running in and touching what they shouldn’t, but sam walks into the old kitchen, testing out the tap and lights, making sure they’re functional before he can leave you to your devices. 

once alone, you busy yourself with dusting the place, lifting the old shutters to let some natural light in. dust particles dance in the air around the bedroom, looking magical as they sparkle in the spring sun spilling through the open window. you sneeze once, twice, wiping your nose with a tissue before tying up your hair and deciding to save the weeping for later. there’s work to be done. 

you  manage to sweep the floors with an old broom and dust most of the surfaces when robin’s gentle face pokes through the front door, knocking on the old wood when she spots you sweating as you try to make the place look decent again. 

“hey, cherry,” she calls you by that silly nickname that reminds you of your granny, smiling as she slowly steps inside with a toolbox in her veiny hand, “i’m just gonna fix your step, okay? sorry in advance about the noise…” voice dying as you approach her and sink into the comforting hug you took for granted so many times before. 

she always gave them out so freely, showing her affections with a gentle pat on the head and a tray of freshly cut apples when you were over at sebastian’s for the day. it was a given, on the days when the summer heat made being outside impossible, that you would spend most of the time in his bedroom, lying on the floor under the ceiling fan or playing games on his computer. robin would always make sure you forgetful kids didn’t die of dehydration or hunger. she would call you up into her husband’s lab to watch him make sparks fly by mixing different liquids or laugh when he made something expand and overflow, leaving a horrible smell in the air. 

you would then leave the house to sit at the edge of the lake while sebastian sneaked out a couple of cigarettes smuggled from abby’s dad’s secret stash. those first few tries were nearly the end of his rebellious attempts, but then demetrius had to comment on the smell of smoke on his clothes and how you would regret even lighting a single cigarette. that was the day when sebastian finally mastered the art of holding the smoke in his lungs and not coughing it out immediately, all he had needed was spite. 

now, robin’s hug is a little tighter, like she’s trying to pull pieces of you back together and slot them into place with her hold. she lets go with a little huff and a sniffle, but you smile at her through the sadness, silently thanking her for not repeating those words everyone keeps saying. sorry for your loss, my condolences, he was a great man, what a shame… yeah, it’s true, but there are only so many thank yous and yeah he was amazing you have left in you. robin pats you on the head like she did when you were younger, turning on her heel to start on that stupid broken step. 

wiping the corners of your eyes, you continue cleaning, checking every light bulb and power outlet before stepping out onto the porch again, just in time to see robin get up and wipe the sweat off her forehead.

“there we go, it should be good as new. even better than new, really.” she pats you on the shoulder before taking her stuff to leave. just as you’re about to go back inside to try unpacking, she calls out to you. “oh, cherry? i’m sure sebby would like to see you, too.”

with that, she walks off, wincing as the gate creaks and making a note of it to fix later. 

alone again, you walk back inside, noticing from the corner of your eye that robin left her best hammer on the floor. cheeky woman, she knows what she’s doing. you consider for a moment if you should feign ignorance, leave the hammer there until she needs to get it back, but some part of you is buzzing with excitement at the idea of seeing sebastian again. it’s been years . the friendship is surely still there, he’s never been high-maintenance, never insisted you stay in touch after the summers, always content with hanging out for the summer and saying goodbye until the first day of the next one. he wouldn’t hold a grudge, not when that was how you functioned for more than a decade.

groaning, you bend down to grab the hammer and begin the well-known hike up into the mountains, watching the sky get warmer in tone. the muscles in your legs haven’t forgotten the path, taking over as your mind wanders to reminisce on the simpler times. starting tomorrow, you have to take matters into your own hands, clear the farm, and start planting crops – something you’ve done with grandpa countless times over the years, mouth full of questions you would list out, not letting a single moment go without a why or a how . all while your granny took care of the greenhouse, her pride and joy, walking out with a heavy basket full of ripe fruits on her hip every morning. 

the cherry picking days were the best, for they meant that granny would set a big bowl of those dark red fruits next to an empty one, and the two of you would spend the afternoon removing pits from them, eating too many in the process and painting your lips, fingers, and clothes red. the sticky stains stayed until granny rubbed them off with a rough towel, making one of those mornings’ adventures result in a sweet new nickname - cherry. 

hardly anyone uses your real name anymore, at least here in pelican town. it’s been cherry ever since. little cherry, like the blossoms floating through the air every spring.

seeing smoke coming out of robin’s chimney shakes the longing thoughts from your head. you check the watch, she would be closing at this time, that is if she didn’t change anything in the past five years. 

a quick rap on the heavy wooden door and she is already on the other side, pulling the door open to let you in with a wide, innocent smile. unsure if she knew that you saw through her little stunt or not, you give in, walking inside to place her hammer on the counter while she apologizes profusely, her mind must’ve been all over the place to forget something so vital. with a quiet chuckle you dismiss her apologies. after all, you would’ve walked over to say hello to everyone anyway. 

demetrius is murmuring as he paces the lab, writing something down on a clipboard while maru holds two seemingly identical rocks, listing off differences as she notices them. you lean on the door frame, knocking slowly on the white wood of the door to the lab. maru stops mid-sentence, nearly dropping the rocks she was holding.

“sweet sodium thiosulphate, is it monday already?” the curly girl rushes over to embrace you, squealing in excitement despite her father’s less than excited face. he doesn’t approve of her abandoning experiments and research for something as frivolous as greeting an old friend. regardless, he finishes writing down what maru said earlier and puts the clipboard down, taking off safety gloves and goggles. you smile over her shoulder, her curly hair tickles your nose as she sways left and right embracing you. “ohhhh it’s been so long, mom kept going on and on about you coming back. we were so excited!” she pulls away to look at you better.

demetrius walks over to shake your hand, as is tradition. “ah, cherry, good to have you back. terrible circumstances, certainly, we would all rather have you here of your own accord. naturally, there is no way one could stop the ruthless nature of life and d–”

“fucking hell, man, give her a moment.” like an arrow straight into your soul, that familiar bored tone breaks demetrius’ rambling. you turn your head to the side, meeting eyes with him. sebastian. with the same hair and the same crease between his eyebrows. the ring on his nostril is new, though. and so is the one on his eyebrow, his ear, yoba, he was busy since you last saw each other.

“hey.” a weak greeting leaves your lips, too busy playing spot the difference on him to even employ a single brain cell for rational thinking.

he seems to be a little taller than before, but his posture is still as bad as ever. there are traces of black on his fingernails, so he must have painted them again and picked the polish off in the meantime. you watch as he takes a pack of cigarettes from his hoodie pocket, his sleeve uncovers a little bit of his wrist, enough to see a black, now very faded, bracelet tied around it. your heart clenches at the memory, at the thought that he has kept that silly little accessory all this time. not even a bracelet, but a strap you ripped off your favorite top when it got ruined by one of maru’s experiments. it was the last time you spent your summer here, unburdened by the real life , and sebastian insisted you save at least a part of that beloved shirt. so you did the only logical thing, you ripped both straps, tied one around sebastian’s wrist and the other around yours. the one from your wrist ended up in the trash somewhere since it didn’t fit with the dress code of your stupid fancy job at joja corporate. now you regret it, seeing its pair right here in front of your eyes.

“you coming?” his murmured half-invitation sounds just like old times, bringing the last time you heard those words to mind.

you nod and wave good bye to the rest as sebastian walks out the front door, expecting you to trail behind him as always, leading you to the lake. it holds many secrets, the clear surface of the lake in the mountains with its ever clear water and rich life. it’s been witness to every late-night adventure all those summers, it holds the memories of happy times and the promises you made under the night sky. the promises you broke by not being here. sebastian stops and lights the cigarette that dangles from his lips, taking in a few drags before turning to you.

he says nothing, but it would be easier if he just shouted, you know he wants to, he has that look in his eyes. that i’m fucking pissed off but i don’t want to waste energy yelling look he so often had when he was a teenager and only just discovered rebellion against parental figures. 

you say nothing, but it would be easier if you did, you really want to, your face certainly betrays the need to explain. to explain why you weren’t here, to ask if he’s mad at you, to reach out and make everything okay, make it better, make it easy like before. the silence between you is no longer light like it was years ago, it feels like a thread tugged completely taut and all it takes is one word to make it snap. 

“so…” you start, trying to sort your thoughts out as you speak, trying to put all the concern and emotions into the tone of your voice. but sebastian has never been a very patient man.

“five years.”

he looks away again, still standing in that same spot that he picked for smoking all those years ago when he was still sneaking out of the house with you and abby to cough out every painful drag, making for a lot of laughs bouncing off the lake. yet another memory that the water holds.

“i know.” you sit down, take your shoes and socks off, and roll up your jeans. it’s been a while since you could rest your feet in the cold water and not feel the overwhelming hurt of missing pelican town. sebastian stands there for a few long moments before joining you, though not dipping his feet into the lake.

“five years without a word.” he’s bitter. sure, your grandpa had some news of your well-being, though not much more. that corporate job sucked out all joy from life, made taking vacations impossible, made you into a husk of who you once were, not the person who went skinny dipping with her friends almost every night in the summer right here in this lake. not the person who sneaked out of the farm house to smoke joint after joint with her best friends and make out with all of them, exploring the possibilities of human bodies. “and then you show up all smiley and try to pretend nothing’s changed.” sebastian spits the words, holding the cigarette in shaking fingers as he relights the end of it. “i didn’t think you’d show up even now that your grandpa–” “i get it.” you cut him off, stopping his angry tirade before it spirals into something else. “i get it, i wasn’t here. i feel guilty enough already, your negativity is… noted.” with a heavy breath you sigh and slide a little closer to the edge of the lake, getting the legs of your jeans damp, but it doesn’t matter. you deserve the shouting, you deserve the anger and frustration. but you’ve been putting yourself through it already, sebastian’s words only add to the burden already on your shoulders.

“why weren’t you?” he asks a question you pose to yourself every day. why didn’t i quit and come here? why didn’t i help grandpa after granny died? why didn’t i take a chance on a better life? you don’t know, it felt easier to follow some expected path. desk job, awful manager, boring dress code, decent pay, but declining motivation. in the end, you would’ve ended up completely dead inside, a shell of the girl you used to be, the girl who used to pack her bags as soon as school ended so she could be on the first bus to pelican town to spend her days helping out on the farm and the nights hand in hand with her favorite people in the world. 

that girl would daydream every day about her friends, about the loud laughter and water splashing around her. purple hair swaying as abby ran to get the ball from the other end of the beach, alex throwing his gridball a little too close to pierre’s shop and running away together to avoid the punishment, haley’s annoyed voice when you messed up yet another carefully directed candid photo by laughing at just the wrong moment. emily draping you in silly fabrics to play dress-up when it was too hot to spend time outside, penny’s look of utter horror when you would crack the spine of your own book, running to maru’s secret lab to avoid her father’s chores when she couldn’t be bothered to do them. late-night bonfires with sam’s guitar as his mellow voice chased away the silence, sebastian’s eyes peeking over the top of his comic book as you sat across from each other on his bed and read together in peace. 

now those eyes almost avoid yours, instead focusing on the tree in the middle of the lake. yet another piece of your summer lore, the memory of swinging from that tree to throw yourselves into the lake screaming and laughing. you wonder if sebastian thinks about those times as well, or if he’s so bitter that he can’t push past the abandonment. 

“why wasn’t i here? i had a job , sebastian, i couldn’t just up and leave for the summer like i used to.” pushing the guilt away, you narrow your eyes, ready to put him in his place.

he doesn’t know what it feels like, being a slave to a big company, chained to your desk in an uncomfortable chair and a perpetually cold office. he’ll never be a part of that life, he said so himself, all those years ago as he decided to chase his own dreams, even if it meant struggling. you agreed with him then, promising to be an outcast with him, another promise this lake witnessed, now broken.

the comment stings, practically throwing your old agreement in his face, but you can’t care about that right now. it’s not easy, living in the city. he’s romanticized it all his life, always saying how lucky you are that you live somewhere so interesting, but it’s hardly that glamorous. it’s too busy, loud, demanding. there’s none of the energy you filled up on in those summers.

even the unbearable heat was somehow made less so when you were running from shade to shade, playing hide-and-seek with penny and sam before being called back to the farm to help granny in the greenhouse. gone were your favorite days, seeing drops of sweat on sam’s shoulders as he practiced his skateboard tricks in front of his house. abby and you sat on the step with ice cream melting down your hands, making everything sticky with liquid sugary vanilla in between your fingers. sometimes jodi would bring out freshly squeezed lemonade in a pitcher full of the cold beverage with huge ice cubes. you’d down the drink before sucking on the ice cubes until they also disappeared. it was easy, it was comfortable. 

those memories kept you sane in the summer weeks in the office. the air conditioning didn’t work as it should and the company was too cheap to replace it, so the only solution was to fan yourself with thick notebooks that had photos of your friends stuck to the covers. photos taken with haley’s old polaroid camera, a little scuffed on the edges from being shoved into an old diary during packing. photos starring those sweet smiles that came to your friends’ lips so easily whenever you were around, smiles that lit up your nights and chased even the darkest nightmares away. 

“oh okay so you became little miss very important and immediately forgot about the rest of us? you couldn’t have come to see us once ?” sebastian’s words hurt, but nobody can put you down quite like you yourself. you’ve been doing it for over twenty years, the experience is irreplaceable. 

“that’s not fair, you could’ve called. the phone works both ways,” you reply, furrowing your brows further, “and besides, you think it was my idea to not have any fucking time off when i could actually come here?”

sebastian scoffs. of course he doesn’t think that, but it’s easier being angry with you than accepting the fact that he felt rejected, abandoned… 

confused, especially after that last summer five years ago. 

granny had passed away early that spring so you were needed on the farm then more than ever. grandpa’s hands didn’t work as well as they used to, his fingers were weaker and shakier, his knees gave out more often, and his back never truly straightened anymore. he worked harder than ever attempting to escape the overwhelming loneliness with the love of his life gone without any warning. your parents never got into the whole farming business. they came over for the funeral and kept asking if he would move with them to the city so they could keep an eye on him . he would’ve rather died alone in the middle of his parsnip field, he said. you had to admire the stubborn old man, the unwavering sense of loyalty to his land was something else. so he wiped his tears and kissed the framed photo of granny smiling with a large sunflower on her head every morning before he left the house to work. you focused on the farm more, finally having reached the age when he could trust you with more tasks, and you loved every second of it. 

it was therapeutic, the cold earth between your fingers helped you become more connected with the land, and the animals seemed to look forward to your entering the barn and coop every morning. it was a life you thought you could get used to, even if it brought tears to your eyes whenever the greenhouse demanded attention. it was hers . it had granny’s heart and soul embedded in the glass panes and the fruit trees and those precious flowers. once you finally got over the anxiety of entering the warm structure, you could hardly leave again. sebastian found you in there often, remembering it as a place you were most likely to get stuck in if you hadn't shown up to the lake or to his house. 

it was his gentle hands that picked you up off the ground and walked out with you to greet the moon and the stars. it was him who helped you talk about her and how much you missed her. it was him who kissed your cherry flavored lips when he saw them quiver. and it was you who leaned into the kisses every time, who lay down to feel his body on yours and his hands ridding you of your clothes. it was you who sought it out almost every day that summer, it didn’t matter when or where. 

you had him in his bed, against the wall of his bedroom, on the beach, and behind a tree in the secret woods. he had you by the tide pools, on his desk, and in the lake by his house, making it another secret that the water kept. 

both of you did your best to keep those bite marks hidden, not being able to keep your teeth to yourselves when the sex felt so good. 

that summer could have very well been dubbed the best summer of your lives. if only it didn’t end with that cursed job offer.

“i know it wasn’t your idea, dumbass, but you could’ve let m– us know that we won’t see you again.” 

“i’m here now.” it’s a piss poor response to his words full of hurt. he puts the cigarette out into the ground and doesn’t reach for another, instead turning to face you again, making you look into his eyes and see the state that he got himself into, spending five years wondering…

“yeah but are you? is it you or is it some… piece of shit corporate pawn that you swore you’d never be!” his hands shoot out to gesture as he raises his voice, finally showing the repressed emotions that have been bubbling up inside his chest for years, pushed down because he didn’t want to show that he cared, that he was hurt, that he felt discarded. was i really only good for that? good to fuck the grief out of you and have years of our friendship erased? he wondered that at night when he tried to sleep but all he could do was think about your body moving on top of his, he could still feel the dips in the mattress where your knees were when you threw your head back and moaned out his name. you looked like a goddess then, under the dimmed lights of his bedroom as his cock disappeared into you and elicited cute little curses from your red lips. “i thought we were on the same page.”

“i hardly had a choice, you know? a job is a job, and the money was good. i didn’t have the option to stay with my parents forever–”

“oh yeah, ‘cause i’m so thrilled with staying in my mom’s basement at this point!”

“you know what i mean and don’t put words in my mouth!” you sigh, it wasn’t supposed to turn into a fight. 

all you wanted to do when you got to the lake was ask him how he’s been, not have a shouting match out in the open. he keeps quiet for a while, deciding to slide off his shoes and socks to cool off in the water. he doesn’t stop there, for the rest of his clothes also find themselves on the ground and he pushes himself into the lake. you can hardly believe what’s happening, it’s been so long since you saw his body only in boxers. sebastian swims away, not caring that he’s leaving the conversation or that there are words still stick in your throat. 

exasperated, devastated that this is how your first meeting after five years is going, you lie on your back in the grass, keeping your feet in the water. fuck . of course it has to be terrible. of course, your expectation of sebastian always being such a low-maintenance friend should’ve ended the minute you let him go down on you the first time. but how were you supposed to know he really meant it? that it wasn’t just a thing friends did with each other when they got to the point of being too horny to function. you were so tired that summer, so worn out with sadness and exhaustion from taking on more farm work, it was easy deciding to cross a line with him. you’d thought about it extensively years prior, imagining what it would be like, but never really assumed it would happen outside of your head. and now you’ve fucked it up. destroyed nearly everything you’ve built since the first time you came to the farm.

