#but I really do love rootbeer

[bigtreefest]

Coke or Pepsi?

Root beer😎

But for real, I have pretty bad reactions with caffeine so I don’t really drink any cola🤷🏻‍♀️ if I really had to choose, tbh, I’m going Dr. Pepper. Maybe cherry coke… but like, dark soda isn’t a vibe for me bc I’ll feel like I’m dying. Root beer is great. Sprite is great. Love the cranberry ginger ale that they have around the holidays.

[prototypelq]

....while I haven't played the ubisoft avatar game myself, or more accurately, I have obsessively played the x360 one, I doubt it could be better than the Ancient Forest of Monster Hunter World.

I have. Never seen a jungle location be this layered, vertical and complex, while also remaining extremely readable. Like, there'a and easy route around the map and insides of a giant tree in the center of it, to act as a crossing or shortcut. However, the actual map is... so much more detailed than just this.

There are vine swing-jumping sections which open up new pathways for you, there are less noticeable vines to climb, which reveal new arboreal pathways ahead. There is an entire 'jungle-catwalk' section right near the dragon nest at the top of the giant tree. You cannot navigate these additional paths with map, it is much more simple and natural just to remember them and trust your memory on this.

It's just I have spawned in a rainy weather for the first time, and started exploring these vines, and this has been THE Avatar experience. Honestly no other game has ever made a more natural and interesting forest to explore than this one.

I genuinely did not anticipate this level of detail, beauty and meticulous attention to everything from a game about exterminating dinodragons. I picked it up for the Monster Hunter part of it the title, but let me tell you the World part is the actual gem of the game for me, I am in love with this.

[evie-sturns]

ɢᴇᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ - ᴍᴀᴛᴛ ꜱᴛᴜʀɴɪᴏʟᴏ

summary: you're spending the weekend at the sturniolos house, you've never had feeling for matt, but this weekend has been different, he just looks too good, the sexual frustration builds up to the point where you just have to get yourself off, but matt walks in on you..

Warnings: swearing, smut, f!masturbation, caught gettin freaky w yourself, fingering, p in v.

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i'm spending the weekend with my best friends, the sturniolos. i've never had any feelings for them, but this past week matt has been looking.. different. he's recently got more tattoos, his facial hair has grown out slightly, giving him a subtle moustache. matt's been wearing different earrings, longer ones, i've never thought about him this way, it weirds me out, but i can't help myself. i've had no privacy for the past 3 days though, constantly with a triplet. i've wanted to touch myself, but i physically cant.

i open the trash can, throwing in me, matt, nick and chris's empty solo cups, which were filled with rootbeer.

"im so fucking tired what time is it." chris yawns, standing up from the dining table.

"1:30am." nick mumbles, rubbing his eyes.

"okay guys, i'm going to bed yeah? gotta be up early for the beach tomorrow" chris says, doing stupid claps with a wide grin on his face.

i scoff, waving him goodbye as he disappears upstairs. nick runs over to me, giving me a quick hug "i'm gonna sleep too, love ya y/n, see you in the morning."

me and matt stand in the kitchen, i lean on the countertop slightly, scrolling on our phones. his face is lit by his screen, highlighting his features. i don't even notice the fact i'm squeezing my thighs together until he looks up at me.

"you okay, mrs. staring problem" he jokes, giving me a smile. my cheeks flush, i uncross my thighs and wipe my face quickly. "sorry." i say, quickly.

"i'm gonna go watch a movie okay? my rooms always open." i say, giving matt a hug.

i get butterflies, why the fuck did i get butterflies?

i feel a heat grow between my legs, i run upstairs, going into the spare room which im staying in for the next few days. i lock the door behind me,

atleast i think i do.

i flop down on the bed, my hand reaches under my waistband, tracing soft circles over my fabric of my panties. "fuck." i whisper before shimmying my shorts and panties down in one motion to my ankles.

im left with my bottom half revealed on the bed, i use one finger to trace my clit in circles. i squirm on the bed, restraining my moans. after a few minutes i plunge two fingers into my hole, pumping in and out.

my mind subconsciously flicks to matt, his tattoos, which crawl up his arms, his hair, his hands, i wonder what they would look like around my neck-

the door opens, my eyes bulge open, me and matt make direct eye contact, i instantly yank up my shorts,

"get out please!" i say, my voice shaking, as i sit up quickly

"oh fuck im so sorry!" he yells slamming the door shut, his face pale.

i fall back on the bed, covering my face with a long groan.

embarrasment.

is the only thing i feel, my heart pounds as i bring my knees to my chest.

after 10 minutes, i hear a quiet knock on the door, i sit up off the bed, walking towards the door and opening it.

im met with matts guilty face, his cheeks are flushed, a few strands of hair stuck to his forehead.

he opens his mouth, nothing comes out execpt for a small noise. he clears his throat "sorry."

"i uh, sorry um, i really shouldve knocked." he says fidgeting with his hand. i stay silent, my cheeks cherry red. "i swear i didn't see much." he assures, i look up at him, raising an eyebrow in a 'really?' way. he stares at me "maybe thats a lie, but i swear ill blank it out of my mind!" he says, his voice frantic.

"its fine matt, i shouldve locked the door okay? lets go watch a movie in your room." i say, giving matt a warm smile. he nods, walking towards his room.

i follow close behind him as he jumps into bed, laying an arms out, i jump in beside him, cuddling close into his side.

my heart beats again, when im nervous words just come out.

"i was thinking about you when i was touching myself." i blurt out, slamming a hand over my mouth. the room goes silent. im frozen in shock.

"what?" he says in confusion.

"not true." i mumble out. my hand glued to my mouth.

matt tenses up under me. "y/n.. you have to tell me right now what your were thinking about.." he says, calmer than expected/

i stay silent.

"y/n." hes cut off by my voice.

"you it was you, i don't know!" i say, my voice trembling from embarrassment.

"what about me?" matt teases, rubbing my shoulder comfortingly

"tattoos, hair, hands" my mouth is moving faster than my brain.

"is that so now?" he says, looking down at me.

i nod quickly, matt sits up on his knees before hovering over me. i look up at him, my eyes submissive.

he smashes his lips into mine, holding the back of my head. "matt" i whine into his mouth. "i know, i know." he says, pulling my shorts down. "can i?" he says, toying with the waistband of my panties.

"please." i beg, lifing my hips up to help him. he leans down and whispers into my hair.

"whats gonna happen is you're gonna ride me, and you arent going to make a single noise, nick and chris are right next door."

i nod, flipping us over, straddling his thighs with my bare lower half.

he pulls down his sweatpants, his large erection springing out. "you ready?" he says, tearing open a condom with his teeth and rolling it on him. "i really like you.." i whisper, hovering above his tip. "you need help sweatheart?" matt speaks, holding my ass.

i didn't, i just wanted to feel his hands on me.

"yes,- yeah please.."

he lowers me down onto him, halfway down. suddenly he drops me, my ass colliding with his thighs, i let out a gasp as he smiles, he lifts me back up to his tip, before dropping me again.

i let out a shaky moan, matt holds a hand over my mouth. "can't stay quiet can you baby?" he teases, lifting me up and down.

i squeeze my eyes shut, pushing myself up and down with my hands on his collar bones. i let out muffled whimpers, his hand clamped onto my lips.

"so good princess." he praises, lifting me up and down faster.

"you're clenching, gonna cum for me?"

i nod frantically,

"go on." he says, i instantly comply, orgasming on his length.

he groans before pulling out of me, his cum spilling into his condom. i instantly collapse on his chest. matt whispers praises in my ear.

i place a long kiss on his neck.

"pretty glad i didn't lock the door." i say in between breaths

—-———-----┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛------------------

had a shitty day today so i wrote matt smut LMAO

[bunnys-kisses]

Hiii bunny, can i get a chocolate chip cookie and rootbeer with carlos sainz pretty pleasee

bakery menu

want to suggest your own order? check out the menu! thank you for the order, lovely anon! i have been meaning to write more carlos, so thank you for suggesting this! i always have a sweet spot for the root beer prompt!

chocolate chip cookie ("you're beautiful when you smile, but you're the prettiest when my cock is in your throat") + root beer (filming/recording) served by carlos sainz jr (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, oral sex (carlos receiving), filming, dirty talk

you could feel the subtle thud in your chest as you got down on your knees. the camera of carlos' phone was close to your face as you started to undo his belt. the sturdy leather felt good in your hands as you got it off of his waist.

you knew that carlos has a collection of videos and photos of you, all private of course. carlos would never sell or give away those intimate images of you. it was in a safe folder on his phone, where only he could access it.

"you look beautiful." he said as he took your cheek in his hand. he chuckled when you looked up at him, your gaze was so sweet. he then tapped your lips with his finger and smiled down at you, "te extrañé." he said truthfully.

you looked up at him, your hands on the waistband of his briefs, "on my knees, i look beautiful." you giggled a little before you kissed his bulge ever so sweetly.

he replied, "you're beautiful when you smile, but you're the prettiest when my cock is in your throat" then rubbed his thumb up against your pretty lips, "i could have you in any position and you'd be the most beautiful woman in the world."

you chuckled and gazed up towards the camera, you felt the flutter in your chest as you stayed there in front of him. he loved you so much, he thought of the world about you. and it was seen in how he interacted with you.

"i can't believe you are filming me. this is always embarrassing." you can feel the heat in your cheeks as you got close to his cock once more. you pulled his briefs under his impressive size.

he patted your cheek and said lovingly, "i only do it because you're so beautiful. i want to get you from every angle. so when we're apart, i have a part of you with me." then shuddered when you wrapped your lips around his cock.

it was going to be an erotic video over all, you were just beautiful with carlos' cock in your throat. you took him so well, learning how to take down his large cock was a bit much at first. but overtime you really learned over time. you shifted on your knees and held onto his strong thighs.

you took him so pretty, the way that you sucked his cock. it was just painfully prefect. it made you shudder a little bit when he grasped the back of your head and sank you further on his impressive length.

the sounds of sex filled the air, your wet mouth around his cock. you kept a steady rhythm and he groaned a little bit from the pressure. it all felt so good that it made the blood rush in his ears.

"my beautiful girl.' he cooed, "i'll be thinking about you the entire time i'm gone. and then when i come home with that trophy, i'm going to fuck you nice and slow. feel all of your body." he shifted in his seat and held the back of your head while you orally pleasured him.

he was hunched over you as he held your head. your mouth around his cock and it made him hot all over. he could feel the leap in his heartbeat as he kept his cock in your mouth.

you were perfect for him and it made it hard for him to keep recording. but he wanted to capture this for a lifetime. you took your mouth off him and kissed the tip before you slid back down on it. it made the spanish driver shudder at the feeling.

"my beautiful, beautifil girl." he groaned a little as he continued to rut his cock up against your throat. it made his heart beat a little louder in his ears as he felt the lust in his gut.

the camera was right in your face and for a moment you glanced at it before you closed your eyes once more and continued to suck him off. you shifted in your spot a little, wanting your lover carnally. you could feel the heat in your belly.

carlos was blissed out on the couch. he could feel his heartbeat in his throat as you sucked him off. it was painfully hot, the sight of you, the feeling of you. his hand wobbled as he held the camera, almost dropping it when the pleasure got too intense.

you looked up at the camera once more and smiled a little bit. you swallowed him down dutifully, and your heart slammed into your chest.

he leaned his head back and moaned, "por favor, mi amor." then came down your throat and it was like a punch in the gut when he felt you swallow him all down. the saltiness lingered in your mouth and he could feel his heart palpitations.

he almost dropped his phone and heavily panted. he said, "my beautiful girl. i love you." before he turned off the video and put his phone to the side. he shift on the couch and felt his sweat go through his t-shirt.

you slowly took your mouth off of him and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, getting all the spit off your chin. you rested on your heels and smiled up at him.

he got his cock into his briefs the helped you onto his lap. he put his head on top of yours and sighed happily. he loved the feeling of you, "you were so pretty on your knees." he kissed the crown of your head.

you wrapped your arms around him and giggled, "thank you. you weren't too bad yourself." then looked at him to give him a kiss on the lips.

he smiled into the kiss. the video would be stored away in a little bit. somewhere safe on his phone was only for his prying eyes. because with the rest of the season coming up. he wanted to make sure he had you from every angle.

his beloved angel. <3

[a-little-ray-of-fantasy]

Barnaby facts (confirmed by the devs)

Hello! Since I was bored and it's making me so happy to see Barnaby getting so much love lately, I've decided to collect all the info I have about him! I most likely missed something, so if you have info I haven't put here, or got wrong, let me know, ok? ^^

Anyhoo, here we go! **}

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

- Barnaby, despite his name, is not a barn owl. He's actually a long eared owl.

- Barnaby isn't his real name; he used to have a different one, back in his alive days. One of the drawings featuring him has him surrounded by many names starting with "B".

- Said illustration has "Who am I?" hidden among the names and words such as "Where" and "Help", hinting at something linked to his identity is torturing him.

- It's been stated that Barnaby is the way he is because of a dangerous experiment that corrupted then killed him, changing him completely as a result.

- Barnaby is asexual homoromantic, and is genderfluid: while he goes primarly by "he/him", he accepts any pronoun.

- He considers his Barnaboos as his "little pretties", and often offers help or advice if they need it; of course, his help may not be as helpful as he believes...

- He hates cheesecake.

- He's not a fan of rootbeer neither; he will serve it in his parties, but he personally won't drink it.

- His favorite food is eye scream, and favorite Halloween treat are caramel apples.

- As for ice cream, his favorite flavor is Strawberry Shortcake.

- Speaking of food, yeah, he doesn't need to eat, nor sleep. But still likes doing it anyway.

- Barnaby is a confirmed sleepyhead. He naps a lot, but never in an ordinary position, or in his bed; he tends to sleep in various gravity bending position, especially upside down.

- Meaning, yes, when Billie comes to steal his gem, he was sleeping!

- And when he sleeps, he apparently snores and hoots.

- While hugging him would result in a kill from him, Ash confirmed Barnaby is a hugger! Hugging him would still involve him squeezing or stabbing you to death, tho'. And he'd feel both soft and slimy to the touch.

- Barnaby is around 10-11ft tall, and with his size-shifting abilities, he can be any height he wants; when he was alive tho', he's as tall as Aristotle, more or less.

- He doesn't need glasses anymore, but sometimes will wear them because they make him look smart. They also tend to follow the eyes' movements.

- Barnaby is very emotional: while it won't stop him from trying to kill you, he will cry if he sees you cry. Ironically, he would comfort you until you feel better. Then he'll kill you.

- It's been confirmed that Barnaby's biggest fear has "already come true".

- His tears are orange, just like his eyes.

- Barnaby is not one to open his heart easily, but the moment he does, there's many ways to reach it. He's quite romantic, tho' not in the usual way: if you gave him a dead rat, he'd consider it a very romantic gesture!

- It's been stated he doesn't have a partner now, but in life, "maybe".

- When it comes to children, it's been confirmed he'd be the best caregiver alongside Dutch, althought for him "it's complicated".

- He apparently had a child of his own, if the picture posted about him during "Father's Day" is any indication. What happened to the little one hasn't been revealed yet.

- Apparently he's the least judgemental character in BBU!

- If he had a TV, it'd be old timey, and he'd watch something really random. Like ducks.

- Barnaby loves small critters; Ash specifically mentions they always linked him with guinea pigs. And indeed, Barnaby had a science guinea pig co-worker once, that turned into an actual guinea pig because of a reckless experiment, and he took care of them.

- He's able to control reality; it's unclear if it's his gem's doing, or his magic power as a ghost.

- In any case, he's now the most powerful character in the game

- Back in his alive days, he was a magic researcher and scientist.

- He actually owned the gem before he turned into a ghost. He even experimented on it, and it's suggested that actually sealed his fate.

- A lot of songs from Oingo Boingo and Lemon Demon fit him: Ash specifically mentioned "Weird Science" as really "Barnabycore"

- Barnaby is autistic: he stims by hooting and flapping his wings when he's excited.

- When he's scared or nervous, he tends to cover himself with his wings.

- Katie said that, if he were a candy, he'd be a sour blueberry.

- Barnaby lives in his own dimension, with his own mansion and everything. And he can travel between realities. Although one comment from Katie suggests he's trapped in there, but it's too early to say for sure.

- According to the devs, he was inspired by Weird Al Yankovic, Lewis from Mystery Skulls and Discord from MLP.

- No, he wasn't inspired by Snatcher, since the development of BBU has lasted longer than A Hat in Time. The two of them canonically know each other tho': only problem is, Snatcher hates Barnaby's guts and finds him too clingy, while the owl adores him.

- He canonically knows Wally Darling from "Welcome Home" and Kira from "Far Fetched" too, since he can travel between realities.

- Barnaby has his guests come to his home by portals that pop just below them. He apparently has kidnapped people before, every once in a while.

- He'd get along well with Dutch.

- It's left vague whether he knows Fantoccio or not.

- He actually has never met Arthur nor Aristotle before the game.

- In any case, he'd find Aristotle really funny, and wouldn't take them seriously.

-- Barnaby is aware of the player, and can break the 4th wall. And that's why only he can use Twitter.

- Whenever he writes on Twitter, hE WRiTSE LIkE THIS!!!

