#bring on the growth spurt

[unordinary-diary]

Arlo’s Height

I’m gonna say it right here and now: making Arlo super short as a Freshman and Sophomore is the funniest decision Uru has ever made— hands down. It gets me rolling every damn time.

But beyond that, it’s symbolic. I’ve mentioned the symbolism of Arlo’s height before— he’s 6’3”, and he is never once drawn next to someone taller than him. He commands the authority in every room he walks into, and his posture is immaculate. You see Arlo and you just know: that is the King. Arlo's height symbolizes power.

But in these flashbacks, Arlo is shorter than everyone. He’s around the same height as freshman Remi. Not only is he short, he has a bad case of baby face. This is more than a visual shorthand for the audience— the other characters pick up on it as well. His behavior is the same, but he is respected so much less. People perceive Arlo as young and weak. He has to work thrice as hard to get anything done because he has to prove himself constantly.

This parallels his struggles as King exactly. As we know from what he tells Blyke, Arlo had a lot of trouble in his first year as King. The Sophomores and upperclassmen all rejected him because he was Rei’s successor, the school was chaos, and the other Royals refused to work with him. In flashbacks, we can see that the freshmen don’t respect him either because he looks unimposing. The timeline matches up perfectly— he is short, he is disregarded. He is tall— he is respected.

Arlo’s height both symbolizes and contributes to how much power he has.

[mothfables]

VII. Heat Wave

It’s hot in Legend’s Hyrule. Hot enough that a perpetually cold Lorulean merchant has to shed his innumerable number of layers - even his beloved scarf. Legend comes home to find him in- is that a crop-top?!

It’s so hot.

Ravio groans, reaching for the hand fan and waving it desperately. The heat doesn’t let up, even with all the windows closed and the shades drawn tight to keep the sun outside where it belongs.

Lolia, it’s hot. How do Hylians stand this??? It almost makes him want to flee back to Lorule, with its’ perpetually-cooler temperatures and deep shadows. Instead he is stuck in a seemingly never-ending heat wave, slowly perishing to the punishing hot.

He’s already removed his robe and boots and rolled up his sleeves, though he hesitates to take off his scarf. He knows it’s a bad idea to keep it on, but it’s a thing of comfort; something he hardly ever goes without. It’s as much a part of him as Link’s adventuring attire is of him. This horrible weather is seriously making him rethink that decision, however.

Link would never let him live it down if he came home to find the merchant passed out on the carpet from overheating and still wrapped in his scarf - though he’d also fuss like no tomorrow, endlessly worried.

Another minute or two passes before Ravio loses the last of his stubborn will and tears off his scarf with a groan. This is unbearable!!! Heaving himself to his feet, he drags himself upstairs to change into something cooler.

Thank the Goddesses Link had taken him shopping a while back; though he’d dragged his feet and complained nearly the whole time, protesting he was ‘perfectly fine with what he had, thank you very much!’ Well, joke’s on Past Ravio because now he has nearly as big a collection as Link does, and he knows for a fact there’s an entire section - though admittedly somewhat small - just for this kind of thing.

...Now it’s just a matter of finding it.

~~~~~~~~~

Legend steps out of a temperate forest and straight into a wall of heat. Groans and complaints immediately erupt around him as the rest of the Chain exits the portal. He looks around, trying to get his bearings, and realizes he knows where they are.

They’ve emerged onto the road leading to the Sacred Temple. His house isn’t too far, and hopefully there they can find some reprieve from the heat. He tells this to the others, and it isn’t long before they’re on their way.

True to his word, it only takes about an hour or so (filled with complaining, of course) before his house and the hill it sits atop comes into view.

Something is... off, however. Out of place.

Legend squints, unconsciously quickening his pace. There’s something under one of the trees out front - something colourful. Has Ravio set up a new decoration or something? No, that doesn’t look like anything the merchant might put out. What is it?

Drawing closer, he realizes it isn’t an object at all - the shape of it looks far more like a person. Then he hears a groan, all-too-familiar, and his heart drops.

Legend breaks into a sprint. His brothers shout in surprise at the sudden speed (“It’s way too hot for that!” “Slow down!”) but he ignores them. He doesn’t- he has to know-

“Ravi!”

His panicked shout gets the others moving, storming up the road behind him.

They crowd around him as he skids to a stop before the merchant. Ravio stirs at the commotion - thank the Golden Three - and sits up with another groan. He blinks blearily up at them for a moment, his cheeks flushed from the heat.

“S’rry, but we’re closed until f’rther notice due t’the weather,” he slurs, “please come back when it’s not so...” Then he fully registers just who is before him and lights up. He pushes himself to his feet with some difficulty, fanning himself with a handheld fan Legend hadn’t noticed til now.

“Link! Uuuugh, it’s so hooot!!!” He immediately launches into a tirade of complaints. “How do you stand this?! I know normally I don’t mind it but this suuuucks!! It’s gotten so bad I was thinking of going back to Lorule before you showed up- not that I would, of course, because goddess knows I don’t have anyone who could run the shop if I left, not to mention I couldn’t just up and leave without telling you but the temptation was there-”

Ravio’s reaching for him, to hang off of him and swoon as he likes to do, and Legend’s brain stumbles to a halt.

The merchant is bereft of his usual attire, long layers swapped out for an off-the-shoulder crop top and shorts. He’s wearing a large, floppy sunhat in place of his hood and his feet are bare. What draws the vet’s eye, however, isn’t that or the flush covering his freckled cheeks, shaded by his sunhat; or his bare legs, already covered in freckles from being out in the sun. No, instead it’s his-

‘Tummy,’ he thinks, and doesn’t realize he’s said it out loud until Ravio cuts off with a flustered sound and suddenly everyone’s eyes are on him. He promptly goes bright pink.

“I- uh- c-clothes! Cool clothes! Gonnagogetchangedbye!” he squeaks and makes a break for the house.

He bolts through the door and up the stairs, slamming the door to his bedroom shut with a loud bang! Legend stands there with his back against it for a moment, panting. Then he pushes off it to head for his closet because it really is damningly hot and he needs to change into something cooler or else he’ll freeze himself with one of his own ice rods.

He’s halfway to the closet when the image of Ravio in his crop top appears in his mind and he has to stop to stomp and flap his hands with a squeal.

~~~~~~~~~

Outside of his room, Wild, Wind, and Warriors exchange glances at the sound of muffled stomping and quiet squealing.

Wars gently grabs the other two by the shoulders to haul them back downstairs. They’ll see about asking the Vet later if he has anything they can borrow; for now, they’ll see what Wild has in his slate.

They rejoin the others downstairs. Wild steps away to aid Ravio in making cold drinks in the kitchen, leaving the other two to strip themselves out of their oppressive outer layers. There’s already a pile in one corner with the other heroes’ things that they add theirs to. Four and Wind, the two most accustomed to hot temperatures, set about trying to cool the house down even the slightest bit. Going by the continued complaints, they don’t seem to be having much luck.

Ravio and Wild reappear a few minutes later with a tray loaded with ice-cold refreshments. The heroes ply them with every blessing they can think of as they reach eagerly for the glasses. Ravio laughs and waves them off, cheeks flushing brighter at the praise.

They spend some time sipping quietly at their drinks before Legend comes bounding down the stairs, clad in a tank top and knee-length skirt and his hair tied back in a small ponytail.

Ravio thinks it’s the cutest sight he’s ever seen.

Legend immediately beelines for the merchant. Steadfastly ignoring everyone else, he wraps his arms around his partner and presses a kiss to a freckled cheek. Ravio allows it before gently pushing him away, smiling apologetically at the whine it elicits.

“Sorry, honeybee, but it’s a little too hot for cuddles right now.”

Legend looks mildly outraged. “But- you- you were just doing the same thing to me outside!”

Someone snorts. Ravio flicks an ear at the sound but ignores it in favour of rolling his eyes. “And I was being dramatic; you know that. Come on, get a drink and we can sit on the couch together, how about that?”

He moves to turn away but is stopped by Legend grabbing his hand and giving him the biggest, most pleading eyes Ravio has ever seen. It’s utterly devastating. Still, he tries one more time.

“Bunny, come on. Don’t you want something cold to drink after being outside?” He tries to tug the other boy over to where he left the tray but Legend stubbornly stays where he is.

“Nooo,” he whines, pouting, and looking for all the world like a child who was just told they aren’t allowed to have their favourite treat. He blinks teary eyes at the merchant.

Oh. Oh no.

Ravio never was good at denying that look.

He bites his lip, trying to stay strong, but quickly gives in. Instantly the pout disappears as Legend brightens, and he pulls the merchant over to the couch. The few heroes who had settled on it obligingly get up as they approach and Ravio gives them a nod in thanks.

A glance from his hero and Ravio knows exactly what he wants. He heaves a put-upon sigh - only half for show - and lays down, propped against one of the arms. Legend gives a few happy hops before joining him with a squeak of delight. He clambers up to lay atop the merchant, curling his arms around him and snuggling into his bare stomach. There isn’t quite enough room for them both, laying like this, so Legend kicks his legs up and settles in with a contented hum.

The other heroes are openly staring. The vet pays them no mind, happy now that he’s gotten what he wanted.

Ravio sips at his drink and meets their gazes evenly. Most of them flush in embarrassment and look away. Mr. Captain Hero simply raises an eyebrow and smirks. Ravio stares at him a moment longer, radiating disapproval, before sniffing haughtily and wrapping his arms around his partner.

Legend chooses that moment to sneak a kiss to his belly, making Ravio jolt.

“Link Lon, do that again and I will push you off this couch,” he scolds, though it’s half-hearted. Legend only pouts up at him.

The one-eyed hero - Time? - is staring in what seems to be shock. The merchant ignores him.

“But I missed you.” Legend says, in that tone of voice he knows will get Ravio to do what he wants every time. The veteran hero hardly ever says when he misses someone, and so the effect is twice as strong as it normally is. Ravio can feel his face go pink and he has to look away.

“Y-es-” His voice cracks and he has to stop to clear his throat. “Y-yes, I missed you too, you silly hero.”

Legend smiles, bright and happy, and nuzzles back into his stomach. A moment later there’s a quiet rumbling purr.

There’s a minute or two of blissful quiet before it’s inevitably broken.

“Wow, he’s never that affectionate with us.”

“Wind!”

“I’m just saying! It’s not like it’s a bad thing, you’d just think that after so long-”

There’s a yelp and the argument descends into squabbling, though the heroes’ tones remain light and playful. Ravio finds himself smiling as he listens, cuddling with his hero as a purr of his own rises in his throat. The day may have started out awful, but he can honestly say he’s glad it turned out the way it did.

...Now if only this goddess-blasted heat would stop.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

“That one time Barnaby broke somebody’s jaw for going a little too far w/ insulting Wally & almost got expelled <3”

Full story please? <3

WITH PLEASURE!

for those who are slightly confused, this is for 'my' modern human au! well. modern-ish!

okay so when they were in freshman year / 9th grade, Barnaby and Wally are soldily Bonded. they are a set, do not separate. they receive a lot of shit for this, because some kids are assholes and that's especially true for 14yr olds. and it's 2006. so Wally and Barnaby get teased/bullied a lot for their closeness. at this point they're kind of used to it. they met early in 7th grade and have been inseparable ever since. most of it slides off of them

but what is Barnaby was having an especially stressful week? one of those weeks were everything is going wrong, nothing is working out. so Barn is at the end of his rope, and then one of the main kids who likes to bother them insults Wally specifically, and badly. like it's some next level So Bad Its Almost Impressive shit. at present Barnaby is walking to his next class with Wally and Poppy. so Barnaby just kind of stops in place, mentally chooses violence, turns, walks up to the kid, and punches him as hard as he can. it knocked the bully out instantly and broke his jaw.

and keep in mind that at this point in time, Barnaby isn't the big strong guy he is later on. he hasn't had his main growth spurt yet. and he still packed enough of a punch to do Damage - which makes him even more intimidating when he Does hit his growth spurt and towers over practically everyone

the pros of this event: Frank and Julie were watching, and Frank respected Barnaby's response so much that he allowed Julie to bring him to hang out with the growing friend group at lunch / asshole kids were less inclined to insult Wally and Barnaby (or his friends) to their faces

cons: Eddie was also watching and was too scared of Barnaby for the rest of their school career to try and talk to him or his friends / Barnaby nearly got expelled but did get suspended, and that's a permanent mark on his record

so the kid goes down, everyone freaks out. Barnaby is still too angry to feel anything other than pissed off vindication. naturally higher Authorities (teachers) come to get the unconscious student to the (i almost said vet) nurse's office, and to bring Barnaby to the principle's office. they call Ms. Beagle and have her come pick him up. Wally has stuck like glue to Barnaby pretty much the whole time, except for when Barnaby was in the office to get chewed out / interrogated. when Ms. Beagle is done w/ her conversation with the principle, she takes Barnaby and Wally home.

there, Barnaby is still worked up, and as "punishment" Ms. Beagle has him do some menial tasks alongside his usual after school chores. Wally tags along, of course, and asks why the hell Barnaby did that. in a nicer Wally way of asking. this is what breaks the camels back. Barnaby just sits down and starts crying, to which Wally is like "oh no. oh fuck. what do i do." cue a solid minute of him just standing and staring in panic before awkwardly sitting next to Barnaby in solidarity.

when they go inside, Ms. Beagle already has Barnaby's favorite dinner whipped up and ready. She gives him a talk where she's essentially says "blah blah blah violence isn't the answer. however, good job for standing up to that kid. he's an asshole and deserved a good wallop." (listen im a firm believer in ms beagle having been a Wild Youth that would have thrown bricks at cops). Moods are lightened, they have a good dinner. The next day or so they need to go have a meeting with the Injured Kid's parents. that's when they find out Barnaby fully broke the kids jaw (he feels a little bad for that) and that the parents are pushing for his expulsion and also juvie. Ms. Beagle manages to whittle down the sentence to a long suspension and then detention for the rest of the year, as well as her paying the kid's hospital bill.

tl;dr Barnaby punches a kid for insulting Wally, gets a new friend out of it, nearly gets expelled, and gains a mostly unfounded Reputation that dissuades most from outright messing with him or his pals

[everyfandomsprincess]

It just hit me: Garmadon doesn’t know he is the reason Lloyd was aged up.