“cherry…” sebastian’s voice startles you, making you flinch and immediately sit up. he swims closer, nearly to your knees with his hair swooping up as he pushes it back with one hand. he wipes his face with it, looking up with those familiar eyes. he’s missed you, despite being furious and crushed by your abandonment, he’s missed you more. “why didn’t you call?” his voice is nearly pleading, but you know he knows why. he knew what you were like, he’s spent many of your crises helping you breathe, rubbing your back, and whispering sweet hopeful words into your ear. 

“i…” you swallow your tears and anguish, the guilt that devours you from the inside. “i couldn’t handle it anymore. i love it here but i was too fucking sad.” biting your lip for a second, trying not to burst into tears, you shake your head. this is not the time to lose your composure. so with another deep breath you continue. “i was so fucking sad because I felt that my life didn't lead anywhere if I didn't make something of myself in the city. stupid, I know. but once i was successfully made a cog in the machine I just got tired . I couldn't get away for long enough to recover, it was draining everything that made me me. and you would've hated me.” the tied strap around his wrist catches your eye again, sebastian places his palms on the edge where you sit, on either side of you as he looks up from the lake, wet hair pushed up and water droplets glistening on his pale face. 

okay, so he hasn't changed that much, despite the images that your anxiety put into your head during those years away. he still has those deep eyes and unfairly thick eyelashes. he has a few healing scratches, most likely from the mines, on his cheek, the one that usually gets covered with his long fringe. 

“how could I hate you, cherry?” his voice is still pleading, for a moment almost making you forget that he has every right to be angry. “sure, I was pissed off, I wanted to hate you. but you know the deepest parts of my heart, I could never feel that way about anyone else. even when you’re acting like a dick…” his hand reaches for yours, bringing it to his chest, right where his heart beats, “even when you're an insufferable, selfish, annoying brat that pushes all my buttons… even then I  cannot hate you.” there is a hint of a smile on his cheeky lips, but you know you owe him more than what you gave.

“i’m really sorry. i missed you every day i was away.” you confess, eyes meeting his in an intense stare. his hand tightens around yours, like your apology is the last piece of the puzzle he has been trying to solve for years. “i missed everyone here, but I thought about you most of all.” you swallow, feeling your throat become drier than ever. 

it's the most open you've been with someone since grandpa died, having responded to everyone's condolences with a sad smile and a weak thank you . but with sebastian it was never like that, you never felt like you had to hide what you were feeling, even if it was pain. both of you have been there for each other, and a bond like that doesn't snap so easily. 

“missed me the most, huh?” his face shifts into a mischievous smile as he holds your hand against his heart. 

the grip of his fingers tightens for a second, reminding you of all those times you ran with sebastian to escape the mayor’s stern look when you were sneaking around town, planting rotten vegetables under his door mat to piss him off after he shouted at sam for skateboarding in town. sebastian took your hand then, much like now, and he ran, dragging you after him to his house where you could finally stop and catch your breath. 

you want to say more, reveal the depth of your feelings and how he infiltrated your poor heart, how you cried your heart out nearly every night since you got that job, how you became what you had promised him you never would, thinking he would hate you, call you a sell-out, see you for the weak conformist that you sold yourself to be. you want to tell him he has the central role in your dreams. that he matters most, and you need him now more than ever, already having felt his care and support when granny died. 

everyone tiptoed around you and avoided mentioning her name that summer, but sebastian made sure to keep her memory alive by getting you to talk about her, joining you in the greenhouse to pick cherries with you, eating more than you'd put in the large basket. his fingertips were as red as yours, and you chased each other around the flowerbeds trying to wipe the fruit stains on one another’s face and clothes. 

and now his cheeky smile reminds you of the one he wore then, hell-bent on keeping you, making sure you're not closing off from him and disappearing into your thoughts. it means trouble. 

it distracts you long enough so you don't realise he's tugging you by that hand into the lake. with a quick, cut off yelp, you end up underwater. clothes and all. luckily, you have nothing in your pockets, your shoes have already been off, and all that's ruined in any way is the tiny sliver of dignity you had left. gasping for air you come up above the surface, hair stuck to your face, sebastian’s laughter in your ear. he holds your hand still, keeping you oriented as you cough out some water that entered your nose. 

“you dick!” you cough out more, holding onto his chest and wiping your eyes with the other hand “oh i hate you so much!” a few more awful sounding coughs and you are fine, glaring at sebastian as he nearly drowns himself laughing at your angry face.

“no you don't, you can't !” he wraps one arm around your waist, using the other to swim and bring you both closer to the edge of the lake, letting you hold onto the firm ground as you push the hair out of your face.

“I could !” you protest, reaching out only to attempt to punch him in the chest, the water making your attempt laughable. 

you both know it's a damn filthy lie. as you keep moving your feet to stay afloat, sebastian pulls you closer, turning you to face him. there is no escaping his attention now.

“don't disappear on me again,” his tone is serious, a contrast with his earlier laughter and mischief, “or i’ll have no choice but to glue myself to you. got it?”

“okay. promise.” 

he nods, quickly pushing himself up and out of the water, offering you a hand to help you out. you can do it yourself, with only a little bit of wiggling before bringing a knee up to push yourself up as well and sit next to him, completely drenched as your clothes stick to your body.

“you look like a wet rat.” sebastian comments, nearly starting laughing again, but your glare in his direction stops him.

“i’m gonna get you back for this,” you promise, but you can’t stay angry for long, something about his wet body next to yours mellows you out and requires attention of your eyes on the pale glow of his skin and the way droplets race down his lean frame to reach the ground. memories of that same body flood your mind, how good it looked when he moved on top of you on this very grass, how well it fit against yours when you were pushed up against the shed door at the farm. 

“gonna have to stick around for that, you know?” it’s like he’s testing out what you said earlier, trying to figure out if you really meant it, that you’re not going to disappear. 

“i’m staying, g-gonna restore the farm. i owe it to them.” your hands gather all the wet strands of your hair and wring it out, you’re already on your feet and picking up your socks and shoes by the time that sebastian makes a move to gather his clothes and starts walking towards his house. 

“you’re doing what ?” his tone is surprised like he didn’t even think that something could be done about the once-thriving farm that’s now overgrown and abandoned. 

he must’ve ventured there occasionally, checking in on the state of it while it was occupied only by a weakening old man that enjoyed sebastian’s visits because he’d get to talk about his granddaughter. the man would tell him how proud he was of her success even if he wished she would make decisions that would bring her more happiness. they both knew she was happier in pelican town than anywhere else. 

you shiver with the cold that attaches itself to your wet clothes, seeping into your bones quicker than you expect. sebastian notices and pulls you closer with an arm thrown over your shoulders. despite the fact that he is also wet, not providing much warmth at all, you’re grateful for the gesture. it reminds you of all the times you went skinny dipping with sam and abby. shy at first, but within what felt like only minutes, you stopped giving a shit about nudity, instead just having the time of your life with the best friends you could’ve asked for. if anything, it made all of you develop more appreciation for each other, seeing what you looked like under shimmering moonlight as water droplets reflected it off your skin.

“restoring it. i n-n-need to, grandpa l-l-left it t-to me– f-f-fuck i’m too c-cold.” your teeth chatter and it makes sebastian shift into gear, dragging you along to rush you into the house. robin’s barely covering a snicker while maru looks at you two with a raised eyebrow.

“what happened to you ?” maru chuckles, covering her mouth with one hand while the other holds a clipboard with way too many sheets of paper attached.

“decided to jump into the lake. she’s so silly, isn’t she?” sebastian quickly lies, dragging you down the stairs to the basement before you can tell him off and snitch on him.

“y-you little…” his laugh stops you from cursing him, it's a sound you've been dreaming of for five years. as he helps you out of your soaked clothes, not minding the puddle of lake water appearing around both of you while his bare feet left marks on the floor, you recall the first time you heard him laugh. 

you must have been five at that point, and the memory is still clear as day in your mind. he'd always been suspicious of new people, so when you first saw him on the beach - him accompanied by robin and a very tiny maru in demetrius’ arms, you by your granny - he squinted at you as if to warn you not to come closer to his sand castle. you'd never made one yourself before, so the very idea of creating something so fun out of the thing you walk on was interesting. he waited for you to approach, and as soon as you did he told you he'd push you into the water if you ruined it. it was a simple, small construction, and you crouched to take a closer look, careful not to provoke the boy’s already present disdain. sebastian gave you a few moments to observe with wide eyes until he started explaining the purpose of each of the towers. this is where the prisoners are and the knights sleep in this one. this tall one is the wizard's tower. he can turn people into furniture. have you met the wizard? my mom says he doesn't like people that much. but he doesn't turn them into tables. I didn't ask about the frogs. do you think he turns people into frogs? his questions were neverending. he finally found a person who didn't seem to get annoyed with him for asking, who didn't look down at him for his fantasies of knights and wizards and castles. he made up adventures, led by groups of valiant warriors, fierce mages, and comforting healers, and laid them out so vividly, painting the world before you while all you could do was sit in your damp bathing suit on the wet sand and adoringly listen to him talk and gesture and raise his voice as the story came to an end. 

in the end, with his little smile showing off a few missing teeth, he looked at you like he finally found his match. both sporting ice cream smudges on your faces, you spent the entire day talking over the sandcastle until your respective guardians decided it was dinner time and you were dragged away to get cleaned up before the meal. sebastian turned around and giggled over his shoulder why do you have red on your shirt? you hadn't even noticed it before, so looking down you remembered that granny asked you to remove cherry pits with her on the porch. it's from cherries! robin put her son's beach towel in a bag while her husband carried the baby, everyone waved goodbye but sebastian still took a few moments to look at you one last time that day, laughing again before waving with his small hand. okay, bye cherry!   granny kept chuckling to herself as she wiped your cheeks clean of any ice cream you had smudged on yourself and she brought you a clean shirt. such a sweet boy, she chuckled at the nickname he had given you, don't usually hear sebastian talk to people much. she kept humming an old tune as she took your hand and walked back to the farm, the two of you catching the last orange rays of sun before the moon came out. she started calling you cherry that evening, and the idea spread throughout the town. sebastian. you repeated in your head. I wanna know more about the wizards. 

twenty years later that same boy walks back into his bedroom only wearing his soaked boxers, but holding two large towels, passing one to you as he wraps the other around his waist and slides off his boxers from under it. you are still shivering like a leaf, peeling off your underwear to wrap yourself in the soft towel, leaving the clothes on the floor of his room before sitting on the edge of his bed. 

“you okay?” his voice is as low as it usually was in this room, it’s his sanctuary, free from any loud noises that could ruin his peace.

“just thinking.” you offer a smile, this room brought back so many memories, including the ones of your first ever exchanged words and ideas.

“oh, careful, don’t want you to hurt yours– ouch!” he laughs when you punch his shoulder, holding onto the towel with one hand as the other withdraws from him.

you’re slowly getting back into the usual routine, the usual state of things that has always been so natural between you. with a sigh of relief you look around the room. it hasn’t changed much. almost at all, actually, though the keyboard on his desk is different and there are a few more books and comics on his shelves. 

other than that, it’s how you remember it – posters covering most of the walls, along with a few photos stuck to the brick with messily torn tape. photos of his friends, of beach shenanigans, of sam’s birthday trips to zuzu city, and sleepovers in this very room. they coax a smile from your heart, tugging on the corners of your lips until sebastian notices and reaches out to poke your cheek gently.

“are you staying?” his voice is hopeful, so different now from the way he spoke to you when you just showed up at the door. 

shaking your head, you force yourself to stand up. the movement reluctantly kicks him into gear, he nods and turns to his wardrobe to pull out a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. you stop him bending down to grab a pair of soft boxers from the drawer.

“there’s no need, i’ll just put mine on when i get back.”

“right. you still got a big ass that barely fits into my boxers, eh?” his slight disappointment at your not staying over is masked by a cheeky teasing line. 

“you little shit, that was one time! ” you try to swat at him again, but he laughs and throws the hoodie and sweatpants your way, making you reach out and catch them, dropping your towel onto the floor in the process. 

it distracts him, the clear view of your damp body. the few seconds he has to catalogue every glowing inch of you soon end and he clears his throat, awkwardly unwrapping his own towel and turning to put on a dry pair of underwear.

“the one pair i will never be able to wear again, all because of your ass.” he chuckles and throws the comment over his shoulder, facing you again as he grabs the towel off the floor and starts drying his dark hair. you pull the string of the sweatpants tight, securing them around your waist, and cover the waistband with the hoodie. 

“you keep complaining, but…” your cheeks heat up, visibly flustered you chuckle, “you and i both know you like it just the way it is.”

sebastian laughs, taken by surprise as you bring it up. yeah, he’s smacked it many times, grabbed it in his hands, kneaded it with those long fingers countless times. he’s left bite marks after bite marks on it, enjoyed the feeling of the soft flesh under his teeth. 

“alright, alright. fine.” once he’s dressed and you’ve put your shoes back on, he throws one arm around your shoulder again, slipping back into the familiar flow of walking by your side. “let’s get you home then.”

it’s already dark by the time you’re out of the house, making the air a little colder as you walk down the path off the mountains. sebastian doesn’t ask you much, and you’re thankful for it. his hand is warm on your arm, holding you close to him like the old times. he always walked you home, no matter where you hung out, no matter how tired or stoned he was. it was the thing he never missed out on, waiting at the farm entrance until you’re inside, safe and sound. 

he'd message you once he was home as well, partly because he didn't want you to worry, and partly because he wasn't ready to end the day. 

and you loved those texts, pressing a pillow over your face so you don't wake up your grandparents with giggles as the sun came up. this time there is nobody to wake up as you two walk up the now-fixed steps of the porch and reach the hardwood door to the house.

your gaze settles on the bench by the door where granny used to sit. in an attempt to stop yourself getting emotional, you walk over to the railing and lean against it, postponing the inevitable moment when sebastian will have to leave you. the moment when you’ll be left alone in the farm house for the first night in your life. sebastian follows, his elbows rest on the smooth wood while he looks at the land ahead… and then at you. your skin tickles under the weight of his gaze, but you don’t sink under it. you return it. there’s that tension again, crackling in the air, electrifying the distance between your lips. if only you could… 

“you can ask me to stay, you know?” sebastian’s voice is low, you can barely hear him as your eyes flit between his lips and his eyes. 

“stay… here?”

“yeah, you don’t have to be alone. at least tonight.” his offer sounds like a plea, like it’s for his benefit just as much as it is for yours. 

“just say you want to stay then,” you challenge him, feeling a smirk curl your lips, “say it and i’ll give in.”

you remember how he always had a way to make you agree to things, he always knew when you were just holding back for whatever stupid reason. it was always a stupid reason, and when you gave in you were glad you did. nights were infinitely better when sebastian was involved.

he rolls his lips together, hesitating only for a moment before leaning in and pressing a tender kiss to your temple. it’s the kind of softness you haven’t felt in a while, there was no time while you worked for joja corp. left to your own devices, you rarely ventured out to find a vent for the pent up frustration. and even when you did, it was never as good as it could’ve been, never as good as when it was with him .

“i want to stay.” sebastian murmurs, the shapes of the words traced on your cheek before he presses a kiss there. and another, slowly inching closer to your lips, challenging you to stop him. but he knows you won’t. you know it, too. all it takes is one move to end this tumultuous day with a bang. you tilt your head to the side, speeding up his lazy kisses until they reach the corner of your lips and stop. it takes enormous effort not to huff like a brat, not to furrow your brows and stomp your foot, crossing your arms just like when you were little and granny wouldn’t let you eat ice cream before lunch. 

“cherry, don’t be like that…” sebastian shifts and pushes off the railing, moving to stand behind you and press himself against your back. those familiar palms of his glide up your arms, chasing away the slight bite of cold in the night air. “can’t go from not seeing you in five years to giving you everything right away.” 

he drags his hands up to your shoulders and then down your torso, gripping and grabbing along the way, reacquainting himself with every part of you. fingers trailing your skin under his hoodie, yoba he loved seeing you wear his clothes , lips dragging along the nape of your neck, sebastian is indulging in all the fantasies he has had for years. your mind is racing, recalling every instance when you’d lie in bed struggling to sleep and resort to getting yourself off to an old memory of sebastian’s head between your thighs. it never felt the same, his tongue just knew your body too well, it felt better gripping his soft hair than closing your fists around cold sheets of your uncomfortable bed back in zuzu. 

a little sigh escapes you once his lips reach your ear. with a gentle tug of his teeth on your lobe he drags a startled moan out of you. you can feel his self-satisfied giggle better than you can hear it as he trails those smirking lips down to the corner of your mouth once again, before capturing it in a devouring kiss.

head tilted to the side, your lips move together like a well-oiled machine, familiar in the way they taste, of coffee and a little bit of smoke. his one hand rests on the softness of your stomach while the other kneads your breast gently. the hoodie rides up and the cold air sends shivers through you, but sebastian keeps rolling his hips against you, grinding against your ass. despite how long it’s been, his hands seem to still know your body, despite how many people he’s been with since – a thought you don’t want to dwell on – his touch on your skin feels like home. 

sebastian sounds more and more desperate, the little groans as your tongues glide together betray him. as you open your eyes, he keeps moving, pulling away from the kiss to hungrily suck on the skin of your neck, all the while his hands quickly tug the waistband of his sweatpants you’re wearing down, once again baring your plump ass to his eyes. one bruise blooming on your neck, another is already in the making as he thanks yoba you didn’t take his boxers when you changed in his room. it’s a quick exchange, a breathy do you wanna answered with an instant yes please ‘cause you have always been polite, even when bratty. 

the usual, grabby, movements of his hands knead and savor the flesh of your body, as if mapping it out to make sure it’s still the same body that left him five years ago. it’s a little different, but so was his, you have a little more meat on your bones, something that sebastian cannot seem to get enough of. with a fluid movement he tugs his own sweatpants down, freeing his erection as it springs out and immediately ends up pressed against you again. 