- Barnaby is REALLY mischeavous, and finds no problem in cheating in games. But if YOU cheat, then he gets ticked off.

- This suggests he's also a sore loser.

- Judging by his expression in the cutscene, he doesn't like being interrupted.

- It's been confirmed he smells like meldew. :P

- He could fake glitching out, then attack the moment you come to check out what's going on with him.

- He HATES party crashers. Also scarecrows: not good for conversations. And he's not interested in their crops.

- He can play the organ: Katie even suggested that if you hear it in the background of his chapter, that's him playing it.

- He was a young prodigy, back when he was alive!

- Don't be fooled by his goofy antics: he's very smart, still loves making experiments and can speak a lot of languages.

- Ironically, he hates skulls: he finds them icky.

- He was 25-26 when he died; he's been dead for 100+ years.

- Time is very important for him: that's why there's so many clocks in his parlor. It's been suggested he sees partying as a way to keep track with time.

- Despite that, Barnaby himself in the contest video has briefly stated he tends to forget what year it is.

- There's tons of pictures in his manor: all of them depict him, suggesting he's good at painting.

- Katie has noted that Barnaby "remembers everything". When asked if there's something he'd rather forget, they stated that "what he wants and what he needs are very different things".

- His family is "infinite", apparently. Then again, one of his very early descriptions stated he's got no friends nor family to speak about...

- He's been described as "self interested"

- When asked which character had the most trauma, without giving hints about being traumatized, Katie confirmed Barnaby as the answer, even stating his story makes them the saddest, alongside Fanto's.

- His favorite color is pink!

- He can change himself into lots of animals, and can even clone himself!

- When asked if he can talk to his alive self, Katie said it's "technically possible".

- Back when he was alive, he was noted as a dork and a hardworker, so much so he'd even pull one-nighters before making speeches for his research. Katie jokingly suggested that's why he parties so much: it's to make up for lost time!

- He had a different way of speaking, back when he was alive. And his icks were probably different as well.

- When he gets overwhelmed, he has a shutdown, and goes completely silent.

- At early stages, Barnaby was supposed to be a bug.

- The moment his design as a ghost was chosen, he went through a lot of palette options, like a pale blue color like he came from "The Haunted Mansion", or all colorful like "Dia de los Muertos". Ultimately they settled for his currently shadowy look because, not only it's easier to animate, it was in line with his backstory.

- Barnaby can melt. It's still unclear what triggers such a reaction, but some pictures hint that it's tied to his psychological state.

- Barnaby has been noted that he can talk fancy, but he's not eloquent.

- His favorite dance is the charleston!

- Ash has stated that in the game he is going to be depicted doing something similiar to "singing himself to sleep".

- Apparently he still makes pellets from his mouth. Dead or not, he's still an owl.

- He often puts emphasis on words, sometimes even making his bowtie spin.

- In the latest Twitter post featuring him, when you decode the garbled message, you can read: "Barnaby lies Along in his thoughts, Resting On the floor Neglected". Not only this hints at his turmoil, it also hides the word "BARON". It's unclear if it's his name, a title he possessed, or someone or thing else entirely connected to him.

- He loves recieving scretches on his head.

- Barnaby can cook, but he'll more often than not leave that to the Barnaboos.

- He's not that interested in gardening, even tho' he owns a greenhouse.

- He'd enjoy playing "Luigi's Mansion"!

- In Super Smash Bros. he'd main Meta Knight, even relating to him.

- He'd happily accept smoochies, apparently!

- His favorite party game is "Pin the tail on the owl".

- If you are his friend, he'd consider it even more of a reason to stay in the manor and never leave!

- He has claimed that he's used to give himself self love and compliments, since no one else does it. That, and his tendency to ask others for hugs or if they need a hug to calm down, suggests he's affection starved.

- He tends to react to compliments from fans by smiling bashfully, or happily shouting that he's popular.

- Katie stated that his favorite movie would be something unexpected, like "Marnie & Me" or "Up".

- Barnaby can see everything from the eyes of the plushies that look like him. So, if you bought one... watch out...

- Among his early designs, he also looked like a completely different owl, tall and austere looking, who was the guardian of the forest. It was changed because the devs wanted a goofy boss that could stand out among the others.

- Having said that, it seems Barnaby was the last boss to be officially revealed, and initially the game only had Elaine, Dutch and Fantoccio as the main bosses.

- Barnaby LOVES puns. A good deal of the lines he says when you get defeated in his chase contain a pun.

- You try being slick by stating you want to die of old age? Too bad: Barnaby will make you age rapidly. Despite that, Katie confirmed he doesn't have time related powers...

- Katie and Ash confirmed Barnaby can fly. And such a sight is apparently really hilarious.

- Barnaby loves shiny trinkets: if he sees a sparkly thread, he'll fixate on it and will follow its movements. It's like with a cat following a laser.

- Barnaby has teeth; they're orange and sharp, and come out when he's ticked off, or especially devious.

- When he was alive, he only used he/him pronouns. He became comfortable with all pronouns after he died. He's always been interested in men.

- This goes without saying, but still: he operates on cartoon logic. He can use both his wings AND his feet as hands. Even both feet can act as hands, even when they appear off camera. How? Because it's Barnaby and he can do anything he sets his mind into!

[heartfullofleeches]

I LOVE ROOTBEER MILK

how does he react if reader does wear glasses? does he start wearing his own?

i can just imagine him squinting all the time and the mental image is hilarious. who gave him a gun

Riley reading anything:

Rootbeer thinks anything looks good on you and that does indeed mean glasses too even though most people look like dorks to him which by people I mean Milk Tea everyone hates that guy.

Rootbeer is still hesitant, but if you mention something about matching bro will see the world in full for the first time

-

Reader: Riley, you really should wear your glasses more..

Rootbeer: Heh, I appreciate the concern, Darlin', but I'm fine. Promise.

Reader: But if you do then we could match!

Rootbeer:

[Digs through his pants for the fourth pair of glasses Apple has snuck in his pocket and puts them. He looks at reader, eyes wide]

Rootbeer: ho-ly shit..... Didn't think you could get any cuter, but clearly I was wrong-

[fariesoiree]

caution! mdni 13k wrdz, best friend's bother!hobie x black fem! reader, hobie is twenty one, reader is 19, small town in the country, everyone knows everyone, a very brief moment of angst, reader is jealous, misunderstanding troupe (?) but quickly resolved, crybaby reader, kitchen sex w/people in the house, unprotected sex, fingering, handjob, cunnilingus, p in v sex, unprotected sex, facial, cum eating, open ending

miffy's note! this took me like two weeks to write which is so much faster than every other fic i’ve written in a while. i knowwww she has a lot of words but she is my baby and I hope everyone loves her as much as I do. enjoy <3 pls do not spam like my blog if you enjoyed it, feel free to tell me in the reblogs

there’s a waxy smell in the freshly opened soda shop, one that reminds you of the shiny tiles that line the floor of the high school you graduated from, the high school most people graduated from.

highbury high, smack dab in the middle of highbury hills. it’s the only high school for miles, operating on a set curriculum and generic uniforms. fits right in with the small town vibe.

“do you know what you want?” your long-time friend, maise, glances over at you. she’s a darling thing, curly hair braided into pigtails and tied with two white ribbons. her arms are crossed over her stomach, clothed in a white tank top just barely cropped. “there’s so many options, i can’t decide.”

you sniff, eyes glazing over the yellow tinted menu. your tongue skims over your lips, getting a taste of the vanilla flavored lip gloss. “i dunno. i don’t even think i want anything. i’m too nervous, like i’m gonna throw up.”

maise’s deer shaped eyes find yours in sympathetic understanding. “aw, honey. it’ll be okay. it’s been years, now. i doubt he even remembers.” her hands massage the kinks out your tense shoulders in a tight grip. “you were a kid, anyway.”

“yeah, maybe.” you offer a small smile in return. you find you’re disinterested in the menu, stomach rolling in its queasiness for the anticipated scenario. “i still don’t think i want anything. i don’t think i could keep it down.”

maise just shrugs and orders a rootbeer float for herself. she gets your anxiety but she’s never been the best at helping you through your emotions, even more so when she can’t relate. maise doesn’t have an older brother, not one with an attractive best friend that she used to have a crush on as a child.

with the acrylic, milkshake cup settled between the fingers of your friend, you both move towards the booths surrounding the perimeter of the retro-styled shop.

it’s really, very cute. quaint with pop music softly wafting from the speakers and a red, white, and blue theme consistent throughout. america’s sweetheart is what this place is known as, although you prefer to think it’s talking about a better, more ethical version of the country.

“you have to admit it’s kind of exciting, though.” despite your claims, maise still pops a second straw into the float and settles the cup between you. “i mean, your brother and hobie are coming home today and you haven’t seen hobie in like, two years. the last time anyone saw him was on graduation day, right? and then he packed up and left town. and your brother! he kept contact this whole time and didn’t tell anyone? doesn’t that bother you a little bit?”

you wait until she’s retreated to grab the straw between your thumb and pointer finger and tap a long, drawn out sip. the sugary sweetness does nothing to quell your nerves but it gives you time to come up with a response. “mm, not really. hobie is quen’s friend. plus, everyone knew he was gonna skip town. he didn’t like it here and he made that very clear.”

although your words convey otherwise, there’s a small seed of discomfort in your tummy. it would have been nice to keep you in loop, especially since you were under the impression that you and hobie were somewhat acquainted with each other. after all, he’s been good friends with quentin since elementary school and has known you for just about the same amount of time.

“okay but you’re not even curious? not even a little?” maise tilts her head inquisitively, lips drawn in a pout. “hobie is coming home after being gone for two whole years and you don’t care at all.”

“i didn't say i don’t care, mai. i do care and it's nice that he’s stopping by for a visit but let’s be serious, it’s hobie. in all the years we’ve known him, when has he ever committed to anything?” you turn your gaze towards your baby pink nails, shiny and just long enough to clack against your phone when you text. “i don’t want you to get excited over a summer romance that hasn’t even happened and won’t happen. we’re friends and barely that. his loyalty is with quen.”

you can feel the change in the atmosphere the longer you sit in silence. you’re hesitant to look her in the eyes and find a sudden interest in the condensation trickling down the side of the glass.

“uh huh. so if you feel all of that, why are you nervous? you don’t like hobie anymore, and he owes you nothing. what’s the problem then?” she rests her cheek in the palm of her hand, supported by the elbow resting on the table.

instead of answering her question, your hand smacks down against the table. it echoes in the empty room, filled by only you two and mr. terry, the owner of the shop.

“you know what, i have to go. it’s almost three and quen should be home soon. you know how punctual he is.” you grab your purse and sling the strap over your shoulder.

“chicken!” maise points a finger at you. she’s glowing with a toothy grin while watching you prepare to bolt for the door. “you can’t avoid it forever, honey.”

you brush off her comment with a hug and a wave. “whatever. love you. i’ll call you tonight with the details, maybe. bye!”

you all but run out of the shop, white sundress blowing with the opposing force of your movement. it’s not quite three o’clock yet but leaving is better than letting maise interrogate you further. she’s a riot but she got you pinned up against the wall and there’s nothing fun about being forced to answer her questions and face the music you’ve been tuning out for weeks. at least now you’d have some time to freshen up before the great arrival.

by the time you’re finished primping and set the hot curler down to refresh your styled silk press, you can hear the engine of your brother's lexus rolling into the driveway.

you lean forward and tug the curtains back in a firm grip to peak out into the driveway. between you and quentin, you received the larger room with the connected bathroom and it offered a perfect view of the front yard. said view is particularly handy for times like these.

you watch the driver door pop open, breath hitched in your throat and refuse to make any movements until you get the answers you're looking for.

a polished sneaker makes its appearance and becomes stationed on the white pavement. a body follows, tall and stocky and unlike the statuesque frame you’re subconsciously excited about.

pushing yourself even more to your feet and across the expanse of your vanity, you flick the latch of your window until it clicks to signal its unlocked. you push it up with such force that it soars much farther than you anticipated but that’s the least of your concerns right now.

“quentin!” you yell from your bedroom with a wide smile and a vigorous wave at your older brother below you.

your voice gets his attention and he snaps his head in your direction. “ ☆ !” he mirrors your expression, arms open wide in a hug as if he expected you to fly down into his embrace. he bumps the car door closed with his side. “i’m coming up.”

quentin’s words don’t stop you from flinging your door open, running down the stairs, fingertips grazing the wooden railing as you go. to some it may seem odd to be so cheery over the reappearance of your sibling but he’s your best friend, a staple part of your life to which you’d be lost without. if you aren’t running to the front door to see him, then there’s clearly a problem.

he’s already in the entryway, though, and peeling off his jacket to hang in the coat closet. the pittering of your feet long alerted quentin of your presence so he’s not shocked when you’re throwing yourself at him. “jeez, girl. did you eat a whole cow? you’re strong as shit.” his arm comes to wrap around your back and become settled between your shoulder blades.

“shut up,” you roll your eyes in return and separate yourself from him. you give him a once over, from the two strand twists at the top of his head, across the gray nike tech, and to the pristine white laces of his shoes. “wow, you really don’t look like you belong here anymore. that’s crazy, quen. you’re all grown up.”

“yeah well,” he pushes the closet door closed, waiting for its creaking hinges to silence before continuing his sentence, “gotta get out of this town someday. not you, though. you can stay. it suits you.” quentin’s eyes are filled with a brotherly fondness while giving you a similar once over. “where’s ma?”

you follow him to the bathroom to watch him wash his hands. “at work. dad, too. told me to text them when you get home but, uh, where’s all your stuff?”

quentin flicks his wrists into the sink and side-steps you. he rounds the corner to enter the kitchen, making a beeline for the fridge and popping it open. “oh, it’s at hobie’s place. i figured i’d leave the extra shit there since he has his own crib. do you know what mom’s making for dinner?”

you’re still trailing behind him, now leaned against the countertop with your arms crossed over your chest. when you’re face to face with the source of your turmoil, it’s hard to pretend it doesn’t exist. “so he really is back in town, huh.” it's not a question with the way you say it, staring at your fluffy sandals designated for wearing inside the house.

“mhm. forgot how talkative people here are. news spreads fast.” he pulls out a container of last night's leftovers and sets it beside you, already closing the fridge and moving on to find a plate. when his eyes find their way back to you, he’s surprised to see you glaring at him. “why are you looking at me like that?”

“because i’m a little upset that you didn’t tell me he was coming home. i get it if he didn’t want to draw attention to himself but it’s just me. i thought we were all cool.”

“we are all cool. it just slipped my mind, swear.” quentin bounces around the kitchen. he’s still engaged in your conversation though his sole focus is getting some food in his system but every now and then, he’ll glance at you while scooping fried rice onto a plate. “i didn’t intentionally not tell you. i just had a lot to do with the packing and the whole coming home thing. plus, you just finished your first year of college so i didn’t think you’d care so much. which you also still have to tell me how it went,” he puts the fork in his mouth and sticks the plate in the microwave.

“quentin,” you’re tempted to stomp your foot, no matter how childish it will come across.

“i didn’t exclude you on purpose, ☆ . i forgot and i’m sorry. next time, i’ll tell you as soon as i know.”

you’re somewhat pacified with his response, tossing his words over and over in your head until your concerns are soothed and the gloomy feeling dissipates. “fine but you have no idea what i had to go through with maise today. i swear she had all these theories and speculations about what its going to be like that i could have avoided if you told me.”

the microwave beeps, ringing its alarm that the timer has finished all throughout the kitchen. quentin is quick to take out his steaming plate and make his way towards the table with you still in tow. “oh, maise! how is she? i haven’t seen her in a minute.”

“she’s good. good grades, likes her college, majoring in child development. who cares, though. i want to know about hobie. it’s been two years.” you sit next to him, even going as far as pushing the chairs closer as if the topic needed it, as if hobie is a taboo subject.

“he’s great. he’ll be by later, said he wanted to stop by and see you and then he has to make his rounds.” quen shovels a forkful of food into his mouth. he’s eyeing his plate with an almost blank stare. you’re too close for him to feel comfortable looking at you, expectantly. as if he’s going to drop some big news about hobie’s return.

he's not an idiot. he knows, knew, about your crush on his best friend. it was obvious watching you go through all the childish phases, giggling to clinging onto to him to trying to play it cool. quentin has seen it all and he doesn’t think he can handle watching your excitement grow and dull when hobie ultimately makes his decision to leave. “he’s got that place he rents out when he’s not here. don’t know how long he plans on staying, though. when i asked, hobie said two months so i guess we’ll see.”

you’re blissfully unaware of the idea that quentin’s words are for your sanity, to calm the budding excitement as you gather strands of your hair between the tips of your fingers and stare at the freshly trimmed ends. “that’s nice. maybe he’ll come to the summer festival in a few days.”

that elicits a scoff out of your brother. “fat chance. hobie brown? he’s not showing his face at those things. he thinks they’re capitalistic holidays that prey on children. personally, i think he just really hates this town and is coming up with a bullshit excuse not to go.”

you let the bundle of hair between your fingers go and it drops back towards your shoulder in a soft heap. “did he say that or are you speaking for him?”