It’s not even clear if Garmadon knows Lloyd used Tomorrow’s Tea or if he just assumes it was natural

But even if someone told him that Lloyd used a magic tea, do you think they also brought up why?

That unknowingly, he had turned the others into kids, and Lloyd just got caught in the cross hairs of what Garmadon assumed was a failed plan?

[dutybcrne]

Haitham’s birthday soon, anywho Kaveh even after their fallout still holds Alhaitham in such dear regard, he still think of him as his ‘little sprout’ from back in their Akademiya days. When he’s drunk, sometimes he’ll even call him that to his face.

[gar-a-ash]

I think this is the year where I'm finally going to breed Tassie, or at least get the process started

[harunayuuka2060]

Sebek: Good morning, human!

Silver: Good morning, MC.

MC: Good morning. What are you two doing here?

Sebek: Her Majesty Maleficia has requested that we check on the wellbeing of the dragon.

Silver: I'm sure everything is well, isn't it?

MC: Yes, though if I'm being honest,

MC: I'm actually on my way to the infirmary now.

Sebek: IS THERE SOMETHING WRONG WITH THE DRAGON?!

MC: Hm, well, I'm quite positive he's not sick. However...

MC: He has grown a lot.

Silver: Grown...

Sebek: A lot...?

MC: *points their finger upwards*

Silver and Sebek: *looks up*

Sebek: Wha-

The baby dragon: *his head sticking out of the roof of Ramshackle*

The baby dragon: Krrr...

MC: Looks like he had a sudden growth spurt.

Grim: *flies towards them* Hench-human! What are you doing?!

Grim: Our dorm will be destroyed if you don't get help sooner!

Silver: W-We will bring the headmage here!

Sebek: Yes! Just wait here, human!

Crowley: *used magic to get the baby dragon out without destroying the Ramshackle dorm*

MC: It must've felt cramped in there.

The baby dragon: Krrr...

MC: Let's see... You didn't get yourself scratched, did you?

The baby dragon: Krrr!

MC: Good. *pets his head*

Crowley: ...

Crowley: Where is he going to live now?

MC: Hmm... We could try asking the Diasomnia students-

The baby dragon: KRRRRRRRRRR!!!! *his pupils turning into slits*

MC: You don't want there?

The baby dragon: Krrr...

MC: Alright, alright. I won't force you to live elsewhere.

Grim: He can no longer stay here. That's for sure.

MC: ...

MC: Not if we build him a tent.

Crowley: That is a wonderful idea, Prefect! I'll provide all the assistance you need!

Ortho: Prefect, we're here!

Idia: Hi.

MC: Oh, I wasn't expecting you to come, Idia.

Idia: Yeah, it's my day off.

Ortho: So what do you want us to do? *giggles*

MC: I want to build a tent for the baby.

MC: I've got all the materials needed, but I want it to be sturdy and something that will suit his fashion taste.

Idia: That's one spoiled baby. But yeah, I get it.

The baby dragon: Krrr.

MC: Sorry, but I can't.

Idia: What did he say?

MC: Oh. He wants to be carried.

Ortho and Idia: ...

[tojisun]

currently obsessed with biker!simon!!!! how do you think he and reader met? i think, whatever the situation was, he was the one that couldn't get his eyes off her and started to bluntly stare??? maybe soap was with him and laughed bc he had never saw him get this serious about any girl he had laid his eyes on 😫😫😫😫

BAE I WENT FERAL WHEN I READ THIS BECAUSE YEAH!!! YEAH

ok so this is gonna be ridiculous but bear with me because im actually so obsessed with biker!simon im unwell

simon prefers using his bike whenever he’s out with his friends. there’s no use taking his car, anyway. not with kyle hitching a ride with john, and johnny taking his own car on the few occasions that he does bring someone home with him.

simon’s never had to take those things into account because he preferred a quiet end to his nights, anyway. just a shot of bourbon and a short dinner with his friends, and then he’s back on the road and on his way home.

so he’s never had regrets with taking his bike. until today, of course.

he’s noticed you since you walked into the bar with your friends, your arm hooked around one of them and your head tilted to hear them better. the others who are not engaged in a discussion with you whipped their heads around to find an empty booth and simon almost crushed his glass at the way his heart leapt when he realized that the closest empty booth in the place was the one directly beside his group’s. 

simon watched as your group moved closer, the chatter finally piercing his ears and, unconsciously, his body turned to hear you better. from in front of him, johnny’s pinched lips finally wobbled as he wheezed out a laugh, breaking simon’s focus.

“what?” simon barked out, feeling warmth creep up from his neck to his ears, half of his mind focused on the group settling behind him. 

“holy shit,” johnny said mid-laughter. “you don’t know anythin’ about subtlety.”

simon grumbled then, in denial, but now he just fully stopped caring.

somehow, as the night progressed, simon gravitated towards the seat facing yours, a spot where he had a clear vantage view of you. he’s taken advantage of the change in seating, devouring the sight you make as you giggled with your friends. devouring the change in atmosphere, now that you’ve begun to return his heated looks.

it started with curious looks, born from your friend whispering to you how simon was staring; how, throughout the night, he did not entertain all those who went up beside him and focused only on you. then your gaze shifted into something scalding. something that sent liquid fire warming simon from the pit of his stomach to the back of his spine.

mactavish sighs beside him. “just buy the lass a drink already.”

simon peels his eyes away from you to look at johnny, mulling over the suggestion before grunting out a thanks. he stands up and walks to the bar, calling out to get the bartender’s attention.

remembering the bellini that you’ve been nursing since you got here, simon asks for another flute of the cocktail and requests that it be served to you. he turns when he says this, hoping to give the bartender a clear view of who the bellini is for only to blink in surprise when he sees you standing just a few feet away from him.

“sir?” the man behind the counter asks.

“sorry. just serve it here,” simon replies, his eyes still on you. there is shuffling behind him, the bartender probably leaving to whip up his order, but simon honestly doesn’t care anymore.

not when you finally shuffle close, a shy smile dancing on your lips.

“hello,” you greet, voice a hesitant whisper, and simon feels like he’s been gutted.

you’re so goddamn beautiful, it’s catastrophic. 

simon thinks of how short you are, something he’s first noticed the moment you walked into the bar. it’s not like he’s surprised by the realization given that he tends to tower over anyone ever since he hit his growth spurt, but there is something unfurling in the pit of his stomach as he realizes how perfectly you fit in his arms. how easy it would be to just tuck you underneath his chin and slot himself around you. 

“hey,” he finally replies, his eyes roving along your features, trying to memorize the shimmer of your lips. the long wisps of your lashes. “‘m simon.”

you giggle, introducing yourself shyly, and the sound of your laughter tickles his ears, making him weak to his knees. he mouths your name, testing it out for himself and preening when it rolls off his tongue with ease. like your name is something simon is supposed to always call. 

his new favourite word.

“sorry,” you say, lifting your hand like you want to reach out and touch him, only for you to snuff out the action in your anxiousness. “i don’t, uh, come up to people i find attractive so this is really making me nervous.”

simon is aware of how good he looks – he’s proud of it even – but there is something about a pretty darling like you admitting how his looks make you nervous that sparks the desire in him to transform into something more carnal.

something more visceral.

he reaches his hand out toward you, inviting you to finally close the remaining distance between you two, and smiles when you take the offer, placing your hand on top of his palm, sending goosebumps to rise across his skin. you step into his space and simon has to stop himself from breathing you in, afraid how he’ll end up reacting when he’s taken a whiff of your intoxicating scent. 

“i’ve ordered you a drink,” simon whispers, his voice a hoarse croak.

“oh,” you mumble. “thank you...”

he notes the hesitation in your words, the bubble in his chest popping as his worry extinguishes his burning desire. “you don’t have to drink it.”

“no!” 

he startles at your reaction, his wide eyes staring back at your equally shocked ones. 

it takes a heartbeat before the two of you are breaking off into choked laughter, your body angled to muffle your giggles on the sleeves of his sweater. simon’s heart clenches at the cute display and he curls his arms around you, pulling you close until your head is pressed on his chest.

he wonders if you can hear how fast his heart is beating.

it takes a while for the laughter to fizzle out, leaving you putty in his arms, your chin digging into his chest as you gaze up at him. simon eagerly returns your stare, his lips stretched into the softest of smiles now that he has you in his arms. he brushes your hair away from your face, warmth exploding in his chest at your happy little sigh.

“wanna leave this place with you,” you tell him and simon trembles with need. 

because he wants you to come home with him too. wants to show you how a sweetheart like you deserves to be treated. how you deserve to be cherished and pampered and revered. 

then, he remembers his goddamn harley. 

fuck. 

wait. now that he thinks about it-

“is there something wrong?” you ask, face creasing in worry at seeing his frown. 

“don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” simon replies, his mind already mapping out the roads to his place. “lemme just grab my keys while you drink up, yeah?”

you nod softly, eyes fluttering close when simon leans forward to press his lips on the top of your head, before stepping away from your warmth. he watches the way you ambled towards the bar counter, carefully picking up your new flute of bellini before turning to show him that adorable little smile that simon’s starting to be addicted to and taking a small sip of your cocktail.

the wrap of your pretty lips around the straw shouldn’t stir something so carnal in him but it does and simon gulps, well aware of the sudden thirst that sucked the moisture from his throat, before turning to march towards his table.

johnny whistles out loud when simon reaches them, tipping his new glass of beer and whooping even when kyle growls how he’s being too loud. simon would’ve sided with garrick, but his patience is running thin and the need that is raging within him is gaining strength so he ignores them both to stand beside johnny.

“keys.”

“what?”

“mactavish, give me your keys.”

“...why?”

simon holds in a sigh as he watches kyle reach over to smack johnny on the back of his head. “what the hell do you think?” 

john continues to ignore the group, his eyes trained somewhere on the dance floor. traitor, simon thinks. 

“oh,” johnny whispers. “oh!” 

he tries not to tap his foot as johnny grapples with his trousers, hitting his elbows on the edge of the table and angrily cursing in scottish, before finally fishing them out of the depths of his pockets and presenting them to simon. simon takes them with urgency, almost ripping them from johnny’s fingers, before throwing the keys of his harley to johnny and barking out his thanks.

“use protection!” johnny screams because of course he would. he’s a fucking bastard.

simon flips him off as he marches back towards you. 

you look up at hearing him call your name, your beautiful face glowing as you smile at him again.

god, he’ll never tire of seeing your pretty smile.

“ready?” he asks, masking the excitable tremble of his voice with a quick cough.

“mhmm!” you reply, putting down your half-empty cocktail and clambering beside simon’s side. he presses another kiss on the top of your head, this time no longer holding back as he breathes you in, and leads you out towards johnny’s car.

next time, he’ll take you out for a bike ride. 

because simon promises that there will be a next time.

starting to think if i might need a masterlist for biker!simon atp // edit: mlist!

[funnywormz]

i've been thinking a lot abt aging in dungeon meshi and how it's so different for the different races, but especially how it's so different for marcille. even among half-elf half-tallmen, they all tend to age at different rates both mentally and physically. marcille herself is implied to go through random growth spurts and spend some parts of her life aging like a tallman and other parts of it not aging at all. growing up she couldn't fit in with tallmen her own age bc they were already more mature than her, but she couldn't fit in with elves her own age either bc they were all much LESS mature.

i get the impression she's meant to be ~20 in appearance now, despite being abt 50 in her actual age. 50 is simultaneously really young for an elf, when elves live for like 500-1000 years, and pretty old for a tallman, and positively geriatric for a half-foot. and you can see all of these elements in her. in some scenes the way she throws tantrums and cries and is petty or easily excitable, makes her come across as childish. but then in other scenes she's far more mature and shows that she has a breadth of knowledge and power that comes from a very dark and ancient place. and sometimes you can FEEL that she's looking at the others thinking abt how she's still going to be in the prime of life long after they're dead.

the manga delves into it more, with her deepest desire being to equalise the lifespans between races, and the isolation she feels due to being half tallman half elf. and the fact that she could never have her own biological children and yet her lifespan is far longer than even most elves. that she brings falin back to life even while knowing that she could be imprisoned for it if the other elves find out, and wants her friends to live as long as she will, even though she knows they won't. full of so much life and yet all she wants to do is give it away so that others can live..........

there's also just the fact that her character feels very relatable from the perspective of someone in their 20s. she's simultaneously very grown up and wise but also naive and arrogant at times. alternating between feeling like she knows everything and nothing. independent and determined and yet struggles without the help of others. mature and dignified while also being childish and very silly. sometimes a strict rule follower and other times a literal criminal.

it's like she's caught between two worlds in so many ways. she's got so many conflicting traits just like real people have conflicting traits, and her own personality is constantly pulling her in different directions. idk where i'm going with this but man she contains multitudes. i love marcille so fucking much

[roanofarcc]

THE ALCHEMY

pairing. tyler owens x boone’s sister! reader

summary. the reunion of you and your high school sweetheart, years after your split, brings back all those long-lost feelings you tried to bury. (based off of taylor swift's "the alchemy")

warnings. ex-high school sweetheart tyler owens. fem!reader. reader was a pageant queen. bull rider tyler lives rent-free in my head (I need to write more bc oof...). a little bit of angst but with a happy ending!

word count. 5.3k || masterlist

‘What if I told you I’m back?... I circled you on a map… I haven’t come around in so long,  but I’m coming back so strong.’ 