“sweet yoba on a treetop, cherry… i missed you more than you know.” breath glides from his mouth along your neck, it’s warmer than the memories it brings up. 

you murmur something sappy back at him, making him chuckle through the heavy breathing as he slides the sweatpants lower on your legs, letting them pool around your feet. your movements are almost as smooth as that last summer you were here, only a little rusty as you lift one leg up, stepping out of the sweatpants and resting the knee on the railing and leaning forward. immediately it’s a familiar feeling, the tip of his already leaking cock pressing so gently against your soft cunt, almost being sucked in with how much you’ve missed him. even when you found the time and will to go out, none of the encounters felt good like this, none of them left you feeling anything other than disappointment and regret. you try not to think about them, or about him fucking anyone other than you, and those creeping thoughts are swiftly chased away by the intense feeling of him fitting his entire length inside you. sebastian groans, shifting his hips to feel the softness of your ass against him, to feel your wetness gather at the base of his cock while he adjusts to the feeling of being inside you once again. 

“five years…” he shakily breathes out, repeating the same words he said at the lake, but in a tone of relief, his anticipation finally coming to an end. “i’ve imagined it a lot, but nothing comes close to the real you.” 

and so it starts. with a gentle groan against your skin, with a slow moan slipping from your lips, he pulls away only to thrust back into you. this is it , you think, what i’ve been chasing . this intimate feeling even though you’re outside, not the riskiest thing you two have done, but enough to check the adventurous box on your shared checklist. with a tilt of your head to the side you catch his blissed out face, his soft lip caught between his teeth and eyes closed as he thrusts again, colliding his hip bones with your flesh, his balls gently smacking against your clit. it’s difficult trying to keep your eyes open, but the expression on his face is too beautiful to miss out on. your juicy lips part, letting out sweet honeyed moans that you almost try to stop, instincts telling you to be quiet around the farm house. instead, you grip the handrail as hard as you can, feeling it dig into you with every lurch forward.

sebastian holds you by the hips, digging his fingertips into your supple skin to hold you steady while fucking into you, fitting his cock head against all your sweet spots, hitting right where you need him to, where you’ve needed him for years. hearing those raspy moans coming from his throat brings up so much warmth in your belly, already building up the orgasm even though you have just started, and you suspect it’s the same for him. maybe it’s because of the fact that you haven’t had sex in a while, maybe it’s the roller-coaster of emotions you’ve gone through in the past twenty-four hours, or maybe it’s a secret third thing, but you can already feel your orgasm approaching as you near the brink. sebastian’s hand creeping around your body to rub your clit in circles doesn’t help hold it off either. 

“i’m n-not gonna last–” you stutter out, still keeping your eyes on his perfect, blushing face.

“me neither, c-come on cherry…” he groans, circling your sensitive clit with gentle fingers, always working perfectly with what your body needs. 

the pace of his hips changes as soon as your warm cunt tightens around him, squeezing him and keeping him in while your legs shake, threatening to give out. he stutters in those slow movements, speeding up to carry you over, and leans down to press tender kisses to your bruised neck, whimpering as he pulls you by the hips a little harder, moving you against him until he gasps and spills all he has inside you, sticky white liquid covering your soft walls. sebastian slowly comes to a stop, taking a few long moments to kiss you, holding your head turned towards him as he pulls out with a sigh. now soft, he groans at the sight of his release starting to drip out of you and onto the deck. it’s almost enough to make him take you again, but he’s spent, having finally experienced you again, pure pleasure that was just out of reach until today, perfection incarnate. 

“think it’s dripping on your sweats,” you chuckle, finally catching your breath, “sorry.”

sebastian shakes his head, pulling up his boxers and sweatpants before helping you lower your leg and picking up the crumpled (and stained) sweats off the floor. one day you’ll stop apologizing for things that aren’t really your fault, but today is not that day. jiggling the doorknob you stumble inside, carried by wobbly legs as sebastian trails after you. 

it’s odd going through your usual nightly routine in a nearly empty house. the radio is off, and so are most of the lights. the bathroom light takes a few seconds to turn on, you make a mental note to fix it in the morning, but for the time being it’s enough just to exist in this space, familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. it feels different when it’s only yours, when it will be only yours for a long while. despite the heaviness of that realization, sebastian’s footsteps ease the pain, his satisfied humming disperses the bad thoughts looming in the corners of your mind, silencing them as he comes up behind you while you brush your teeth. 

his arms wrap around your waist, your shoulder is the perfect spot for his chin to rest on while he presses little kisses to the bruises he sucked into your neck earlier. 

“i put the sheets on your bed, that okay?” his gentle voice fills your chest with relief. you didn’t tell him that you wanted to sleep in your own bed, not yet ready to take over the main bedroom as your own. he just knew. you nod before leaning over the sink to spit out the foam and rinse your mouth. kissing him feels like the safest way to say thank you, not triggering the tears again. 

the two of you drag yourselves to your old room, undressing slowly until you’re naked before reaching into your suitcase to put on a pair of panties. deciding to forgo a pyjama top, you slip under the fresh sheets smelling of sebastian’s fabric softener – robin must have taken them for a wash before you got here. pulling the string on the bedside table lamp immerses the room into darkness once more. dark and silent, it would be enough to push you into a pit of despair were it not for sebastian’s warm arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you so close that you entwine your legs with his. nearly face to face now, you close your eyes to inhale his scent, thanking the universe for giving him enough initiative to stay with you tonight. gently, he hums, presses a few delicate kisses to your forehead, and starts rubbing gentle circles on your lower back. 

“thank you,” you murmur against the base of his neck, feeling your minty breath against your lips, “i wouldn’t have made it to bed if you weren’t here.”

“hmmm,” pursing his lips before pressing another kiss to your forehead, he sighs, “but thank fuck one of us has common sense, huh?”

a gentle chuckle shakes his chest, words leaving his mouth causing you to attempt a smack on his shoulder, but you give up, instead giggling along. you fall asleep to the sound of his voice, slipping into the sweetest sleep you’ve had in a while as he tells you about all the random things that have happened in the valley since you left, now with no bitterness in his voice. 

waking up to the chirping of birds was the norm in the summer, but the sound wasn’t quite right this time. it is an owl, the low hoot snaps you out of your peaceful dream making you lift your head to get you bearings, take a moment to remember where you are and why you can smell sebastian’s presence.

it’s okay, we’re okay, you comfort yourself, once again settling into his embrace, smiling as his arms instinctively tighten around you. 

then he moves, taking a deeper breath and shifting to roll over on top of you. only once you feel his lips trail along your neck do you realize he is also awake, alert, and not interested in simply falling back to sleep.

it starts with gentle kisses, lips savoring the taste of your skin, along with some light touches, his hands roaming your sides and settling on your hips. his lips connecting with your skin are the only source of noise in the room, finally being joined by moving bodies against the sheets once you arch your body into sebastian and let his hands travel around your back, squeezing every piece of flesh he can reach. he doesn’t start grinding against you immediately, instead he kisses down to your chest, taking a nipple between his lips while one of his hands sacrifices its warm place on your hip to hold the other breast, kneading it to make some tasty moans spill from your lips.

like he’s getting drunk off the sounds from your mouth, he gently presses his teeth against your nipple, tugging on it how he remembers you liking it. moving downwards, he lifts his gaze up to see you jutting your chin up, pressing the back of your head on the pillow as your hips lift, seeking for more, for what only he can give you. warm kisses make a winding path down your bare stomach, peppered with gentle bites of his impatient teeth as your thighs spread, letting him slot himself in between them like the good old times. 

sebastian’s clever fingers hook under your panties, but he doesn’t remove them, the cheeky fuck. instead, he presses them tighter against your soft pussy, slowly getting wetter with his attention and creating a sweet little damp patch on the fabric. he cannot help but press a delicate kiss to it. the tiniest whimper leaves you, spurring him on to press another kiss, and then another, making your underwear wet with his saliva as well as your arousal. his voice vibrates over your sensitive clit as he hums, praising you quietly as he slides his wet tongue along the material of your panties, pushing it in between your squishy folds before he finally slides them off, once he’s had enough of teasing you. once more he kisses your bare pussy, showing his affection through murmured praises and compliments. look how pretty, sebastian hooks his arms under your knees, bringing your legs over his shoulders before he dives in. so sweet f’ me , your breath gets shorter quickly, his tongue glides around your clit slowly, pretty and wet how i like her, he parts you with practiced ease, making you remember how it felt back then. how it felt when he was just starting, getting better with each night that he spent between your pretty thighs, i’ve missed it so much, making you scream out into his pillow and thanking yoba his walls were thick enough for his whole family not to hear you. could do this all fucking night, gentle slurping noises mixed with the hums coming from his mouth fill the air, coaxing moan after moan from you. it’s the first time you’re doing anything like this in the farm house, a christening in a way. 

very soon, your moans get higher in pitch, they give way to whines as your hands find purchase in sebastian’s hair, tugging it only a little closer, cum for me, cherry, come on baby. and then your toes curl. shuddering, you cry out a desperate plea, lifting your hips up once more for sebastian to feel your slick cover his lips and chin. feasting on you, he licks his lips, not letting a single drop of you go to waste. he’d rather drown in you, rather give you his all than give up a molecule of your release, because it’s his. it’s all for him and it’s all because of him. he slowly helps you ride it out, licking gently between those slick folds as you relax, as your breath gets slower, and your legs stop shaking. one last kiss, he tells himself, pressing a single tender kiss to your clit as he pulls away slowly, wiping his face with his hand and licking it off, almost moaning and savoring the taste of you. 

finally you open your eyes, the fuzziness around the edges of your vision persists, but the goal has never been clearer. sebastian leans in for a kiss on your lips and you snake your arms around his neck, bringing him in to wrap your legs around him, a move you would always pull in an attempt to wordlessly say thank you for treating you so well, for giving you what you needed without asking for anything in return. but you always gave him something in return, always made time for him, especially that summer. much like then, but with a little more desperation and need, he rubs his clothed cock against you, making you wince as it teases your overstimulated clit.

“shit i’m sorry.” he starts apologizing, stuttering over his words. you’re quick to shut him up, kissing him and poking at his tongue with yours, moaning as you taste your release on his lips. it’s the sexiest thing, the undeniable proof of his devotion to you. and when he pulls away for a moment to slide his boxers off, you use it to look over his body, sighing with satisfaction at seeing him in the sliver of moonlight dripping through the window of your room, bouncing off his lean torso and the lines of his beautiful face. your breath hitches in the second before he leans back down, this time grinding against your pussy with no barriers, no cursed clothes between you. leaning on his elbow, he reaches down with the other hand to lift your leg up, hooking it around his hips as he gently prods your entrance, hissing once his tip pokes into you. 

“ h-aah please, seb… need you again.” your syrupy plea has him groaning as he dips his head to bury it into your neck, trying to hold on and keep his breath steady.

“cherry… fuck i’ve missed you, missed you so damn much i couldn’t breathe…” sebastian’s raspy voice glides over your skin as he sucks on your neck once more.

“i- i missed you too, so much, so much.” you gasp when he pushes his tip into you again, settling nicely inside as he keeps pushing, keeps making you take him again, “ so fucking much .” he hears you whine, ears perking up once he’s fully in. feeling your wetness on the base of his cock, feeling you contract around him, it’s almost enough to make him give up on the niceties and use you like a fuck toy, like his own hand that was getting the sticky end of things for five long years. 

“whine for me again, p-please, cherry.” he swallows hard, staying buried in you until you gather your thoughts, take a few short breaths, and whine like your throat was begging for it.

only once you let it out does he pull back and thrust into you again, setting a slow pace to make you feel every vein on his aching cock, every inch that was waiting for you while you were away. and he gives them to you, so readily he feeds your cunt all his passion and all his love, stuffing it full of him as he speeds up a little, aiming to hear more of those saccharine moans you willingly let out of your throat. they fuel him, make him snap his hips harder, reminding you what’s been waiting for you all this time, what you can have with him. almost like feeling you for the first time, like you didn't fuck on the porch mere hours ago, he ruts into you desperately, needily pulling noises from your throat and his own. 

heavy breaths roll off his tongue, groans and whimpers and curses mixed with your name. your eyes teeter between opening and closing, catching glimpses of his parted lips, his focused eyes, even looking down to see that old strap of your shirt tied securely around his wrist. you sniffle, taking a moment between lewd moans to take in the fact that he really waited for you, that he’s been sure of your connection and you never left his mind. you didn’t just belong to the summers, salt drying on your bodies as the sun burned memories into your skin. you belonged to eternity. 

when you cry out his name, coated in that pretty, desperate tone, you know he feels you getting close. his thrusts speed up, bringing you both to the edge of an orgasm while your breaths quicken, mixing together until he hungrily dives in to kiss you again, to steal the whimper from your lips. grabbing for him, gripping his back with one hand and his arm with the other, you hold yourself steady, moaning into his mouth until you break. colors spark behind your eyes, electricity zips from your fingertips to your toes. you finish with a whine that sebastian immediately takes for himself, stuttering in his movements once your tight cunt contracts and squeezes him, keeping his cock inside while he spills his release inside you, slowing down to moan and breathe against your plush lips. the whole world stops when you’re done, sebastian’s weight covering you like a blanket of solace, his breath dancing on your cheek as he gathers strength to pull out and slump onto the mattress. 

once again you find yourself in a comfortable position, sebastian’s arms wrapped around you, your face buried in his chest, legs entwined together under the warm covers. he’s softly talking into your hair, peppering you in gentle kisses in between sentences while you both try to drift off to sleep.

“and after coffee we can take a shower, we can drag out the morning, you’ll see, nothing important happens on spring mornings. then i’ll help you unpack,” his voice slows down, and so does your mind, “and… then we can… we can clear the farm together and…” he yawns, a small sigh escapes you as you snuggle a little closer, completely spend and happy. “and then we’ll get to work on th… the land and–” 

you don’t get to hear the end of his train of thought, already dozing off, already dreaming again, tired and safe in his embrace.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 10

part 1 | part 9 | ao3

cw: recreational drinking

When they get to Eddie’s trailer, Steve’s mom is sitting on the couch, eyes unblinking as she watches the TV.

There’s just static on the screen.

“Steve?” she slurs when she finally realizes they’re there. Sways a little when she stands. There’s a dreamy quality to her voice, a blank look on her tired face: agreeable but distant, a smudge of campfire smoke curling far over the trees.

Double-dosed her pills again. Jesus Christ.

“Oh, Stevie, baby, it was just awful.” She reaches out for him, and he wishes he could find comfort in the way she cups his elbows with delicate hands. Wishes he could lean into her touch and offer comfort in return, but her tone is so dull and mild that bile rises in his throat. Chemical calm bullshit, and Steve has had enough.

“Ma, just…” he sighs, shrugging her off. Scrubs a hand over his face. Too young and too old for this. “Just go home, okay?” The street is quiet again, all the neighbors tucked back in their houses now that the show has run its course. He doesn’t think anyone will notice her stumbling across the road. “Get some rest. I’ll be over in a bit.”

“Sure, baby.” He leads her to the door, and she turns there on the threshold, eyes glassy and unfocused; looks through him like he’s a ghost. Then her gaze shifts around the room — the hats, the mugs, the clutter; the lived-in explosion of color that Steve’s annoyed he likes so much — like she’s just seeing it all for the first time, and absently, she murmurs, “This place is dreadful, isn’t it?”

“Mom.”

“Hmm?” she asks, but she’s already drifting out the door.

Steve’s face is on fire. He stands there for a moment, just staring dumbly out into the dark. What the hell is wrong with her??

Behind him, Eddie snorts. "Oh, she’s on the good shit, huh?”

Steve whips his head around. Eddie’s eyes are full of mirth, his dimple peeking out, and it startles a laugh out of Steve. He thinks maybe he’d take offense if he weren't so busy being mortified.

But also, like.

It is a little funny.

Or maybe it’s so unfunny that it circles back around.

“Jesus, man,” he huffs, “Sorry. I don’t— I don’t know why she…”

“S’fine,” Eddie says with a casual flick of his wrist. Seems like he means it. He rocks back on his heels, hands in his back pockets, just sort of eyeing Steve up. Assessing. Running his tongue over his lips. They're big, for a guy's. “…You want a beer?”

“Fuck.” That sounds so nice. “Yeah. Please.”

“Have a seat.”

Steve takes the offer when Eddie nods at the couch, too tired to do the whole song and dance of ‘oh heavens no, I couldn’t possibly impose.’ Who’s got the energy for that?

The couch is old. His skull thuds against the un-cushioned back when he sinks down into it, but he’s too tired to care. Worn out as the lumpy springs under his ass, the frayed fabric beneath his arm. A wave of exhaustion rattles his bones, reverberates in his teeth. He thinks he could sleep for sixteen years.

Eddie clears his throat when he comes back with the beers, a sudden cautiousness about him as he hands Steve an unopened can like Steve might claw him in return.

"Sit down," Steve rolls his eyes. "I'm not gonna bite."

Eddie makes a strangled noise. The springs bounce as he plops onto the seat beside Steve, sitting sideways with one leg up on the couch between them, his arm resting on the back. "So, ah...." He gives a wavering chuckle; pulls a lock of hair across his face to hide himself. "Is this the part where I formally apologize for trying to knife you?"

Ugh. No the fuck it isn't. Steve’s too drained for it, absolutely at capacity for more serious shit this evening, thanks; and besides that, it was...

Whatever. It's old news.

Instead of giving a real answer he reaches into his pocket, snicks his own knife open and pretends to brandish it at Eddie, asking, "Eye for an eye?"

Eddie's eyes go huge. "Dude, what the fuck??"

"Just fucking with you," Steve laughs, lifting the can up to his mouth. "But there; now we're even. Shoulda seen your face."

“Ah—!” Eddie’s jaw drops in offense. “Ex-cuse you!”

God, of course he’s more dramatic than all the kids combined.

Steve jabs the knife into his beer, pops the top and starts to chug, throat working as he gulps the whole thing down in four big sips. It tastes like frothy, bitter piss, but it's cold and it soothes the scratch in his throat.

Eddie lets out a low whistle. "Well, goddamn, Harrington."

"Is that supposed to impress me?" "You're not?"

Steve grins and wipes his mouth.

—

They get drunk pretty fast (Eddie refused to be upstaged in his own house, so one shot-gunned beer became two became four), and somewhere along the line the conversations get weird; hilarious and dumb. Saying shit just to say it, chipping away at the ice wall between them with bare fingernails.