“he doesn’t have to say it, stupid. i just know.” quentin points his fork at you, flinging grains of cooked rice in your direction. despite the gross reaction that flashes across your face, all he does is laugh. genuine laughter with his head tilted back, clearly delighted to have bothered his dear sister. “it was an accident. i didn’t mean to.”

“get away from me.” you scrunch your face in disgust and shove the chair away from the table. it screeches against the floorboards with each movement. “you don’t point your fork at someone, dumbass. that’s fucking gross.” you say as you rise to your feet and make your exit, rolling your eyes on the way out.

it’s futile to pretend you aren’t looking forward to hobie pulling into the driveway. behind the closed door of your room, you barely watch the virgin suicides. the volume to the movie is turned down so low, you can almost hear your neighbor’s dog trotting on the pavement enjoying its walk. you’ve even gone as far as to open your window just in case you’d be too preoccupied to hear him as is.

you haven’t bothered to change out of the pretty dress, wanting to give off the best first impression you possibly could. after all these years have passed, it’s nearly critical that hobie sees you as you are, an adult. not because you still harbor feelings for him, but because that’s what you are now. you’re all grown up, just as he is.

quentin’s asleep in his room and offering you no answers as to when his friend is actually arriving nor did he request you to wake up when he does so. it’s only right to assume he’d rather stay asleep when hobie arrives then, isn’t it? especially after such a long trip.

hence why when the sound of hobie’s motorcycle reverberates through the glass pane of your window, you roll off your bed and to your feet with a sudden quickness. contrary to the excitement you greeted your brother with from your upstairs bedroom, you close the window the moment you reach it.

as soon as the white latch clinks shut, you’re flying out the door and down the stairs. the tips of your fingers graze the railing, only truly grasping it when you find yourself losing your balance at the speed you’re moving. if only maise could see you now.

you pull the front door open before hobie has a chance to ring the doorbell with such force, he flinches. there’s still a finger hanging in the air, adorned in silver rings and what seems to be a hand tattoo. that same hand is connected to a body, just as tall as you remember. your eyes trail as far as his shoulders, gaze already tilted upwards and too nervous to continue. it never occurred to you what being face to face with hobie would mean, would entail.

you didn’t think about him and his pine scent, paired with the natural musk of being outside. not once did you even think about the possible changes he’d go through within the past two years. even without looking at his face, you can already point out differences. he’s leaner, more muscles protruding from his tank top. grungier too, with dark wash baggy jorts sitting so low on his waist, you can see the calvin klein boxers peeking through the bottom. if you thought seeing hobie show off his toned stomach was a lot, the sight of the ink on his arm has you at a loss for words. a full sleeve of various line art and doodles.

you’re sick to your stomach.

“you’re back in town!” you finally gain the courage to look him in his eyes and nearly fall to your knees. “and you pierced your face!” your eyes dart between the nose piercing, the lip piercing, and the eyebrow piercing. slowly, you soak it all in, including the shoulder length locs tied into a ponytail. only after all of that do you look him in his eyes, filled with the same warmth and wonder as they were two years ago.

“ ☆ !” hobie’s face lights up with the same childlike glee as before, too. it’s like nothing has changed when he throws his arms around you to envelop you into a tight hug. “you noticed, did you?” he chuckles, deep and smooth right in your ear. unfortunately for you, it sends spirals into your stomach.

“do you like them? i want to get my tongue pierced this summer, too.” he finally pulls away and reveals his toothy grin, full of dazzling white teeth that can only come from regularly visiting a dentist. “but how have you been? i haven’t seen you in forever. you’re so . . .” he gives you his own once-over, much shorter than the one you gave him, “not a little kid anymore.”

you aren’t too sure what to make of that but you step aside anyway to welcome him into your home. suddenly, you’re far more nervous than you were at the mere thought of hobie coming over. he was intimidating just as a concept but in person? he’s even worse. he’s too pretty and composed. “i’m so not a little kid anymore?” you try to offset your awkwardness by turning the situation back to him.

“yeah. i mean, you look nice, ☆ .” hobie stands with his hands in his pockets and a lazy smile. there’s not one ounce of embarrassment or hesitation written on his face. however, it oozes out of you. “so, where’s your brother at? he’s supposed to be going around town with me. it makes it less weird if we’re both there.”

“oh, quen fell asleep a few minutes ago.” you say with your back to hobie, disguising your reluctance as a sudden interest in turning the lock rather slowly. “you’re welcome to wait until he wakes up but he’s out cold.”

hobie clicks his tongue with a sigh, eyeing the walls of your childhood home. it’s still lined with the same family portraits and kindergarten crafts. there’s even his own graduation picture on the mantle, sandwiched between yours and quentin’s. he snorts at the sight, dressed in the same black graduation cap and gown but missing some of the cords adorned by the others. not only was hobie not too involved in the community, but he merely did what he had to in school with the exception of a few clubs and hobbies. “no, he’ll probably be knocked for a while. i’ll just do it later, i guess.”

you nod, hugging yourself in a tight grip. your act to self soothe during your one-on-one isn’t very effective. the air feels thick with tension. you have the impression that it’s one-sided because hobie turns to face you. 

“how about you come with me instead? we can ride around and go to that one park we used to go to as kids.”

for a moment, your heart drops to your feet. staring into his eyes does nothing good for your nervous system. as much as you attempted to convince both maise and yourself that you harbor no feelings towards hobie at all, everything in you is screaming otherwise.

your eyes settle on the floorboards and you sniff. “i don’t know. i don’t think i’d feel comfortable on your bike. don’t you have to wear gear and stuff?”

“well, yeah i’m supposed to.” he shrugs. his head is tilted to one side. “i don’t, though. not here at least. if i’m on the highway or in a big city then yeah but not here. nothing ever happens here.”  parts of the hobie you subconsciously fear appear as a shadow on his face. the corners of his mouth twitch downwards and his eyes become clouded, but only for a second. “we can take your car if you’d like. i saw it in the driveway. it’s cute.”

he’s referring to the little volkswagen beetle parked just outside with a tan exterior and a decorated interior. it’s full of flower vent clips, pink seat covers, and scented with gain car air freshener.

“um,” you busy yourself by smoothing your hands over the skirt of your dress. suddenly, you’re reflecting on the fact that you are somewhat dressed up. sure, you curl your hair and wear cute dresses on the regular but never have you worn a cute dress, curled your hair, waited for someone to come over, and beat them to the door before they could announce their arrival. “sure. i guess we can do that. i don’t want you to think you have to, though. you came for quentin and he’s asleep so don’t force yourself.”

you’re surprised when hobie laughs, nose wrinkling with genuine enjoyment. he shakes his head and places his hand on your shoulder. it engulfs your skin like a warm blanket and gives you a squeeze. “never change, okay? you’re so sweet. get your keys and let’s go.”

there’s a strawberry field just across the park guarded by a wire fence. some kids gather around the edges and pluck the berries off the overgrown branches that poke just close enough for them to reach with their little fingers.

the breeze carries the sounds of high-pitched laughter and squeals from the children running about. with school just recently letting out, the park is well occupied. it’s a surprise to no one to see a crowd of elementary schoolers running around the slides and pushing each other on the swing.

you sit at a bench. the metal is warmed from the sunlight beaming down. you have your phone in your hand, pumping out back to back texts to maise filled with terrible grammar and even worse spelling. to say you're panicked would be an understatement. you’re more than panicked. you feel so wrong about being here, more or less alone with your brother’s best friend. the same best friend that you’ve had the biggest crush on for years, only for him to disappear and for you to assume everything you’ve ever felt and thought would be gone with him. the same best friend who’s return brought back the juvenile feelings from your youth.

he’s gone to the ice cream truck parked in the parking lot to buy you both popsicles and therefore, giving you about five minutes to figure out your game plan. maise is no help. most her texts consist of “i told you so” and laughing at your inevitable demise. you feel just about ready to melt into the pavement and through your phone across the park, in no particular order. your nails just might break your screen with the amount of force between each push.

“are you mad at someone?”

you're quick to turn your phone off in the amount of time it takes for you to look up at hobie, standing in front of you with two popsicles, one in each hand. “huh? oh, no. it’s just maise. she’s being so stupid.” the frustration has yet to dissipate and your face shows it, huffing a breath of annoyance. “you’d think you ask someone for advice and they’d actually give it to you instead of making fun of you.”

“mm,” hobie has a seat next to you. he hands you the powerpuff girls popsicle, very obviously supposed to be styled after bubbles. its still in it’s wrapper and it’s a good thing at that. already the popsicle began to get a little soft in the summer heat. “advice about what?” he, himself, holds one of those spongebob ones that never come out right. for a moment, you consider that perhaps he’s reminiscing about the days where you, quentin, and hobie would run out at the sound of the ice cream truck and get the silly cartoon popsicles, only to compare who’s looks the worst.

“oh, just about my classes. i don’t know if i want to take one of my electives or not.” you spit out the lie faster than you can really process it. you peel the wrapper off the popsicle and stick it in your mouth to give you an excuse not to speak.

“i definitely can’t help you with that. i didn’t go to college so i really wouldn’t know.” for a brief moment, hobie finds humor in the distorted face of his spongebob popsicle before taking a small bite of the cold corner. “what’s it like? do you like it?”

the question makes you sigh. there really is no response you can give him that would push the conversation forward, especially when you have been asked the very same thing so many times by almost every adult in your life. “um, it’s okay. it’s hard, y’know, to find the motivation to make myself go to class and there’s always some sort of drama going on between someone and someone else.” you reminisce on the boy and friend drama you’ve both witnessed and experienced from a bittersweet perspective.

hobie nods, watching a group of giggling ten year olds run by. they seem to be participating in a game of tag, their cheeks rosy and eyes glistening with what can only be found in childhood. “can’t believe you’re in college now. that used to be us, playing at the park and then going to your house to have dinner.”

you don’t mention that hobie didn’t come to your graduation. instead, you kick a rock by your foot and change the topic of the conversation. “so, if you don't go to college, what do you do?”

“i’m a server at a restaurant. it makes pretty good money, actually. i can afford a one bedroom apartment in the city so i don’t mind. i’m in a band now too and sometimes i make stuff to sell.” he pulls out his phone for a split second to check the notification that vibrated in his phone before sliding it back into his pocket.

you’re grateful that he doesn’t outright tell you what he makes so you’re able to participate in the conversation and ask him, “what kind of stuff?”

“oh, like paintings, crochet stuff, stuff like that. arts and crafts that people like to buy. it does pretty well since that kind of thing is trending.” 

the conversation falls a bit flat after that. you fault yourself, too self conscious to relax around him. a part of you is overjoyed to have him back and another part of you feels like a neglected afterthought. all this time, hobie was doing just fine. he was living his life and choosing who to keep contact with. it hurts your heart that he didn’t consider you at all but is so comfortable with returning and acting like nothing has changed. perhaps he didn’t take you as seriously as you would like.

“oh, that’s cool.” you try not to sound too sour when you say it. “it’s great that you made a life you enjoy.” you watch a blue drop of melted popsicle roll down and drip onto the white plastic gripped between your fingers. gravity continues to pull the droplet down towards the stick and it stains the wood blue.

hobie glances at you, eyebrows knitted together. he takes in your expression and the subtext behind it. it’s obvious what he’s doing behind his scrutinizing gaze. “yeah? you can be honest. you know that, right?”

“mhm,” you nod with a hum. you’re not interested in engaging any further with the topic. instead, you eye a ladybug crawling on the bench armrest. it’s not like you planned on discussing your deep emotional feelings with him anyway, especially not here. “i’m happy for you, really.”

you can still feel hobie’s eyes boring into the side of your face but the feeling does nothing to capture your attention and turn your head back towards him. instead, you nearly praise whatever higher power caused your conversation to be interrupted by an onlooker.

“oh my gosh, hobie brown!”

you both turn your head to the perpetrator. hobie is just as surprised as you are to see magnolia, from high school, walking up to you both. you don’t know her very well considering she was in the same graduating class as your brother but you’re aware of her.

truthfully, you’ve never liked her very much during your younger years. you despised the way she’d cling onto hobie and quentin, often forcing her way into their circle. at least, you’d consider it forcing. quentin always told you not to worry about it.

here she is again, forcing herself into your hangout with your supposed friend who’s there with you. she’s grinning as she walks up to you both, hands planted on her waist. you so badly want to judge her for her outfit choice but you know you can’t. it’s not like you don’t know what type of person magnolia is and how much she pushes the social standards most people operate with. still, something vile twists inside you and even more so when you catch hobie’s eyes wandering across her body.

that is also no surprise because you know their history. of course hobie wouldn’t be able to deny himself from staring at magnolia like this when she’s wearing daisy dukes, a tiny shirt, and so ready to reopen the book of their past.

“look at you. can’t believe you didn’t come by the moment you got back,” she teasingly smacks his arm with a tinkling laugh. her eyes briefly drift to your direction and she smiles out of politeness. “oh hey, sugar. tell your brother i said hi, would you?”

you nod and pull your lips tight. suddenly, what interest you did have died a painful death and you turn back to the ladybug as your only comfort. unfortunately, that too is gone and you’re left with nothing but the ability to listen in on a conversation you want nothing to do with.

“aw, maggie. don’t worry, i’m still planning on it. you’ll get a very special and personal visit, just for you.”

“promise?”

you nearly choke, face scrunching up in disgust. you’re not five and can read between the very obvious lines. you feel the need to remind them that you are quite literally right there and swallow the green monster making a nice home in your heart. “i don’t mean to interrupt but i have to get home and get ready for dinner. do you want me to give you a ride, hobie, or are you good?”

you try to hide your disappointment before hobie can say anything. you can tell by his hesitation and expression what decision he’s going to make, glancing between both you and magnolia. he’s going to spend some quality time with her. “i think i’m good but you should get back. drive safe, okay? text me when you get home.”

“okay. then, i’ll see you later.” you rise to your feet and dig your hand into your purse, searching for the keys to your car. “bye magnolia. it was nice seeing you again.” her words of the returned gesture fall on deaf ears as you turn and head back to the parking lot. there’s a frown etched on your face and you dump the mostly-eaten popsicle into the trash.

it never crossed your mind that you’re not the only one who is looking forward to hobie back around. you’ve been so used to viewing yourself as the center of the universe that not once did you think about literally anyone else who has been involved in hobie’s past.

you pull the door open of your car and get inside, staring out of the windshield. you feel so teenage girl romcom movie but you don’t know what to do about it. one half of you wants to sob and rot in your bed and claim your heart is broken and the other part of you just wants to go home, eat dinner, and call maise.

you sit there like that for a few minutes before eventually turning on your car and starting the drive home. sza blares through the radio and is your only solace on your lonely drive home.

“no! and then she just shows up and takes him?” maise pulls out two small boxes of sour patch kids out of the plastic grocery bags on the counter. her eyes are wide and she’s hanging on to every part of your story.

it’s been about a week and a half since that time in the park with hobie and you’re still reveling in the emotions of it. you have yet to make a decision on how to conduct yourself around him and as a result, have begun to avoid him. you find it’s better not to be near him at all than to stand there and know that he wanted you to leave him so he could probably have mind blowing sex with his small-town fling.

“she just walks right over and he basically starts drooling.” you’re also unloading various snacks and a liter of soda from the grocery bags. tonight, you both plan to watch movies and eat junk food until your tummies are threatening to burst and you’re both ready to pass out from exhaustion. “i’m so stupid. i should have known. we weren’t even in the same crowd back then. why did i think anything would be different now?”

maise pities you just a bit. she sympathetically presses her lips into a pouty frown and reaches over the counter to grab your hand. “poor baby. in your defense, you have more of a southern belle, sweetest girl in town thing going for you and hobie is the exact opposite. it makes sense why he’d go for magnolia. you two have nothing in common and you’re virtually inexperienced.”

“i have experience!” you begin to pile the various snacks into the bin you brought down from your room just for the special occasion. “i have plenty of experience.”

“you had one situationship for half of your first year of college that treated you like shit. that’s not experience, babe. that’s trauma.”

you whip your head to give maise a pointed glare at bringing up what you’re trying so hard to forget. that chapter of your life is over and it died the moment the academic year ended. “okay but the point is, i am not a baby and i bet i could fuck just as good as she can. he just sees me as a little girl and i can never change that.”

“so what are you going to do?” your friend leans against the counter on the opposing side of you. she crosses her arms over her chest after adjusting her black leggings as they have risen above her ankles.

“nothing,” you say with a sigh. you grab the basket and hoist it onto your hips. “like i said, he sees me as a child. i’m just going to do what i’ve been doing, nothing. ignore him. just keep my distance until he goes home and forget all about him.”

what you don’t tell maise is that magnolia isn’t the only one. sometimes, the habits from your childhood return and you sit yourself at quentin’s door with your ear pressed up against the wood. you listen to his conversations with hobie, sometimes on the phone and sometimes in person, about his recent endeavors with the locals in town. so far, there has been at least one other girl since magnolia. whether he bounces between spending his nights with the two, you’re unsure and you don’t think you even want to know.

maise begins to open her mouth to say something but snaps it shut at the sound of the front door opening. there’s an irregular pattern that comes from two people coming through the door and for a moment, your face flashes with panic.