The sweet smell of rain filled your senses the second you stepped out of your car. The gray sky overhead spat little droplets onto the red dirt road, instantly causing the dirt to stick to your boots. You pulled your jacket closer to your body as the wind picked up.

“We couldn’t have met up at a gas station or something?” you shouted, cupping your hands around your mouth to draw the attention of the group huddled around a red pickup truck parked off to the side of an empty road, which was split between two freshly planted fields. 

“Oh, shit!” A wide grin broke out on your brother’s lips as he rushed towards you. He tackled you in a hug that quickly became him hooking an arm around your neck as he brought his knuckles down against the top of your head, screwing up your hair. With a huff, you shoved him off, playfully punching him in the arm as you mirrored his smile. 

“You could have at least told me we’d be meeting up in the middle of bumble-fuck,” you said. 

Boone rolled his eyes. “Everywhere around here’s bumble-fuck,” he said. “We’re waiting for a storm to come through here and the closest building is school fifteen miles north.” 

You didn’t get a chance to say anything else before it was Lily’s turn to tackle you in a hug, nearly knocking you to the ground. The rest of the Wranglers surrounded you excitedly, all talking over each other, but you had gotten good at following their chattiness from the years Boone had been a part of the internet famous storm chasing group. 

“I can’t believe Boone finally talked you into chasing with us,” Dani said. 

“He didn’t tell me you guys were chasing this weekend until I landed,” you replied, glaring slightly at your brother. “It felt too late to back out.” 

“Damn right!” Boone said, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “You’re gonna love it; right, Ty?” 

Compared to him in the group’s livestreams, Tyler Owens stood unusually quiet and lingered back in the group that swarmed you. Since you often tuned into their streams, he didn’t look too different, but it had felt like a lifetime since you’d seen him in person. The last time you met his gaze, he had just hit his last growth spurt as high school neared the end. He wore his tattered cowboy hat nearly every day and the same old pair of boots that you used to get excited about when you saw them discarded in your mudroom. The Tyler looking at you now was grown and broad, in a new hat and boots. 

“Yeah,” Tyler answered, sending you a quick, unsure smile. 

You returned it before turning to Boone. “Great. Can you help me with something first?” He nodded and followed you back to your car. You opened the driver’s side door and pretended that you really did need your brother’s help. “Did you not tell him I was coming?” 

Boone sucked air between his teeth, his tell-tale sign that you were right, but he was going to try to lie about it. You glared at him, and he sighed. “No, not exactly. Not until this morning…” 

“Boone!” you groaned. It was one thing being in awkward proximity to your high school sweetheart, it was another when he had no idea you were coming to crash his party. You two had kept it weird but civil, considering Tyler and Boone were best friends and had been since the day they met at the county fair, but you two had grown exceptionally good at avoiding each other, up until then. 

“I’m sorry! But you already planned to come out this weekend and Mother Nature had her own plans. It’s been years, can’t you two just get along?” 

It was more complicated than ‘getting along.’ You could get along with Tyler, probably pretty easily if you had let his presence slip from your mind since you ended things with each other before you split up for college. But you still found him stupidly charming through your screen; seeing him in person was a different ball game. You never outgrew the space you had carved out in your heart for him, and it was embarrassing. 

“I’m sure we can get along just fine,” you said. “But that doesn’t make it any less weird.” For you, probably not for Tyler. He seemed to be doing rather well for himself. If you were being honest with yourself, he probably hadn’t thought about you in years, not too deeply anyway. You were just some girl he dated in high school and the sister of his best friend who never came around anymore. 

“If it feels weird, just make that weird face you do when Grandad makes a bad joke and I’ll try to buffer it out.” 

You rubbed your temples. “Fine,” you huffed, peering around the door at the group invested in their conversation. You looked at Tyler, standing with his hands on his hips and a small, genuine smile on his lips as he listened to his friends. You couldn’t help the memories the sight of him dredged up. 

‘Call the amatures and cut ‘em from the team. Ditch the clowns, get the crown. Baby, I’m the one to beat.’ 

Cotton candy was sticky on your fingers as you plucked it from the stick. You resisted the urge to wipe them off on your brand-new dress, knowing your mom would have a fit even, though it was impossible to stay clean while doing your duties strolling around the fairgrounds, greeting guests, and getting pictures taken. A sash was placed across your chest, sparkly and bright, declaring you the winner of Fair Queen, a beauty pageant you’d been dreaming about since you were a little girl in 4-H, watching the pretty girls up on stage in their gowns and cowgirl boots. 

You walked with pride, head held high to keep your crown upright and a smile stuck on your lips. Just as you finished your cotton candy, you spotted your older brother set up a picnic table. He was with another boy, the two talking excitedly to each other despite you never having seen the kid he was talking to before. He sat opposite of Boone, dressed in a dirty pair of boots and a hat that covered wild blond hair that poked out from underneath. 

You absentmindedly fixed your hair, as you had been doing all day in the summer heat, before heading towards them. The blond spotted you first, sitting up a little straighter. 

“Boone,” you called out, gaining your brother’s attention. He waved at you with a mouth full of pizza. You noticed the spread of food between the two boys. “You didn’t spend all of mom’s money, did you?” 

He winced, swallowing his bite and slowly pushing a half-eaten basket of fries toward you. “I saved you these…” You narrowed your eyes, and he threw his hands up in defense. “You’re fair royalty! I didn’t know you had to pay for food!” 

“I’m not the queen of England,” you said. 

“Here,” the blond piped up, holding up a fresh slice of pizza. You looked at him, confused and a little dazzled by his soft smile and the smear of dirt across his cheek. You knew for sure he’d never hung around your brother before because you’d remember a face like that. The boys at school and that your brother hung around weren’t nearly as cute as the blond cowboy. 

“What?” you said after a beat too long. 

“You can have it; we can’t let the royalty starve, now can we?” 

You felt heat rush to your face but played it off with a shake of your head. “No, it’s okay.” 

“Technically, I think it’s yours. Boone bought it for me. Besides, I gotta get back. My dad will have my ass if I skip out on feeding the bulls…again.” The blond all but shoved the pizza into your hands.

Boone groaned dramatically. “Aw man, I was gonna say we should try to sneak onto the rides.” 

The blond grinned, standing up and stretching his lanky limbs. He was a head or two taller than your brother, and you noticed the paper pinned to the back of his shirt. 

“You’re one of the bull riders?” you asked, an impressed tone dripping into your voice. 

The blond adjusted his hat before he tipped it in a nod. “Yes, ma’am. Tyler Owens,” he said, stretching out his hand toward you. A little too quickly, you shook his hand, matching his toothy grin. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said. 

“Right back at ‘cha, your highness,” he teased before turning to Boone. “I’ll be here all week. When I’m not practicing for the rodeo next weekend, I’ll get us those wristbands for free.” 

Boone gasped. “You got a double agent carnie?” 

Tyler laughed, patting Boone on the shoulder before he started walking away. You smiled sillily down at the slice of pizza in your hand, knowing there was no way that cowboy would leave your mind any time soon. 

‘What if I told you we’re cool? That child’s play back in school, is forgiven under by rule.’ 

As terrifying as it was, you had to admit, storm chasing was incredibly thrilling. Boone had been doing it for years, but you never tagged along. You’d been taught to run away and shelter in the face of storms, but that didn’t stick for Boone like it had for you. 

Racing down the backroads in the back of Tyler’s truck, you found yourself incredibly stressed and entertained at the same time. From the front seat, your brother hollered as he live-streamed, clearly having the time of his life. 

Tyler stopped on top of a hill, throwing the truck into park before everyone rushed out to snap some pictures as the tornado raged on across the wide-open fields. The deep gray clouds were captivating, swirling around in a dangerous but beautiful display. It hurried further from where you stood, taking your anxiety along with it. You held your camera up to your face, capturing the moment in a way you’d never before. 

You laughed in disbelief, riding a kind of adrenaline high that made you begin to understand why Boone loved chasing. “That was incredible!” you said, a little breathless. 

“Did it live up to your expectations,” Tyler asked, appearing beside you. You faltered, seeing him face to face up close. He had the same smile, one that made him look freshly seventeen again. Only he was no longer the lanky kid who used to pick you flowers before every date and entertained your family game nights with zero complaints. It was a hard pill to swallow, especially standing in front of him, but you didn’t really know that Tyler Owens. The internet-famous Wrangler was worlds away from the rodeo star you used to know like the back of your hand. 

“Yeah,” you replied, voice soft in the afternoon air. He turned his gaze out over the expanse of field that started at the bottom of the hill and stretched beyond what your eyes could see, staying quiet as the rest of the Wranglers excited chatted somewhere behind you guys. You didn’t look at him either, focusing elsewhere while your mind conjured up the pretty little memories of you and Tyler from high school against your wishes. “I’m sorry Boone forgot to tell you I was coming.” 

Tyler was quiet for a moment, letting out something between a sigh and a chuckle. “I don’t think he forgot. I think he thought I’d tell him not to bring you.” 

“Would you have?” 

You felt his eyes shift onto the side of your face, and you turned your head. “No, ‘course not.” 

Relief flooded your chest. You didn’t know why it was important to you if Tyler wanted you around or not. In hindsight, you had dated years ago, back when you were kids, so it probably hardly counted as a real relationship in his head. But it was more than that to you. As silly as it sounded, you’d always hold a soft spot for Tyler. That’s why you tried to avoid him face-to-face. It made you feel weird, plucking at the abandoned teenage heartstring you once tied to him. 

‘These blokes warm the benches. We’ve been on a winning streak.  He jokes that it’s heroin, but this time with an ‘e’.’ 

The fair week raged on in a wonderful storm of non-stop chaos and action. You were there every day, dressed up all pretty with a sash and a crown, grinning from ear to ear at every little kid who tugged on the skirt of your dress to get a picture and front row of every competition. 

When you eventually got a little downtime from your queenly duties, you met up with your brother, who had resorted to hanging out at the grandstands. He didn’t technically need to be at the fair all day, every day like you did, but he was your ride. Instead of making trips back and forth, he used you as if free entry into the grounds and spent his days bouncing between the food stands and his new friend, Tyler Owens. When Tyler was busy practicing for the big rodeo on the very last night of the fair, Boone cheered him on from the bleachers. 

“How’s he lookin’ today,” you asked, taking a seat beside Boone. 

“A shoo-in for stayin on that son-of-bitch the longest, which I think is the point but to be honest I haven’t been paying that much attention. Did you know all elephant ears are half-price if you order a lemonade? It’s a steal,” he said before taking an obnoxiously large bite, letting the cinnamon sugar spill onto his lap. 

You rolled your eyes before you turned your attention to Tyler. He was standing against the fencing, listening to the man beside him talk, who you assumed was his dad. He must have felt you staring because he turned around and squinted upward at you and Boone before a grin broke out across his face and he waved you over. 

“Shit,” you hissed, smoothing out the skirt of your dress and the fabric of your sash. “Is he calling you or me down?” 

Boone wiped his mouth. “You for sure. I was just down there, and he kept asking, ‘where’s your sister?’ ‘what’s she up to today?’” he said, a slightly mocking tone in his voice. Your heart quickened in your chest, a little flutter like a butterfly wing forming inside your stomach. “I told him you were so not interested in some wannabe cowboy; you’re welcome.” 

Your eyes widened before you smacked your brother’s arm, hard. He nearly dropped his elephant year. “Shit! What the hell?” 

“Why would you tell him that?” 

Boone looked at you like you had grown two heads. “Those were literally your own words when mom asked you about any cute boys at the fair!” 

If you weren’t in public, you’d strangle him. Of course you weren’t interested in most of the boys strolling around the fair with their high and mighty attitudes, but from the little you’d been around Tyler, he didn’t seem too much like them, and he was much cuter. 

“Idiot,” you muttered before you climbed down the bleachers to where Tyler was. 

“Afternoon,” you greeted him and the older man. 

Tyler beamed. “See dad, I told you I met her. She’s even got the crown to prove it.” 

Tyler’s dad chuckled and shook his head. “And here I thought my son was making up meeting the queen herself.” He extended his hand just as Tyler had when you first met him a couple days prior. “It’s nice to meet you. I hope my son hasn’t been causing you too much trouble.” 

“No, sir. Not at all," you said.

“Good.” He checked the watch on his wrist and seemed to contemplate something. “Ty, you got an hour and a half. Buy her and yourself some dinner, but don’t be late, got it?” 

Tyler nodded, a bit too enthusiastically. “Yes, Sir!” He snatched a couple of bills from his dad’s hands before he shoved them in his pocket. His dad wandered away while Tyler practically bounced on his toes. “How does a pizza sound?” 