Eddie hollers some shit like: "What are you even talking about?" and his arms fling out wide, almost spilling his beer. "The deep sea is so much scarier than the mountains!"

"Are you joking?" Steve throws back. "The mountains have, like, giant cats and shit! Birds of prey with wingspans the size of your van."

"Yeah, and the deep sea has eldritch monsters that live in volcano vents and hunt with no eyes and eat their young for fun or whatever the fuck. You ever heard of an anglerfish? Or a phantom anglerfish? Tell me that shit isn't right out of a Lovecraft story."

"A what story?"

"How am I the one who hasn’t graduated yet?"

Then later:

“Dude, Batman? Seriously?”

“He’s the world’s greatest detective!”

“He’s a greasy little weirdo. You only like him because of your whole…” Steve gestures at his tattoos.

“Whatever, Spiderfan.”

And later still:

"Okay, okay, okay. Fuck, marry, kill... Shit. Y’know this would really be easier in a town where so many people hadn’t died."

Steve grimaces at himself; expects Eddie to call him out. It’s too insensitive, too soon.

Eddie just cracks a grin and suggests, "Fuck, marry, revive?"

—

They talk for a long time. Eddie's kind of charming when he's not being a dick. A nice smile, deep laugh lines. Steve can almost see why the kids are so obsessed with him. He's never met someone so animated; feels like he's talking to a Saturday morning cartoon. The conversation mellows out after a while, and he doesn't realize he's dozed off until Eddie shakes him awake.

"Hey, man," he says, voice just above a whisper. "I'm going to bed. You're welcome to crash on the couch, but, uh,” he scratches the back of his neck, “I mean, your back is probably gonna hate you for it."

Steve rubs his fists against his eyelids and blinks himself awake. Feels jittery and weird, yanked out of the start of a bad dream. When he looks up he sees that he’s got his shoes up on the couch; and there’s dried drool on his chin, and all at once he feels embarrassed, off-balance and panicked like he missed the last step down a steep flight of stairs. Of course he's overstayed his welcome. He's being fucking rude. "My bad," he mutters as he jumps up off the couch. Stands up way too fast, makes his vision tilt and swirl. "I'll get out of your hair."

Eddie reaches for his arm. "Dude,” he says, “you're fine. You can stay if you want.”

Steve moves out of his hold. “Nah, get some sleep; I’ll see ya around.”

Eddie frowns at him, a little furrow between his brows, and somehow Steve feels like he’s in the wrong, like Eddie isn’t the one who just kicked him out.

Like maybe Steve’s just running away for a second time in one night. Always back and away, this guy.

Who's the fucking coward now?

—

part 11

y'all know the drill, tagging whoever commented on yesterday's installment provided your tumblr settings let me <;3 @thealwithnoname @violetsteve @manda-panda-monium @stuftzombie @bronwenmarie @aliea82 @slowandsteddie @acedorerryn @anne-bennett-cosplayer @ahsokatanoss @steveshairspray @hallucinatedjosten @estrellami-1 @ppunkpuppyy @stevesbipanic @silver-snaffles @yourmom-isgay @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @zombiecreatures @im-a-disgrace-to-humanity @faery-god @hotluncheddie @runninriot @a-little-unsteddie @teatimeeverybody @newtstabber @pearynice @hellion-child @cuips-not-cute @steddieas-shegoes @steves-strapcollection @loguine-linguine @griefabyss69

[oh-no-its-bird]

Similar fic idea to One Step Three Steps, but instead of some random Hatake brat being zapped into modern Konoha from the very early days of the village, it was actually the at the time Hatake Clan Head.

I'm gonna go with the Hatake family tree I tossed into Chasing Shadows for fun, meaning a) the clan head is named Haruka, and b) she's Sakumo's mother (thus Kakashi's grandmother) and Tobirama's aunt

She died very shortly after Tobirama (like a week tops) and the rest of her clan was wiped out pretty soon after her.

(Sakumo was raised by the only other survivor of the clan, an old grandma with poor memory who hadn't been in any state to fight, and who later passed away when Sakumo was still pretty young— so he learned very little about their clan and their traditions, and then passed on even less to Kakashi before he died)

I have literally nothing else for her other than the above, so I guess we'll figure out her character together as we go along

With that said, this is gonna be a long one, so buckle in for

✨️ The Hatake clan head time travels from early to modern Konoha ✨️

Immediately, there's just so much potential pretty much anywhere you drop her into the timeline.

Lets take her from the very first years of Konoha, where they're still lowkey building the village and Madara is still around (bc I love the drama of the time traveler respecting Madara only for the future people to be like "oooo... ok, so bad news actually— Also, you legally aren't allowed to talk good about him for military dictatorship reasons, sorry :(" )

And then we're gonna drop her into kid Kakashi era, with Sakumo still being alive

Right off the bat -> That's Sakumo's fucking mom!!!! Holy shit you guys!!! The last time she saw him he was like a literal infant she JUST recovered from birthing AND NOW HES A WHOLE MAN!!!!

Shes grabbing him by the cheeks squishing him to death, there may be baby talk involved (he's a grown man let him go oh my god??)

If she comes before his mission gone wrong, her presence prevents him from going on it (disaster averted,,, for now) He's currently in the running for most likely to become next Hokage and she's so disgustingly proud holy shit. Her baby!!! Hokage!!!

Maybe have some talk about how that'd make either 3 or 2 Hatake's in office depending on if you count Hashirama as a Hatake (Haruka does not) and how that's kind of bad, right? Only Haruka doesn't give a SHIT about that (politicians hate her and shed hate them too if she didn't enjoy making them suffer so much)

"But Haruka, as clan head aren't you a politician too by default?"

"Haha yeah!! Isn't that awful? (For all of them)"

If she comes AFTER the dreaded mission gone wrong, Haruka is all about backing up his decision (the Hatake are a clan who emphasize loyalty like no other, which is also part of why they took to Konoha's mentality so well)

Shes telling Sakumo he did the right thing and fuck literally everyone who says otherwise. Trust your momma Sakumo, she knows best

Her being there averts Sakumo's death— either bc she manages to keep him going, or bc she interrupts him mid suicide

(I can see Sakumo trying to go through with it specifically bc he thinks at least Kakashi has Haruka now once he's gone)

Also oh my god SAKUMO YOU HAD A BABY??? SHE HAS A GRANDBABY???? AWWW CMERE LITTLE GUY LET GRANDMA GIVE YOU A SMOOCH— OHHH SAKUMO LOOK AT HOW HE STABBED ME OHH WHAT A GOOD BOY, WHAT A CUTE BABY BOY!! CMERE BABY— OHH SAKUMO LOOK HES BITING ME AWWW THATS SO CUTE!! WHOS A GOOD GRANDBABY?? WHOS A GOOD GRANDBABY?? (said like she's talking to a fucking dog)

Kakashi kind of hates her.

There's like a whole big bit about the Hatake clan bloodline limit, which is sort of general wolfy stuff, enhanced senses, some extra strength, etc. And my all-time favorite take, adaptation ✨️

Their white chakra is super flexible, able to adapt and change to fit pretty much any situation —or even other bloodline limits. (Which is why Kakashi not only survived the sharingan implant but came to arguably master it)

Anyways -> other than the white chakra (which neither Sakumo or Kakashi know the details of other than it's their family chakra and its,, white. Exciting, I know), their bloodline limit seems to have borderline dissapeared with Kakashi and Sakumo, due to basically them not knowing how to feed into it / activley supressing it to conform to polite society (unaware that certain impulses aren't actually just intrusive thoughts but actual instinct trying to get them to do things necessary to feed into and reawakened their bloodline limit)

Kakashi actually shows more hints of still having it bc of his age, while Sakumo is very well practiced in accidentally supressing it to conform with general society.

So obviously, Haruka is like "hey guys!! What the actual fuck is this!!" and immediatley (borderline desperatley) trying to get them back to her perceived normal

She's actually REALLY fucked up about all this. Her own son!! Her own grandbaby!! And they don't even eat enough MEAT!!!! This is an actual nightmare, this is like basic baby stuff all the Hatake's should know and she's getting nothing but blank looks and vuagley ashamed guilty stares from Sakumo as she asks if he even takes Kakashi on hunts (he didn't even know that was a thing he should be doing.)

Don't even get her started when she learns Sakumo isn't acting as clan head on the Konoha clan council, holy shit. The Hatake might be a clan of 2 now but they were among the first clans to come to Konoha— she doesn't give a shit how many of them are left, if the number is more than 1 then there better be a fucking representative of theirs on that goddamn council

Funny bit where Kakashi tries to bite someone and Sakumo is telling him to stop bc jesus christ child can you behave for 5 seconds oh god he's so sorry— and Haruka is like, why are you telling him to stop??? This is enrichment for him :)) if there's no blood it's fine, that's the official clan policy for dealing with kids

Haruka... isn't actually a very good choice to leave as your babysitter. If nothing is on fire and no one is dead she considers herself successful.

Sakumo will learn this. In time.

Mmmm bad ending where Sakumo goes through with the suicide. Could be very fun and fucked up n dramatic.

Kakashi doesn't find his father's body first bc Haruka does— or maybe he does but Haruka walks in right behind him and forces him to close his eyes before he can actually see the body.

Fun scene where Haruka is physically wrestling Kakashi away from his father's body, a hand over his eyes as he screams and claws at her, demanding that she let go and let him see his dad.

Can't she smell the blood!? Tou-san is hurt, he needs help! What are you doing!!? Let him go!! Tou-san, Tou-san, where are you? Why aren't you answering?!

He bites her hand in his struggles, so deep that it later scars (just another reminder of the day, oh boy !!)

Haruka getting hit by the fucking brick of reality, straight in the face. She got to meet her son, the only survivor of their clan from her era, just in time for him to die <3

The fic then takes a HARD turn from the silly fluffy fun times of Haruka goofing around telling people to suck her dick if they have a problem with her (which a lot of people definitely do)

-> Right into shinobi politics, political schemes and sabotaged missions and buried clan history galore territory. Haruka isn't ab to take this lying down and everyone's about to get their first look at a grieving Hatake mother in her prime who just lost her baby to the shinobi rumor mill

Before she was kind of keeping to herself just having fun in the clan compound, not reeeally getting involved with any politics or village shit, bc like, she's playing with her family!! This is like her vacation till the time travel is solved and she goes back home!!

But she's not doing that anymore.

Sakumo is gone and Haruka is more than willing to take the seat he chose to leave empty at the clan council. She's about to become EVERYONES problem.

In the bg, Kakashi VIOLENTLY swings between fucking hating Haruka ("You should have stopped him! You should have been there! You should have helped!") to being like, physically unable to be unatached from her (she's waking up in the middle of the night to find him suddenly burrowed into her blankets, holding on to her like he's scared she'll dissapear when he wakes up)

Small soft scene where he's sleeping on top of her and quietly whispers that he's sorry for biting her.

Haruka possibly tries to have Kakashi temporarily drop his training but it's a very hard battle to fight. Both bc Kakashi wants to fight and bc Konoha wants him to fight

Uhh first big scary Haruka politics scene when she puts her foot down and says something along the lines of, "are you telling me here and now that my word as Hatake clan head is not enough to stop Konoha from taking away my child?" And Sarutobi kind of has to back down bc that does NOT fly well with the other clans

Obito and Rin swing by and try to pry at why Kakashi can't fight and she just fucking stares at them and goes, "He's 6."

She goes home and puts her head in her fucking hands. She was promised Konoha was to keep the kids SAFE, that's the entire fucking reason the Hatake agreed to join!!! This is not safe Tobirama, you bitch!!!!! If they send out Kakashi to die, shes going to find your fucking ghost and grind your face into Kakashi's grave!!!!

Anyways, time for my favorite part: politics

Haruka is coming from the early days of Konoha, where the only reason the Hatake even joined the village was, "because my cute little nephew (Tobirama) asked us real nice"

In her mind, she and her clan are still allowed to back the fuck up out of the village whenever she so chooses. She likes it in Konoha, yeah, but they're still free reign nomads and while she'd like to stay and have her clan flourish (which they didn't exactly do and she can literally SEE the way the village destroyed them from the inside out) she and her clan retain the right to leave whenever they want. And if they do leave, other than losing the new friends, it won't exactly be hard on them to get back to the nomad life.

All of that is to say that Sarutobi isn't her Hokage and while she'll be nice and respectful bc she recognizes the position (and her position) when push comes to shove, there's literally nothing they can hold on her to make her bend or break.

Also the last time she saw Sarutobi he was one of her nephews little brat tag-alongs, and she's so fucking bad at treating people their age, doubly so if she knew them as a kid.

It's,,, kind of demeaning actually, she should stop. (She will not.)

Anyways: play into her not just being Tobirama's aunt but also Hashirama's (her sister was their mother) which becomes fun bc Kakashi is her fucking grandkid!! Meaning he's also their fucking cousin!! Politics!! Implications!!!

At least one person is making a "of fucking course the boy genius is related to one of them" joke but like in an angry way (it's probably Obito)

Anyways I started this off with basically nothing for Haruka other than her name and I think she accidentally turned into a real character along the way (inevitable tbh)

Shes a DEEPLY flawed person actually, which I kind of love. She has a habit of belittling people and not treating them their age (absoloutley calls everyone even slightly younger than her 'kid')

Her views of childcare are totally skewed and she should not be trusted with any children other than Kakashi (it's ok he's literally built different, she can provide proper enrichment for him)

Edit: I DIDNT FUCKING MEAN TO POST THIS YET IM GONNA KILL MYSELF I WAS STILL QRITING IM GONNA END IT ALL TUMBLR I HATE YOU I HATE YOU

Shes so fucking full of herself and about to make it EVERYONES problem

[didyoulookforme]

13 & 7 for the prompts? are those good ones i dunno… luv u

from this prompt list.

this is postmatty coded so i hope that’s okay :)

warning: 18+. smut. lap dance lol. subby matty.

you’re not expecting him to be here when you walk in, still a little out of breath from class, muscles aching in that really good way. you barely make it two steps toward the kitchen, already thinking about that first sip of chardonnay before your shower, when—

“hey, love.” it’s warm. familiar. happy. until you hear a loud clatter and him cursing under his breath. you spin around just in time to see matty stumbling over your bag, the contents spilling onto the floor in front of you.

“shit, shit—sorry, love!” he’s already on his knees, scrambling to grab your stuff and… oh, fuck. his fingers curl around a black leather stiletto, and, perfect, your garter belt dangles from his wrist.

then he just pauses and stares. his lips part slightly, gaze flicking between the incriminating evidence in his hands and your frozen, guilty ass standing there, completely speechless.

“what…?” his voice is so slow and quiet, and, oh god, is that dread on his face?

he shoves everything back into your bag and stands up way too fast, wiping his palms on his cargo pants. you watch the shift happen in real-time: his shoulders going tense, jaw tightening, that little flicker of something possessive in his eyes. you know his brain is going full worst-case scenario, and if you don’t say something right now, he’s about to spiral into some completely unhinged conclusion that is so not the truth.

so you panic. obviously.

words just start spilling out, way too fast, way too loud, an uncontrollable disaster that you can’t stop even if you tried.

you haven’t been going to writing classes. miranda convinced you to pick up pole and lap dancing with her as a winter workout. your best friend didn’t want to go alone, needed a partner. you’ve always been curious but never actually tried it. you didn’t tell him because you weren’t sure what he’d think. you take props because you and mandy like to really, really get into it. how you’re so fucking sorry...

you’re barely breathing between words, your hands are all over, and you’re so deep in your frantic, guilt-ridden monologue that you don’t even notice the exact moment his whole body relaxes. don’t notice the tension bleeding from his shoulders. don’t catch the slow tilt of his head, the way his lips twitch at the corners.

"so this is what you’ve been hiding from me, huh?"

his voice is way too amused for the absolute state you’re in, and that’s when you finally clock the look on his face.

oh, fuck him.

matthew, the smuggest bastard alive, is thrilled, arms crossed over his chest, watching you flail with that stupid, lopsided grin getting wider by the second.

your words finally give out before you do, breath catching somewhere in your chest as you realize you’re about two seconds away from full-blown hyperventilation. so instead of making it worse, you just stop. grab your glass. and down the rest of your wine in one desperate, dignity-saving gulp.

matty’s still watching you. like, really watching you. eyes twinkling with something you can’t quite place but definitely don’t trust. you exhale shakily, set your glass down, and finally force yourself to talk.

“are you mad at me?”

he doesn’t answer right away, just lets the silence linger, enjoying the way you’re practically squirming under the weight of it.

“i’ll only be sad if i don’t get to see it one day.”

your whole body locks up.

you choke on absolutely nothing, your breath stalling in your throat, and it’s humiliating, really, how fast the heat rushes to your face. because, for some idiotic reason, it hadn’t occurred to you until right this second that, yeah... if your chronically horny boyfriend found out you’ve been taking lap dancing classes, there was exactly zero chance he wouldn’t want a front-row seat.

he clocks your reaction immediately, and you bet your ass he’s absolutely thrilled. his smirk stretches wider, eyes flicking down your body in a slow, deliberate sweep that makes your stomach tighten. he shifts his weight and leans in just a fraction.

“actually,” he hums, “how’s your balance?”

turns out it’s non-existent because you have to grip the kitchen counter just to stay upright. your mouth opens. closes. absolutely nothing comes out. no words. no thoughts. just—

fuuuuuuuuuuck.

it’s the only thing rattling around in your head, stuck on a loop like a broken record. fuck. fuck. fuck.

so, naturally, the best course of action? more wine. immediately.

you pour yourself another glass, bring it to your lips, and take a long, desperate sip, praying it’ll somehow settle the absolute mess of nerves currently wreaking havoc inside you. when you finally dare to glance back at matty, he’s still watching you with that look: eyebrow raised, teeth sinking into his bottom lip to physically hold back a grin.

you exhale sharply, shake your head, and attempt to laugh. just a quiet, breathy thing, but it breaks the tension enough that you can at least string together a coherent thought.