“i’m beginning to hate going out with you. every single time there’s always some girl ready to — oh hey.” quentin stops in the middle of his sentence as soon as he spots you standing in the kitchen. he jumps a bit, not having expected to see both you girls watching him walk into the house. “what are you doing here, maise?”

“we’re having a movie night.”she rises to standing and positions herself at your side.

“the sun is still out.” quentin lifts a finger to point to the window with the blinds open. sunlight streams through the trees of your backyard and reaches the living room.

“yeah. we just came back from the store and now we’re pregaming by talking shit.” she throws an arm around your shoulder, taking notice of your silence and lack of movement. it’s almost like you’re not breathing and it’s definitely because hobie is standing right there in all his glory, smiling right at you. maise using her grip on you to subtly nudge some sort of humanity back in you.

“anyway,” you clear your throat and take a sudden interest in reorganizing the bin of snacks, “we’re going to get going. we have a lot of girl stuff to talk about so see you later.” you take maise’s hand and take the lead in walking past the two and up the stairs of your house. you don’t miss the quizzical looks from both men at your hastiness to get out of being around them.

frankly, this isn’t the first time you’ve made a bolt to get out of being in the same room as them, but only when hobie is around. however, no one makes a move to question it and lets you do as you please. to quentin, it’s a sign you’re no longer hung up over his best friend and is far better than getting your hopes up for nothing. to hobie, you’re abhorrently avoiding him for some reason and he can’t stand it at all.

it makes him antsy, as if there’s some big impending doom coming that he won’t be able to stop. it makes him uncomfortable to see you get along so well with others and flee the moment he steps into the room and oddly enough, it’s only ever started happening since that one day. was it something he said or did? surely it can’t be because he didn’t accompany you back home. after all, you did text him to let him know you made it safely like he requested so he thought everything was fine. what is going on with you?

it’s somewhere between the hours of two and three am when you make the decision to trek downstairs for a cold glass of water. maise had fallen asleep on the left side of your bed a half hour ago and you had beaten her. you won by staying out longer than she did and decide to reward yourself with a neutral drink to wash the syrupy taste out your mouth.

the house feels awfully cold during such hours of the night and you regret leaving the warmth of your room in your oversized shirt and little pink shorts. both of your parents came home hours ago, wished you a fun night and retired to their beds in preparation for work the next day. you’re assuming no one else is awake with the only other options being quentin and hobie, if hobie is even here.

you sniff and rub your hands along your arms as you round the corner and enter the catch. in the darkness of night and with your squinting eyes, you use what spatial awareness you have to guide your way to the glasses in the cabinet.

you just manage to wrap your fingers around it before there’s some sort of shuffling behind you. you’re unnerved, almost dropping the glass in the time it takes you to look over your shoulder at the perpetrator. “hello?” you try to make out the form in the dark and find purchase in the knife drawer in front of you.

“it’s just me.” the voice is gruff and familiar and washes over you like a relaxing wave of warm water. “sorry, i wasn’t trying to scare you.”

“hobie?” you lean towards him to make out his figure in the shadows. the moonlight does little to aid in visibility. there is only a pale light struggling to come through the window. you have to reach over and turn on the stove light just to see him since your eyes have yet to adjust. “i thought you went home?”

“i did. i went to see my parents and it went just about as well as i thought.” hobie takes a seat at the bar stools behind the aisle. he seems strained, running his hand over his face with a sigh. “so i came back because i like it here more.”

“why didn’t you just go to your own house?” you feel a little underdressed in your attire all of the sudden. sure, you are preparing to go to sleep and in the comfort of your own house but you’d hate to give off the impression that you’re walking around without pants on.

“because i like it here more. pretty sure i said that,” now he’s rubbing his eyes, sitting up to lean against the back of the chair. “if you’re getting a glass of water, can you get me one too?” hobie’s lips turn up into a small, sad smile. his eyes look tired, worn out from whatever went down at his parents’ house.

you forgot all about the glass in your hand, looking down at it as if it’s appeared from the ether. “oh, you can just have mine. i’m probably going to go back to bed.” you’re still dead set on ignoring hobie. for one,  it makes it so much easier to get used to the feeling of disappointment that he doesn’t see you when you literally don’t have to see him. not to mention, it’s difficult enough to look him in his eyes but to be alone with him and look him in the eyes? you have to go.

you set the glass down on the island and slide it over to him, prepared to take a quick and silent walk back to the safety of your room and your best friend asleep on your bed. “goodnight, hobie.”

you don’t make it very far before hobie is speaking to you, again. his gaze is following your attempt at escaping him and it’s annoying him that this is probably the thousandth time you’ve evaded him. “what is up with you? i’m clearly going through something and would benefit from talking about it with someone. i literally just left your house and showed up again and you’re not even going to ask me how i got in?”

you try to not huff when you turn to face him with an eyebrow quirked. “what are you talking about?” you clench your hands into small fists, only to flex them and release what tension you carry.

“what am i talking about? you speak like, five words to me now. i don’t know what i did to make this happen and i’m sorry but you’re literally avoiding me. you came down here for what, a glass of water? you gave me yours before you even got one and now you’re going back upstairs so you don’t have to talk to me. what did i do?”

you shake your head at his words. he’s not wrong. you have been avoiding him and looking for any way out not to speak or be around him more than you need to. still, hobie doesn’t have to bring it up. he shouldn't have brought it up. what are you going to do now? “i still don’t know what you’re talking about. i haven’t done anything to avoid you. i just don’t want water anymore and i want to go back to sleep.”

hobie presses his lips together. he’s doing his best not to stare at you with hardened eyes so he turns away, looking at the countertop instead. his frustration is palpable but he’s sensible enough to restrain himself, to keep himself from turning it into an argument. “okay, go to sleep then. goodnight.” he taps his nails against the side of the glass, listening to the little plinks ro distract himself from the unrest in his soul.

you stand there, staring at the back of hobie’s head even though he’s dismissed you. you’re free to go with no repercussions but the guilt from doing so while knowing he wanted to talk about whatever is plaguing him is too much to handle. “oh my god, fine. what is it? what happened at your parents'?”

your feet drag all the way towards the island and you sit on the bench beside him. you rest your hands in your lap and stare at the numbers reading back the time on the stove. they’re green and a great source of something to look at that isn’t hobie.

“no, it’s okay. you don’t want to hear about my problems because it’s such an inconvenience to you. i’m just going to sit here and mope, maybe cry, and go home.”

“don’t piss me off.” you tsk, picking a strand of string off your shirt. your eyes cut to him in a sideways glare, urging him to talk and quickly before you change your mind. “what’s wrong? what happened?”

hobie pokes his cheek with his tongue. he stares at the ceiling before slowly closing his eyes. “i dunno, man. it was so bad. they think i’m a disappointment or somethin’. it’s written all over their faces.”

“that’s not true. they probably were just overwhelmed that you came home.” you do your best to reassure him but even you know that’s probably a lie. hobie’s parents disapprove of him, everyone knows it. they’re embarrassed their only son turned out to be some sort of punk neanderthal and actively denounce him in public.

“don’t kid yourself, dove. my parents hate me and you know it. we all know it. i went over and they practically screamed it in my face. we had dinner for five seconds and got into a screamin’ match about how i let everyone down by runnin’ wild in the streets.” he’s squinting now. “when have i ever run wild in the streets?”

you can only shrug, unable to give him a response. you don’t know what to say to him. there is no denying what he experienced. all you can do is listen and shrug. “i’m sorry about that. you’re not a disappointment. they just can’t understand why they like it here so much and why you don’t. that can’t be easy to understand.”

“yeah well, i’ll get over it. i’ll just stay away from them and they can stay away from me and we can all pretend we aren’t related.” hobie doesn’t sound bitter, he sounds defeated. he sounds like he’s been down this road many times before and expected an outcome no different than before. however, it’s only natural for a child to wish for their parents to understand them. “anyway . . .,” his head lolls to the side until he’s looking at you, staring at you, “why are you avoiding’ me?”

your lips curl into themselves and you feel the need to excuse yourself. “i’m not avoiding you. if you’re done with your rant, i’m going to go to sleep now.” you go to rise to your feet but your attempt is short-lived when hobie catches you with his hands on your shoulders.

“yes, you are. look. you’re trying to do it right now. you’re tryin’ to leave because i’m confrontin’ you about it. i’m not going to stop pressin’ you about it until you tell me.”

one look in his eyes and you can tell he’s serious. hobie has caught you alone in the dead of night. he’s got you face-to-face and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it but lie or tell the truth, neither of which would work here.

“i’m not avoiding you, hobie. i just –,” you avert your gaze until you’re looking at literally anything else, “– i just think it’s best if we keep a distance and remain cordial. we don’t have to be friends because you're friends with quentin. you don’t have to feel like you have to be friends with me.”

“what?” the man lets you go. his arms drop back into his lap and he’s looking at you as if you’ve just proclaimed your undying love for present day denzel washington. “where is this coming from? you’ve always been a friend of mine. we grew up together. just because i’m closer to quentin doesn’t mean we aren’t close at all.”

you rack your brain to find a way around the real reason by cherry picking the words until they form a sentence that makes sense. “well, yes but i’m not like you. i don’t think there’s anything you – i just – we aren’t the same. we’re in very different crowds and i don’t want you to force yourself to get along with me.”

“okay, we’re in different crowds. what’s that supposed to mean? i’m friends with you because you are different from me. if i didn’t want to be around you or anyone who isn’t the exact same as me, i wouldn’t have come home. you’ve never been insecure about our friendship before so what’s going on?”

you’ve just about reached the end of the line. you’re frazzled and unable to keep pumping out excuses. he’s just going to disprove every single one and deny you a reason to run away. he doesn’t get it and he won’t get it. there’s only one option left to do. every ounce of your soul is screaming at you not to, already burning from the humiliation but as far as you’re concerned, you have no other option. “you don’t get it. jeez, hobie, you’re so stupid. obviously, i’m avoiding you because i have feelings for you and you don’t feel the same. i don’t want to be around you when i know you’re just going to go out and fuck every girl in town.”

your little spiel is followed by silence. while what weight was lifted off your chest, your hands are beginning to sweat from the anxiousness. still, you’ve already said it and you can’t back down so you sit firm in your decision. your eyes still begin to water from the overwhelming emotion that comes with speaking your mind like that and being met with absolutely nothing.

finally, hobie tilts his head. “fuck every girl in town? what are you talking about? is that what people are saying about me?”

you burst into tears, partly because you took that as rejection and partly because you think he doesn’t care. he just brushed off everything you said to talk about his sexual endeavors. “you’re so mean. you’re so mean and you hate me and you want me to die,” you blubber through a watery gargle. your hands are unable to keep up with the tears that stream down your face. by the time you brush one away, there’s another one that takes its place.

“oh my god.” hobie’s eyes widened in shock at your immediate reaction. it happened faster than he can blink and he’s terrified that someone is going to wake up, find you crying, and blame it all on him. “why are you crying?” he pulls you into an embrace, tucking your head beneath his chin and into his chest. despite what many would think, his skin is awfully warm to the touch and it would have been comforting if he didn’t stomp on your heart.

“because i just spilled my deepest, darkest secret to you and you don’t care. you’re bragging about how many times you got laid instead of having human emotions.” you only sob louder as he runs his fingers along your spine in what’s supposed to be a soothing manner.

“i’m not bragging about anything. i haven’t even fucked anyone since i’ve been here. where are you getting your information from?” hobie can’t decide whether or not he’s concerned or humored. he lifts your head, but only briefly, to wipe the tears on your cheeks. the moment he sees your lip tremble, he allows you to go back into the comfort of hiding against him.

“i don’t have to get my information from someone. i just know. you literally left me for magnolia and i know that you’ve been seeing some other girl. plus, quen was saying something about every girl and you when you walked in.” your words are muffled in his shirt. you feel a little guilty because of how wet it is but then you think about how hobie wronged you and wish you soaked it with your sobs.

“okay, first of all, i did not fuck magnolia. i’d have to bash my head with a brick to consider doing that. second of all, i’m not seeing anyone. i’m trying to get a temporary job while i’m still here and i have to suck up to the manager because she doesn’t like me. and why is it my fault that people like me? i can’t stop them from liking me and i can’t stop someone else from talking about it. you’ve misunderstood every single thing and now you’re yelling at me.”

you sniffle and tilt your head up. there is suspicion and doubt written all over your face. “so if you don’t like magnolia like that, then why were you looking at her like that? like you were thinking about taking her clothes off.”

hobie reels his head back, giving you a similar mystified expression. “girl, what are you talking about? if i was looking at her any sort of way it was probably because she was standing in front of the actual sun and I couldn't see. i wear contacts and i forgot to put them in. you know i wear contacts so now i’m confused.”

for a moment, you don’t say anything. you sit there and replay his explanations over and over again, searching for any holes in his story. you slowly run your tongue over your lip as the embarrassment slowly sets in. he’s right, he does wear contacts. he got them senior year of high school and you suppose you just forgot. you forgot and cried and went on him for no reason.

hobie watches you come to the realization. he can tell it’s dawning on you when your face relaxes and forms into one of mortification. this is where he decides it’s humorous to him. it’s even more hilarious when he adds the cherry on top. “and your deepest, darkest secret? i already knew. it’s not really a secret if everyone knows.”

that brings you an entire new wave of waterworks but instead, they build and build in your waterline until they eventually spill over in an occasional spill. “so you knew this whole time and let me embarrass myself? and you’re rejecting me?”

hobie reaches off and tears a paper towel square off the roll. he shakes his head, bending the square into a smaller one. he uses it to dab your cheek with a tut of his tongue. “you have to stop crying. i can’t talk to you when you’re refusing to listen to me. at least cry silently or ask questions that i can actually answer.”

“no,” you take the square from his fingers. really, you snatch it and use it to clean your dribbling nose. “i’m so mad at you. i don’t want to talk anymore.” you take this chance to get off the bar stool and move towards the trash can. you’re still sniffling and occasionally gasping for air while you clean yourself up. “you knew this entire time and didn’t say anything? i’d rather you turn me down from the beginning than give me this false sense of security. you led me on.”

“no. no, i didn’t.” hobie watches you rinse your face with water. hearing his denial just makes you angrier.

“yes you did. you knew and you said nothing.”

“no i did not. you didn’t even ask me –”

“i don’t have to ask you because i already know. you’re the worst person alive and you only care about yourself –”

“ ☆ , listen. you’ve been assuming things for weeks and look where that got you. just, stop talking and let me speak, please.” his firm tone knocks any thought out of your brain and gets you to tighten up, real quick.

you look over your shoulder, not yet ready to look at him but finally ready to accept that you just might be wrong. you lift the neckline of your shirt over your face and use it as a method to dry it.

“in order for me to have led you on, you’d have to actually confess your feelings to me. at what point do you think i should have just walked up to you and say ‘hey, i know you have feelings for me that you aren’t ready to talk about yet but i just wanted to let you know that i’m not interested’? why do you assume that i don’t feel anything towards you, anyway? maybe i do but i don’t say anything because i know it’s not going to work. let’s think about it, i rarely ever come into town. you love town. at what point would i ever come along and see you?”

“you would get your ass on your bike and drive here like you did this time,” you mumble under your breath. you stand by the sink for a moment to gather your thoughts. you’re gaining clarity through the fog but now you’re drained. you’re tired and you don’t have the energy to feel displeased over whatever he has to say. it doesn’t matter what he has to say because in the end, it’s all going to be a no. “but whatever you say. we don’t work, okay. you’re leaving soon, okay. if that’s all, i’d like to go to bed now.”

“are you mad at me?” he asks from behind you, softly. he almost purrs it and it tugs at your will. you want so badly to let him in but he doesn’t want that and so you must persevere.

you shake your head with a breath. “no. i’m not mad at you. you’re entitled to your own opinion.” you put on the blankest expression you can manage and turn to face him. you cross your arms over your chest and manage to maintain what little composure you have.

he quips a brow at you, obviously not believing your claim and even more so when you don’t say anything to confirm it. “come here for a second.”

you shift your weight until your weight is all on your right side and your hip is popped. “hobie . . .”

“just for a second,” he outstretched his hand as an offer for you.

reluctantly, you take it and give no resistance when hobie pulls you into his personal space. his hands find your cheeks and squish them together until your lips are forced into a pout. “be honest with me, baby. are you mad at me?”

he doesn’t act surprised when you pause before nodding in response. “are you still going to be mad at me if i kiss you?”

hobie watches the thought go through your mind. you consider it and the consequences that come with it. it’s going to be a meaningless kiss because hobie has drawn the line. he can’t be attached to anything from this town and you know that. still, it’s an incredible opportunity to just pass up because of morality.

you shake your head.

hobie’s lips are soft against yours. there’s a subtly sweet taste but it’s possible you’re high off  oxytocin. again, you clench your hands into fists but this time it’s to restrain yourself from holding onto him and pulling him tighter. you have to keep reminding yourself that it’s a meaningless kiss.

it’s even harder to maintain that thought when hobie’s mouth fits so perfectly against yours. he doesn’t move his hands from your cheeks but the kiss grows heated, regardless. his tongue, wet and warm, runs over the expanse of your bottom lip before worming its way into your mouth.

you mewl when it finds yours and sucks. you have to tuck your hands behind your back to hold onto your composure. your feet betray you, though, by bringing you even closer into him and in turn, into his lips.