Between you, Tyler, and Boone, you finished off a whole pizza, comfortably seated at a picnic table. Your bother offered to buy everyone a pop, leaving you and Tyler alone. You propped your chin up on your hand and gazed at him from across the table. 

“Boone says you’re a shoo-in for winnin’ the rodeo,” you said. 

Tyler ducked his head and shrugged his shoulders. “My dad wants me to win more than anyone, I think. I don’t know if I will though.” 

“Well, I’ll be rootin’ for ‘ya,” you said. 

“Really?” He looked at you all stary-eyed.

You’d had plenty of crushes on boys before, but there was something about Tyler that settled differently in your chest. Maybe it was his tinted pink cheeks when he talked to you, or the little creases by his eyes when he smiled widely. Maybe the summer heat and crown on top of your head made you woozy with confidence and flushed with admiration. Whatever it was, all you knew was that in the very short time you’d known Tyler Owens, you wanted to keep on knowing him. 

‘Cause the sign on your heart, said it’s still reserved for me.’ 

The Wranglers and you pulled off at a little motel a couple miles off the interstate, near where a cluster of storm cells were brewing over the next couple of days. Tailgating was all a part of the storm-chasing experience, according to the Wranglers, and you were happy to join them. 

You sat on the tailgate of Tyler’s truck bed, watching with amusement as your brother shot-gunned a beer with Dani. She threw the can down first, earning a round of cheers. Dexter offered you a beer, and before you could decline, Tyler appeared beside Dextor, returning from where he had disappeared to. 

“She’s not a beer drinker,” he said. “Unless you’ve had a change of heart?” 

You were surprised he remembered. There had been countless summer bonfires where Tyler’s friend had tried to get you to drink a beer, and every time you tried it you didn’t change your mind about the taste. You’d hand it off to Tyler for him to finish. 

“No, still can’t stand it,” you replied. Dexter moved on with the cooler while Tyler hopped up beside you, leaving a fair gap. He held out a pop that he must’ve gotten from the vending machine, offering it to you. “Thanks,” you said. 

As the night stretched on, you found your attention drifting away from the Wranglers and onto the sky. It was stunningly clear, putting the stars on display. You rested back on your elbows, peering upwards. You had missed catching Tyler's curiosity until he knocked his shoulder with yours. 

“What can we see tonight,” he asked, the same way he once had when you found yourself in a similar position as teenagers. Tyler would ask you about the constellations, but he often paid more attention to you than the sky. That wasn’t the case anymore, though; his eyes were actually fixed on the dark expanse of sky overhead, glittering with stars as far as the eyes could see. 

You pointed out the ones you could see, tracing them with your finger until you had run through all of the ones you could make out. The two of you continued to watch them, listening to the Wranglers’ conversation in the background. It was unnervingly peaceful, something you hadn’t been in a long time. Even when you’d visit home, there were too many differences to make it feel fully like the home you had left when college rolled around. You knew that was the nature of growing up, things changed; they had to. But there was something about the laughter of your brother that you could almost pretend was from a room just across the hall, and the presence of Tyler beside you that made you feel seventeen again. 

It lulled you into a false sense of peace that you were okay with. You weren’t sure when your eyes had fluttered closed, head resting on your crumbled-up sweatshirt as you lay in the bed of Tyler’s truck. The smell of spring and the hum of the wind put you into a light sleep. 

It wasn’t until someone gently shook your shoulder that you woke up with a little start. It was still dark, but the parking lot had emptied of tailgaters. You rubbed your eyes, unblurring the world around you until the face of Tyler came clearly into view. 

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, a flush of embarrassment crawling up your spine. “Sorry.” 

Tyler chuckled lightly. “You can still do that, huh?” You furrowed your brows, confused. “Fall asleep anywhere.” 

“Oh,” you said, sheepishly sitting up right. “I guess so.” 

He ran a hand through his hair, a smile softly playing on his lips that you found yourself looking at for a moment too long. He caught you but didn’t drop it. Instead, he outstretched his hand and nodded his head toward the building. 

“Come on,” he said. “I’ll walk ‘ya to your room.” 

You didn’t think before taking his hand, some kind of old muscle memory, but the second your fingers curled around his, you felt that stupid flutter reemerge in your chest. It made you feel childish; a crush you couldn’t kill despite having outgrown it. For a second, as he helped you off the tailgate, you thought you saw the same light blush that crept across his cheeks when he shook your hand the first day you met, but you wrote it off as a trick of the dim lighting. 

When your two feet were on the ground, you both let go and you let him lead the way to your motel room. Boone had left your keys with Tyler, and he handed them off to you as you approached the door. You hesitated for a second. 

“Tyler,” you rushed out. He hung back from where you stood, leaving a stretch of space that felt like a world apart. “Thank you for letting me tag along today.” You weren’t sure what else to say, how to voice the hot creep of old feelings refilling your gut. 

He searched your face for something, before he said, “I’m glad you’re here.” That felt like a step closer, even though you two maintained the distance. 

“Me too,” you replied. “Good night.” 

“Good night.” 

‘Cheers chanted ‘cause they said, ‘“there was no chance trying to be the greatest in the league.”  Where’s the trophy? He just comes running over to me.’ 

The last night of the fair blew in with a light breeze and a clear sky. You and Boone had raced to the grandstands and sat as close to the front as you could to get a good view of Tyler’s bull ride. Energy swirled across the bleachers, painting you in jovial unease. You bounced your knee and kept a steady gaze at each bull rider who attempted to win the prize. 

When Tyler’s turn came around, you weren’t sure you had ever cheered so loud for someone. He still wore his dirty pair of boots and hat that was nearly too small for his head, but he claimed they both were his good luck charms. Under the bright lights, he glowed with pure determination and pride. The entire time he was out there, you held your breath. It happened so fast. One second, they’re calling his number and the next he’s being announced as the winner. 

You stood up alongside Boone, hooting and hollering at the top of your lungs as Tyler smiled in disbelief at his luck. Through the people lining the stands, you raced down toward the fence that circled the ring. The crown nearly toppled from your head as you climbed the fence just enough to stand tall among the crowd. The excitement that filled you was on par with your own win earlier that week. 

The announcers stood in the middle of the corral, announcing the prize as you locked eyes with Tyler. He broke out in a grin when his eyes met yours, even bigger than the smile of a winner he already held. As he was supposed to stay with the announcers to claim his prize, he took off toward you instead. 

He climbed the fence on the opposite side, meeting you eye to eye a couple of feet off of the ground. You threw your arms around him, a little unsteadily. Above the cheers from the crowd, you spoke into his ear, “You did it!” 

Tyler pulled back just lightly, just enough to see your face. His eyes shined, stary and bright, chest heaving with excitement and adrenaline. For a second, he just stared at you, looking for something until he found it in the twitch of your lips and the reflective shine in your eyes. He crashed into you, kissing you quick and sweet. 

All in a quick second, somewhere over the speakers the announcers laughed, the flash of a camera went off, and Tyler pulled away before racing back to claim his prize. You stood in a daze, fuzzy-headed and lovesick. 

‘Honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy?’ 

You still had the photo of your and Tyler’s first kiss. You kept it in the locket he got you for your birthday. You never wore it; it never left your jewelry box. But for some reason, it had found its way in with the other jewelry you packed for your trip. How, you weren’t sure, but as you got ready for the next day, you found it. You traced your finger across the small heart, almost missing a light knock at your door. 

It wasn’t until your name was called that you snapped out of your daze and rushed to the door to find your brother. Boone greeted you with a cup of coffee before he pushed his way into your room and jumped onto the bed with a tired huff. 

“Ready for day two? Rader’s lookin’ like we’ll have some good ones today,” he said. 

Sipping your coffee, you nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” 

He opened his mouth to say something else, but his hand knocked against the locket you left on your bed. He grabbed it before you could, holding it up to the light before his face filled with recognition. “Holy shit, you still have this thing.” You knew he only recognized it because you had talked about it non-stop after Tyler gave it to you. But to confirm his suspicions, he popped the locket open to reveal the little picture of you and Tyler inside. 

“I didn’t mean to pack it,” you blurted out. “I-I don’t…” You sighed heavily, plopping down next to him. Boone handed the locket back to you. 

“You know, he asks about you, a lot,” he said after a beat of quietly contemplating. “He tries to be nonchalant about it, but I think he forgets that I’ve known him forever. He’s not nearly as smooth about it as he pretends to be.” 

You fiddled with the necklace in your hands. A part of you didn’t believe your brother, even though he’d have no reason to lie. You opened your mouth to retort, brush off his words, but another knock echoed from your door. You kept the locket held in your palm as you opened it to see Tyler. 

Wide-eyed, you faltered in a greeting. Boone beat you two it, appearing from behind you with a stupid smile as he patted your shoulder. “I’ll meet you two downstairs,” he said, slipping out of the door past the two of you quickly, but shooting you a smirk before he disappeared down the stairs and towards to parking lot. 

The morning sun caught the metal locket, reflecting off of it and drawing Tyler’s attention right to the piece of jewelry. Before a greeting left his lips, he said, “You still have that?” 

“Yeah,” you replied with a sigh. “I couldn’t get rid of it after…” You two broke up in what was disguised as a mutual split but didn’t feel as much. The second you were out of Tyler’s sight after the conversation that ended it all, you bawled the whole drive home. Your momma had tried to console you, and Boone threatened to beat up his best friend, but nothing mended the split in your heart. Even a college fresh start didn’t quite rid Tyler from your mind. He had always been there, a ‘what-if’ and ‘what could have been.’ Getting rid of the locket felt like a final nail in the coffin that you couldn’t, even after all that time, make. 

He seemed touched by the sentiment, smiling softly down at the object in your hands. “I remember that old picture you used to keep in it,” he said. “The one of us at the rodeo. You know, my ma still has it on our fridge? She says it was because the only picture he had of that day, but I know she’s lying.” 

You unclipped the little latch on the side of the locket and flipped it open with your thumb to reveal the same photo that existed inside. A rush of different emotions you couldn’t quite pinpoint flashed across his face he as stared at the photo. You two had been so young, so flushed with pretty emotions. Just two kids not sure what love was but found themselves at the start of it. 

“I don’t know why I packed it,” you admitted. “I didn’t even know I’d be seein’ you until I landed, and Boone suckered me into chasing with you guys. I just…I’ve thought about this lot, an embarrassing number of times.” 

“Thought about what?” 

“Seeing you again. What’d I say to you. But, I’ll admit, actually seeing you in person again I…” You weren’t sure where the sudden rush of words found the confidence to leave your lips, but you knew they needed to get out. “I don’t know how you do it.” 

Tyler stepped closer to you, lingering in the doorway. His brows were pulled in confusion, but his eyes shined with something between his usual starriness and softness. “Do what?” 

“Just being ‘round you,” you sighed. “I feel like the girl in this picture again.” 

You half expected him to look at you with pity, gently let you down in the way only he could. Maybe you could catch an early flight back home and spend the rest of your life avoiding the boy you fell in love with as a teen who never quite left you. You’re sure Boone would understand, and he wouldn’t suggest you go with them again. It would be fine, really it would be. 

But Tyler didn’t. He reached out, brushing a thumb across your cheek before he let it rest cupping your jaw. There was a slight hesitance in his movement, giving you enough time to move away if your words hadn’t meant what he thought they did. But you stayed, and the second you smiled at him he closed the space between the two of you with a hot rush of feelings. His lips moved against yours with familiarity mixed with a newfound excitement as his hands held onto the side of your face like he was scared you’d slip away from him all over again. 

It felt like something that only happened once in a few lifetimes; almost too good to be true but standing right there.

[makethemmilky]

I want you to imagine how it would feel if your own breasts looked this. Imagine the weight as they hang heavy from your slight frame. Imagine the sense of pressure, at first barely imperceptible, but soon growing into an urgent, throbbing ache that will come to dominate your thoughts if not addressed. Look down at your significantly-expanded tits and marvel at their size and the way the milk rapidly filling inside them keeps them firm and jutting outward.

Trace your hands wistfully across the network of blue veins crisscrossing your mammaries, a product of stretched skin and quick growth, and then at last down to your dusky aureola. They had once been a girly pink color, now they are dark, womanly color that communicate to all who see them what your body is capable of producing. The pressure is almost unbearable now. Your tits are stretched and achy, and the urge to be fed from, to have a hungry, unrelenting mouth suck away at your nipples, is all-encompassing. But there is no man around, at least not yet.

Gingerly, you bring your thumb and forefinger to your nubs, bolts of sheer pleasure traveling to your pussy with a ferocity never previously experienced. Even before your hands are in place you feel a moistness–your letdown is beginning. Soon milk is spraying from your breasts, the pleasure accompanying every tug and spurt only encouraging you to knead harder, deeper, faster. After a while you find your tits no longer spraying. They are softer now, and a little smaller, which actually disappoints you a bit. But you also know that the more you drain, the more your body will make as a result, and the bustier you’ll get. You were blessed with big tits for a reason.

They are there to be groped and fondled and sucked on, and ultimately to produce milk. Your job is to make milk because deep down it is in your feminine nature to want to feed others and use your body to make them happy. And you know that your body will reward you for these acts by making them so pleasurable and so rewarding that you’ll never want to stop.

[morelikeravenbore]

Feigning Indifference

"— And on the edge of it all, standing alone by the stands, there's you: arms crossed, little pout on your cute face, feigning indifference."