“fucking stop it, okay?” you mutter, pressing the cool rim of the glass against your burning cheek for a second. “i didn’t want you to find out. let alone this way.”

“why didn’t you want to tell me?”

you shift your weight, playing with the stem of your wine glass. “dunno. guess i was embarrassed? figured you’d laugh or make fun of me.”

matty gives you a look. “babe. if i ever, in my life, complain about my ridiculously hot girlfriend doing something that’s sexy as fuck, just end me, ‘kay?”

that gets another laugh out of you, the pressure finally loosening in your chest. “so you’re not upset?”

he shakes his head, motions you over with a lazy little c’mere gesture. and you don’t even think. just step forward, let him pull you in, arms snug around your waist, chin resting easy on the top of your head. and that’s all it takes. your whole body unwinds against him, breath slowing, muscles unclenching. he presses a quick kiss to your hair, lingers there for a second, and just when you think all is fine again…

“so, can i see?”

you groan, shoving him back, which only makes his wicked smile stretch wider. he catches your wrist before you can escape, laughing as you down the rest of your wine and flip him off for good measure. he mumbles a few half-hearted apologies, not that he means a single one, and then his hands are on your face, pulling you in.

and the second his lips meet yours, it’s over. whatever half-assed protest you had dissolves between you, his body pressing forward until your back finds the wall, pinning you there, making damn sure you feel everything. and perhaps it’s the mix of the two glasses of wine you downed in record time and the way he’s shoving his tongue down your throat, but suddenly, you’re thinking that maybe having a little fun with him wouldn’t be the worst thing.

so you indulge, let him devour you for another mind-bending kiss before pulling back just enough to give his cheek a playful slap.

“but just s’ you know, i’m not cheap.”

“hmmm. wouldn’t expect anything less from my girl.”

you walk into the living room, biting down a smirk, trying to ignore the way your heart is rattling against your ribs. because what exactly are you about to do? there’s no routine mapped out, no carefully rehearsed steps, and absolutely no floor-to-ceiling metal pole to fall back on. but, well, guess you’ve gotta start somewhere.

and that somewhere begins with you dragging a chair to the center of the room and motioning for matty to sit because a lap dance is obviously the answer. he doesn’t hesitate for a single second, making a show out of pulling out his wallet and flashing it at you before he drops into the seat. which, for the record, is the same damn dining chair he’s absolutely fucked you over more times than you can count.

he’s such a fucking boy, but you love him more than anything, and honestly? there’s almost nothing you wouldn’t do for him.

so you take off your clothes.

your shirt and jeans first. then your socks. now you’re just standing there in your bra and panties, pointedly not looking at him in case the weight of his stare makes you change your mind. instead, you focus. grab your stockings, garter, and heels from your bag, stretching the sheer fabric up your legs, making sure the belt sits snug around your thighs. for class, you’d usually wear something a short skirt or an oversized tee, but given that matty is your only audience tonight, lingerie feels like the only right call.

while you’re busy adjusting straps and fastening clips, you completely miss the way matty’s staring. borderline hypnotized, pupils flickering darker every single time another piece of clothing hits the floor. the way his breath slows, chest rising and falling. the way his jaw clenches when he finally registers what you’re wearing.

because he knows this set. remembers telling you, offhandedly, that it’d look so fucking good on you. hadn’t expected you to actually go out and buy it, but now that you have? now that he’s seeing it on you, in real time, fitting like it was made for you?

yeah. he’s so fucking glad you did.

and then you bend down, ass in the air as you slide into your stilettos, and that’s when he knows he’s fucked. his head drops back, hands dragging down his face, breath catching somewhere between a curse and a groan because, jesus christ, he’s about to lose his goddamn mind. he shifts in his seat and crosses his legs so you can’t see how hard he already is.

meanwhile, you’re completely oblivious, too focused to care where your clothes and bag land as you shove them aside and decide which record to pick. something smooth, something slow. something with a rhythm you can move to. and as soon as the needle drops, the warm crackle fills the room. okay. you whisper it just for yourself, shake out your arms, roll your shoulders back, try to settle the nerves buzzing under your skin.

because ready or not, you’re doing this.

then, finally, you turn toward him, trying your best not to overthink it, just placing one foot in front of the other, letting the music guide you.

matty doesn’t stop looking or smirking for a single moment, his gaze dark as it drags down your body. you step closer, both of you letting out a breathy laugh, because is this actually happening right now? because never in a million years did you think you’d be here, standing in front of him like this. and as for matty? he looks way too eager, fingers already reaching for your hips, pulling himself forward to press slow, teasing kisses to your stomach. you swat his hands away before you can fully melt, pushing him back into the chair, tugging at his hair just enough to make him look at you.

“i’ll talk you through it, okay?”

his breath shudders, eyes flickering shut as he mutters a curse under his breath. but you know he’s enjoying this. you know it the second he uncrosses his legs, the outline in his pants impossible to ignore. your mouth goes dry at the sight, but you have to stay focused.

“all yours, darling.” and you have to bite your lip at the double meaning of it.

before your brain completely short-circuits, you position yourself between his legs, lean forward and give him a peck on the nose, nodding toward the wallet on the floor and letting him know that he better be nice to you. then you turn around, drop down just enough so your ass is barely brushing against his crotch, and oh-so-slowly roll yourself up, making sure your body never loses contact with his. you do it again, this time with intent, pressing down just a little harder over his cock on the way down, rolling your hips with deliberate slowness on the way up, arms stretching high above your head, moving like you’ve done this for him a hundred times before.

somehow, somehow, you manage to stay composed as the minutes pass, keeping your movements fluid, sensual, just for him. yeah, there are still some nerves there, but you’d be lying if you said this wasn’t exhilarating. it’s not perfect—far from it—but you’d never know that by looking at him.

because matty is done for. completely entranced, watching the way you sway, the way your fingers drag slow and teasing over your skin. so hypnotized that he hasn’t said a single word, unless you ask him something. and even then, he mostly just stares, mouth agape because the sheer act of forming words longer than four letters is beyond him right now.

and you can’t help but giggle, shaking your head, because of course it takes a lap dance and you touching yourself for matty healy to finally keep quiet for once.

you move with the music, letting the rhythm guide you instead of overthinking what comes next. just feeling it, letting yourself sink into the moment, into the way his eyes track your every movement. because you totally have this. and him under your control.

at some point, and this was never part of class, you push your tits together, just inches from his face, and oh my god. you actually have to bite your lip to keep from screaming when, without even looking away, he blindly reaches for his wallet and tucks some money between your breasts, fingers lingering on you to savor every single moment. and then he leans in, presses a kiss right against your chest, and your heart is about to explode when he rests his head on that same spot.

you’re sure you feel some of your slick drip down your leg, but there is no way in hell you’re stopping now. not when he’s completely at your mercy. so you slide your fingers into his hair, grip just enough to make him look at you and make him focus.

"i fucking love you, baby."

oh. you’ve heard it a million times before, but something about the way he says it now makes it hit differently. settles somewhere deep in your chest, makes your breath catch, makes your pulse quicken. because it doesn’t just make you feel wanted. it makes you feel his. entirely, unquestionably his.

and god, you want him. want him more.

so you push him back into the chair again, hands firm against his chest, because you’re not done with him yet.

you step back just enough to make him wait, before slowly raising your leg and dragging the sharp tip of your heel oh so lightly along his length. you’ve never been so proud of yourself. his head tips back, eyes rolling up like he’s seeing heaven, body melting into the chair, legs spreading wider, offering himself up completely.

“does this feel good?”

he nods mindlessly, too far gone in pleasure while you take your time, relishing the sight of your boyfriend falling apart right in front of you. you drag your stiletto on him again. and again. until you’re feeling him twitch and he’s actually whining, the sound catching high in his throat, desperate and so, so pretty. and then, just to be mean, you press down just a little, the tiniest bit of pressure, he chokes, cursing loudly, running shaky hands through his curls trying to pull himself back to reality.

but you don’t let him. because you lean forward, wrap your fingers around the cool metal of his chains and tug just enough to make him obey. his dazed eyes snap open and he immediately straightens up, sitting taller, waiting. and that’s when you finally straddle him, slot your body against his, press down and grind against his hips, rolling slow and deep, giving him just enough pressure to completely come undone.

and when he does—when his breath stutters, when his hips jerk helplessly against yours, when you feel the warmth seep through his pants—you just smile. because it’s not the first time he’s come in his pants for you. and it sure as fuck won’t be the last.

[hmhas-00]

Ch.1

Hit Me Hard & Soft

word count - 1.7k words

A/N - Hi lovelies! I can’t wait for you to fall in love with Remy and Billie, and their ✨friendship✨

Chapter 2 will be up tomorrow! Starting next week, my posting schedule will be Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Please like and reblog! It means a lot! 🫶🏻

Remy's POV

My hand shot back as the hot, white-coated metal of the car door burned my fingertips.

“Motherfu-“ Immediately, my watery eyes landed on the yellow paper folded under the windshield wipers.

“You have to be kidding me right now.” Unfolding it, the paper revealed a dreaded parking ticket. Crumpling the paper into my back pocket, I swung open the door. Plopping onto the hot leather seat and ignoring the 3rd degree burns going into the backs of my thighs, my phone slid into the crack between the center console. As if on purpose, my phone began to ring nonstop. A huge sigh escaped my lips, while I started the engine to at least get some A/C. When the bluetooth connected to the car, I answered the call using the hands-free feature. Thank the gods for technology.

“Hey, Bills- Right now is not a-“ I groaned, fighting for my life to rescue my phone from the french fry abyss that it had fallen in.

“Remy! Where are you?” Billie exaggerated in a playful, but very loud voice. Maybe it was the stereo volume, though…

“I’m sorta in the middle of- HA! Got it!” I shrieked, putting the phone in the cupholder.

Billie whined, “I thought you were coming tonight. I don’t want to go alone! I’ve been really nervous and-“

Immediately, I realized I had promised my best friend I’d go the live recording of The Late Show With Steven Colbert. Mouthing expletives I yanked the stupid seatbelt, attempting to secure it multiple times.

“Oh my fucking god. I’m so sorry! I didn’t exactly forget. It’s just- I’ve had the shittiest day. I was humiliated at work today, got a parking ticket-“

“Oh, shit. Remy, hey- No, I’m sorry! Fuck, start from the beginning, what happened?” Billie worried, putting her disappointment aside. “Please, don’t worry about tonight, I’ll come over right after and we can talk more if you want?”

I hurried out of the parking space, not bothering to look before putting the car in reverse. “No, no! I’ll be on the way right now. It’s fine, it’s just been a crazy day. A lot at once. I’m on the way though!”

“You sure?” Billie cooed. “Are you sure you’re okay to be driving right now?”

“Yeah, yeah! I’m good.” Tears brimmed my eyes. Not tears of sadness, but instead frustration. Everything that could possibly go wrong was going wrong, and had been for at least a week. Still, I felt awful for forgetting about our plans. She’d been talking about how nervous she is about her first live performance since her new album, HMHAS, came out on Friday.

“Okay… Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had such a hard day today. Tell me everything.” She comforted me, always knowing what to say and how to say it.

I began to tell her all about my stressful day at work, and how my boss crossed several professional boundaries.

Earlier that day I presented my ideas to the potential new column writers for our magazine, while my chauvinist pig of a boss dismissed my efforts, and mansplained almost every point I made. After the board meeting I made the mistake of interrupting his debriefing with the rest of the team in his office and told him that I’d really like another chance to speak to the writers. “You were there because I allowed it. If you’d like another chance with those guys, consider wearing something worth their while.” He sneered and waved me out of his office. It brought me back to earth, making it evident that I am nothing but a secretary. As I opened the door to leave, he told me to go home for the day. I didn’t know if this meant I was fired, or if he was just sick of seeing my face. Regardless, it made me want to crawl into a hole and never go back.

“You realize he basically implied that unless you show some cleavage, no one will listen to you, right?” Billie protested, appalled at my story of the day. She had listened to countless rants about my job, never understanding why I stick around.

The truth is, this was my in! This is the environment I had studied so hard to be around and paid thousands of dollars for. Well, not quite. But it was my in. I believed I could make it through and work my way up to the top of the chain, hopefully enough to fire the assholes that run the magazine. Or at least be an editor.

“Anyway, so then I went out to my car and found the ticket after burning my hands, then burned my legs, then my phone fell under my seat, and here we are. Now, I’m going to drive off the PCH, if you don’t mind.”

“Not before I see you today. I’ll make it better…” she promised, knowing she always did. “…I’m not gonna say it.”

“Good”

“Quit already.”

“Billie…” I insisted.

“Okay, okay. Just saying. Don’t change. Keep being your bold self. Someone will appreciate it.”

“Thank you.”

“Someone at a different company because they don’t deserve you! They-“ she protested, starting her speech.

“Billie!” I whined. I honestly didn’t want to hear it. I just wanted to forget. “I’m pulling up right now, I’ll see you inside okay?”

“This isn’t over!” She shouted into the phone, still amped up.

I hung up and rolled the window down, showing my ID to the guard at the front gate. He smiled at me and nodded as the beautiful golden gates began to open inward into the giant property. I drove my car down the long road to Billie’s house and parked my car where I usually did. Security led me in and I was greeted with the warmest hug on planet earth.

Billie wrapped her arms around me, radiating with tenderness and comfort, amidst her own anxiety for what was to come tonight. “Are you ready for tonight?” My voice muffled into her dark hair.

She smelled sweet and when we pulled away I took in her shining face and very minimal makeup. Basically, just aquafor on her lips, clear mascara and brow gel, and a bit of concealer and powder where she thought she needed it. Although, she really didn’t need any. She had glasses on, and her outfit for the show, which she had thrifted herself.

“Mm, noo.” She shook her head and spoke in her silly voice. She ticked a bit, tilting her head to the side a few times. She had been ticking a lot lately, at least for the last few weeks leading up to the album release, the big album listening events, and now the Late Show.

I rubbed her temples and smiled, while she closed her eyes trying to focus. “You’re gonna be incredible. I can’t wait to hear you.” Her left eyebrow twitched a bit, then stopped.

“Let me fix my makeup. Is what I’m wearing okay?” I asked, walking towards the stairs.

“For me it is…but for your boss?” She joked, sorta.

“Billie!” I ran up the stairs, leaving her behind. “I’m raiding your closet!”

She followed and plopped on her bed, watching me walk through her giant bathroom, and into her giant walk-in closet.

I picked out something cute and put on a fashion show for her. She puckered her lips and raised her brows at me, showing her approval on the outfit. “You’re not supposed to look better than me at my own show, dude!” She shifted on the bed, placing one hand under her head, and fixing her baggy jeans.

“Shut up.” I laughed under my breath and plopped on the bed next to her. “Fuck, it’s been a day.”

She turned her head slightly to look at me. “You know I’m so proud of you, right? I want you to be happy. Whatever that means for you, I just want that.”

I nodded, knowing she just wants what’s best for me. We shared the same thought. “I love you.” I turned my body towards her, seeing her tick, rolling her eyes to the left a few times. “Enough about me. Tonight’s gonna be so fun, and you’re going to sound amazing, and then we can come back here and eat all the food.”

“Actually, I was gonna tell you, but your day was ruined by Danny Devito’s cousin.” Billie snorted. I smacked her tummy. “There’s this afterparty they’re throwing for Finneas and I, and I wanted you to come with me. But if you’re not in the mood, I’m totally down to just eat all the food with you here.”

“Nah, I’m down. It’ll be fun! I wanna forget about it all anyways.” I held out my fist and she bumped it with her hand.

“I’m not gonna drink at all so you can go crazy, go stupid.” She nodded.

“You never drink anyways.” I rolled my eyes.

Billie stared at me with her big, blues which were more of a gray hue at the moment. She seemed to have zoned out in thought. I slightly furrowed my brows and smiled at her. A few seconds later she opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by her phone ringing.

She put the phone to her ear. “Hey, whats up?”

I fidgeted with my top while she spoke on the phone, shaking the feeling that something was up. It might just be her nerves, but it also could be me overanalyzing and overthinking it. For weeks she’d been the most anxious and worried I had seen her in a while. This was the most vulnerable I ever heard her on an album, so I knew it was a relief when people adored it on release day. I worried about her a lot lately. Late nights, panic attacks, bad dreams, and lots of work planning out the upcoming tour… It wasn’t a shock knowing she barely slept.

“Everything okay?” I asked as she finished her call.

“They canceled today’s appearance for some reason, but they’ll probably reschedule it for next week. Now I get to be nervous longer.” She put a thumbs up in the air.

“It’s the universe. She wants us to sit here, watch movies, and eat all the food.” I sat up to change out of these clothes.

“Must be.” Billie hummed. She watched me take off my impromptu outfit, and threw some sweats and a shirt she had left on her bed from earlier. “I’ll order something.”

[taiyaki-o]

HI NEIGHBOR! pt. 2

read pt 1 here!

synopsis: you and Megumi grow even closer, and some new developments have your life changing for the better

tags: gojo x gn!reader, fluff, non curse au

A few days pass, and you’re making breakfast when you hear a knock at the door. You dust off your hands as you answer.

“Hm? Oh, Megumi! It’s you!” You smile as you spot the boy, and he’s clutching the stack of books. He looks away a bit bashful and attempts to hold out the stack.

“I finished them. You can have them back,” he mumbles. You chuckle and take the books out of his hands before he drops them all.

“Did you enjoy them? Which one was your favorite?”

“I liked the book on sea animals a lot.”

“That’s one of my favorites too! The diagrams are really interesting, don’t you think?”

He nods. You notice that his gaze lingers on said book a little wistfully.

“Do you…want to keep it?”

Your heart melts a bit at the way his eyes light up.

“Really?” He asks shyly.

“Of course! I haven’t touched it for some time anyway. I think it’ll be better off with you.” You smile and give the book back to him, and he hesitates, but then grabs the book with two hands and hugs it to his chest.

“…”

You let out a soft grunt as he softly tackles you in a hug, and you quickly lift the books that are still in your arms out of the way.

“Woah, easy there!” You laugh. You find a space to dump the books and bend down a bit to hug him back.