“are you done cryin’?” he kisses the corner of your mouth and jumps to the skin along your jawline. like before, he kisses and sucks the trail of skin from there to your neck. “because it wouldn’t be right if i just left you here.”

you squirm in your spot and do your best to conceal the whines that threaten to bubble up out of your throat. “hobie, you said – you –” you finally rested your hands on the tops of his thighs. the voice in the back of your head telling you to give in is getting more and more convincing with each passing second.

“what did i say?” he pauses his ministrations to catch his breath and give you a second to find yours. he isn’t sure how the conversation took this turn but he isn’t complaining. if anything, he’s hoping it’ll never end.

you stare at him in the yellow light from the stove. there’s still a chill in the air but you’re buzzed with need. suddenly, you’re hot. it’s sweltering even without the heat being on. you need to find a solution to your lust and quick. you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him back into you, deciding the solution right there in the moment.

your lips crash against each other with a burning passion. hobie stands up out of the bar stool, his hands circling around your waist. he takes steps forward and forces you back against the counter across from you. you don’t mind, entangling your hands within his scalp. you’re willing to let him do whatever he wants to you and it shows.

hobie turns you around and presses his hardening cock against the plumpness of your ass. you gasp at the feeling of him rutting against you with his breath fanning over your shoulder, warm and sticky. there’s something that takes over, a horny little monster that throws all your inhibitions out the window. you’re equally as turned on, rolling your hips back on his in tandem with him.

“fuck, okay. don’t get too loud.” he whispers under the sound of the fabrics moving together. out of he corner of your eye, you barely get a glimpse of him shoving his fingers in his mouth before sliding underneath your clothing. he pulls your shirt up in a balled up fist and watches his hand disappear beneath the waistband of your shorts and elastic of your panties.

they waste no time finding your clit, sticky and growing swollen from your insatiable desire. “already so fuckin’ wet.” he rubs the nub in little circles, growing accustomed to your body and what you like most. occasionally, his fingers slip and unintentionally fall too close to your entrance.

your mouth falls open in a tiny “o”. you throw your head back onto his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut and grinding against both his dick and his fingers. you’re sandwiched between pleasure and doing your best to keep your moans limited to a whisper. you grip the edge of the counter and you’re actually grateful for it. it’s the solace that’s keeping you grounded to reality because without it, you’re sure you would have soared to the sky. “d – don’t tease,” you pant. you reach behind you searching for hobie’s dick and you find it easily. it’s hard to miss with the hard feeling of it against your skin and you swear you feel it grow harder when you wrap your fingers around it, still clothed over his sweats.

“sorry, dove. whatever you want,” hobie flattens his palm against your pussy. his middle finger prod at your sticky entrance to test your reaction but it slips right in, much to your pleasure. he has to take it slow with your sensitivity but hobie savors every moment. he’s not in a rush, especially when your fingers squeeze and rub at his clothed cock. he’s ready to stick it in now if he truly wanted but hobie wants this moment to last. he wants to burn the memory into his head and stain his life with whatever effects you have on him.

“mmm,” you hum, spreading your legs farther to accommodate his size. just one of his fingers could make you feel so full that you’re nearly satisfied like this. you have to close your lips and run your tongue along the inside of your cheeks to wet them again. “that feels so good.”

“yeah?” hobie asks. he’s so focused on you, he doesn’t notice how you’ve also managed to get your hand under the waistband of his boxers. he only realized what’s happening when your hand brushes against the stubble of his pubes and wraps around his shaft. “oh baby,” he whines in your ear. you can feel his dick twitch and jump at the tightness of your palm. he nearly falls over your frame when your thumb begins to circle around his tip.

hobie’s fingers stutter inside you. they push farther, deeper, making contact with your g-spot accidentally. he hasn’t gotten a chance to stick another finger in before you’re whimpering and nearly finger fucking yourself with his hand. “oh my gosh, right there. right there, right there!”

if hobie could have laughed at you, he would have. however, he has better things to worry about. like how your voice is beginning to rise in volume and he just cannot have that happen. “shhh,” is all he can manage throughout his full-body shudders. he uses his other hand to drop your shirt and instead stick his fingers in your mouth. they serve the purpose he intended, muffling your noises. he didn’t anticipate for you to suckle on them as if it’s the last thing you’d ever have in your mouth.

that, paired with the handjob and your gushing pussy around his fingers, he could have came right then and there. he could have exploded in his pants and made you cum and end it there but he didn’t. instead, he forces himself to pay attention to you. he puts his pleasure on the back burner and pushes his finger deeper, even going as far as to stretch you farther by adding a second one.

with his fingers deep in your throat and drool pouring out the corner of your mouth, your legs begin to shake. your chest rises and falls with each heaved breath. if you weren’t forced into somewhat silence, you’re sure you would have been calling out hobie’s name, drunk of him and him alone.

he has no idea what words you’re gurgling but unless you’re chanting about how you’re on the verge of cumming, he doesn’t care. luckily for him, it’s almost certain that you were and it’s evident with how your body falls slack in his arms and your cunt spasms around his fingers. the sight is an ultimate turn on.

hobie pulls his fingers out of your mouth and wipes the saliva over your cheek. he takes the opportunity to yank your bottoms down until they’re confined to your ankles. you step out of them and turn around, reconnecting your lips with his.

once again, you’re kissing hobie as an act of hunger, pushing your lips so hard together that they nearly swell. you cup the back of his head to draw him in. you’re delighted to feel his hands on the globes on your cheeks and set you onto the counter. it’s cold on your skin and so you flinch but it becomes a faint thought when hobie’s hands are anchored on the backs of your thighs. he pushes them back until your feet are flat on the counter and your glistening pussy is all on display, still creamy from your recent orgasm.

“just gotta get a taste,” he mumbles, mostly to himself as he eyes the shining cunt open and throbbing for him. he wastes no time wrapping his lips around your puffy clit, slurping at your slick. he enjoys the sapidity that’s unique to you, tangy and a bit sweet, like a refreshing dessert he could eat for the rest of his life.

he can feel the juices drip down his chin and coat the lower half of his face but that doesn’t stop him from eating your pussy like a starved man. you have to bring a hand up to your mouth to muffle the moans, watching the hobie lick between your folds and lap at your clit. your eyes are ready to roll back when hobie’s tongue pokes at your entrance. you want so badly to scream, to pull hobie’s head even closer to your aching pussy but you can’t. you can’t risk moving your hand off your mouth, knowing that the moment you do, you’ll wake up the whole house.

you compromise by using your other hand to support your weight and shift toward, putting yourself a little more onto your toes. in this new position, you’re able to move your cunt along his face. you push farther, going as far as to brush your clit along hobie’s nose.

his response is to tug your body to the edge of the counter and wrap your legs over his shoulders. your lower body is solely held up by him, his shoulder, and his hands. he swallows every ounce of your slick and sears your clit with a kiss.

it doesn’t take long before you’re finding yourself closer to the edge of a second orgasm. you ball your shirt up and shove the jumbled mess into your own mouth. your brain is foggy. you can’t think of a single thought that isn’t full of hobie, the pleasure, and the need to cum, immediately. 

“mmmf,” you wrap your legs around his neck. dig your fingers into his hair, and tug just in time for another gush of cum to come flowing out of your pussy. every muscle in your body has relaxed and become putty by now. you’re at hobie’s disposal and you love that.

“you’re so perfect, i’m devastated.” he kisses your inner thigh, continuing to trail those kisses up your stomach, between your tits, and onto your lips. he doesn’t wipe the cum off his face as he does it. instead, he makes you taste it, wrapping his tongue around yours and wetting your cheeks with the stickiness as your arousal as he does it.

“no you’re not. you won’t stay for me.” you whisper between kisses, running your hands along his bare chest under his shirt. you grab the hem and pull it up until hobie inevitably allows you to pull it off. it’s discarded and tossed onto the floor.

“i won’t stay for anyone. you know this.” he disconnects from the kiss, but only for a moment. during this time, he drops his pants to pull out his cock, raging from watching you cum not once, but twice. in the darkness, you can make out an outline of it, long and skinny with a mushroom tip and bulging veins. he’s been straining this whole time but hadn’t complained at all, loving every second of pleasing you. he could do it for hours if he had the time.

you resort to pouting as hobie sets your feet back onto the ground. with his hands on his hips, he turns you back around until your back is pressed against his chest, once again. “just say you hate me.”

“keep saying that and i’ll shove my dick in your mouth.” he says, aligning his tip with his sticky entrance. you don’t mention how his threat holds no weight if you’d enjoy it. instead, you play into it and huff, resting your hands flat on the counter.

you brace yourself when hobie begins to push deep into you. the stretch is painful at first, enough that you have to grit your teeth and will yourself to relax through the shallow thrusts to ease his way into you. it only takes a few seconds before the pain is blooming into satisfaction.

he fits so well inside you, filling you as if he was created solely for this purpose. you reach up, resting your hand on his cheek for a source of intimacy in the slow thrusts. you use the leverage of the counter to push your ass back to meet his thrusts.

you don’t know how much willpower you have to continue standing on your own when hobie is doing such a good job of fucking you dumb. even with the slow pace, you have to give in, leaning over the counter. to hobie, this is leverage for him to take control of the situation. he slots a large hand over your mouth and the other rests on the small of your back.

almost instantly, his thrusts increase tenfold. you’re certain if this was done on a bed, it would have been rocking with such an intensity against the wall. you grasp his hand covering your mouth with yours, almost screaming into his hand.

“shh, you’ll w – wake someone u – up.” he leans over you. hobie doesn’t compensate for the sound of skin slapping against each other by speaking louder. instead, he gets closer to you and because of that, angles his dick deeper into your cunt.

in this new state, you can hear every soft moan and whimper that leaves his mouth. he’s not rough about it, almost singing in your ear. his breath feels moist on your skin and adds to the fire burning in your core. “just t – take it, baby.”

you almost sob, rising onto your toes and writhe underneath him. it didn’t occur to you that you’d be overstimulated by the time you’ve reached this point. as much of your fault as it is, you like to blame most of it on hobie for pushing it this far. you wouldn’t be tempted to push him away, feeling as though he would be forcing another one out of you, if he didn’t.

you’re still, almost stuck in place. he’s too good at delivering. your body craves more and less of him at the same time. you’re certain you can feel him in your throat, ready to pop out the other side and through your mouth if this continues long enough. it’s driving you crazy, so crazy you squeeze your legs together.

it doesn’t last long because coincidentally, hobie hooks his hand under your leg and pushes it onto the counter. your cunt squelches as it swallows his size greedily. he’s obsessed with watching his length disappear inside you and the white sheen that surrounds the base. “shit, you’re gettin’ tight. gonna make me cum.”

you can only wail at his words and press your forehead against the granite. your legs have begun to quiver for the second time that night and you’re almost certain your insides are about to explode. you’re unsure what is building up inside you but it’s drawing from somewhere deep in the pits of your stomach and you’re getting nervous. there’s not much you can do about it, nor can you think about it too much because hobie’s fingers are rolling your clit between them.

the bud is all swollen and practically hot to the touch. you’re dripping down your own thighs at this point. there’s a musk that accompanies sex in the air, thick and sending you into a daze. your eyes flutter closed before they roll back. you let loose, weak streams of squirt falling into the floor beneath you.

“holy fuckin’ shit,” hobie pulls out of you so fast, you whine and crumple onto the floor. he, as the kind gentleman he is, don’t force your weak body to move positions again. instead, he steps to your side and turns your head with a hand under your chin. “open your mouth for me. atta’ girl.”

you watch him through half lidded eyes jerk his swollen cock in front of your face until he’s spurting cum all over it. your tongue dangles open and catches what remnants dribble downwards into your mouth.

hobie’s equally sensitive body stands there for a moment to catch his breath. he slowly lowers himself onto the ground until he’s able to run his thumb over your cum-covered face to collect some of it on the pad of his finger and swipe it over your tongue. “how do you feel? want water or something?”

you wordlessly shake your head and crawl into his arms, despite the fact that your face is ultimately covered in his nut. you don’t mention that what you really want to know is what happens now. “just want to shower and sleep.”

he looks at you, half asleep against him, and then around the kitchen and the few pieces of evidence left behind. for one, the scent has got to go. “i’ll get you into the bath and i’ll handle the cleanup, okay? you just rest your pretty little head.”

you’ve already beat him to it, humming in response and envisioning the comfort of your queen sized bed. if you considered things awkward before, just what until you see how you try to navigate it in the morning.

[earwigconsumer]

helloo first of all i just wanna say ur art is rly cool !! anyways could you maybe say some stuff you know abt kennith since its pretty hard to find accurate information?

Holy fuck I really appreciate that dude. Thank you a lot 🙏🙏🙏

And also I'm not too good with non specific stuff, so I'm just gonna spit out everything I can think of about Kennith

His birthday is October 12th 1968

He is 5'4

Kennith would drink the fuck out of kool-aid

Kennith cannot cook, he would probably burn the house down and he wouldn't care if he burned down with it

He gives himself burns on purpose anyway

Kennith likes rats and cats

He also really likes cats who look like they've gone through shit, like him

He and Stephanie shared makeup

Kennith pissed on a church's bush one time and declared it as his sinful territory

(A lot more under the cut)

Kennith just, breaks into Stephanie's house sometimes through her window. Sometimes to steal milk, borrow shit, or do what ever

Stephanie is fine with that

Kennith is homosexual and aromantic

Kennith and Stephanie got bullied for being friends with each other

He lives in Calumet, Michigan

When drunk Kennith gets extra gay and laughs at everything. Eventually getting really sleepy and incoherent

Kennith is that guy who would wear shorts all year, even in the winter

Kennith normally just throws on tanktops and shorts, switching to pull overs and jeans in the winter. Anything comfy really. Sometimes he dresses really good though, like 20% of the time

80% of the time it's gym shorts, tank tops, and t-shirts

Kennith can swim

Kennith sometimes just breaks into a country accent sometimes

Kennith likes candy

His favorite tastes are smoke, blood, rootbeer, alcohol of any kind, sour candies, and dick I MEAN WHO SAID THAT? WHO SAID THAT??

Kennith doesn't like being touched, unless it's in bed

How ever if he was hugging with genuine love and care he would get really emotional or all flustered have to go be alone for a while and be emotional later

Kennith paints his nails

If kennith were to go to a school dance (he didn't he spend them in his basement with Stephanie)

He would just kinda stand by the punch bowl with his little cup drink it, fill it, drink it, fill it, drink it, fill it, drink it, fill it, drink it again, and fill it

Kennith likes 60s garage rock and psychedelic rock

Kennith has BPD and depression

He steals a lot

He's also really sexual, he into bdsm and guro. Ghost has called him a kinky little shit

He thinks he'd trip in a ball gown

He doesn't have a schedule, he just does shit when he feels like

He'd get annoyed with clueless people and like if he has to repeat himself it pisses him off. He also doesn't like explaining when you're not on the same page as him immediately, he's tolerant with Stephanie doing that though

His favorite color is coral

He has a super unstable sleep schedule

Stephanie apprently carried around Kennith sometimes

He would have a gore and an nsfw blog on tumblr if he were alive now

If being gender-fluid was more known in the 80s he would have been gender-fluid. If he were alive now he would be gender-fluid. Cuz it's the 80s though, he just assumes he's a dude who feels more feminine sometimes

Kennith would refuse therapy because he "doesn't need that shit like that"

Kennith would like beanie babies if he were alive now

He twirls his hair

Sometimes when he didn't wanna be bothered about it, he'd cover up his sh with foundation to make it less noticeable. Most of the time he was too lazy

Kennith has abandonment issues

Kennith shaves

He LOVES milk

He would wear thigh highs

He doesn't know what job he'd have, he'd probably continue with repairing electronics though

Kennith drinks and smokes weed

Kennith's favorite alcoholic thing is champagne

Kennith would have a pet rat

Kennith can scream really loud

He makes self deprecating jokes quite a bit

Kennith would wear a skirt if he wouldn't have gotten the living shit bullied out of him. They would also be flashy and revealing

For Halloween Kennith would dress in all white and say he's sperm

He swears excessively

Kennith is that guy with the magnifying glass and burns ants to death

He's the type to draw dicks on the school white boards/chalk boards

Kennith would like throwing knives

Kennith likes to mess with people for fun (in a silly way)

He also likes joking around with and pranking his friends

Kennith would have loved being a model

Kennith is around 100lbs

His voice claim is YoppyVU, any statement about it not, is a lie. Ghost does that a lot, did you know that?