 (I promised Quidditch!smut for the girlies a literal year ago, oop. 🐢🐢🐢 Anyhoo...)

Rated: Explicit. MDNI. NSFW. 🔞

Content warnings: f!reader, no mention of house or appearance, size difference kink, semi-public sex, voyeurism/exhibitionist fantasies, possessive!Sebastian, Beater!Sebastian, feral!Sebastian, excessive use of the word fuck, p in v, unprotected sex.

Word count: 1.8k

[MASTERLIST] [WATTPAD]

Sebastian descends onto the Quidditch pitch, wind-swept, sweat-soaked — victorious.

Like a stone in quicksand, he's swallowed up by the cheering throng of admirers before he's even fully off his broom; Slytherin's mostly, their faces painted emerald, scarves transfigured into woolly snakes around their necks — they crowd around him, beside themselves with the thrill of Sebastian's triumph, back-slapping, hand-shaking, cheek-kissing. Sebastian is glad to be wearing his protective gear against the most enthusiastic among them — not that he's weak without his shoulder pads and arm guards, but some thump him so hard with their congratulations that he wonders if they're Gryffindor’s in disguise trying to put him out of action before the next match.

Once he's past the worst of it, he shirks off his Beater's gear: pads, guards, helmet (even cup, which he unashamedly yanks right out of his pants) hit the ground in quick succession, discarded for the teams’ first-year assistant to collect in his wake (provided his rabid fan club doesn't get to them first.)

Thanks to his seventh-year growth spurt, Sebastian is hardly any smaller without his bulky gear on — a fact he uses to his full advantage to shoulder through the crowd. It takes him several minutes to wind his way through; supporters and haters in equal measure jostle for his attention, girls squeal and find excuses to touch him, Imelda criticises his technique as he passes (even though he just won her the bloody match), and somebody lets off a series of explosions overhead that shower the crowd with green and silver sparks. — And on the edge of it all, standing alone by the stands, there's you: arms crossed, little pout on your cute face, feigning indifference. 

He wants to kiss the frown right off your face. 

‘There you are.’ He grins down at you. You glare up at him.

‘Seven different girls touched your shoulders just now,’ you grumble, scanning your narrowed eyes over the crowd. ‘Two more touched your chest, and that last one tried to climb you.’

Sebastian's grin widens, delighting in your jealousy. ‘Did they?’ He affects a look of innocence. ‘I didn't notice.’

‘Liar.’ You shoot him a deeply contemptuous look. ‘Maybe I should take up Quidditch, see how you like seeing your girlfriend being groped after every match.’

His amusement drops faster than a fumbled Quaffle. Usually, he finds your little jealous streak endearing — after pining after you for two long years, convinced his feelings were one-sided, your possessiveness makes him embarrassingly gooey-eyed and lovesick. But today he's too jacked up on adrenaline to let that comment slide: nobody touches you but him. Not even in your imagination. 

With no more effort than he expends on waving his Beater's bat around (less, even), he lifts you with one arm, bringing your face level with his. 

‘I wouldn't let you play Quidditch,’ he says lowly, his voice deep with authority.

Authority which you completely ignore, like always.

Incensed, you scoff and wiggle and squirm for freedom (‘Ugh, put me down, you brute! — You can't tell me what to do! — If I want to play Quidditch, you can't stop me!’) but Sebastian only waits, watching your little tantrum with a mix of resigned patience and wry amusement. 

‘You're not the boss of me!’ you wail. You’re tiny in his grip, slender limbed and delicate, but you’re agile enough to break free if he doesn’t handle you right. His arm tightens around you, pinning you so firmly against his chest that you squeak. 

‘Yes,’ he growls in your face, ‘I am.’

Despite all the height and the strength he’s gained since you met in fifth year (or the physique if all the giggles and whispers about his shoulders are to be believed), Sebastian is, generally speaking, an unapologetic softie when it comes to you: the most precious thing he's ever beheld, there's not a girl alive more loved than you. But fresh off the field, bolstered by the dizzying rush of glory and adrenaline, all his usual gentleness eludes him. — Suddenly, he wants to do more than kiss the frown off your face. 

A hot lick of desire alights in his belly, as familiar as it is impossible to ignore. Without another word, he hoists you higher and carries you off beneath the stands; game forgotten, celebrations be damned, he only has eyes for you, little doll, little bunny caught in his hungry gaze, so small and soft and devourable. 

You yelp when your back meets the wall, but hidden now deep in shadows, Sebastian only grins, wolfish. Grateful he'd thought to discard his cup, he pins you there with his hips, making sure you feel every sudden aching inch of him between your legs. 

You're his now. You both know it. 

‘How can you be jealous when you're the only one who does this to me?’ He leans in close enough to spill hot words right into your pretty, parted mouth. ‘I should fuck you standing. Right here,’ — he punctuates with a sharp thrust that makes you gasp, — ‘right now.’

Your eyes go wide, but whether you're scandalised by his audacity or desperate for him to keep whispering filth, Sebastian doesn't particularly care.

He wants to fuck the shock right off your face. 

‘R-right here?’ The wobble in your voice makes him twitch. He grinds into you again, sloooowly this time, rolling the entire length of himself against you while he watches you shift from stubborn brat to good fucking girl; no matter how many times he's seen you like this, flushed pink and panting, he's still utterly obsessed with the moment you finally give in. 

Because you always give in. 

‘Why not?’ He begins the careful crumbling of your resolve with the top button of your blouse, then the second button, third, fourth… But by the fifth his patience snaps and he yanks — hard; no need for a vanishing charm, he rips your shirt clean open. Buttons pop off in all directions; he knows you'll scold him for that later, but right now you only have strength enough to whimper. 

‘What if they see?’ You palm his shoulders — but you're pulling, not pushing. 

‘Let them.’ His lips are on the hollow of your collarbone, sucking shivers out of you. ‘Let them watch me fucking ruin you.’

Yanking you away from the wall, he spins you around and envelopes you from behind, one arm curled so tightly around your waist you couldn't wiggle free even if you wanted to. Not that you do want to; that much is clear when his other hand slides beneath your undies. Fingers slick, he fucking moans his way down the side of your neck, his tongue laving a hot, wet stripe down to your shoulder. 

‘You think I want to touch any of them like this, huh?’ He bundles your little body against him like a blanket, his arms taut and muscles straining as he works your moans free with his hands and his tongue. You buck obediently against his palm, and when he slides two thick, long fingers inside you, your knees give out. He holds you up, pinned pretty to his chest, your tits heaving in the open air, nipples begging to be painted wet by his hungry mouth. 

Sweat drips from his hair and lands on your face. ‘You think I want to fuck any of them the way I fuck you?’

Through the gaps between the stands, the Quidditch pitch is empty, quickly abandoned for post-match festivities (or commiserations if you're a Gryffindor). He imagines marching you back out there right now fucking you in the middle of it, stripping you bare and pounding you silly while the teams debrief in the changerooms and the Slytherin's celebrate their win in the dungeons. — He'd never do it for real, of course, but the fantasy of claiming you so openly, having you exposed and babbling on his cock for anyone to see makes him dizzy. 

He wants everyone to know you're his. 

The thought makes him fucking — lose — it. 

Hot and thick in his hand, he strokes himself free from his trousers with frantic pumps and a long, drawn-out whimper. If he's teetering on the edge of control, then you don't stand a chance; he hoists your leg up and rubs himself desperately against your underwear, mouthing your neck from behind, palming your tits with his big, calloused hand. Never has he been more grateful for all the grueling training sessions that have granted him the strength to manhandle you onto his cock whenever the mood strikes.

Undies bunched to the side, you arch your back and reach an arm around his shoulder, begging, begging, begging even as he's pushing in, in, into you. The sound he makes when he's fully sheathed is nothing short of feral; he stumbles forward, that hot, tight squeeeeeze of you so good it makes him weak in the knees. 

It's fucking unbearable what you do to him, the way you make him dribble and buck and moan all sorts of dirty things in your little ear — the way you make him lose control. 

‘Look at you,’ he slurs, anchoring you to his body with the full, hot length of his cock. ‘S'fucking good, s’all fucking mine.’

Holding your leg up, he sets a slow, deep rhythm and imagines himself watching you: a last-minute straggler drawn to your hiding place by your sweet moans. He imagines how pretty you'd look all stretched out and stuffed full of himself, tits bouncing, mouth agape with pleasure, too fucked out of your mind to realise how loud you are. He'd touch himself to it — oh fuck yes he would, edging himself to time his climax with yours. And maybe you'd notice him, a pair of dark eyes burning with desire. Maybe you'd like it. Maybe it'd make you cum harder. 

Fuck. Lust roils thick and luscious in his stomach and he makes a mental note to fuck you in front of a mirror next time. 

He's gasping now, slamming into you so hard your foot almost leaves the ground with every thrust.

‘If only —’ he groans, ‘— they could — see you —’ He drops his head to your shoulder and bites. ‘You're the — ngh — only one — oh, fuck —’

Surely you know — surely you understand that it's always been you; that the way you surrender makes him feel strong; that being inside you makes him feel less broken. Surely you know that he uses his body to say the things he can't put into words. 

It's more than sex: he fucking loves you. 

Your peak hits you first: a long, slow, wet release that Sebastian rides out as best he can without falling over. He moans along with you, echoing ecstasy into your ear, holding you up while your body succumbs to the overwhelming love he gives and gives and gives over to you. And when you're done, spent and shivering in his arms, sweet and limp and loved to the extreme, he follows. 

[strangersteddierthings]

Childhood friends AU Idea

Steve and Eddie are best friends who make plans to learn the elvish alphabet from The Hobbit so that they can pass notes without worrying about other people reading them.

The end of the school year (Eddie in 6th, Steve in 5th) brings a sadness to the two. Eddie's going to middle school and Steve's not yet, but they can hang out on weekends, and they have all summer so no worries. (Also, it gives Steve a little more time to learn elvish, since it'll be a whole year until they're in the same school again.)

Except yes worries because two weeks into summer, Eddie vanishes. When Steve bikes to his house to investigate, the whole house is empty. Packed up and gone. Steve goes to Wayne for answer and all he gets is a smile that doesn't really reassure and words of "his dad got a job opportunity, had to move on short notice. But don't worry, kiddo. I'll get you the number to their new place so you can call."

He learns elvish anyway. It's harder without Eddie to help but he's determined. Eddie might return, or maybe he'll get an address one day. Send a letter to Eddie in full Elvish.

Steve never gets a number or address. Summer ends and sixth grade comes. He doesn't want to forget all the elvish he's learned, just in case. So, he decides to keep a journal. He can write all about everything that's happening and when he sees Eddie, he can give it to him. It's a double win. Eddie will know everything he's missed out on AND it'll help Steve practice elvish.

Sixth grade ends. Eddie doesn't return. Steve did make friends with Carol Perkins though, so he's not as lonely. He hopes Eddie made a new friend, too. But not a new best friend. That's Steve's position, always.

Seventh grade brings Tommy Hagan, but still no Eddie. It brings a growth spurt and sports. Steve likes the easy camaraderie that comes with sports teams. It's like having a lot of friends, which Steve will only admit to needing in his journal. Needing many little connections of friendship to hold together the big hole Eddie left behind.

The summer between seventh and eighth grade brings him a Bruce Springsteen concert. He'd never thought of a boy kissing another boy until he'd witnessed it on stage but he thinks about it a lot after. The end of that summer brings an awaken he refuses to shy away from even if he has to hide it

Eighth grade brings popularity. Steve's good looking, rich, and liked among his peers. It brings the first (and last) time his dad says he's proud of him.

(Steve will spend the rest of his high school career chasing his father's approval.)

Freshman year brings Eddie back, but he's different. His hair is longer and his clothes are darker and he's distant. Defiant and angry. Steve would recognize him anywhere, dressed in anyway.

Eddie doesn't want his friendship anymore. Avoids him in the halls and cafeteria, but Steve is nothing if not persistent. He writes a full letter in elvish to slip into Eddie's locker, but Eddie catches him. Shoves the letter back, unopened, unread, with a harsh whispered, "Don't you get it Harrington? I don't want to be your friend. Fuck off."

Steve doesn't understand why. Not until the table top rants start. Conformity and jocks and brain-dead rich kids who get by on favoritism.

It hurts. Steve feels his heart break the day he finally gets the not-so-subtle messages drilled into his mind. Eddie hates sports, and rich people, and stupid people. Eddie hates all the things that Steve is.

Eddie hates him.

Sophomore year brings Steve a lot of things. It brings the acknowledgment that he was probably in love with Eddie, the way his heart twists the day he sees Eddie flirting with a girl in the hallway, the way he wants the lights out when hooking up with someone so he can imagine a different person pressed against him, the way he gravitates towards brunettes with brown eyes and the flickering hope it might make Eddie jealous. (The way he'd said the wrong name when Brent went down on him, too absorbed in the fantasy of someone else to get it right. Brent hadn't been offended by it, he'd been thinking of someone else, too. Steve finds solidarity for a little bit, until the school year ends and Brent leaves Hawkins.)

Junior year turns Steve's life upside down (pun intended) with monster's coming out of walls. There's probably a lot more he should write about but his journal's pretty empty this year. Too traumatized to document. (Too afraid of what Eddie would say because Steve still writes in his journal like he plans on sending it to Eddie one day. Better to write nothing than sound crazy.)