“Thank you,” He mumbles softly but earnestly. You smile softly.

“Anytime.”

He brings his head back suddenly, his nose wrinkling.

“What’s that smell?”

You look up to see smoke coming from what should be your breakfast.

“Hm? Oh shit-“

-

After you’ve fanned away the smoke and thrown out your now burnt breakfast, you invite Megumi to come inside instead of just stand outside your door.

“Sorry about that, kid. Forgot to turn the stove off, silly me,” you say as you put the pans in the sink. A smile ghosts across Megumi’s face as well, and he sits politely on the edge of your couch.

It’s then that you notice something else.

“Where’s Gojo? Does he know you’re here?” You ask.

Megumi shakes his head. “He went out to buy some food. He’s probably coming back soon, though.”

“Well, do you have his phone number or anything? I think I should let him know that you’re here in case he comes back to an empty house,” you laugh.

You sit down on the couch next to Megumi, shutting off your phone.

“Do you watch any TV? Or is it just books?” you ask.

“A couple,” Megumi replies. “But mostly books.”

“Which ones?”

You end up putting on a few episodes of Pokémon, and Megumi curls up on your couch as you two sit together in comfortable silence.

-

SMACK!

Gojo groans as he hits his head against the steering wheel of his car, an angry red welt already forming on his forehead.

“That goddamned brat-!” Gojo seethes. He stares forlornly at the red light in front of him, dreading the interaction to come. Not only had Megumi forced him to be in your *angelic, beautiful* presence again, but the kid had the audacity to give you his number?! The mere thought of it made his cheeks turn cherry red.

He taps his fingers against the wheel, and looks over at the takeout bag sitting in the passengers seat. He sighs, rubbing his temples. Getting a new job, taking care of Megumi, moving to a new apartment…it was starting to get to him. Being a single father definitely wasn’t in his life plan.

Ten minutes later, he stood in front of your door, steeling himself for what was going to come.

“…”

He wants to tear his hair out. Why was he so nervous? This wasn’t anything special. He would open the door, pick up the brat, and go home. That’s it. He takes a deep breath.

knock knock knock!

The door opens, and Gojo immediately feels all the air escape from his lungs.

“Hey! Good to see you again,” You smile up at him, and he thinks heart might burst from inside his chest.

“Yeah, I just went to grab some takeout. Is, uh-is Megumi still here?” He rubs the back of his neck.

Megumi pops out from behind your legs, and you chuckle.

“Um-the restaurant gave me way more food than I expected-do you want some?” Gojo asks nervously.

(This is a lie. The second he saw your message he turned his car around and ordered another portion of food in hopes that he’d have an excuse to talk to you.)

“Oh! Are you sure?” You ask. He nods earnestly. “Well, do you want to come inside then? We were just watching Pokémon.” You ruffle Megumi’s hair a bit with a chuckle.

“Digimon is way better.” Gojo blurts out without thinking. He mentally smacks himself upside the head.

Stop being a fucking nerd, Satoru! No one wants to hear your opinions on Digimon!

You scoff in fake indignation. “It is not! Digimon wishes it was half as iconic as Pokémon.”

“Digimon is so much cooler though.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“Are you coming inside or not?” You laugh. He blushes again, but steps inside your apartment. He does his best to ignore the familiar scent of your perfume in the air.

You grab some plates as Gojo unpacks the food, and soon the smell of Chinese takeout fills your apartment. Megumi retreats to the couch again to continue watching while you and Gojo sit at the kitchen counter.

“The kid give you any trouble?” Gojo chuckles.

“Not at all. He’s been great.”

“I think he’s taken a liking to you. At least more so than me.”

“Come on, I’m sure you’re great company.”

“Ahh, not really. ‘Specially because it’s just us. I don’t know what goes through his head sometimes.”

You desperately want to ask about the nature of their relationship, but you bite your tongue. You barely know these people, after all. No matter how much you enjoy their presence, you’d never pry into their private lives like that.

Luckily (or unluckily, depending on how you view it), Gojo notices and he chuckles.

“I know what you’re thinking. And no, the kids not mine. Not biologically speaking. His mom passed away and his dad…isn’t in a good enough place to take care of him.”

Gojo sighs, throwing a look over his shoulder at the boy. “I’m all he’s got.”

You swear you see a pained expression on his face, but by the time he turns back it’s gone. “Pretty shitty to get stuck with me, huh? I’d feel sorry for him if he wasn’t a little shit.”

“Watch your mouth, mister. I might have to call the cops for child abuse.” You snicker as you point your knife at him jokingly. You feel a pang of sadness, however, as you process the information.

“I’d imagine it’s tough for the both of you…” you sigh. “I mean, did you plan on having kids?”

“Not a damn bit,” Gojo confirms. “Kinda feels like my life’s done a complete one eighty overnight.”

“You guys just moved here too, right? Where’d you come from?”

“Kyoto. Got a new job as a teacher at some school nearby. The kid seemed to want a fresh start anyway.”

Your eyes widen. “No way! I’m a teacher too! I teach at a school nearby!”

“Well, would you look at that! You wanna trade tips later?” Gojo jokes. “Wow, that’s…that’s a really crazy coincidence. Where do you teach?”

“Tokyo Tech. Or Tokyo Metropolitan Technical School, if you have a stick up your ass.”

Now it’s Gojo’s turn to widen his eyes. “That’s where my new job is!”

The two of you sit in stunned silence for a moment, before bursting out into laughter.

“Small world, huh?” You say as you catch your breath.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Gojo says as an ecstatic smile stretches across his face.

“I take it you’re the new janitor?”

“Oh shut up, you.”

“Can you two please keep it down? I can’t hear the TV,” Megumi looks over at you and Gojo with a slight scowl on his face. Gojo sticks his tongue out at Megumi, who simply rolls his eyes and returns his attention to the screen.

You let out another one of your angelic laughs, and Gojo physically kicks himself under the table to keep himself sane. He’s barely been keeping it together since he realized you two would be coworkers. The blush that’s fighting to travel up his neck takes all his effort to control. The thought that you’d be his coworker, that he’d be seeing you every day…saying hi to you in the halls…grading papers together….growing closer….

“Hellooo? Earth to Gojo?” You wave a hand in front of his face.

“H-huh? Oh, sorry!” He snaps out of his mini trance. “Zoned out there for a second, haha…”

He shoves a spoonful of rice into his mouth to give himself time to think before he embarrasses himself.

I really am a mess…

a/n: part 2! didn’t expect this to turn into a series, but ig it’s happening lol

pt 3 here!

feel free to message me/leave a comment if you want to be added to the taglist!

taglist: @96jnie

[howlingday]

Jaune Arc Cannot Be Happy

Jaune: Pyrrha! What's happening?!

Pyrrha: (Fading into embers) I didn't want to believe it, but it's true! I'm a clone, Jaune!

Jaune: What?! B-But how?!

Pyrrha: There's no time to explain. I don't have much time left.

Jaune: No! No, no, no! This can't be real! This can't be happening!

Pyrrha: Don't be sad, Jaune... Who would want a fire clone as a wife anyways?

Jaune: ...

Jaune: That wouldn't be the worst thing actually.

Pyrrha: Jaune-

Jaune: Honestly, I think I could manage that.

Pyrrha: What- What are you saying right now?

Jaune: I'm saying that I'll take what I can get. Like, fire clone? Sure. Fuck it.

Pyrrha: But I'm not even the real Pyrrha Nikos! The woman you love!

Jaune: Look, if I can get past the obvious molecular differences and incompatibility of our states of matter, then I can get over something as small as the philosophical debate of identity.

Pyrrha: ...

Pyrrha: This isn't a side of you I'm used to.

Jaune: Well, neither am I with you drifting into embers. Speaking of which, does it hurt?

Pyrrha: Not really, no. It actually feels kind of nice once you get past the whole existential dread of the end of my life.

Jaune: Right.

Pyrrha: Face it, Jaune; I'm not going to be around for much longer. I'll just be ash in a matter of seconds. Let's not fight anymore. I want my final moments to be spent thinking about us-

Jaune: Wait, hang on a sec. I think I saw some kindling over there.

Pyrrha: JAUNE! COME ON!

Jaune: No, no! Seriously! It would probably take less than a minute!

Pyrrha: No! No! Stop it! You can't seriously be thinking about tossing kindling on me?!

Jaune: Hah... You're right...

Jaune: ...Maybe if I use a block of wood instead?

Pyrrha: JAUNE!

Jaune: Gosh, I'm so sorry, Pyrrha, it's just... I've been trying to get us together for years. And I've seen the other universes. Some have you leaving me for another guy, some where you and I break up, and there's even one where Salem breaks us up!

Pyrrha: Salem?!

Jaune: Yeah, we've already done this bit- But seriously! Look at this! Jaune Arc finally gets his happy ending! He gets the girl! And she fucking BLOWS AWAY?! FUCKING! BLOWN! AWAY?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! THE WORLD HAS IT OUT FOR ME! AM I NOT ALLOWED TO BE HAPPY?!

Pyrrha: Jaune... Look... I know this is hard... Actually, no, there's no good way of putting it. Your life is shit.

Jaune: Thank you.

Pyrrha: I mean, I'd cry right now, but all it would do is just make my death come a lot faster.

Jaune: I-I appreciate the gesture.

Pyrrha: NGH!

Jaune: Pyrrha?!

Pyrrha: This... This is it, Jaune... I'm dying... Or maybe... I was... never alive... Where do you draw the line? Consciousness or- ARGH!

Jaune: Just hold on, Pyrrha!

Pyrrha: You'll find happiness someday, Jaune... She's out there... Somewhere... Or at least there's a competent writer. One of the two.

Jaune: I'll always love you...

Pyrrha: ...

Pyrrha: You're handling this really well.

Jaune: Loved one dying right in front of me because I'm too weak to stop it otherwise. Just another day ending in Y.

Pyrrha: Oh, and before I forget, you'll have to change back the insurance. (Disintegrates)

Jaune: (Screams in Roman Torchwick)

[the-kr8tor]

This is my first time doing this 👉👈 but can I please request a Hobie x reader fluff where reader and him went to the beach (probably using his boat lmao) and reader comes back all sun burnt. Sunburn + how much hobie likes physical touch cannot go well together I imagine lmao

Hi hun! Thank you for requesting ❤️ I love your prompt sm, it's so adorable 🥰 hope you like it!

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, No specific physical description of the reader, FLUFF.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

"Ow ow" you hiss out, waddling back inside Hobie's houseboat. He's been gone for a bit, answering a distress call from his two-way radio, taking a pause on your little beach vacation, you hope he's okay.

Taking Hobie's houseboat to the beach was a spontaneous decision. You briefly mentioned to him that you haven't been to the seaside in a while, missing the cool breeze and the salty water.

So here you are, burnt to an almost crisp, from your face to your legs. You fell asleep on a lawn chair, waiting for Hobie to come back from being Spider-Man. Oh man how you deeply regret shutting your eyes, you swear it was only for a few minutes. You lift your left arm checking the time, you wince when your watch grazes your tender skin, deciding to just take the watch off, you see that it left a mark on your wrist, a huge difference to the rest of your skin.

"Fucckk!! nooo!" You screech out, already dreading what your skin would feel like in a few days, especially when it sheds. You stop in front of Hobie's fridge, littered with various magnets, concert flyers and your little doodles. You open it, carefully avoiding the door from touching your skin, the cold air helps, you try not to grab an ice cube and place it on your warm skin, but you know it does more harm than good.

You wish you brought your trusty aloe vera cream with you, instead, you settle with hydrating from the inside, gulping down a bottle of water, little droplets falling on your chin down to your chest.

Hobie whistles out, he's as tall as the door, arms easily resting on the top, nonchalantly leaning on the doorway "should've came back earlier, if you told me you're gonna put on a little show" he hasn't noticed your inflamed skin with the lights shut off.

Hobie runs towards you, arms stretched In Front of him, eager to hug you. Your eyes widen, he bounds towards you, it's too late to stop him, his arms embrace around your tender form, leather vest scraping on your warm skin.

"Wait! Hobie! Ow!" You yell out, pushing him off with your palms. You instantly feel guilty from pushing him.

He immediately lets go, thinking he might've poked you with the spikes on his suit "shit, you alright?" No ounce of malice in his voice.

"I'm sorry" you say meekly, flailing your arms so that the slight breeze calms your angry skin.

He notices the pain in your voice and your weird flailing, "don't be, what's wrong?" Hobie asks, concerned.

You close your eyes briefly, the pain slowly subsiding, but a dull pain still throbs on your skin.

Hobie reaches out to you, but you quickly move away from his touch, he retracts his hand, sadness creeping in, is it him? What did he do now?

As if you can read his thoughts, you quickly put a stop to his thinking "I'm sunburnt, Hobie" you press the nearby light switch, showing your inflamed skin.

He sighs, relief flooding his senses "well shit, lovey, what happened?"

"I fell asleep while you were gone?" You say it like a kid waiting to be scolded, because you did exactly what he told you not to do while he was away.

Hobie puts his hands on his hip, oh you're definitely gonna get a talking to. "On the chair outside, I bet?"

"Mm-hmm" you nod, face apologetic.

"Even though I practically bathed you in sunscreen?"

"Yeah"

Hobie guffaws, he can't help it, with your face looking like you broke his precious guitar, and the fact that you still got sunburnt despite lathering you a few hours ago with a lot of sunscreen.

"It's not funny" you say dejected, wincing when your frown pulls at your skin.

Hobie breathes out, calming his laughter "Alright, I'm sorry, I'm sorry" he reaches out again for a comforting hug like he's used to, but he brings back his arms when he remembers your aching skin.

He misses your touch already.

"You laughed at my misfortune" you pout, winching again when it tugs at your warm skin.

"Love, you're the cause for your own misfortune" He teases, mimicking your voice at the last word.

"But Hobie, it hurts" you try to tug at his heart strings. You stomp your foot, huffing out.

Hobie thinks you're so adorable right now, despite your little tantrum.

He chuckles, closing his smiling mouth immediately when you scowl at him.

Hobie closes the small distance, his hands hovering over your face, careful not to graze your sensitive skin.

"I'll take care of you, yeah?"

You look at him through your lashes, "you'll get my aloe vera cream from my flat for me?" Batting your eyelashes for extra effect.

"That and more" he wishes he could kiss you right now.

You notice him staring at your lips "I'll give you a hundred kisses when I'm better"

"Just a hundred?"

"A thousand and one then" you smile despite the pain.

"I'll take it" He can't wait for you to heal.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed it ❤️

[denaliwrites]

On the Brave Shit

Tenth Doctor x Genderfluid!Reader

Summary: Coming out is almost never easy, but with the Doctor everything is just a little bit easier.

Soundtrack: Bad Bitch by Tessa Violet

Requests: Open!

Warnings: Coming out. Some light anxiety. (I think it's light, anyway, feel free to correct me if I'm wrong!)

"Did you know," the Doctor started carefully, leaning back against the TARDIS console and crossing his arms over his chest, "that Time Lords and Time Ladies regenerate?"

You closed the TARDIS door behind you, tilting your head as you paced up to join him at the console. "Okay?" you said as you reached him. There was a touch of fear in your voice, but mostly you were just confused.

"See, when Time Lords are hurt... hurt badly. When they die. Instead of dying, they -- we -- well, we sort of just. Don't."

You were trying so hard to follow him. You really were. "You... don't die?"

"We... we change. The old us dies, sort of. We keep all the old memories and all that, but our faces change. We become someone new." He scratched at the back of his head, before the same hand trailed over to rest over his mouth as he looked at you. Watched you.

"... Oh. So... you're not... you're not dying, right?" you asked in muted panic.

"What? Oh, no! No. Not for a long time yet, I should hope."

The sigh of relief you released was dramatic.

"See, the thing is... all that to say. Well. One of my friends in school. The Historian, we called him. Well, he got hurt one day. Very badly hurt. He would've died. Is the thing."

You stepped closer to him, taking his hand in yours comfortingly. "Oh, Doctor, I'm so sorry."

"No, no -- none of that! That's not the point." When he saw your stricken look, he softened. "Thank you, though," he said reassuringly, though you were still utterly confused by all this. "See, when Historian changed, he... was no longer a he."

Oh.

How the fuck did he figure that out?

"I... I, erm... Oh." You weren't exactly sure how to process what he'd said. How to proceed.

"Humans are different, obviously," he said casually, though you could feel his eyes watching you, gentle and caring. "But... I think it's probably the same principle, essentially."

"How did you..."

"Know? Oh, well.. I notice things, you know. That's -- that's what I do. Notice things."

You swallowed in dread. "Like what?"

"Well, for one, you spend an awfully long time in the TARDIS wardrobe," he said with a playfully annoyed sigh. "I didn't think much of it at first, but then I saw you dressing up in, well..."

Oh. Oh, no...

"Anyway. The point is. I think you're neat. As you are. Whatever that means."

You felt a tear streak down your cheek, and the Doctor gave your hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "Now that that's... you know. Erm. I've been calling you the one thing all this time. Is there anything else you wanna be called?"

You blanched, somehow not expecting him to A. be so chill with all this, and B. so willing to just go straight into it.

"Erm... yeah. I guess. Yeah. She, her, he, him... please."

"Applicable to presentation or regardless of?" he asked, and you felt another tear fall.

"Er... I think regardless of."

He nodded, pulling you to his chest in an impossibly gentle embrace. His lips pressed to the top of your head in a soft kiss, and his thumb wiped away your tears. "You're wonderful. And brilliant. And incredibly brave."

On your next adventure with the Doctor, you were pleased indeed when he effortlessly switched between pronouns, never missing a single beat, never faltering, never hesitating.

[rogueddie]

Buckingham, 1,760 words, for @thefreakandthehair’s Spicy Six Winter Challenge, with the prompt; snowball fight.

Winter, and Christmas especially, has always been Robins favorite time of year.

Or, more accurately, it used to be.

With the heavy snow, December of '85 is starting to become the worst month of Robins year. She can't even bring herself to enjoy the snow. Nothing her parents usually do to cheer her up works either.