He doesn't spend a lot of time at home, his parents piss him off. He usually hangs around the gas station Greg works at, Stephanie's house, or the park or something

He'd be the type to die his hair with kool-aid, it would look like shit

Kennith attempted before

Kennith forgets to eat alot. He starves himself but not to a life threatening point, he doesn't focus on it at all. He literally just forgets and doesn't feel like eating

He would have been a theater kid if he didn't think the world hated him

He'd be a bad singer

He's broadcast was in the garage he worked in

Ghost said if you looked up "curly pixie cut" you'd be able to find references for his hair

And also he is cold and reserved to people he is not friends with. He takes a bit to warm up to people

That's not all I know, but I don't wanna write anymore. It's 4 am. I can cite my sources for all of these, btw. And also ignore but don't that jab about Ghost lying a lot

[earth616variant]

the send-off | s.r ; 4

summary | Being his best friend and assistant, Howard Stark asked you to be the first one to be tested on his time machine project. After some unexpected errors, you ended up stuck in the modern times of the 21st century. Where you meet the man you thought died years ago: Steve Rogers.

pairing/s | steve rogers x reader, avengers x reader

word count | 5k+

genres | angst, fluff, crack, time travel au, unrequited love au

warnings | mention of blood, idiots…

note | after months, here's a new update! finally found the inspiration to write again :)) I apologize for the long delay. anyway, let me know your thoughts on this one. enjoy reading!

series masterlist

 “Ugh… What to do? What to do?” you hummed.

It’s been days since your arrival in this era. And so far, everything is fine. Confusing but fine. You were still having nightmares that always woke you up. But you didn’t bother to tell anyone about it. It’s probably a normal reaction.

Since the superheroes in the compound have alternative schedules for their missions, you found yourself rubbing shoulders with whoever Avenger is in the compound. It’s obvious that they don’t want you to feel excluded and made it clear that they don’t mind you asking questions if you find something puzzling. 

You usually bond with the youngest one, Peter Parker, who is always around since he is, based on what he said, “a friendly neighborhood superhero”. It means that he doesn’t go out of the country, like Natasha or Steve, or even this state for a mission since he still has classes to attend and he explains that his aunt won’t let him go anywhere far and dangerous. Understandable, you thought. The kid is only sixteen. But for now, Peter is staying back with his aunt in their apartment while the others are on their missions. He has a schedule for staying between the compound and his aunt’s place. 

Clint is with his family, who you heard lived in this secret farmhouse. Tony is probably home too. You don’t really know. You kind of feel that he avoids being alone with you. Wanda is resting in her room. You don’t want to disturb her as you saw her coming home earlier, looking really exhausted. 

When he can, Steve also kept you company. Of course, you enjoyed talking to him about his life after the whole defrosting thing. But sometimes, you felt like a disturbance or a burden in his free time. You thought, maybe he just wants to rest. Perhaps he just feels bad for you. So, you try to not stay around him all the time if he’s home.

So, you really have nothing to do. You have books but you don’t feel like reading now. You have this novel that you liked so much, you just finished it today. The compound also has this large, flat television but you don’t feel like watching anything either. It’s not like you’re not used to being alone. You’re always alone before! But at least you have a job to take up all your time. With all this free time, you cannot help but miss doing something in the laboratory. Computing numbers or testing prototypes with Howard. You wondered if your best friend ever finished that flying car he kept on re-working. You figured, maybe not. You see that people in this modern time still use four-wheeled cars.

“Oh, hey, Doctor Y/N.”

Sometime in the afternoon, Bruce Banner went out to the kitchen to get himself something to drink. That is where he sees you, looking all bored and spacing out. You forced a smile at him and greeted him back,

“Hello, Doctor Banner.”

“Bruce. You can call me Bruce.” he smiled as he opened a can of rootbeer.

“Then, you can call me just by my name too,” you replied, tapping on the hardbound book you had with you. You tried not to be obvious as you examined his look. With his eyeglasses and white coat, you know he’s been working in his laboratory. 

After taking a sip from his drink, he spoke, “What are you up to in here, Y/N?”

Hearing that question, you instantly sighed heavily, making your shoulder slump, “Nothing really. I’ve been watching the paint dry, Bruce.”

Thankfully, the scientist caught on to your use of words. He chuckled before asking you, “Do you want to go to the lab?”

You swore you jumped from where you were sitting when Bruce said that. He took it as a yes and you two walked together back to his laboratory. Instantly, you were in awe of the place. There are screens and machinery everywhere. You don’t understand how these new gadgets work but you cannot wait to hear about them. This is like something you dreamed of.

“Here.”

Bruce handed you a white lab coat and you immediately grabbed it, wearing it excitedly. Damn, you missed wearing it. You stood next to him in front of his messy desk, which is pretty normal. Notes were everywhere. Even pens and crumpled papers. You’re starting to miss your own messy work table.

“Oh, I’m sorry about that,” Bruce spoke, referencing his desk.

You smiled, “It’s fine. It means you’re really working hard for something.”

Slipping your hands into the coat’s pockets, you wander around the spacious lab. You try to stop yourself from touching anything, fearing that you might mess something up. So like a little kid, your eyes just show your enthusiasm as you watch some type of liquid flow into a transparent tube.

“What are you working on?” you asked, turning your head to Bruce.

“Something that can help the world, hopefully.” he chuckled. He walked next to you, “It’s a serum that may help cancer patients.”

“That’s nice,” you whispered, eyes still distracted.

“Yeah. But it’s still an experiment. This is the first time I’m working on something like this again after I tried to recreate the super soldier serum.”

Your eyebrows raised as you looked at him, “You tried to recreate that serum?!”

Steve did not tell you about that. No one told you that someone in the compound tried to recreate it. You always wondered what Dr. Ernskine did to that serum since it seems very impossible to reproduce. But now that you’re in this modern era, people have more resources and findings. Maybe Bruce succeed.

Bruce stared back at you with a small smile, “It’s what brought me here, Y/N.”

“Cap. You okay?” 

Tony asked as soon as he made sure the auto-pilot was set on the plane. Instead of answering, Steve grunts while pressing a hand on the right side of his stomach. Blood was gushing out from the stab wound he got from this mission. Bucky, on the other hand, also earned bruises on his face and small cuts on his arm. The two admittedly underestimated this mission. They didn’t expect that a hundred members will show up in this cult-like mob they raided. Thankfully, Tony was able to answer an emergency call.

“Those guys really got you cornered. Whoever stabbed you would probably brag about the fact he got to stab Captain America. Too bad he died.” Tony quipped, trying to lighten the mood. He signaled to Bucky to pass him a bandage.

Steve listened with exhaustion running in his veins. He breathed out as he closed his eyes, leaning his head on the surface behind him.

“You know, you got to be more careful now…” Tony suddenly spoke, sounding a bit serious. Steve opened his eyes and look at his friend who was focused on cleaning his wound. It took minutes of silence– since Tony made sure that his wound won’t get infected– before he continued,  “You have a girlfriend waiting at home.”

“She’s not my girlfriend, Tony,” Steve replied sternly.

His best friend still managed to chuckle at that. Steve groaned when Tony slightly applied pressure to his wound. Not that Steve doesn’t like the idea of you as his romantic partner, he just doesn’t want to tolerate this kind of teasing from his friends. They might get used to it and make you uncomfortable whenever you’re with him.

Tony rolled his eyes, “Okay, whatever. But my point is you are Y/N’s closest friend in the compound right now and I don’t think she will like seeing you come back like this. I mean, you already died before and Dad told me a lot of things that happened.”

Steve tilted his head quizzically. He looked at Bucky who shared the same expression on his face.

“What–”

“There.” Tony got up as if he didn’t just say something. He pointed at Bucky. “And you too, buddy. Bring more backup next time. Something worse could have happened. You’re lucky I’m just another country away for a presentation.”

He walked back to his seat as the pilot, ignoring the confusion and curiosity from the two a-decade-old super soldiers.

“That was your last memory?”

Bruce sat in front of you, typing on his laptop as you nodded an answer. A couple of hours after inviting you, you two ended up just chatting in his laboratory. Bruce told you about the time he recreated the supersoldier serum. You learned his history and how he joined this league of superhumans. He was open to sharing his struggle in accepting his power and learning to control himself from being Bruce and the Hulk.

After that, he ended up giving you a tour of his laboratory. You would share how a gadget you had before evolved into what he has now in these modern times. Your curiosity about these said gadgets made his offer to teach you whenever he can and you happily agreed. Although you’re still unsure if you’re staying here for the rest of your life, you think that it will be good to adapt in the meantime.

“The time machine…” your voice trailed off as you brought up the topic. “How did you and Tony make it?”

You’ve been wanting to ask someone about their version of a time machine here. But since Howard’s son was a bit distant, you get to talk about it with Bruce now.

Bruce shakes his head, “It was unsuccessful.”

“It brought me here.” you countered, pursing your lips.

The air around you two was suddenly all serious and Bruce feels it. You were just wondering how they built their time machine. How did they make it work? It was seemingly more successful than Howard’s. Was it because of the current and upgraded technologies? Did they use different formulas than Howard? Did they make their own original version that was way different than what you and your best friend worked on in the past?

 

Bruce looked at you for seconds like he was contemplating if he should tell you. Then, he exhaled, removing his glasses.

“Tony brought the blueprint and basically the whole plan for it months ago. He said he found it when he was digging up in his dad’s office in their old house.”

“Wait.” your eyebrows scrunched together as you paused. You take your time processing his answer. You made sure you understood it by saying, “So… it was originally Howard’s… The blueprint for it?”

He nods, “Yes, Tony found it along with other plans his dad never worked on. We just used other materials than the outdated ones...”

You didn’t really listen to the rest of his words when you heard the first sentence. Your eyes stared at some space. Never worked on? He means, Howard made this plan and never worked on it? Does it mean that if your best friend just worked it, you could have been back earlier than this era? Your hand slowly pressed a hand on your chest and you felt your heartbeat getting quicker Bruce quickly noticed it and you looked up at him with your eyes screaming in confusion and surprise, hurt.

“When did Howard plan it?” you asked. Your voice was weak and you almost said it in a whisper.

Although confused, Bruce replied, “1977. It was written on the bottom of the blueprint.”

Your brain was quick in computing it. It was thirty years after your disappearance. You feel like shaking as you blinked away the tears that were blurring your sight.

“W-Where can I find this blueprint? I want to see it.”

The change in your tone and expression made Bruce ask, “Y/N, are you okay–”

“Where?” you asked again instead of answering.

“Uh, Tony has it.”

You ran your palms all over your face, calming yourself down. You breathe out. You knew you had to stop yourself from crying as you cannot stand doing it again.  It’s pointless. You’ve been tearing up ever since you came here and you have never been this vulnerable. You don’t like it. Before Bruce can repeat a word, you sighed heavily.

“I’m sorry,” you said, shaking your head. “I… I was just surprised Howard planned on building another time machine and never made a move on it.”

Bruce hummed quietly and replied, “It’s fine… Everything must have been a lot to you.”

You chuckled, trying to lighten up the atmosphere, “Yeah, it’s a real bummer and I think it makes me blow a fuse really easily. I swear I was never this emotional.”

If he did it, would I have come back earlier?

The question floats in your head as you set your eyes on the quiet lake just outside the compound. You pulled your knees closer to your chest and rested your chin on your knees. The sky was already dimming down as the sun already set. Nature was quiet and the only loud thing was your brain with all these questions you were asking yourself.

There was a part of you who wished you shouldn’t have just asked Bruce. Maybe you wouldn’t feel this way. But you were always curious about things, so you asked. And here you are, having this moment. As if knowing about Howard’s plans is not enough, you still had thoughts if you can ask Tony about it. You let out an exasperated, hopeless exhale. Maybe not.

“Dr. Y/N!”

You snapped out of your deep thoughts when you heard your name. Turning your head to your side, you spotted Peter approaching with a smile on his face. He waved his hand, and your lips form a small smile.

“Hey… I thought you were staying with your aunt tonight?”

He sat beside you on the green grass, “I’m just staying here until nine. Then, I’ll go back home. I dropped by to see if you’re baking tonight.”

You giggled, “Well, today’s not your lucky day, kid. But I think we still have a few brownies in the jar from the other day.”

“I checked. It’s already empty.” he feigned disappointment, holding his chest, and you two chuckled. “How was your day here, doc?”

“Boring. I haven’t really done much. Bruce saw me in the kitchen earlier and invited me to his lab. I just miss doing something again.“ you confessed with a hint of frustration in your tone. “How about you, kid?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “Eh, just school. I and my friend Ned ended up in detention because he cannot stop talking about this new movie during chemistry class. Then, our other friend, MJ joined us since she said she enjoys going to detention. We planned to eat something after but MJ has a part-time job to go to.” Peter shared and you feel that he was pretty satisfied with how his day went.

“Well, at least one of us got to bond with their friends,” you scoffed. “I have to get used to my friends being superheroes.”

“They are usually busy, aren’t they?”

You nod, “Yeah. It actually made me feel jobless.”

You two laughed at that. You resumed, “I can’t believe I finished two books in a short period– Speaking of books, I was wondering if you could lend me a hand.”

“For what?”

“Oh, you know that novel I’ve been reading these past few days?”

“Ah, the one with the whole time machine plot too?”

“Yes. I… I really loved the book. Is there any way I can reach out to the author? Maybe write them a letter? I just really want to let them know that it’s a good story.”

Maybe it’s because of a lot of free time on your hand. But you just really adored the plot and the novel itself. You found it in the new releases section of the bookstore you went to days ago. But the story was set around your time, in the 40s, and mainly revolved around time traveling, which initially pulled you into buying it. It was accurate by the era it was in, and it made you feel closer to where you came from. Now, you just finished it and it was beautiful even though it was left on a cliffhanger. It causes you something to look forward to.  

“We can try to reach out. Maybe they have e-mail. It’s faster than sending them written letters.” Peter suggests.

You cocked an eyebrow, “What’s an email?”

“Oh, it’s electronic mail. It’s like the modern type of exchanging letters with other people. Instead of asking for the person’s home address, they can just give you their email address. Then, you can send them a message with the computer or cellphone.” he explains and you nod.

“How about your laptop?”

He nods, “Yeah, we can also use that.”

You two ended up walking back to the compound. Peter helped you with creating your own e-mail address and typing your message to the author. You wanted to learn and get used to with using this gadget so you offered to type yourself. He was patient enough to teach you with the keys on the keyboard as you type. 

“So, it automatically saves itself as a draft?”

You moved the cursor on the screen as you glided your index finger on the touchpad of his laptop. It wasn’t a long message but it was genuine. You re-read the whole thing again before passing the laptop to Peter.

“Yeah, what’s the name of the author again?” the boy asked before opening a new tab in the browser.

“Oh, wait…” you reached for the book and read the huge, bold name written on the front cover. “It’s… Donald S. Burton.”

“Okay, we can look for his website. Maybe he has his contacts there.”

His voice trailed off when he began typing on the search bar. It never fails to amaze you how fast this thing can give you answers. It’s like all of the books in the library were compiled into this gadget. Peter input the name and a list of information about Donald S. Burton showed up. There were even images of the man. You cannot help but smile when the old guy reminds you of someone familiar.

“Here is his email!“

“I like these. What are these again?” 

Steve smiled at your curiosity, “Chicken nuggets.”

“Okay. Chicken nuggets,” you repeated. “I wished we had these in our time. I love these and these sauces. And of course, this sundae!” you exclaimed before taking a scoop with the tiny spoon.

Just a couple of days after you talked with Bruce in the lab and sent an e-mail with Peter’s help, you found yourself having a picnic with Steve just around the city. It was a quiet park in the busy city. It was a Tuesday so there were fewer people in the place. He invited you with it after he got home from his mission.

“Should I bake or make something?” you asked him.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. We’ll be ordering food on the way to the park,” he replied.

“Are the others coming too?” you asked again.

He shook his head, “I… didn’t ask them.”

“Why didn’t you ask them?” you raised an eyebrow. 

Steve seemed to be caught off guard. Bucky, Sam, Natasha, and Peter, who were also in the living room when you asked, smirked and looked at each other knowingly when they saw their leader’s frozen reaction. He stood there awkwardly with his hands on his hips. Natasha was the first to break the silence.

“I’ll be training,” she said.

The others caught on to it and spew their reasons too. Peter chimed in, “I have a ton of homework to do, Doc.”

“I’m visiting my sister in Louisiana,” Sam explained with a scoff. That made you squint your eyes at him. Then you looked at Bucky, waiting for his reason. He seemed frozen like the gears in his head is turning.

“I… uhm… I’m…”

“He’ll help me with training.” Nat saved him. “We’ll do some planning with the next mission.”

So that’s how you and Steve ended up alone on this picnic, which you don’t mind. You had a fun ride going here. He lets you play songs by connecting your rarely-used phone to the car’s stereo.

“How did you learn about that song?” he asked when American Pie played.

You smiled, “Natasha. I heard it from her.”

You ordered food from a fast food chain through a drive-thru. It was exciting as Steve ordered meals you didn’t try before. When you arrived at the peaceful park, you insist on helping him with bringing stuff. He just made you bring the blanket while he carries all the other things. When you found a perfect spot, you laid the gingham blanket on the green grass. You sat comfortably in your casual floral dress before you two began eating.

“Thank you for this, Steve.” you smiled.

“You’re welcome. Thank you for coming with me. I haven’t been on a picnic with someone for a while.” he said.

“You know, before I got in the time machine, I went picnic with my neighbors.” you shared, remembering that day with the Smiths.

“Mr. and Mrs. Jones?!” he asked with surprise.

Your ears perked when you heard that. The Jones were your neighbors before the Smiths. They are the last ones Steve knew since he and Bucky would sometimes fetch you if you were hanging out somewhere. The said couple was a bit grumpy, to be honest. They can hear even the smallest noise you would make in your apartment and would always let you know they don’t like it. 