And halfway through his senior year (don't think about how he's in it with Eddie, about the 4 classes they share, about how Eddie still won't meet his eye) he wants to fade into the background. Nancy and he break up. She's with Jonathan and he hears the whispers of how pathetic he is to be eating lunch with his ex and the guy that 'stole' her. Steve knows that's a lie, Nancy made her choice, and no one can say otherwise, but it hurts to hear. He can't be bothered to try and make new friends. How would he explain the nightmares? The skittishness. The fear of the dark, of pumpkin patches, of his own damn pool now that he's had time to process last year?

Then, the next year brings him Robin. Well. First it brings him an embarrassing uniform and then Russian torture (don't think about it. Don't think about how he'll shorthand the stock list by writing it in Elvish sometimes. Don't think about how the Russian's almost believe they just work for Scoops until they find the stock list in his pocket. Don't think about how they don't believe that the strange script they can't identify isn't proof he's a spy), but in the end he gets Robin. A Platonic Soulmate who understands the hidden side of him. She asked if he was ever in love, and he thinks of the Eddie he used to know, longs to know again, and describes her instead. She rejects him in the softest way possible and then confesses about Tammy, and he confesses about Eddie in turn.

1986 brings Eddie back into his life in the worst way possible. With a bottle to his neck and them both acting like they've never spoken before. It brings twisting guts as Steve lies awake thinking about Eddie alone in a boathouse instead of sharing a bed with him like they used to in elementary school. It brings Steve leading them to Skull Rock (popularized as a make out spot but started as a set of boys' favorite place to play pirates during the summer). Dustin and Eddie make references Steve pretends to not know, despite his own copies of The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings and the numerous amounts of notebooks turned journals with elvish scrawled throughout.

There's a trek through the Upside Down. In another universe, Steve imagines he and Eddie talk. In this one, Robin sticks to his side like an extension of him (which she is), and glares at Eddie every time he looks in Steve's direction. Robin knows everything, knows it all, because there are no secrets between them.

They make plans to stop Vecna, once and for all, and Robin confesses she has a fear. That it won't turn out okay this time, but they have to try anyway. Steve clinks his bottle against hers and looks across the field to Eddie and Dustin. The stakes feel so much higher this time.

"I'm going to talk to Eddie if we survive. Make it right," he says.

"No. He's going to make it right because you didn't do anything wrong," Robin says, which is more support than he thought he'd get given the grudge she holds in his favor.

Eddie said make him pay and Steve does. Nancy advances, shotgun shot after shot and Steve's bounding down the stairs. Vecna beats him to the ground floor but not by much.

A hatchet's not the best tool to remove a head with but he manages. When he looks up, Nancy and Robin are looking down, both approving.

They find Dustin sobbing over Eddie and- and-

Steve's certain he's broken several of Eddie's ribs but he's breathing again, Nancy finds his pulse beneath all the blood, and Robin's retrieved the cut sheets to make bandages out of. Nothing is clean in this world, infection could kill him later, he might not save Eddie like he wants, but fucking Christ, at least if death claims him, it'll be on the right side of the world in a hospital.

Dustin, Robin, and Steve are at Eddie's side when Nancy leads Wayne into the room. They knew she went out looking for him (Steve was going to but Nancy had shoved him back in the chair with a look that left no room for argument) but even so they're startled by him.

Wayne has always been stoic and reserved, so it's no surprise to Steve when he just lets out a low whistle and says, "of all the people I might see here, you weren't one of 'em."

Steve swallows thickly and says, "well. I am. Here, I mean."

And Wayne gives him a watery smile and crosses the room. Pulls Steve into a hug that Steve thinks he probably wants to give to Eddie instead, but Eddie's not awake and standing and Steve is. But then Wayne says, "I told Eddie he couldn' chase ya away. That if he just talked to ya, you'd understand. He tried so hard to make ya hate him, and for what? For ya to be at his bedside anyway."

And Steve sobs. Loud and ugly and suddenly Dustin's there, and so are Robin and Nancy, and it's probably the most awkward hug for all the others but it's the best hug Steve's had in years. He doesn't even care that he's crying because how can he? Wayne's all but confirmed that Eddie doesn't hate him, maybe never hated him. That Eddie has an explanation, a reason for it all, and all he wants is Eddie to wake up and tell him.

Steve finally gets his apology two days after Eddie's release. It's the first time they've been alone together since- well, since elementary school. Wayne drove him here then lied about needing to check on something and said he'd be back in an hour or so before abandoned them to the awkward silence in Steve's living room.

"I'm sorry, Steve!" Eddie blurts out loudly, then looks startled by his own yelling.

"I know. I forgive you."

"You shouldn't."

"I know. Still do anyway. Would like to know what happened, though."

And Eddie tells him. How his father's debts came calling and they ran. How his mom got sick real fast, and his father's crime spree and prison sentence following her passing. How Eddie discovered the same thing about himself that Steve did but didn't have the same acceptance of himself. Hated that another thing marked him as Other. Freak.

He tells Steve how he couldn't let Steve back in because he was afraid of losing him again if he ever learned.

"I didn't think you'd be okay being friends with a faggot," Eddie spits the word out, dirty and mean and directed at himself.

Steve makes a decision then. "Follow me." And he helps Eddie up the stairs and into his room. Eddie sits on the bed and watches as Steve digs out notebook after notebook after notebook, until they're a tower on his bed. Then he topples them over in his search for the first.

Eddie takes the offered notebook with confusion on his face, looking from the cover, where 1978 is written on it. The summer Eddie vanished from Steve's life.

"Open it."

Eddie does and gasps. "Steve. Is this-"

"Every single one of these notebooks was written to you. For you. About you. I read The Hobbit for you. The Lord of the Rings. I learned elvish for you. I think I've been a little bit in love with you since the day we met on the playground on my second day of first grade."

"Steve," it comes out breathless and awed.

"Eddie," Steve repeats back to him, just as breathless as Eddie tosses the notebook aside and reaches for Steve instead. Hauls him in to kiss him senseless amongst the proof of Steve's devotion.

[midnightbluebells03]

⋅˚₊‧ ✶ ‧₊˚ ⋅ Abby Anderson basketball drabble ⋅˚₊‧ ✶ ‧₊˚ ⋅

NSFW at the end - little bit of x reader - soccer Ellie - sketches of Abby

Just a lil writing to tide yall over while I finish up with college assignments and other bits

Abby has always been drawn to basketball but never got the chance to play. With her dad being concerned about her getting hurt as a kid. But when she hit her growth spurt in highschool she set her mind to it, determined to prove to him she can handle it.

The sport is perfect for her because it can be so calculated, she enjoys the mind games and the intense preparation that comes with being the captain.

She uses her large build to her advantage when setting a screen. Earning the nickname brick wall from the amount of times she's knocked someone over.

A medical student studying to be a doctor like a her dad. But not neuro, she wanted to be an ortho doctor.

She takes her life as a student athlete seriously, which means no smoking, no drugs and she rarley ever drank. Only on off seasons and only at the weekends.

Practice makes perfect which is why Abby makes sure to hit the gym every morning before class, while you're still peacefully asleep. She also runs her practices like it's her job, the team calls her sergeant as a joke sometimes.

Begs her coach to let you sit in on practice because she felt bad about leaving you so often. When he agrees you help run practice after awhile of sitting on the bleachers learning about the game, being dubbed "mini Anderson" because you ran a tight ship. Even tighter than Abby at times. You always make sure they have water during games aswell and coach will talk game plans with you on the sidelines after a few months.

Has a pregame ritual which consists of doing push ups while you help her run through the game plan for the hundreth time. Before you two started dated she would just repeat it to herself or write it down on a peice of paper.

Never lets you wear her jersey after a game, will insist on washing it first or giving you a clean one. Eventually she buys you a custom one with ANDERSON on the back so you can wear it to games. But you still steal hers constantly.

Let's you do her braid before games but will re do it in secret if it isn't tight enough because she never wants to hurt your feelings.

Will pick you up and spin you around if they win, pressing a million kisses to your face infront of everyone.

You bring her flowers after big games. The first time you were so anxious, standing by the locker room with the bouquet in hand. Abby looked like she was going to cry as she took them from your hand, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and pulling you in tight. "They're gorgeous baby, thank you".

Nsfw

She was scared to 'take her anger out' on you when she would lose games but you assured her you wanted to help. Knowing that Abby would never actually hurt you. So now on the rare occasion that she loses you know you're about to be bent over with your face in the pillow while her strap relentlessly pounds into you. Her grip tight in your hair as she praises you through your countless orgasms. "Good fucking girl, always taking me so well hmm?". You can't do anything but moan in response as she thrusts into you harder. "Think you like it when we lose baby, you like when you get fucked like a little slut don't you?"

[crosbyism]

"but then again this is the guy who’s publically known for loving to eat ass so"

I'm sorry, I thought Nate eating ass was fanon. Are you telling me this is an actual canon fact??

god i love when people don’t realise how much “fanon” around sid and nate is actually canon. it’s like heroin to me. also bc it’s like. 90% of the stuff in fics (which is probably why people assume it’s fanon but. oh boy it’s not. there’s shockingly little fanon around these two, mostly because canon is so abundant).

yes, nathan mackinnon is a known ass-eater. let me direct you to this post, anon. you’re welcome.

other nate (and sid) facts you might not have realised are canon:

nate is a known advocate for therapy. he’s been seeing a sports therapist since 2017

they wear matching clothing all the fucking time, sid has said publicly that he started wearing white sneakers and updated his wardrobe due to nate’s influence (iirc nate might’ve even bought him his first pair of white sneakers? either that or it was a “he told me i need to so i did” situation). they share a tailor. unfortunately i now have to bring your attention to the fact that since they have an alarming amount of matching clothes that they’ve bought for each other, that means that they in fact have to know each other’s clothing sizes off by heart. they also low-key share clothing btw

their families celebrate canada day together and their dads are best friends. in-law behaviour goes crazy

nate did in fact stalk his way into sid’s heart (got the same personal trainer and agent at age 13; built his house next door in 2017; they’ve been spending every day in the summers together since at least 2015. sid cooks for them daily, or at least did pre-pandemic. sid refuses to use nate’s gym tho so they always use sid’s).

nate used to have a fan twitter account more or less where he rooted for the pens. it was active until 2017.

sid and nate regularly go to summer weddings together as each other’s dates. they have done this since, once again, at least 2015

nate has confirmed that he used to have a poster of sid on his wall as a teenager (he didn’t confirm he used to jerk off to it but frankly. i think that’d be saying the quiet part out loud)

when sid won the cup in 2009 and held the parade in cole harbour, nate stood by the side of the road watching it. he was about to turn 14, he was already working with sid’s trainer and agent, and he was about to start attending shattuck (sid’s junior high). due to old pics we also know that this was RIGHT before nate had his first growth spurt and hit puberty. i’m not saying seeing sid with the cup kickstarted nate’s puberty and gave him his first boner but i’m not NOT saying it

nate dated vanessa morgan of riverdale fame in his rookie year. she’s now good friends with elias petersson from the vancouver canucks (this means nothing but i do think it’s a very funny coincidence).

nate schmidt, formerly of the VGK, once failed a drug test (it turned out to be a testing-fuck-up); when nhl players were asked about it natemack iconically said “i don’t think he was sticking a needle up his ass” (i just like this one)

when he was a kid, the one other thing sid wanted to be was a hairdresser. nate, on the other hand, “didn’t have a plan B”

nate is canonically possessive of sid (see: the asg 2024) and sid is canonically delighted by this and into it

they go on so many lunch dates in the summer my dude. they go grocery shopping together. like there’s so many pics of them in grocery stores or out having coffee or weird green shakes

oh i almost forgot, they went on a roadtrip through ireland last year. they’ve been on holiday together multiple times over the years though. done some eurotripping together and stuff. in 2015 they spent three months together, three weeks of which were spent living in sid’s santa monica condo together just the two of them

sid has put up a picture of every stanley cup winning captain in his basement since 2008, when the pens lost in the scf to DET. apparently this serves as motivation for him to win the cup. he notoriously does not watch the playoffs after the pens are out

however, he partied so hard at nate’s cup party he actually closed down the party with his dad. nate is the only non-teammate sid’s ever been seen supporting for a cup run (he’s also never been to his teammates’ cup parties afaik so. there’s that)

also they talked on the phone daily and between periods during nate’s cup run. they also canonically have almost weekly phone dates that can run multiple hours. quote nate “i can’t talk to anyone else the way i can talk to him”

they each have pictures of the two of them together framed in each other’s houses

there’s rumours they’re building adjoining houses on neighbouring properties in cape breton next to a golf course bc apparently being neighbours in halifax isn’t enough or something. this one is as yet unconfirmed by reputable sources though

[01zfan]

beanbag | l. sh & l. at

bestfriend!sohee + anton x reader | 6.1k words

after hearing yall wanted this i took a crack at my second threesome fic everrrrr hope you like :3

contains: smoking, high sex, threesomes

sohee and anton were never popular. they were quiet children and decided from a very young age that they would never try to become cool. they ended up finding humor in the times they were picked last for sports, bonding over they were ostracized by their peers. 

they met you the same way. a little girl playing by herself on the playground, her toys being her only friends. making friends was hard for anton and sohee, but it came naturally when they talked to you. before they knew it you guys were a trio, okay with being unpopular as long as you guys had eachother.

things didn’t start changing until junior high. you still weren’t sure how to describe it. all you knew was that you started the summer as an outcast but came back to school as someone everyone wanted to know. you made it into the good graces of the popular kids and teachers, becoming a class favorite. it wasn’t long until you were invited to outings every weekend, spending time with people outside of your small circle. 

anton and sohee changed too. anton hit a growth spurt that had him towering above his peers and sohee ended up joining clubs and focusing on academics. the three of you were no longer inseparable like you were as kids, but you remained by eachothers side. more times than not you found yourself hanging out with them over your new friends.

your popularity didn’t stop, even when you graduated. it was the summer now, everyone was trying to have as much fun as they could before leaving town to go to college. you had spent a majority of the summer at shitty pool parties and driving around aimlessly, trying to find out where the next shitty pool party would be. when you got a text from anton in your three-person groupchat that he wanted to hang out as a trio again you were over the moon. you were over at anton’s house in less than an hour, walking through his empty house down to the basement to your usual hangout.

sohee and anton were already there when you arrived. they were talking about something unimportant, the topic dropped the moment they heard you coming down the stairs. they got up and pulled you into a group hug, talking about how it’s been too long. you pulled away from them and took it in. already they had changed, looking like adults getting ready to go to college.