"Until the roads are cleared, I've got to walk," Steve repeats. "I'm sorry, Robs. Maybe the snow will clear tomorrow."

"Maybe," she reluctantly agrees, ignoring the fact that he'd said the same thing yesterday... and the day before that... and the day before that. "At least we're on shift tonight, right?"

"Oh..."

Steve's tone only fills her with more dread.

"What?"

"Keith called me before you," Steve says. "Family Video is closed for the day. Something about the snow being too much and no one shopping in this weather anyway."

"So, hey, maybe school will be cancelled too," Robin tries, though they both know school won't cancel.

"I'll walk you home from school," Steve offers. "Or we can go back to my house. I still have that cake we made."

"Yeah, alright, whatever. I'll call you at lunch, yeah?"

"Ok. Missing you already, Robs."

"Love you too, Dingus."

Hanging up, she drops her head against the wall with a soft 'thud', grumbling complaints under her breath.

"No Steve today?" Her mother asks.

Robin turns, glaring when she sees the teasing smirk. "No, no Steve today. By the time he clears his driveway, I could have already walked to school and waiting... whatever. It's not a big deal."

"Mhm," her mom hums, chuckling. "Sure it isn't, sweetie."

"It isn't! It's not like we need to be together all the time. We can go one day."

"Your uncle and I used to use those same excuses, you know. We weren't any more convincing than you two. Now, come on, get ready. You'll be late if you don't leave soon."

Reluctant, and groaning, Robin takes the coat her mom holds out for her. She picks her bag up, sat by the door, and sitting on the stairs so she can pull on her boots.

"Don't rush, there's a lot of ice," her mom warns. "And keep your coat zipped up. And-"

"I know, I know. I love you, too. I'll see you later!"

"Bye sweetheart! Be careful!"

The air outside is freezing. It hits Robin like a brick wall when she steps out and, despite her mom's warning, the idea of spending longer is the cold than she needs to is horrifying.

She jogs, careful to avoid patches of roads and sidewalks that look icy.

She makes it most of the way with only a few stumbles before, inevitably, she slips over.

"Oh my god," someone yelps. "Are you ok?!"

Robin flushes, muttering curses, when she realises that, not only did someone see her fall over and eat shit- Chrissy Cunningham saw her fall over.

"I'm- yeah, fine, totally," she chokes out, forcing a laugh.

"Here," Chrissy pants a little, having ran over to her, offering a hand.

Robin takes her hand, a little surprised at how easily Chrissy pulls her up.

"Thanks," she says, trying to smile.

"Are you sure you're ok?" Chrissy frowns, looking her over. "We have a first aid kit if-"

"Oh, no, that's not... I am ok, really."

"if you're sure." Chrissy shifts, glancing back to the drive. "I'd over to drive you the rest of the way, but..."

Robin leans to look around her, wincing when she sees the drive.

The snow is piled high in the driveway and, despite how much has been cleared, there's no way that Chrissy is going to clear the rest in time.

"Why don't we walk together instead?" Robin suggests.

She almost takes it back, wincing at her own boldness, but Chrissy lights up.

"Yeah? I mean, yeah, let's! Lemme grab my bag, ok?"

"Ok, yeah, that's fine."

Robin wraps her arms around herself, starting to step side to side in an attempt to keep warm while she waits.

Luckily, it doesn't take Chrissy long.

"Ok, I'm ready!" She smiles. She pulls the strap to her back a little further onto her shoulder, the polite smile faltering. "Oh, are you cold?"

"Uh, yeah, but I'm fine, really, it-"

"No, don't worry," Chrissy twists so she can root through her bag. "I've got a spare... aha!"

She pulls out a scarf that's mostly green and white. She wraps it around Robins neck before she can protest.

"You can give it back later," Chrissy easily dismisses, starting to walk down the street. She raises an eyebrow when she glances back at Robin. "Come on!"

Robin stumbles a little in her rush to catch up.

"Careful," Chrissy says, taking hold of Robins right arm and cradling it in both of hers. She glances down at her boots. "Do you have enough grip with those?"

"What? I mean, yeah, these are great, they're sturdy and build for ice- mom got them specifically because they have great grip. The problem is with me, I'm not good at running. Like, I have terrible co-ordination- Steve is always joking about how I run like a windmill and, yeah, I do, but he learnt to walk slower than I did so really, he's the weird one here- I mean, what type of baby tries to crawl backwards, right?"

Robin finally pauses for breath. She glances at Chrissy, who is struggling to stiffle her giggles.

"Steve Harrington?" Chrissy asks, when she finally realizes that Robin isn't going to continue.

"Uh... yeah... don't tell anyone I told you that."

"My lips are sealed."

"No, really, that's- I think he told me that in confidence or something, I shouldn't have told you that, I just can't stop rambling when I get nervous around- and you're- oh god. I'm shutting up now. No more conversations. We're just... having a nice- silent- walk to school together. Just... me and Chrissy Cunningham. Jesus."

"You say that like I'm scary."

"Well, I mean..."

That only makes Chrissy giggle harder. "You think I'm scary? Really?"

She leans heavily into Robins side, one of her hands curling up around Robins bicep. She's looking up at Robin with an expression that's painfully familiar.

It's the same expression she's seen girls pull out when they're hitting on Steve. The same moves too.

But what would Steve do? Robin thinks, panicking.

She's grown so used to old conversations with Steve repeating in her head, his bad jokes and questionable advice a constant and welcome companion.

But, now that she actually needs him, he's nowhere to be found.

After a few seconds of panicking, Robin is desperate to break the tension that is quickly turning from flirty to awkward.

She ducks down, grabbing a handfull of snow, and throwing it against Chrissys coat.

Robin jerks up, standing stiff upright, frozen and stunned at herself, whilst Chrissy is equally frozen, staring at Robin with her mouth agape.

It doesn't take long for the shock and confusion to vanish though, and soon Chrissys grin turns wicked, a dangerous glint in her eyes.

"I'm sorry?" Robin tries.

"Are you?"

'That means she's flirting, just... in a more playful way', Steve voice finally rings in her head. That day had been confusing for Robin- she hadn't known if the girl had been flirting with him or bullying him. 'I kinda prefer it. It's nice to know you can roughhouse a little with a girl, you know? It can be fun. Sexy'.

That had been one of his more successful dates, Robin remembers. He'd gushed about her for the entire week between their first and second date. She can't remember what went wrong, but he was confident that-

Chrissy ducks down, quick, scooping up a pile of snow with both hands.

Nope.

She takes off running, barely darting out of the way of the snowball in time.

"Hey!" Chrissy yells after her. "Get back here!"

But she's laughing as she says it.

So, almost tripping onto her face as she ducks down, she scoops up another ball of snow. She turns, aim going a little wild with how fast she keeps running.

She yelps, stumbling a little heavier when the snowball sent back in return smacks directly in the back of her head.

"Careful!" Chrissy yells.

"Then don't aim for my head!"

"It's not my fault it's an easy target!"

"Hey!"

Robin scoops more snow, turning and sliding to a stop. Chrissy doesn't have enough time to stop, but she does duck out of the way so it hits the side of her head instead of directly in her face.

She realizes her mistake a second too late.

Chrissy, unable to slow her momentum on the same patch of ice that Robin had slid across, slams straight into Robin.

Robin winces when her back slams into the ground, the snow doing nothing to cushion the fall. She feels lucky that her head didn't also slam into the ground.

"Oops?" Chrissy says, pushing herself up slightly but making no move to get off her.

"No, it's ok, that's on me."

"Yeah..." Chrissy trails off, voice weak- distracted.

Robin holds as still as she can, irrationally worried that if she moves then she'll startle Chrissy out of whatever moment she's having that has her looking down at Robins lips, cheeks flushing.

For a moment, Robin is sure that Chrissy is going to kiss her. Her eyes flutter, shifting up so her face is above Robins, tilting her head and starting lean down, to-

Someone wolf whistles, loud.

Chrissy jerks back, throwing herself off of Robin- but she is immediately glaring at the two boys, laughing and leering at them.

"Fuck off!" Chrissy yells. "Jerks!"

She ignores them when they try yelling back, instead focusing on Robin and helping her to her feet.

"Ignore them," Chrissy mumbles, grabbing hold of her hand and gently dragging her along, walking fast. She glances back, seeming to relax. "What assholes."

Robin glances back, relieved when she realizes that they're turned around and started walking in the opposite direction.

"Yeah," she agrees, turning back to stare at Chrissy, awed. "You're so brave."

"What? Oh, no, I'm not."

"Yeah, you are! Scary, too."

"I am not!"

"Scared those two."

Chrissy huffs, leaning in so their shoulders bump together.

"You're something else," Robin continues, emboldened. "It's impressive. You're, like, actually cool. Not just popular kid cool, but... truly, really, awesome."

"Shut up." She's mumbling, but she's smiling. She's blushing. She's looking up at Robin through her eyelashes.

"Nope," Robin grins.

[thebigqueer]

"Permanence" - Percabeth - One-Shot

Summary: Percabeth's first "I love you." Word Count: 1755 Read on AO3

“Annabeth?” a voice calls, and she turns in her seat, her attention abruptly snatched from her laptop. “What are you doing up here so early?”

When she sees Percy leaning against the doorway to the mess hall, his lips quirked in amusement, Annabeth smiles. “Early?” she asks. “I’m pretty sure it’s noon.”  

Percy snorts and walks over to the supply of breakfast items on the table, which is endless, thanks to Leo’s genius. He picks up an apple, throws it in the air, and catches it again, all the while saying, “I mean you rarely come up here at this time. Feels like you barely come out of your little cocoon now.” 

His tone is still light, but there’s a slight jaggedness to it. She stares at the shape of Percy’s back for a moment as he keeps plucking away for things to eat, then stands and joins him. 

“Is there anything, like, unhealthy?” Percy asks when she sidles up to him. She looks up and fixes him with an exasperated smile, and he laughs. “What? Leo had eight months to prepare this ship, and for all the fancy shit he installed, he couldn’t even think of adding, like, a pizza dispenser?”

Annabeth rolls her eyes and hands him a candy bar sitting in the corner of the table. When his eyes catch sight of it, he grins and nudges her with his shoulder. “You’re the best.” 

“Yeah?” she asks, and now she faces him, raising her eyebrows. “Let’s go back to what you just said.” 

As he works on opening the wrapper, he glances at her. “What did I say?”

“Something about me being in a cocoon.” 

“Oh.” His eyes darken, but then immediately brighten up again as he takes a bite off the candy. “Oh, wow, this is so good.” Percy holds it out to her. “You should try it. Wow. Thank you, Leo.”

“You’re welcome,” warbles a voice from the speakers, and Percy flinches.

“Jeez,” he mutters, lowering his voice. “He’s like Big Brother or something.” 

Annabeth takes the bar from him but doesn’t taste it. She just keeps looking at him. “Percy, come on. What did you mean?”

Percy heaves a large, heavy sigh, then takes the candy bar back from her. When he doesn’t immediately go back to eating it — instead opting to play with the wrapper — her heart slows in dread. 

“Okay, I know you’ve been busy, so I didn’t really wanna say anything,” he says. “But it just feels like since we’ve found each other and been on this ship, we’ve just been so busy in all different directions. And when we’re not busy, you’re in your room, fiddling on your computer or something.” He stops playing with the wrapper and puts the half-eaten bar on the table, and now she knows he’s being serious. He doesn’t put his food down for anything.

“Percy��,” Annabeth says. 

Percy sighs again, and now he puts his full plate — filled to the brim with whatever he could find — on the table. Annabeth has to resist the urge to raise her eyebrows. “Eight months, Wise Girl. We haven’t been together in eight months, and the only moment we’ve had to ourselves was in the stables.” He tilts his head. “I just missed you. Miss you.” Then he huffs a humorless laugh and looks up at the ceiling, as if embarrassed. “I don’t really know why I’m getting so emotional about this. It’s just been a weird year.” 

“Yeah, I know,” she murmurs. She considers telling him about her year, too — how she’d tossed and turned in bed, waiting for some sign that he was even just okay. How she’d go to his apartment every week just to meet his mother and convince the two of them he was still fighting somewhere. How she had to convince Mr. D with everything she had to keep sending scouts for him, all the while losing hope herself that he even was out there. But she figures he wouldn’t want to know that, not now, at least. So instead, she just leans her head against his shoulder. “I’ve missed you, too, Seaweed Brain. I’m sorry.” 

A beat of silence passes, and then he brushes his hand against hers, pulls her fingers into his. She lifts her head to look up at him. “I’m sorry, too,” he murmurs. “I know you have a lot going on. And if anything, I’m just glad you’re okay. That’s all that matters.” He squeezes her hand. “But can you promise me something?”

“What?”

“Don’t push me out, Wise Girl. You don’t need to handle this whole… daughter of Athena mission thing on your own. I know that’s kinda ironic, coming from me, who went missing for eight months and basically left you alone” — he smiles nervously — “but I’m serious. I wasn’t there for you then, but I’m here for you now. And if I had any say in the past eight months, I would’ve been with you every moment.”

Annabeth wants to say something, but all her thoughts tangle up in her brain and her words form a knot at the back of her throat, too large to tumble out. And a part of her feels guilty, but in all honesty, all she can feel is a subtle warmth at the core of her heart. The way he’s talking to her, his voice oozing with genuine eagerness to spend time with her… it makes a warm flame burst to life in her chest, thawing the ice that had grown inside of her the past year.

She spent so long waiting for someone permanent, and each time she thought she found someone, they inevitably left her. Luke, Dad, Thalia, and even Percy for a while. But now, staring at him, letting his existence embrace her skin, she realizes something. Maybe she and Percy won’t be together every moment. Maybe she’ll be the one to go away next, whisked away on some petty quest for the gods where she may not even be able to see him for months. Maybe their futures hold completely different fates for them. But she knows now — completely, utterly, truthfully knows — that it doesn’t matter if they get whisked away to different ends of the world again. Because right here, in this moment, she knows he’s really with her every step of the way. He’s subtly eroded his way into her heart, has permanently carved his smile into her mind. He’s left something eternal, even if he isn't. And that’s good enough for her. 

“I’m sorry,” she finally manages to push out. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way, Percy. I’m so sorry for shutting you out. I didn’t even know I was doing it.” 

“It’s okay,” he promises, and he tugs on one of her curls. “I believe you. Just keep me in the loop as much as you’re comfortable with. And promise me we’ll tell each other when things are getting weird.” He squeezes her hand again. “If these eight months have taught me anything, it’s that it’s important to keep the people you care about the closest.”

Something burns around the edges of Annabeth’s eyes, and she realizes with a start it’s tears. Of all the things she'd been through the past few months, just a few pretty words from Percy are enough to make her want to cry. “I promise,” she breathes. 

Percy smiles. “Good. Now I can enjoy my food in peace.” He picks up his plate again, and then his candy bar. “By the way, the invitation to enjoy this is expired. Only for me now.” 

Annabeth laughs, and she expects Percy to move to take a seat at the table, but he doesn’t. He just keeps standing in front of her, smiling elatedly, and she realizes with a start that he’s waiting for her. 

And she’s not sure she can remember the last time someone did that for her. Which is maybe why she blurts the next words: “I love you.” 

For a second, Percy doesn’t react. Then his eyebrows rise, and his mouth slowly opens, and his eyes shimmer with surprise, but Annnabeth is pretty sure no one is more shocked than her. 

“What?” Percy asks, slowly setting his food down again. 

“Nothing.” But Annabeth is trying to hide her face.

He laughs and punches her arm playfully. “You got something to say to me, Wise Girl?” But if the sparkle in his eyes or the grin on his face have to say anything, he’s bullshitting her. 

“Say what?”

“Nooo,” he groans. “Come on, Annabeth.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Please. I’ll let you have my candy bar if you say it.” And she still doesn’t relent, but when he wraps his arms around her shoulders and leans in, his eyes close enough to shatter her resolve, his irises blades of green piercing through her shields, he says, “I love the way you say it.”

So she relents. And she says it again. 

And again. 

It’s only three words, but they ring in her head a million times, and the taste of them — like candy, like sugar, like clouds — bounces over her tongue a billion more. 

Percy keeps smiling, but it’s not a joking grin anymore — there’s something deeper, more soulful in it, his skin glowing with a warm undertone. “I love you, too, Wise Girl,” he whispers. 

And with those words ringing in her ears, echoing all the way down to her heart, making her blood glow, she doesn’t know if she has the ability to say anything else. She doesn’t even know what she’s supposed to say next. 

The silence begins to stretch on, cools the room around them. Suddenly the air around them feels too gooey, too heavy, too sweet, as if someone had spilled a whole bottle of rose perfume in the room, and Annabeth aches for their familiar banter, if only to calm the growing uneasiness in her. 

She runs her fingers up his hand.“You know what else I love?” she murmurs, trying to rein control of the moment.

“Me again?”

“Wrong.” She rubs Percy’s knuckles, then snatches the candy bar from his hand. “It’s making things hard for you.” 

“Hey! Give it back!” Percy cries, snapping his arm out to catch her, but she’s already out the entrance, onto the mast, waiting for Percy to come after her.

And he does. He follows her every step. 

It isn’t until later that evening that she realizes she left her laptop in the mess hall.

[broodwoof]

solrookvellan and past solythal : daw aldwir, nessa lavellan, and solas are all together and he visits the lighthouse where daw (and eventually nessa) live. right now he's alone with daw talking about his past with mythal.

"It looked like..." Daw trailed off with a frown, and Solas drew the back of his fingers across their cheek. Their lips twitched into the beginnings of a smile, but it never quite made it. "It looked bad, Solas."

"What did?" There were too many things they could be mentioning. Too many guilts he bore. His only uncertainty was in which.

"Mythal." Daw's voice was quiet, soft, more an admission than an answer, and he blinked. His hand fell from their cheek.

"I... that is..." he cleared his throat unnecessarily, straightening from where he'd been reclined. "I turned against her. It was difficult." He laid his hands palm-up and open in his lap, looking at them instead of meeting Daw's eyes. "I regret it." He scoffed, a bitter sound. "One of many things I regret. But I could not stand beside her, not then."