“Oh, no. They moved out months after you disappeared. Another family occupied their space. Susan and Robert Smith. They have this little kid named Donny. They are much nicer.” you joked.

“Well, that’s nice. I missed a lot of things while on ice.” 

“It was only two years, Steve. Nothing much happened.” you snorted, finishing your sundae.

“A lot of things can happen. I know Howard found the Tesseract while searching for me on the ice… Share some things that happened in those two years.” 

“Okay…” you exhaled. “I bet you already know that they tried making a series after Captain America vanished. You became an icon. Have you seen it?”

You laughed when you saw Steve hissed, “I didn’t like it.”

“Yeah, it was bad.” you cracked up. You only watched that once. You don’t like how they painted Peggy into a character named Betty who was always a damsel in distress. Peggy had complained about it too.

“Anyway, we– Howard and I– tried for like a year to search for you. But he would usually be the one to go on sites and I would always try to come with him. He needs more convincing but it always works.”

Howard often says that going in the field can be dangerous and you would fight back over and over again. You were glad you did because you were with them when they found the Tesseract.

“What convincing did you do?”

“Well, I would say that I’m his assistant. My job is technically following him around. Then when he says no, I’ll say that I am his best friend. I still do have my last reason if he denies me of coming with him.” you said.

“And what is it?”

You paused and just stared at him. Chewing on your bottom lip, you hmmed. It was like you were thinking if you should tell him the last reason for Howard to let you go with him. Steve waits. He tried to be comfortable as he leaned back with his arms resting behind him. He hoped he doesn’t look much curious or nosy. After what felt like an eternity, you spoke.

“It’s… It’s that I am the last one you spoke to while you were on that plane.” 

You looked away from him, avoiding his gaze. You tried to just look at the trees and people from the distance than just look at Steve. Your chest felt heavier when you remembered that time Steve fought that skull and had control of that plane. Steve didn’t say a word so you continued to explain more, just to get it off your chest.

“It would always work since he fully knows that I have guilt living in my system after the country lost you.” you chuckled bitterly. “I felt awfully bad that I cannot do anything to help you during that situation.”

When your voice shook uncontrollably in the last words of your sentence, Steve sat back up and you can see the sympathy in his blue eyes. He reached out for your resting hand, instantly caging it in his warm hands.

“Y/N… none of it was your fault. It was already a dead-end situation. I was the one who chose to crash it.” he tried to reassure you.

“I know, I know,” you mumbled, tears slipping from your eyes. “But I cannot stand losing another person in my life that time, Steve.”

Your tearful eyes met his concerned ones. “We just lost Barnes earlier that year. And I really just can’t lose you… I tried to think of something. Howard was in the same room while I was talking to you on the phone. We tried to make a plan but we don’t have any idea where the hell the plane was and it was moving really fast. It was really bad. I felt helpless. I thought I might have been able to do something to help you but we have no time. I hate that all I can do is talk to you on the phone, hoping that you won’t feel alone, while I prayed silently for some miracle to happen. And it was crazy because  I don’t even remember the last time I prayed before that moment.”

By the time you finished talking, you were full-on sobbing. Your chest heaved and your cheeks were damp from your salty tears. Steve held your hand. His thumb drew circles on it as he lets you cry for more. And when he felt you calming down, he uttered:

“Staying in that call with me until the end was enough for me. I appreciate you for handling yourself very well and being calm with me that time. You are amazing. And you don’t know how relieved I am when I knew you were the one who answered the call. Thank you.” Steve said softly, offering a small smile as he looked directly into your eyes. “You already did much more you know for me that time.”

2/19/1945

Y/N arrived with puffy eyes today. I knew it before she even removed the black sunglasses she had on. I already told her the day before that she have the choice of not going to the laboratory today. But she still did. It was quiet the whole day in the lab. We both tried to act busy like nothing much happened. Due to the events of these past two weeks, I’ve been getting telephone calls from a lot of people. I chose to ignore them because I know it has something to do with Rogers’ disappearance and I’d been hearing they want to make the serum like Ernskine’s. I honestly think that it would be hard to “remake” Captain America ever again. She didn’t eat anything for the whole day even a cup of coffee. I insisted on walking her home, saying I have to borrow her old research about the future of computers. She said she’ll just bring it tomorrow but I said I need it urgently even though I really don’t. In fact, I have nothing to do with her research. I just had to make sure she’ll get home safe. I thought it was a good idea to just walk with her instead of asking Jarvis to drive us. But boy, I was wrong. The loss of the nation’s superhero is plastered all over the place. I tried distracting Y/N by telling her about the funny encounter I had with a girl months ago. I never told her about it before because I know she doesn’t like that I cannot commit to a single girl. But I have no more story to tell at the moment. It was a relief that she let out small laughs and smile at it. Although the smiles didn’t reach her eyes, I hope she felt better for a bit. She was about to say some advice or something when she suddenly froze. Her lips formed into a frown and I see tears forming in her eyes. I follow where her eyes lay and it was the newspapers. WE NEED A NEW CAPTAIN. The headline was printed in big, bold letters. Eye-catching. “They cannot just replace Steve like that.” It was a whisper from her. I hate that all I can do is sigh. Two minutes later, we reached her apartment. She handed me her research and thanked me. She smiled. But it was forced, I know.

As I am writing this letter, I am thinking of leaving this city with Y/N for a vacation somewhere away from here. I don’t know if she will like that. Maybe she won’t. Maybe I’ll just settle on walking her home with another made-up reason from the back of my head. I don’t know. I just feel helpless seeing her like this again after Barnes’ and now, Rogers’ death. Even so, I’ll always make sure that she will be alright.

H.S. 

Tony removed his eyeglasses as he finished reading. His index finger traces the handwritten words by his father, sighing in the process. He can hear his father’s voice with each word in it. 

“Tony, we need to go. We should fly at six!” Pepper’s voice cuts off his thoughts.

He stretched his limbs before replying, “Okay, honey. Just getting my glasses.” 

Tony stared at the page again for a second before closing his father’s journal. He slid it onto one of the drawers on his nightstand and left.

THE SEND-OFF TAGLIST

@supraveng @sunflower-golden-vol6 @curi0usc4t @caitlyn-who @bitchy-bi-trash @stilltoomuchafangirl @matisse556 @ladybug05 @sunwoahkim @meanttobea @j69confessional2 @thenyxsky @swthxrry @justab-eautifulmess @7minutes-tomidnight @curlycarley @thefalconandthewinterwidowshield @wisepenguin @shatfairy @coffeeshub @stillthatbetch @cosmicgirls-things @mediocre-m @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @mrsjaderogers @themerc-with-a-mouth @slutdreams @royalwritersoftheuniverses @yunloyal @avengersinitiative2012 @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @madnessinwrighting @lilizia @saintmagx @saranghaey @elmphoenix17 @animegirlgeeky @t-stark35 @ameliabs-world @seijaelee @sully-stick-together @capswife @katdahlali @avengersgirllorianna

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@rosedpetal

[homeofhousechickens]

Fitz Rootbeer (cockerel) looking very perturbed in this picture because Beeper is out of frame threatening them. They are very friendly and kind towards the other chicks. Right now they are snuggling me as I type this.

Fanta (cockerel) like Crush they have some pretty saturated down but I expect that to go away as they get older. They are pretty stoic and not bothered by much

Crush (cockerel) he has some big feets which makes me think he might end up oversized. He is a bit skittish but warms up

Pibb (cockerel) very food motivated. Really doesn't care for handling but if food is involved they will do it. They have some feather stubs on their legs which is interesting.

Jarritos (cockerel) Isn't very friendly but will warm up to you if you have treats. Always keeping an eye out for the horrors (anything strange)

Dr.Pepper (pullet) She is very friendly and enjoys a good cuddle she can just be a bit nervous sometimes due to growing up with rowdy boys. She is very kind to the other chicks

Sunkist (cockerel) I really wanted them to be a pullet but they are runty cockerel lol they are sweet but low on the pecking order.

Sprite (pullet?) A little shit starter who tries to bully the older babies! She will also peck you if you get in her space so I'm keeping an eye on her behavior but honestly I think she is just ornery like her sister Joy who also values her personal bubble. She still likes to be pet and cuddled, just don't push her 😂

Sierra Mist (???) They are a very proud bird and are quite friendly. Their personality reminds me their sisters Horusood and Frank

7-up (cockerel) He is my favorite out of this batch. He is a very proud cockerel who likes to strut around and loves being handled. He runs right to your hands for a cuddle. He has a big personality!

[starcrossedreaders]

RootBeer Floats

Azriel x Reader

Author’s note: Here is part three for you feins. If you have not read part I or part II I highly suggest you do. Thank you for all of the support, enjoy! NOT PROOF READ

Laying in bed and questioning my choice of major is not how I planned to spend my Saturday night. Mor was out on a date with her girlfriend and wouldn’t be home till tomorrow, so like any good college student I decided to take this opportunity to work on this paper. Only for me to fail immensely at getting anything done, my eye’s were becoming dry despite the glasses I put on hours before, my room was too stuffy, and the silence was too loud. One more key stroke and I would actually pull my hair out. I let out an  sigh as my head fell into hands. The base of my palms rubbed at my eyes until I was seeing white, I only lifted my head up because I heard my phone vibrate twice. Who would dare to send me a snap this hour? Checking my phone, Cassian had sent a video to a group chat that consisted of Me, Mor, Feyre, Nesta, Elain, Amren, Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian. Over the past 3 weeks Mor’s friend group had accepted me with open arms, Nesta and I talk about the mass amounts of books we need to read or had read. Feyre had invited me to walk around a few art exhibits our school had to offer. Rhysand had asked for my help with a business venture. Cassian and I had sat in a parking lot late at night, eating greasy fast food and talked shit. I have yet to met Elain, and the last time Az and I even spoke was  their last game the other day.

Me: Congrats on the great season! You guys had a killer last game, be safe partying tonight.

Azriel : Thanks, will do.

Yea, I still cringe thinking about it. I don’t really understand why he is actively avoiding me. Maybe it’s because of the captain situation, or maybe I’m being over bearing? I fall back onto my bed sprawling out and sigh, “Men, so complicated.” I shake my head as I lift my phone to my face to watch Cassian’s video. 

“I swear to god if I don’t get written by a female I give up on life,” His face was very close to the camera in unrelenting focus. The filter stopped spinning and Cassian let out the loudest gasp known to man.

“The most chronically online person you know my ass,” He clicked his tongue before he stopped the video. Soon Mor sent a video back, “No no, that is surprisingly very accurate,” Cassian only sent a picture with him using a vulgure gesture captioned   ‘Rude ass’. 

I laugh a little, happy that I could be apart of this chaos. I scrolled through the different social media apps for a little. It was only till my stomach growled did I get out of bed. Shuffling to the kitchen I looked at the clock to see the time.

10:00

Opening the fridge to find food was utter failure as Mor, once again, forgot it was her turn to buy groceries. I’ll have to get on her about that once again. Going back to my room I threw on a hoodie, slipped on some shoes, grabbed my keys and left the shared apartment. Double checking the door was locked I made my way to the elevator.  

On the walk there humming the song stuck in my head, a flash of red hair crossed my vision before his voice filled the hall way.

“Y/N, wait up,” He did a little a jog to catch up.

“Lucien Hey, what are you up to?”  Lucien. The guy next door, he was quite handsome, super nice, a such a flirt. His long auburn hair was tied back showing off his sharp features while his wired frame glasses hid the full beauty of his golden eyes.

“Just getting dinner. What about you?” He shrugged his shoulders a little.

“I’m actually off to do the same thing,” I smile up at him.

“Well then, care to join me? I could never let such a pretty girl eat alone,” He offered his arm to me with a slight smirk on his lips.

“And I thought romance was dead. I would love to join you,” I hook my arm on to his and he whisked us away. 

On the car ride soft music played in the back ground while we tried to come to a agreement of what to eat.

“What about that one diner that is retro, I heard their milkshakes are pretty good,” Lucien quickly looked my way to gage my opinion.

“Sure why not, I could eat a burger right now,” 

“Great, me too.” He laughs a little bit as he drives towards our agreed location. 

When arriving Lucien was quick to get out of the car to open my door. When he did he offered his hand and bowed a little bit, “M’lady,” I laughed a little as I grabbed his hand and stood out of his car.  I was quick to drop his hand when we stepped foot in the restaurant.  We were quick to be seated in a booth near a window. Upon sitting down a waiter that looks like they are on their last straw drops two menus on the table. After a few moments of silences Lucien speaks up, “What do you plan on getting?”

I took one last scan before I answered, “hmm probably a burger with a rootbeer float.” I drop the menu from my face to be greeted with a smiling Lucien.

“Rootbeer float huh?”

“Of course, personally I believe they are superior to milkshakes, and you cannot change my mind,” I laugh a little upon seeing Lucien's betrayed look.

“How could say such a thing!” He gasps and puts his heart on his chest, We both let out laughs that were a little too loud for the quite diner. 

The laughing was cut short when the waiter came to take our orders. Falling in the small talk about school, life, friends, and work led into an easy way to pass time. Small shared laughs and understanding nods kept the conversation flowing before a small feminine voice floated through the air. “Lucien?”

Lucien was quick to lift his head up from our conversation, “Elain?” curiosity dripped from her name.

“Oh my gosh Hi, how are you?” She was quick to slide into the seat next him.

“I’m...good. How about you? What are you doing out this late?” He turned his whole body to face her and gave me a side glance that seemed to say: ‘I’m just as confused.’

She waved her hand lazily, “Az and I were meeting for a late dinner and I got here before him. Do you mind if I wait with you guys? Better yet, we should just all eat together!” How she was this chipperly at 10:30 at night was beyond me. What really irked me was the fact that she is supposed to be here with Azriel. This is why he was so standoffish, this beyond pretty girl in front of me, who was flirting with Lucien. What a good date. I cross my arms and scoff a little at the fact. This does not go unnoticed by the red hair across from me.

“Elain, have you met Y/N yet?” she stopped her conversation about her  floriculture class and turned her head towards me. She looked me up at down.

“Nice to meet you,” she turned back to Lucien before I could even reply. Lucien gave me a apologetic look before the bell above the door rang. Elain looked towards the door and started to wave franticly. I could only hear to foot steps of doom as he walked closer to our table.

“Azriel hey, I saw Lucien here so I figured we could all eat together,” ouch. He just nods his head a slides into the seat next to me. His scent was heavenly and left me light headed. Cedar and whisky, it had me squeezing my thighs together. 

“What’s up man,” Lucien and Azriel did the normal guy handshake.

“Not much, what about you?” Az leaned back and laid his arm on the back of the booth.

“Not much either, congrats on the season though, you guys kicked ass,” Lucien leaned back as well.

“Thanks man,” Conversation was cut short when the waiter arrived with our food and took the others orders. I smiled when the rootbeer float was sat in front of me. I was quick to take a sip, gods it was so good.

“You know those are bad for you right?” I’m going to lose my shit.

“Yes Elain I do, but quite frankly I do not care,” I smiled at her before I picked up a fry.

“Geez no need to be mean, I was just saying,” She rolled her before she slumped back in her seat.

“I’ve never had a rootbeer float before,” Azriel looked my way with a sheepish smile.

“You’re joking?!” 

“Nope,” He popped the ‘p’ while he shook his head

“Where was your childhood?” I was quick to steal the straw that Lucien left behind, unwrapped it and shoved it in the sugary drink. I pushed it towards him.

“Try,” He gave me a look that asked ‘are you sure?’ I only answered by pushing it closer to him.

He smiled and his grab the straw between his pointer finger and thumb and wrapped his soft, plump lips around it. He sucked lightly his Adams apple bobbing with each swallow. Gods, my thighs squished together, he was clueless to what he was doing and it made it all more painful that Elain and Lucien were sitting right across from us. He soon pulled back from the straw and time seemed to go back to normal.

“Soooo, whadya think?” He licked the remaining drink from his lips as he thought about it.

“That.... was the best drink I have had,” He smilled a little bit as he looked at me.

“Seriously?!?!”

“Yes seriously,” I smiled back.

“I’m glad you like it.” 

                                                              Azriel

That was the worst possible drink I have ever had. I would never tell her that, I mean look at how happy she looks. The smile adoring her face with the slight tint on her cheeks made her all the more beautiful.  If I was being honest I rather be anywhere but here right now, Elain was persistent to go out for dinner, which ruined my whole schedule for the day. Sleep in, eat breakfast, go to the gym, study, sleep. Simple, but much needed. Ever since the kiss with Y/N Elain has been all over me, it was smothering. It was bad before Y/N, but now? I can’t even pull up my phone without her wondering who I’m texting. I had also just learned that she had been replying to Y/N texts, or deleting the notifications. I’m trapped and I don’t know what to do.

Elain and I were just friends with benefits nothing more nothing less. We went to each other warm our beds, but now? She’s a parasite and she’s making me sick.  

Dinner was finished quickly before we were kicked out. Standing out in the parking lot we all bid our goodbyes Y/N being the last to say goodnight.