“congratulations on graduating,” you realized you haven’t seen them since the ceremony. “we actually did it.” 

anton and sohee both cheered, happy to have the years of school behind them. none of you knew what college would be like, and none of you knew what the next chapters of your lives would look like. all you three knew was that you would be experiencing it alone. for the first times in your lives you three wouldn’t be going to school together. it was daunting, and you truthfully wished it didn’t have to be that way. but now was the time to grow up and leave your childhood behind you. 

sohee and anton knew it too, that’s why they didn’t try to bring up the future too much. the past might've been to painful too. that's why they reached into their bags to pull out stashes of weed, talking about how they had to smoke it down before going off to college.

when the two revealed the entertainment for the night would be pre-rolled joints you were pleasantly surprised. you didn’t take anton or sohee as the type to partake in drugs, but the smile on their faces told you different. sohee brought paraphernalia of his own, hidden in the depths of his backpack. he expertly rolled another joint as anton lit his. 

when anton lit up in his basement you couldn’t control your expression. you were wide eyed and in shock, thinking about the kind of reaction anton’s parents would have if they came downstairs and smelled the weed. in a basement nonetheless, the smell would be trapped down there for days. even sohee looked surprised, thinking they would go out to the secluded garden to smoke. 

anton took in both of your faces before taking a quick hit. he stood up and you and sohee followed behind him, making your way towards the small window in the basement. sohee opened the egress window for anton and he blew out the smoke before handing the joint to sohee.

“i have all week to get the smell out of here, so don’t stress it.” anton said with a smile on his face.

that was all you and sohee needed. it wasn’t long before smoke clouds were loosely being pointed out the window, subsequently filling the basement with a haze. 

lighting two joints at once was an interesting choice, the three of you constantly passing two of them back and forth. the rotation was confusing, making all three of you giggle from the novelty of it all. there would be moments where someone would have both of the joints, taking a drag from both at the same time. you three stopped trying to blow the smoke out the window. your legs had gotten tired from standing, all three of you falling into the basement furniture and nodding to the music.

when the joints were done, your friends eyes had started to get low and bleary but you felt like you could keep going. the three of you all looked to eachother, trying to silently gauge how high everyone else was. sohee reached for his backpack. when sohee pulled out his bong it was like you guys were kids again. memories of coming over to anton’s house to play with a new toy filled your mind. the way you guys settled into the furniture was the same, all of you assuming your old positions. anton was nestled into the beanbag, sohee chose the beat up chair and you settled on the couch. not much had changed—the only difference was that you guys were gawking over sohee’s new glass bong instead of the nerdy things from your childhood. 

“how much?” anton asked quietly.

he was too afraid to hold it, only staring at it from afar. sohee had moved from his chair to sit close to anton, letting him have a better look. you moved down the couch, getting closer to the show and tell.

“i did mark’s work for the whole semester to get this.” sohee said.

he was proud of it, placing the bong in the light to show it refracting through the glass. the dark blue and clean blown glass splayed on the carpet in front of you guys. all of you were mesmerized, anton even taking a picture of the carpet for safe keeping. you three were like kids again, asking questions and holding it up to the light to see through it.

“should we use it?” sohee asked, eyebrows high looking at you and anton.

you and anton looked at eachother, and then you and sohee looked at anton. the looks were mischievous, waiting for someone to finally fold and say lets do it. you were the one that nodded your head first, reaching for anton’s weed so he’d get the hint as the designated bowl packer to get to work. anton was quick even though he was gentle with the bong, scared that he would break it. while anton did that sohee went upstairs, bringing down water and snacks for later.

when sohee returned the three of you settled into your huddle, getting ready to pass the bong around. sohee lit it for you first, the two of them watching with hooded eyes as you took it all in. you pulled out the bowl and passed it to sohee quickly, letting him breathe in the remainder of the smoke that was still in the neck of the bong. you lit it for anton after nearly coughing a lung out. 

by the time the weed in the bowl became ash, you were more than high. everything was moving slowly, and the lulling beat of the music made you feel like you were moving. anton and sohee were effected the same, setting the bong aside once they were done. 

anton was settled into the beanbag while you laid on your side on the carpet, nodding your head to the music. the three of you were silent, letting the weed take over to let your bodies fully relax. anton stretched his leg. out, playfully hitting your shoulder with his foot. you tilted your head to look at him, eyes low with a smile on his face.

“thanks for coming over.” anton said.

you nodded your head, playfully slapping his foot away.

“i wouldn’t miss this. besides i never see you guys anymore.” you say, sighing dramatically.

when you hear sohee scoff you look to him laying on the couch. you hit his knee, trying to get him to talk.

“got something you wanna say?” you ask.

sohee rubs his knee, before sinking more into the couch.

“you’re the one that’s too busy now to hang out with us.” sohee says.

you look to anton and he nods in agreement. he picks at his nails for a second before looking to you again.

“always hanging out with the popular kids.” anton says.

“even those annoying jocks” sohee agrees.

that’s when you get up and look at your two friends in surprise. they always seemed stuck to eachother like glue, where one went to other followed. hearing that they don’t hang out as much as they used to confused you. sohee leaned his head against the back of the couch and laughed.

“only because i’m trying to have fun before i go off to college.” you look back to the ceiling.

“what type of fun?” sohee asks.

you hit his knee again, and you can hear anton behind you hold back a laugh.

”wouldn’t you like to know, you little pervert.” you joke.

“we heard about you and that guy on the basketball team.” sohee tells you. 

“and what did you hear?” you ask.

when sohee is goes silent you look to anton. he tries so hard not to say anything, but when you move towards anton he caves immediately.

”we heard that you guys ya know,” anton looks to sohee and then to you. “did it.” anton says finally.

you just shake your head, trying not to show how embarrassed you are. you were so close to sealing the deal with eunseok, someone you found yourself pining after for the better half of the school year. but nothing came from it, putting you in the position of being someone with the bare minimum of experiences on your way to college.

“we didn’t do anything.” your hand starts mindlessly picking at the fabric of the couch. “cool that rumor spread though.” you say.

sohee comes down from the couch, a hand going to your shoulder to try and make you feel better. a smile is on his face as he shakes you gently, getting you to face him.

“it’s okay dude.” sohee points towards anton on the beanbag. “anton is still a virgin.” sohee says.

you laugh when you hear anton move from the beanbag to try and hit sohee. you end up leaning back to give anton the space but he misses sohee, only hitting a part of his shoulder.

while the two still argue, you go back to pickign at the carpet. you think about all the things you haven’t gotten to experience yet before leaving, some of the fun you’ve been missing out on. you look at sohee and anton, two of your bestest friends and your two confidants. you can stop yourself from clearing your throat and looking at the two of them.

“are you actually, anton?” you ask quietly.

anton and sohee pull away from their tussle to look at you.

“am i what?” anton asks.

“a virgin?” you answer.

instantly, you can see the blush on anton’s face. it starts on his neck and goes to his face in splotches, ending at his ears. you can even see sohee get a little red, the tips of his ears becoming rosy.

“not totally. there was that time after prom.” anton says.

he sounds far away, his hand scratching the back of his neck shyly. he ends his sentence with an awkard laugh when you nod your head sympathetically.

“i haven’t done that much either.” you say.

“me neither.” sohee says.

even though sohee and anton’s eyes go wide, it’s true. none of you had done anything besides heavy petting and making out with someone until your jaw started locking. none of you were nearly as well versed as your peers. you thought about going to college, how everyone there would be lightyears ahead of you in terms of intimacy. you look to your two bewildered friends. maybe if one of you guys made a move it that could change.

you shift from your spot on the carpet. anton and sohee instantly perk up, watching your every move. they see how you stand on your knees and clear your throat, suddenly so dry from nervousness and the weed. you put a slow hand on sohee’s knee, he follows your hand all the way up to your face. you look to sohee and then to anton. sohee looks to anton and then you. 

“do you think we can?” you ask outloud.

sohee nods while anton remains still on the beanbag. sohee doesn’t waste anytime looking at his friend before going behind you. sohee out of your line of sight makes all your attention go to anton. his face only gets redder as you slowly make your way over to him, guiding by sohee behind you.

you experimentally crawled over to anton on the beanbag, cautiously reaching out your hand. you let it rest on his thigh lightly, gliding your hand repeatedly over the small space. anton was still confused, his previously hooded eyes were stretched wide as he tried to figure out what was happening. sohee had gone behind you at some point, using gentle fingers to stretch the collar of your shirt to touch your neck and shoulder. 

sohee’s touches only egged you on, until your hands had gotten more desperate. you moved your other hand to anton’s thigh to move your hand lightly. when he looked at you and squirmed underneath your touch, you halted your movements.

“is this okay, anton?” sohee asked from behind you.

sohee was only half paying attention, asking the question between kisses on your neck and shoulder. but his question pulled you from your trance. you took your hands away, afraid that you had gone to far. but anton placed his hands over yours before nodding quickly. he brought them further up until they rested over his front pockets. the sudden movement brought you forward, causing sohee to press his body closer to yours.

you were face to face with anton now, breath fanning his face. you looked down at your hands only for a second—they were so close to touching his dick. the music that played on the basement speakers was long forgotten. the blood rushing through your ears and the sound of sohee’s lips against your skin was the only music you needed.

“if you won’t, switch places with me.” sohee said to anton.

that was all anton needed before bringing you closer to him. your noses touched first, pressing together until he timidly kissed you.

it was slow and the pacing was uneven, suddenly both of you were painfully aware that anton didn’t know what he was doing and you were out of practice. 

you brought a hand to anton’s chin to hold him in place while you silently guide him through kissing. you took your time, letting each kiss linger on his lips as you progressively deepened it. anton was a fast learner but shy; his grip of your triceps told you he wanted to take charge but was too nervous to do it. your mind quickly ran through the small list of girls that anton had talked about over the years. you don’t think any of his crushes led to anything more than hopeless pining. you know it’s true when anton starts whimpering into your mouth, so overwhelmed and sensitive just from you slowly kissing him. when he sticks his tongue in your mouth you suck on it, and his grip on your arm almost becomes bruising. sohee stops kissing your neck but you can feel his hand go down your back.

you don’t know if it’s the weed that makes you sloppy, but when you pull away from anton the lower part of his face is glossy from spit. you wipe your own face with the back of your hand when he reaches out a tongue to swipe over his already wet lips.

“sorry.” you say sheepishly.

”don’t apologize.” anton says.

anton is breathless, and when you look down you feel your own words leave you. he is straining in his jean shorts, the outline of his hard didck visible through the denim. sohee sees it too, laughing before kissing your neck again.

“he likes it.” sohee says from behind you.

you give anton another kiss on the lips and pull away fast. you revel in his eyes that are still closed when you pull away and how he brings his lips forward in efforts to follow you. 

anton’s eyes are still closed when you turn your body to face sohee. his lips are already wet, his hair pushed away from his face as he looks at you. sohee is bolder than anton, guiding your body onto the beanbag to sit in between anton’s legs. sohee doesn’t hesitate until your back is pressed against anton’s chest. you have to pull him in the same way you did anton, but your gentle hand starts shaking from the anticipation building all over you. 

seeing you nervous makes the playing field even. you keep a hand on sohee’s shoulder as he makes out with you, and you have a hand on anton’s thigh as he breathes heavily behind you. both of their hands are all over your body, sneaking underneath your shirt and grasping your chest. you feel their hands on your thighs, pushing and pulling you like tug-of-war. you can feel anton’s arm snake around your waist to keep you close.

sohee’s lips distract you and the weed makes you all three move in a daze. the sound of kissing and moving on the beanbag fills the air as your three clumsily make-out. there’s a moment where sohee tilts his head to the same side where anton kisses your neck. their forehead touch, and the two of them look at eachother simultaneously. while sohee is distracted, anton brings his hand that cups your chest over your shirt to tilt your head towards him. 

anton brings you in for another kiss, instantly putting his tongue in your mouth. sohee takes it in stride, going to suck on the parts anton couldn’t reach. sohee’s hands started knead your chest while anton starts feeling your sides. his hand that was holding your chin started covering the expanse of your neck. something inside of you almost wants him to squeeze, but there will be chances for that in the future. feeling anton’s large hand gently on your neck is more than enough.

both of their hands are rushed and both were testing out various kinds of pressure. you were experimenting yourself, purposefully moving your hips back to press your ass against anton’s dick while guiding sohee’s hands underneath your shirt. 

sohee took the extra step to pull your shirt over your head, forcing you to pull apart from anton. anton’s eyes lingered on your lips for a second before flickering down to stare at your bra. parts of your chest peaked over the top and spilled from the bottom from the movement. both sohee and anton’s eyes were only staring, not daring to reach a hand out to grasp you. you felt yourself melting underneath their gaze, letting your head fall back until it rested on anton’s shoulder.