"That wasn't what I meant." Now he was the one who frowned and met their eyes. They looked genuinely surprised. "At all."

"What, then?"

"It looked bad. From her." Daw shifted, drew a little closer, their legs tucked under them. "She asked you to take form. You didn't want to, but you did. Then she asked you to make the dagger. You didn't want to, but you did. Then she-"

"Please," he interrupted, hands turned and digging into his own legs now. "Please. I understand." It was a curious thing, this. For all that he never would have expected anything that had grown between him and Rook, he certainly never expected them to place him in the role of victim to the woman he'd loved. "You must understand. The murals, they show my regrets. They do not show the fullness of my life. They do not show all we were to each other." He sighed, looking away. "Tell me, Rook. Do you have regrets?"

"Of course." The answer came quickly. Too quickly.

"About people you care for? And who care for you?"

"... yeah."

"And if I were to be shown only those regrets, devoid of context... what conclusions might I draw?"

"Oh." They shifted, and he knew them well enough to recognize their discomfort. "Okay, yeah. I get that."

"I will deny none of what you saw," he said after a moment. "They are regrets for a reason. But they paint the narrowest view of our relationship, one which spanned countless centuries. You are correct: I did not want to take a body. But she asked, and I agreed. Would you do any less, for the one who means the most to you? Knowing that they truly needed your aid?"

"I mean," they gestured expansively around them, and he smiled. "I think it's pretty obvious, isn't it?"

"Quite. But I want you to understand."

"I was worried," they admitted, reaching for his hand. His fingers had relaxed at some point, but the weight of their hand on his was still foreign. He hesitated before turning to meet them, palm-to-palm. "But it was obvious she loved you. The fragment of Mythal I met, I mean." He winced. "Shit. Sorry. This isn't easy, huh?"

"No. No, certainly not easy." He leaned back, squeezing their hand reassuringly. "But you deserve the truth. And it can be given now. I loved her, too. I always will. What we had was real, and it was beautiful." He smiled at the rush of memory. "It is one thing I do not regret."

"Huh." They sounded quizzical and he turned to look at them, arching a brow. "Oh, no, it's nothing. Not really. It's dumb."

"Tell me," he prompted gently.

"I'm maybe..." they were blushing, he noticed. He was uncertain he'd ever seen them blush. "A little jealous? It's ridiculous."

"Need I demonstrate my loyalty to you, now?" He let his voice drop, let it thicken the way they liked, and thrilled at their full-body shiver.

"I mean," they managed, "what's the old saying? Dread Wolf-"

"-take me," he finished, and kissed them.

[minijenn]

On the Run Preview

So yeah I've hinted at this, but On the Run features an original subplot, focusing on Mabel, Connie, and Pearl. A fun teamup that I think has a lot of comedy potential (so this subplot is the more funny side of the chapter while we deal with the heavy shit with Amethyst and the boys). I like the idea of Mabel and Pearl kind of feeding off each other's sort of manic (but in completely opposite directions) energy. And Connie being kind of just stuck in between both of these fucking freaks. Enjoy!

---

“Alrighty, everyone! Sorry I took so long–somebody was taking his daily beauty nap and did not want to get up–but we’re here now to decide-” Mabel stopped short, Waddles in her arms, as she stole a proper glance at the house. The noticeably now empty house. 

“Uh… hello?” she frowned as she set Waddles down. “Dipper? Steven? Amethyst? Anyone here?”

She took a moment to look around, checking up the loft, in the kitchen, even going as far as peeking into the bathroom. And yet, to her rising alarm, there wasn’t a single sign of any of them. It was as if they’d somehow, suddenly mysteriously disappeared. Or even worse–

“Oh no,” she gasped, her eyes wide with fear. “They’ve been-”

She didn’t get a chance to finish such a dreadful thought as the door suddenly opened behind her. “Hey, guys!” Connie greeted, shuffling the backpack slung over her shoulders as she entered the house. “What’s… up?” She stopped, frowning, when she found only one of her friends was there to greet her. “Mabel, where are-”

“Connie!” Mabel ran back over to her, gripping her by the shoulders. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re here! We have a serious situation on our hands!” 

“Uh, and that situation is…?”

“Steven and Dipper have been kidnapped!”

“What?!” Connie started, aghast. “When? Why? By who?!”

“I don’t know,” Mabel shook her head, frantic. “But we’ve gotta find ‘em and save them! We’re gonna need at least six bazookas, maybe a tank, definitely a helicopter, or two, or ten-”

“Whoa, slow down,” Connie cut in, lost in the shuffle. “Why don’t we start with gathering the facts first? Now,” she pulled a notepad out of her backpack to jot things down on. “When was the last time you saw either of them?”

“A few minutes ago,” Mabel reported. “Before I went back down to the shack to get Waddles. They were hanging out with Amethyst, and-”

“Wait,” Connie stopped her. “Are you sure they were actually kidnapped? Maybe they just went somewhere with Amethyst instead.”

Mabel paused to ponder this suggestion, but only for a moment before she ultimately shrugged it off. “Mm, no, they were kidnapped. I’m at least 70% sure of it, which means it must be true!”

Before Connie could even try to question her logic, the chime of the temple gate opening caught their attention. While they both hoped Steven and Dipper would somehow walk out of it, only Pearl emerged instead, “Oh, hello, girls,” she greeted them with a smile that quickly fell when she noticed how stressed they both looked. “Um… is everything alright?”

“Uh…” Connie frowned, apprehensive. “Well…”

“No, it’s not!” Mabel wailed, distraught. “Steven and Dipper are gone! They’ve been kidnapped!” 

“Kidnapped?!” Pearl asked, aptly alarmed. “Are you sure?”

“Not really-”

“Positive!” Mabel shouted over Connie. “They’re in super huge danger! I can feel it in my gut, and like Grunkle Stan says, you should always trust your gut, especially when it's getting close to lunchtime.”

“W-well, if they really were kidnapped, then we have to find them!” Pearl exclaimed. Connie couldn’t help but look at her, bewildered by how quickly she was willing to believe such an outlandish story. Not that she had much of a chance to try and talk her down from her distress as she continued. “Who would even do such an awful thing?!”

“It’s gotta be someone who has it out for them,” Mabel theorized, a hand perched to her chin. “Or someone who might wanna use ‘em as a ransom, like in the movies!”

“Someone with not just a motive, but the resources to pull such a sinister scheme off,” Pearl added. “Someone small enough to slip in and out unseen. Someone like-”

Pearl and Mabel both gasped as they reached the exact same conclusion at the exact same time. “Gideon!” 

“Gideon?” Connie questioned. “You mean that psychic kid you guys told me about? Why would he kidnap Steven and Dipper?”

“‘Cause he totally hates them!” Mabel dramatically explained. “Well, to be fair, he hates all of us, but I think he hates them the most.”

“We should have anticipated he’d do something like this after what happened with those watermelons and the Magnitude Modulator the other day,” Pearl shook her head. “That little mentace is getting bolder by the day. Well, don’t worry,” she assured as she summoned her spear from her Gem. “I’m not about to let him simply get away with this one.”

“Wait, Pearl!” Mabel called after her as she headed for the door. “Let us come with you! We can help!”

“We can what?” Connie asked, utterly confused. 

“Hm…” Pearl paused for a moment. “Well, since Garnet and Amethyst aren’t around, I could always use some extra backup–not that Gideon is much of a threat, but still. Yes, I suppose you two can come along.”

“Yes!” Mabel cheered as she pulled Connie along after her. “Don’t worry, boys! This super cool girl squad is comin’ to the rescue!”

“Um, maybe we should sit down and talk more about this first-” Connie’s concerns were ultimately left unheard as she was all but dragged along for the mission. Whether she thought that mission carried any weight or not. 

And, as the trio set off on that mission, not a single one of them noticed the note innocently sitting on the counter. A note Steven wrote, explaining everything, they all unknowingly left behind. 

[artistic-dead-dreams]

This is just me sounding like a toxic fan about scream but holy moly I need to get it off my mind and out onto my blog nobody will see.......

I'm not excited for the 7th scream movie and I hope it has a dreadful end with the 7th adaptation. I'm tired of the reboots/ remakes/ continuation of a franchise that is getting to the point of not needing it any more, as the 7th movie is getting closer with its release date I just have a small thing I need to say about it in general.

Bringing back Stu matcher as Ghostface (you can't even say Matthew Lillard isn't going to play Stu cause cmon....why would they bring him back if not for Stu.) is going to...idk be bleak most likely?? I don't understand why in the hell they thought bringing him back would be good?? It's fucking idiotic the 3rd and 6th movie confirmed he is DEAD NOT ALIVE HIDING SOMEWHERE. I'm sorry am I the only one who wants Stu to be dead??? I want HIM DEAD

Okay okay to make it clearerrrrr

WHY BRING STU BACK IF BILLY LOOMIS'S DAUGHTER ISN'T EVEN IN THE FUCKING MOVIE. WASTE OF POTENTIAL IN AN ASTRONOMICAL WAY. Yes I know Melissa Barrera was unfairly fired, that's another reason the movie is being produced by a different group I don't know what they are called tho..and from what I heard they are very racist, and I don't care what anyone says firing her just because she said the Israeli government is committing war crimes and a genocide on Gaza and Palestinians is DUMB DUMB DUM DUM DUM DUM DUM DUM.

Now they think making a 7th with no contribution to the last two scream movies is gonna be good?? What are these people cooking meth?? Black tar meth?? Because I'm sorry if I were to bring in the fact Billy loomis had a daughter (that of course, he didn't know about..I think?) I would think "Hell wow this will be great for Stu to interact with when he appears in the 7th fucking scream movie!...oh we fired the biological daughter and the supporting actress dropped out as well?? Oh boy...guess we will still have Stu come in to go terrorize.....married mother Sydney...wow because that's so much better." PLUS SYDNEY WASNT EVEN IN THE 6TH?? KIRBY WAS IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ON OF THOSE TWO DUMBASS GHOSTFACE FROM THE FOU-oekwke I'm getting angry HULKING OUT

FOOLS YOU FOOLS holy hell just because Stu is one of THE MOST POPULAR GHOSTFACES DOESNT MEAN HE SHOULD BE COMING BACK. it's gonna ruin the charm of his character. Oh my gee oh my gee I just don't get it?? Maybe cause I'm not coked out of my fucking mind in Hollywood and think bringing back the good ol days will help with views ....maybe I'm just not that guy...maybe I'm the only one freaking out about this. 😧

I wasn't even planning on watching the movie since the 6th one came out yadda yadda yadda then when they accounted Radio silence isn't making the 7th movie yadda yadda yadda Melissa got fired and then Jenna Ortega dropped out. That's when i finally realized the scream franchise is getting plunged into the ground 6 feet under with a shitty mold infested plumber and when i thought it wasn't gonna get worse...they announce Matthew Lillard is coming back...and they end up using screams grave as a bathroom instead.

Yeah this is just me being a crybaby because I can be and when "creators" create out of their asses and not their brains or hearts I get pissed. Obviously I don't know these strangers making the movie but holy fuck after 2020 Hollywood really just said it's nothing BUT FUCKING REBOOTS AND REMAKES AND OHH LOOKIE OLD CHARACTERS EVERYONE LOVED NOW THEIR BACK EVEN IF THEY ARE SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD. See I could've MAYBE gotten with Stu coming back.....if he was interacting with Melissa's character!!. But no it's not gonna happen but I'm very happy melissa is having a good career in general with her acting! So that's a positive note.

It just feels like nobody really gives a shit about these characters and I sadly got cursed with the spectrum of autism were I am absurdly attached to ficonal stories so when is see them being tossed in doodoo butt water I get a little mad 😡. You can like scream just for the ghostface s that's totally fine no one should dawg you on that but you literally cannot forget why the ghostfaces are there for....the other characters to react and build off of vice versa etc etc UGHH yeah yeah throw the tomatoes before I eat them.

I just pray to whatever stupid ass being is out there watching us & hope they never ask behavior for the rights to their ghostface PLEASE NEVER MAKE MY WIFE DANNY JOHNSON A CINEMATIC UNIVERSE LET HIM BE MY LIL BOOMER STUCK IN A VIDEO GAME PLEASE 😭😩 because people already...don't do him justice...

Yeah that's all I have Stu coming back isn't really doing it for me...you can kill off dewy bring back Stu and think I will be okay.....

I'd rather have Stu die ten trillion times then dewy, any day with ease.

[blue-haired-grace]

Related to this post!

Thank you so much to everyone who liked that post and showed their interest! It really meant a lot. I have started writing for this and have officially dubbed it the Jordan Verse. I've worked out many details of this story, but I'm still mapping out some, and I wouldn't mind a buddy to do that with! So, if anyone is interested, feel free to DM me!

I tried to write something exclusively from Jordan's POV so we could all get to know him a little better before we got absorbed in the Bucktommy of it all, but the words didn't work with me, so we got this instead.

Also, this turned out to be longer than a snippet. Sorry lol

I hope you all enjoy it! <3

Before Tommy could take the coward’s way out and walk away again, he raised his fist and knocked on Evan’s door. There was nothing for a few moments, and the small, scared part of Tommy hoped Evan wouldn’t be here or wouldn’t answer.

But before Tommy could focus too much on that thought, the door opened, and there Evan was. Evan’s face was happy as he opened the door, but as soon as he saw who was on the other side, his expression dropped into one of shock.

“Tommy?” he asked. He sounded shocked and confused, and was that the tiniest bit of hope? For those few seconds, Tommy saw the openness of the Evan he’d known, the Evan who’d been absent when they ran into each other while working. Tommy was happy he’d caught that break; he felt it made up for Evan catching his break while they’d been working.

It didn’t last. Evan’s expression smoothed over into distant politeness. “How can I help you, Firefighter Pilot Kinard? I don’t believe we have anything to talk about outside of work.”

Tommy took a deep breath and projected the appearance of calm that he wanted to maintain. He’d need every bit of self-control he could gather to make it through this. “I think we do. Could I come in, please?”

There it was again, the break in Evan’s mask that revealed something akin to hope. The other man opened his mouth to answer, but an unfamiliar male voice came from inside Evan’s loft first. Tommy’s heart dropped.

“Evan, baby, who is it?” A man appeared from inside the loft. He was a bit smaller than Evan in height and bulk, with dirty blonde hair styled into a classic cut. From the distance between them, he looked to have hazel eyes. Tommy could admit that this man was attractive.

He came to stand beside Evan and wrapped an arm around his waist, and Tommy didn’t miss the possessiveness in the gesture. The other man smiled as he looked at Tommy, but it had no warmth; his eyes were cold.

Evan looked almost as awkward as he had on their first date all those months ago as he’d rambled on about being an ally. Tommy had been holding back a lot at that moment, but he’d take going back there than dealing with this any day of the week. “Um, this is T-Tommy.”

“Oh, Tommy,” the other man said, drawing out his name in a way that had Tommy’s teeth clenching. The man’s smile became mocking as he stared at him with cold eyes, almost as if he knew exactly what he was doing to Tommy.

“Yeah,” Evan drew out, giving an awkward laugh. “Uh, Tommy, t-this is Jordan. He’s my-”

A loud ringtone came from the loft before Evan could say the dreaded boyfriend word. Evan’s eyes widened. “Shit, I have to get that!”

Evan disappeared into the loft, and Tommy heard his footsteps retreating up the stairs to his bed. Tommy couldn’t help himself and tried to look inside. The other man—Jordan, Evan had said—moved to block Tommy’s view.

The two men stared at each other. Jordan didn’t try to hide how he was sizing Tommy up, running his eyes up and down Tommy’s body. Soon, Jordan’s eyes came back to meet his.

Jordan smiled at him again. This one seemed more genuine, but it still held an edge of mocking. His eyes were still cold. “Thank you, Tommy, for being his first man and showing him the reins.” Tommy’s breath caught in his throat. “I’ll take it from here and be his last.”

With that, the door closed in Tommy’s face.

-

     Jordan smiled victoriously as he closed the door in Tommy’s face. Hopefully, that would be enough to keep Evan’s ex from coming back and trying to intrude on all of Jordan’s hard work. He’s been working hard to make Evan his and convince the other man that Jordan isn’t going anywhere. He wasn’t about to let that guy ruin it.

     He went up the stairs to where Evan sat on his bed, talking to his sister. She tended to call him now at random times of the day, needing reassurance from her brother if her husband wasn’t around. Jordan didn’t know why she was being so dramatic about things; it’s not like Jordan had done too much damage to her. He hadn’t wanted to hurt his future sister-in-law too much, and he hadn’t.

Jordan supposed being kidnapped from your own home could do that, but he found it slightly annoying. The amount of times she had interrupted him and Evan was getting ridiculous.

     He sat beside Evan on the bed, going on his own phone until he heard Evan say, “I love you, too, Maddie. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

     Evan sighed as he placed his phone beside him. Jordan put his own down to grab his hand. “Everything alright?”

     “Just the usual,” Evan said, smiling tiredly. Then, the smile slipped as he looked hesitantly at Jordan. He knew what question Evan was about to ask and pushed his anger down. “I’m guessing Tommy left?”

     Jordan bit back a snap. It was still so much talk about Tommy Tommy Tommy. He needed to step up his work on Evan. He smiled sadly at Evan. “Yeah, I’m sorry. He ran off pretty much as soon as you went to get your phone.”

     Evan looked down sadly, but Jordan could’ve slapped him. Tommy breaks his heart and abandons him; Jordan comes and proves to Evan he won’t leave him, and still, all Evan can talk about is Tommy? At this rate, Jordan might have to do something about Evan’s ex.

“I don’t know why you’re so surprised, baby.” Evans looks back to him, sharply, and Jordan squeezes his hand to soften the blow. “He’s already proven himself to be a runner. Why would it be any different now?”

Evan is dead silent for a few moments, then gives a bitter laugh. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He sighs. “Whatever. Do you want some dinner?”

Jordan’s bad mood disappears instantly. He loves it when Evan cooks for him. “Baby, you’ve read my mind!” They get up from the bed and make their way downstairs.

Jordan pushes all thoughts of Tommy from his mind; he can deal with that problem later. For now, he just wants to be with and think about his Evan.