“both of you touch me.” you spread your legs on the beanbag to allow sohee to come closer. “please.” you begged.

for the first time ever, anton made the first move. his hand that was pawing at your sides confidently grabbed a handful of your chest, squeezing your skin roughly. sohee followed suit, mirroring what his bestfriend was doing on the other side. you closed your eyes and leaned even further into anton’s broad chest, already overwhelmed by the feeling. you could feel anton’s strong and broad chest against your back and his twitching dick against your ass.

“you’re perfect.” anton whispered underneath his breath. 

you moaned to let anton know you heard him, and you moan again when sohee pulls your bra down by the straps to free your chest. he tweaks your nipple until you grasp his arm from the pain. anton presses soft kisses to your cheek while sohee pulls your bra down your body slowly. your breasts are free, and sohee hesitates only for a moment before latching his mouth to your nipple.

your back arches instantly into sohee’s mouth, and sohee places a hand on your back to support you. now sohee and anton are actively pulling your body in two different directions, making you bring your head up from anton’s shoulder.

“are you guys fighting over me right now?” you ask.

the weed makes all three of you giggle. the situation is insane, completely unlike all of your personalities to do this. your question serves as a buffer, forcing the three of you to really comprehend what is happening. your shirt is off and your bra is pulled down to your stomach, sohee’s lips are kissed swollen and anton is painfully hard in his jeans. 

you settle into the beanbag, placing hands on anton’s thighs as you steady yourself. you look at sohee, and then crane your head to look at anton. the two never took their hands off of you, touching you affectionately while you get comfortable.

“what do you want us to do?” anton asked.

sohee and anton’s hands found their way to your legs. they both press into your thigh and calves. when sohee tugs at the end of your pants you lift your hips.

“take my pants off.” you say.

sohee continues to pull at the end of your pants while anton makes work of the button on the top of your jeans. he’s quick, too quick that it causes him to fumble. you look back again to see anton staring at you, eyes sleepy and clown out. you try to mirror his look while your hands go over his wrists, forcing him to slow down. 

when your pants are off and you are left in just your panties, the two go back to feeling every part of your body. now you have the exposed skin of your thighs, soft and supple underneath their sluggish hands. the weed from the bond must’ve hit, making all of you more relaxed. you let out a shaky breath before going back to anton’s lips. anton is preoccupied, too busy pressing his fingers into your clothed heat. anton and sohee take turns, switching between smacking your waistband against your skin and spreading your legs further. when you feel your panties getting pushed to the side, you let out a hiss. you pull away from anton and look down at sohee between your legs.

“can i finger you?” sohee asks.

the straightforwardness has you feeling bashful. you nod your head, not being able to use words before anton brings you back to his lips.

anton sticks his otngue into your mouth the same time sohee puts a finger inside of you. you can only take what anton gives you, sloppy kisses that leave your face wet. all of your attention is put towards sohee’s pretty fingers that disappear into your cunt. the wet sounds of kissing and fingering fills the space of anton’s stuffy basement. you’re whining into anton’s mouth when sohee puts another finger in. anton pulls away from your lips, looking down at what sohee is doing to you.

“can i try?” anton asks.

he’s still sheepish, his hand doesn’t slink down your body until you nod your head. sohee kisses your stomach as he settles further down your body, not taking out his fingers. instead sohee only guides anton’s finger in with his when he pulls his digits out. you can’t stop yourself from clamping around the three fingers, all of you gasping at the feeling.

“so tight.” anton whispers.

“look.” sohee says.

neither of you are sure who he is talking to, but you both look down anyway. sohee puts his hand on anton’s wrist, stopping him from pumping his finger back in. the three of you look down at your cunt, closing in on nothing as it pulses like a heartbeat. anton’s dick twitches against your ass again as the three of you continue to watch. you get impatient, pinching their fingers together before wiggling your hips. the two get the hint, pumping their fingers back into your heat again. when they are still slow, you start guiding their fingers in and out of you at a faster pace.

“faster.” you whimper. 

the beanbag caused you to slip further down anton’s body. your head is just above his heart now, hearing it thud in his chest as he picks up the pace. when you dig your fingers into sohee’s bicep he hisses in pain, and you dig your other hand into anton’s thigh. neither of them stop, driven by the way your body shudders. they both have tunnelvision on the way you react to them, that they are caught by surprised when you wrap your legs around sohee. your legs bring him in close, and your arm reaches up to grab onto anton’s shoulder for stability. you are a moaning mess, pulling down on anton with so much force he hunches over your forehead. anton and sohee are too speechless to talk, only grunting and whimpering as they focus on fucking their fingers into you at the same pace. the wet sound and you whining overtakes the song that changed on the speakers.

“i’m cumming.” you whine.

sohee and anton only go faster. sohee looks up at your breasts, how your hardened nipples bounce from the momentum. even though you bite your lip the sound comes through. you open your eyes briefly when you feel anton’s hair brush your face. your heads are pressed side by side and anton’s hand pressing into your stomach keeps you in place. you can hear anton’s quiet moans, how he’s getting more and more pent up seeing, hearing, and feeling your release. you hear sohee same something and anton places a gentle kiss to your cheek, pulling his finger out of your heat to let sohee fuck you through your orgasm. 

sohee takes charge, using his other hand to press down on your clit. it’s a different sensation, almost painful from the stimulation you’re already receiving. anton uses his free hand to grab your breasts, being the roughest you’ve ever seen him.

when you are spent, you legs wrapped around sohee loosens and your hand falls from anton’s shoulder. you are a huffing mess, gasping for air when sohee pulls his fingers out of you. the weed and post orgasm pulls at your eyelids, but you keep them open to look at sohee in front of you. he’s worried, kissing your cheeks and massaging your twitching legs. your body is almost out of energy, but when you see sohee’s dick jump in his shorts you open your mouth.

“are there condoms?” you ask.

you have to swallow spit and lick your mouth to try and wet it. you only think for a second how ridiculous you three must look. mussed hair and flushed faces, all panting looking to one another as you try to figure out who was a condom. you can practically see the lightbulb go off over sohee’s head when he remembers he is always prepared.

“in my backpack.” sohee points to his back behind anton and anton reaches for it instantly. “i think.” sohee says.

while anton rummages through all the things in sohee’s bag sohee stands up, pulling his layered long-sleeve and short-sleeve shirt over his head in one go. you look up to watch him, the setting sun casts perfectly on his face. the ray of sun that comes through the tiny window lights up the space. you can see the dander floating around in the room, moving harshly in the wind as sohee kicks off his pants and socks. sohee’s gaze pierces through the sun, staring at you as he’s finished getting undressed. sohee is left in his underwear when he comes back down to his knees in front of you. anton dumps out the contents of sohee’s bag on the floor in a haste, moving things around not being able to find a condom.

sohee’s bag is thrown somewhere, and anton reluctantly lets go of you so he can get undressed himself. he stands up from the beanbag and you move forward, standing on your knees the same way sohee does. his hand comes to your hips and yours goes to his face, swiping a finger on his moles like they might disappear. he pulls you in for a kiss, and you can hear anton’s clothes hitting the ground behind you. you can hear the beanbag move too as anton comes behind you. he presses lips to your clammy shoulders and neck in the same places sohee kissed. anton’s hands go to your thighs, spreading them out slightly so he can come closer to you. one of sohee’s hands goes to your chin, tilting your head upwards so he can get a better angle. you can feel yourself becoming overwhelmed again, almost knocking you off your feet when you feel anton’s dick press against your ass. he gasps behind you, so sensitive from your bare skin touching his sensitive bare dick.

sohee pulls away from your lips, looking at anton behind you with the same look.

“you’re too impatient.” sohee says.

any attempt at a scolding goes right over anton’s head. you can feel anton smile against the back of your head when he ruts against your ass.

“if you won’t, i will.” anton remarks.

both you and sohee laugh at anton using sohee’s words against him.

“look at you being snippy.” you try to sound light and playful but your voice comes out sickly sweet.

“almost thought you were older than me for a second.” sohee says.

anton only hums against your head, moving his hips languidly against the swell of your ass. your hand goes behind your head to fist anton’s hair, sighing out in between the space of you and sohee. sohee looks to all of his things spread out on the floor, looking slightly annoyed. you go to kiss sohee’s neck while he scans the pile, not seeing what he needs. 

“i don’t have any condoms.” sohee says regretfully.

you hum against sohee’s neck, placing an open mouthed kiss before pulling away. anton still rubs against your ass, his fingers digging roughly into your hip bones.

“we can still have fun.” you say.

youlet your hand go underneath the waistband of sohee’s boxers. you touch his tip first, feeling the precum that wets the thin fabric of his underwear. you rub it around, teasing sohee enough until he pulls his boxers down to his knees. you grab sohee’s shaft and squeeze the same way he squeezed your chest, looking down at him slightly as he closes his eyes in bliss. sohee is more pliant now, even bringing a hand to your shoulder to find stability. when you start pumping his length sohee puts a hand over antons then above it when he realizes the spot is taken. you have to pair of hands with a death grip on you, and you are being pulled backwards towards anton as he becomes more wound up. you take your time with sohee, trying to coax out the whimpers he was hiding from you earlier.

“you’re gonna miss me, right guys?” you ask. 

you look at sohee while you ask the question, but both of the boys whine affirmatives.

“so much.” anton whimpers.

“so so so much.” sohee agrees.

you smile before placing a quick kiss to sohee’s lips. you look down at hard dick in your hand, glistening in the setting sun. it’s close enough to the bong that your hand is painted by the sun coming through the stained glass. the sight is so pretty, almost as pretty as your two friends you’re sandwiched between. 

“i’ll miss you guys too.” you whine.

your hand around sohee picks up the pace, and he walks forward on his knees until his tip presses against your stomach. he’s needy, fucking your hand with such vigor his tip pokes your bellybutton. this sohee is so different from the one that was teasing anton earlier. any attempt the three of you guys have tried to become the dominant one fails terribly. it’s reminiscent of the relationship you guys have had over the years, how none of you guys have a “leader”. that’s what set you apart from every other friend group, and that’s what is driving the three of you guys over the edge together. you are helping the other feel good, driven solely by weed and the tightening coil in the pits of your stomachs. 

sohee grabs anton’s hand on your waist and pulls it down to your heat. you’re still sensitive everywhere, shaking above their hands when they start gliding their fingers up and down your folds. sohee focuses on your clit and spreading your folds open while anton fingers your from behind. he’s fast and hits deep, mimicking the thrusts he takes against your ass. 

“i’m gonna cum.” anton whispers.

his voice is still gentle and sweet, almost pitiful as he confesses he’s going to finish first. his words are interrupted with gasps and whimpers when he finds a new way to stimulate himself against your body.

“fuck. me too.” sohee follows after him.

their fingers inside of you are hurried, trying to get you to join them as fast as possible. it’s pitiful, the three of you so close together as you all try to desperately make the others feel good. you are all lost in the feeling, only coming back to reality when sohee bends forward to press his teeth into your shoulder.

“oh my god.” you moan.

when you moan loudly, it gives sohee and anton the indication to do the same. anton no longer moans quietly into your shoulder or beside your ear. he means past your shoulder into sohee’s space while he uses his free hand to press his dick against your ass cheek. he’s fucking his with such force is pushes you forward, forcing your free hand to hold onto sohee for stability. sohee continues to fuck your hand and kiss the bite mark he left, moaning into your ear repeating how close he is. his fingers on your clit lose their steady pace, now just trying to overstimulate you.

the three of you are moaning in unison when you finally begin to feel release. you can feel anton slow his thrusts as hot cum spurts onto your side and dribbles onto your ass and thighs. you can feel him slow down behind you, pressing the top of his sweaty head to your back as he looks down at what he’s done. he is still moaning from the aftershocks, almost overstimulated himself when he uses his dick to move the cum around on your ass. 

sohee moves a hand from your shoulder to wrap around your hand. he makes you squeeze harder and move your hand faster. he is silent, letting the tension build over him for a second until he can’t bear it anymore. sohee pants your stomach as you both look down and moan. you follow after your two bestfriends solely from the sight and hearing them finish on either side of you. it’s overstimulating, causing your thighs to shake as you lean to sohee for support. anton’s hands hold onto you to help you steady as you feel yourself coming undone again. your eyes are screwed shut, and you curse while saying their names.

you’re still shaking when sohee and anton guide you down to the rug underneath your knees. you three are all trying to regain composure, breathing through your noses. 

all three of you are side by side on your backs staring at the ceiling of the basement. you focus on the music, letting the heavy bass that shakes the floor bring you back down to earth. you sneak quick glances at your two friends on either side of you. their chests still heave as they stare at the ceiling too, blissed out looks on their faces. you’re sure you look the same, despite your shaking legs and sudden shudders. anton’s eyes are closed and his hands clench at his sides. sohee smiles and opens his eyes first, hands resting on his stomach.

“we should do this next summer too.” sohee laughs.