“Goodnight Az, it was nice seeing you again,” She gave me was quick hug. Her shampoo scent floating to my nose, strawberries. She was so divine. We pulled apart unfortunately and she turned to walk towards Lucien's car. Before she could go far I lunged for her arm.

“I- wait-,” She turned around and I let go her arm. What. The. Fuck. Am. I .Doing. The look of patience sent my heart racing.  

“Would... uh, would you maybe like hang out sometime soon?” I have never fumbled over my words, but I have also never seen her light up the way she just.

“I would love to,” 

“Great, I’ll text you,” 

“Goodnight Az.”

“Night Y/N.”

part IV

Taglist:

 @icey--stars @marigold-morelli

[ghostly-knight]

random mys headcanons that have nothing to do with anything (mostly garroth and laurance tbh)

Garroth doesn’t like carrots

Laurance can’t skate

kc/nana did roller derby

Laurance has a belly button piercing (cadenza did it one night in the middle of his grade 11 year bc they were bored)

no one knew about the piercing, including garroth, for a long time, and garroth found out first anyways

Garroth found out bc his shirt rode up or he was wearing a crop top (idk which) when they were hanging out outside of school one day

dante hates socks

zane loves them

nana likes toe socks

vylad doesng like shoes and would be barefoot all the time if he could be

aphmau HATES pants but wears them anyways

vylad did figure skating before he transitioned

travis did gymnastics

Laurance is like 5’9

Garroth is like 6’2 or 6’3

sometimes the higher difference flusters laurance even if it isn’t much

when aph is being feral garroth just picks her up and throws her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes

laurance swears like a sailor

Laurance has heterchromia but i’ve already spread my propaganda about that

Laur and Gar went to prom together “as friends” but both were like ‘omg it’s like a date’

Garroth listens to pop-punk music (Zane showed it to him originally and he just ended up really liking it)

He also makes people playlists, but not of their music tastes, he makes them based on songs he likes that reminds him of them

Laurance got a CD for his birthday one year

Laurance smoked in highschool but quit early-mid university

Garroth and vylad LOVE spice

zane can’t handle it

nana likes spice too

aaron prefers sweets but gets hot sauce as gifts (he sneaks it into nanas cupboard)

aph has a full length mirror in her room bc she likes to sing and dance into it like she’s in a movie

Laurance did the rice purity test and got higher than everyone thought he would (other than garroth bc they’ve told each other everything since like grade ten)

Laurance has very feint freckles that you can only see when you’re very close to his face

Garroth loves his freckles

Laurance likes mug rootbeer

he can also do the thing where you take the bottlecap off using his shirt

garroth and laurance wait for each other after practice in highschool

zane and vylad go to every game garroth has that they can make it to because their parents don’t care enough to go (i’m a bad ro’meave parents truther)

zane has a shellfish allergy

vylad has celiacs

katelyn is lactose intolerant

katelyn is also v buff

garroth does ballet in his free time

aaron has a very big dog (like a newfoundland) and his name is rug

dante is epileptic bc i am and i said so

laur calls like everyone baby girl or something (he calls garroth baby boy sometimes and it makes him go beet red)

zane is a bluey enjoyer

i have so many more pls ask me about my random headcanons, i also have less random ones and ones that interlace but that’s for another post

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Hi! If the Valentine Event is still open can I ask for something nsfw with Mikey? Maybe with them being good friends who decide to spend the valentine's together so that they have a excuse to turn other insistent suitors down (after all it's not like they've been pinning for each other for years and are just to thick to have noticed that.)

OMG I LOVE THIS

Finish Last: Manjiro Sano x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.3k

tw: smut

Valentine's Day Event Masterlist

Main TR Masterlist

Zzz, zzz, zzz.

Mikey looks up at his phone as he lays on the couch, his head resting neatly in your lap.

"Another text." His mutter goes practically unnoticed as you sip your soda, eyes on the game in front of you.

"Just tell her to fuck off. You're hanging out with friends."

"Yeah," Mikey mumbles, hitting the power button on his phone before tossing it aside. "I don't get it. I've literally told this girl I'm not interested seven thousand times."

"Some people are just dense," you reply mindlessly. "Like 'Omi. He's denser than a can of dark matter." Mikey snorts, closing his eyes and clutching at his stomach.

"He's still hitting you up?"

"Like a club promoter." Mikey shakes his black-haired head in surprise.

"When will he get the hint?"

"Maybe when your girl gets the hint." You both sober up slowly, wiping tears of laughter from your eyes as the game continues. You lean back and adjust your controller, praying that Mikey wouldn't move his head from its comfortable position. It's silent - save the occasional sound effect from the TV - but you're fine just like this.

It's always been you and Mikey hanging out on Valentine's Day, ignoring others in favor of platonically spending time together. Well, not so platonic on your end, but it was for him. And you weren't in the business of ruining that.

"What'd you think we should do next year?" Mikey wonders, sitting up suddenly. "We could go to the movies or amusement parks."

"Or we could just hang out like always." You pause the game, looking over at him quizzically. "You tired of staying in or..."

Mikey shakes his head quickly. "I'm just trying to make sure you're not bored. We can have fun during this escape, you know?"

"What, and be caught with a literal celebrity out and about? What will the tabloids say?"

"Who cares?" Mikey chuckles, standing and placing his hands in his pockets. "It's not like I can't pay them off." He walks around the couch toward the kitchen, and your eyes follow his every move. "You want some more soda?" Mikey wonders, pulling open the fridge.

"I'm good." Mikey returns moments later with his own soda and a bowl of ice cream, setting it down on the coffee table before sitting next to you. "Hey, you didn't say you were getting ice cream!"

"I thought we'd share," Mikey offers, cracking open the soda can and pouring it into the bowl. "It's like a rootbeer float." He offers you one spoon and takes his own, and both of you begin to taste-test the dessert.

"This is good." Mikey hums, holding the bowl in one hand while you scoop out another bite. "Really good."

"I usually do this when I'm lazy, but I thought I'd share the sauce. Just this once."

"You're oh-so-kind, Manjiro." He laughs at your use of his full name, leaning ever so close to you. You try to keep from blushing as he eats the coke float.

"I have been told I'm a 'nice guy.'"

"But you don't lose your races," you retort, holding your spoon aloft.

"What's that have to do with anything?"

"Don't nice guys finish last?"

Mikey's eyes light up at the joke you've made, and he leans forward even more, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Now, you tell me. Do nice guys finish last?"

"I don't know..." You smirk. "I'd have to test the theory out myself." Mikey sets the ice cream aside as you both lean into a kiss, your hands finding his short hair and his hands cradling your waist.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," Mikey hisses, brows furrowed as he pulls away. "Y/n, I..."

"Shh," you urge him, placing a finger on his lips. "Just kiss me again." Mikey obliges unflinchingly, pressing his lips to yours and climbing on top of you on the couch. His lips move from your lips to your neck and down to your chest, where he harshly sucks your skin a few times to leave love marks.

He returns to kissing you once more, threading his fingers around your hips and back, grabbing your flesh with eager hands. "I want you," he breathes into your ear, but you hesitate, placing your hands on his chest.

"Should we do this?" Your question snaps Mikey back into the present, and while his hands don't relax around your waist, they do twitch a little.

"Only if you want to." You're unsure how to answer, praying you wouldn't ruin a perfect friendship with your desires. "We can always go back to being friends if you want. We can pretend like this never happened."

"I don't want that," you murmur and kiss him once more.

Mikey doesn't waste time with formalities, and neither do you. He's not your first, but as he undoes his belt and shucks his pants off, you pray he'll be your last.

"We should get off this couch," he whispers in your ear, getting off of you and holding a hand out. "I think we'd both be comfier on the bed."

You take his hand and walk with him to the bedroom, part of you nervous but the other part excited. How long had you dreamt of something like this? Something so perfect and natural and right?

Mikey lays you across the mattress and spreads your legs apart after taking off your sweatpants. He takes his sweet time sliding your underwear off, then probes your cunt with two fingers.

"You're so fucking wet..."

"Only for you," you admit, and Mikey shudders, letting his fingers sink into your cunt fully. You grip the sheets as you surrender to his touch, letting him guide you toward endless pleasure. As you moan, your hips roll up and down to meet your needs, and his fingers glide against your g-spot with ease.

"Feels good, baby girl?"

"Feels so good," you groan, reaching down to rub at your clit. Mikey hisses at the sight, his cock twitching in his boxers.

"I might cum just watching you..." With a free hand, Mikey reaches into his underwear and fishes out his cock, fisting it methodically. You pant eagerly, praying he will take his fingers out and press against your weeping hole with his veiny dick. But Mikey takes his time preparing you and keeping himself on the brink of oblivion.

"Let me know when you're ready," he urges you, and you nod rapidly, whispering,

"Please, fuck me, Manjiro, please."

"Little boys fuck," he states simply. "Grown men make love." Mikey peels off his underwear and puts your legs on his shoulders, pressing his weight down as his cock sinks into you.

"Mikey, Mikey, Mikey," you whine, grabbing at his t-shirt.

"Say my name like that," Mikey grumbles. "Say my name again."

"Mikey, Mikey, Mikey..." His eyes roll into the back of his head, and something in him breaks. His face goes from lovesick to untamed in the blink of an eye, and your hips bounce off of the mattress to follow his deep thrusts.

He folds you into a deep mating press, his senses telling him to mark you as his for the rest of time. And you feel the purpose in his lovemaking, each stroke knocking the breath out of you as he leans down to litter kisses on your face, your calves, your ankles.

"I'm gonna cum, babe; I'm gonna cum so hard," you warn, but Mikey doesn't seem to mind. He watches your face contort into one of deep pleasure, your mouth open and delivering soft curses as you reach your climax.

"Good girl, good girl..." You're not sure where you end or where Mikey begins, but as he cums, he's holding you against him and huffing softly. You both wait a little before he speaks, his hands still attached to your skin.

"See, nice guys do finish last," he murmurs, and you both laugh heartily.

[yuyu1024]

Falling

Pairings: Yunho × y/n

Genre/tags: relationship issue

Warning: ghosting, insecurity, cursing [lmk if i miss anything]

Words: 1.2k

Disclaimer:

- this story is just made up

- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊

Note: repost. Check pinned post for more.

*********

Three months have passed. You've cut your hair, updated your wardrobe, listened to all taylor swift's album on repeat and even read books you've always wanted to read but had no time before. You kept yourself busy.

Within those three months you focused on yourself. Helping yourself get up from being broken hearted. Finding the good of being alone and finding the bad of being with him. Loving Yunho. Trusting... Yunho.

It's fucking painful, really. Within that three months of you trying to move on, you did your best. Gave you best smiles, laugh and squeezed all the positivity you have in your body. It's tiring. You'd be probably dead if it weren't because of your friends.

"Don't tell me that your crying again because of that guy." A hand appears in front of your face, handing you a can of rootbeer

You break a small smile as you take the drink from his hand. "Seonghwa..." you shake your head, "I'm just admiring the view okay?"

"Just checking..." he sits down beside you, dipping his feet in the pool to. "Does he still contact you?"

"Yes... Everyday actually..."

"Do you reply?"

"No. Not once." You look down at your hands, "I just... look at the notification and...yeah..."

"Y/n, I know you've asked Hongjoong, Jongho and I to give you time... to not ask you anything at all... just... be with you... but..."

You sniffle, trying to smile. You know that a day would come that one of them will ask you. The real reason why Yunho and you are not together.

You try to keep it together for so long and hiding it.

"Do you think... I'm stupid?" You turn your head to face Seonghwa, looking at you, eyes filled with curiousity and concern. "For... leaving Yunho? For ghosting a guy that I've been with for the last three years... the guy that every girl ever dreamed of... the guy that everyone thinks is a perfect man... an achiever, passionate, hard working, loving, kind, sweet and good looking..." you take a deep breathe, "a guy that loved me so much... more than I derserve..."

"Y/n..."

"I know what I did is 100% wrong..."

"Fuck yeah." He mumbles, making you smile a bit even though tears are swelling up your eyes

"And yet... here you guys are supporting me... or if not... atleast staying beside me..."

"We're your friends... even we think your wrong... that doesn't mean we will leave you..."

"Yeah... thanks for that..."

"But what the fuck is your reason? For breaking Yunho's heart... even yours..."

"I got scared."

"Of what?"

"Not being enough... not giving him what he deserves..." you start to tear up for real now. "It probably sound fucked up for you guys but... Its eating me up inside. That when I look at him, giving me all his best, all his time, all his love and everything he can give... but then there's me, just receiving and not matching what he's capable of giving... I feel bad for him... I... I feel like... one day... he'll get tired of me that... that he'd leave me because he might've feel that I don't love him the same way..."

"Do you?" Seonghwa asks, "do you not love him the same way?"

"I do!" You weakly cry out. "I love him..."

"But... you chose to leave and hurt him?"

"I got scared that what if... one day he got tired of me, talking to me, listening to my nonsense... and that he might not need me anymore... I know my decision is fucked up because I don't want to be the only one hurting... I just... I don't know!" You cover your face with your hands and start sobbing. "I... I just... that night... at Hongjoong's party... I was feeling so down and stressed with everything happening in my life. Already overthinking about us... and then I saw him... I saw him with the girls that looked like the same level as him... my insecurities just wrapped my whole body and..."

"Y/n... I get how you feel... whatever you are feeling within you... it is valid... it's not wrong for you to worry and feel things like that... but you should atleast talk to him... discuss these with him... its unfair for him. You two have been together for three years... he's been good to you. Don't you think he deserves an explanation... an acceptable reason for you two to break up?"

"I know..." you wipe your tears. "But I'm so scared to confront him...I don't know what to say... or how..."

"You can start by reading my texts and answering my calls..."

Both you and Seonghwa freezes before turning around. It's him. It's Yunho.

"Sorry...I tried to ask him to leave but..." Hongjoong is standing behind him.

"It's okay." You say to him.

"We'll leave you two then..." Seonghwa stands up and leaves with Hongjoong to to back in the house.

Silence fills the air between you two as the others left. However the tension is up in the sky. You can feel his stare from behind you so you try to avoid looking back at him.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to get you back."

"It's been three months, Yunho..."

"So? I don't care!" You hear him walk closer. "We never broke up in the first place... you just went silent."

You get up from dipping you feet in the pool and face him. "Please..."

"Please what?" He looks angry "The fuck y/n! Why are you doing this to me? Why are you hurting me?"

"I...I'm sorry..." you cry

"I fucking love you so much! You have no idea... the pain I felt when you suddenly vanished and avoided me. I... I don't get it. What did I do to to give you a reason to leave me?"

"I'm sorry..."

"No, I don't need your sorry. Y/n, I want you back! Please... Please!" He rush towards you and hugs you tightly, like his life is hanging on to you. "Please... talk to me about your feelings... I will accept it... all your pain and worries... I will carry them with you... just... please... don't leave me... stay with me..."

Hearing him beg and cry for you to comeback is painful. It makes your heart weaks and regret things.

"Don't you love me anymore?" He asks, his face burried to your neck

"I... still do..."

"Then why... y/n... why can't you just... love me...?"

"You deserve more..."

He let you go to look into your eyes. "I deserve whatever love you could give me. I'm not asking for more... all that matters to me is you."

"You will get tired of always giving..."

"That's for me to decide... if I get tired of picking you up at school, carrying your bag, cooking dinner for you, watching romantic movies with you or going shopping with you or whatever... I will tell you... I will work it out with YOU... but even though I get tired of taking care of you one day... that doesn't affect the amount of love I have for you. I love YOU and not the what and the whys. I just... love you."

He wrapps his hands around you even tighter.

"I can't live without you..."

"Yunho..." you finally hug him back, sobbing. "I'm so sorry!"

[tiredemzz]

FIORA CARMICHAEL HCS ::

☔︎ - doesn’t remember much of her childhood, does remember that her family decided to leave her in the woods until the fish head found her.

☔︎ - vanya decided to teach Fiora about music and it made her feel comfortable and happy since Fiora would listen to classical music or rock to smooth her down since the demon herself has a bit of a anger issues.

☔︎ - her and five r the emeries to friends to lovers type duo, I love them alright?

☔︎ - probably would wear a shirt that saids ‘me and five r friends?? wat-‘ /j

☔︎ - gets along with klaus, vanya and sometimes five when he’s not a jerk lel

☔︎ - at first.. the umbrella academy members didn’t like fiona b/c they thought she was evil but as months went by.. one by one in private conversations they started to treat fiona like she was a normal person and like she was apart of the family :) (some members didn’t think she was evil like klaus and vanya -v-)

☔︎ - doesn’t really know about dolores, but pretty sure that she doesn’t wanna know about her b/c she’s none of her business lel

☔︎ - drinks rootbeer in her own time b/c she isn’t in a mood for alcohol or a margarita

☔︎ - secretly smokes cigarettes in her own time b/c she smokes when she’s tired of bullshit that’s thrown at her :p

☔︎ - she basically got her demon powers by a evil scientist that her adopted father hired to do dangerous experiments on her, she sadly died during one of the experiments and was brought back in her 13 yr old body. (so sorry if this doesn’t make any sense, she’s a work in progress. + she has more powers then her demon ones.)

☔︎ - pretty much cusses once in a while, can’t control it tho whoops

☔︎ - she secretly can shape shift and clone herself but she doesn’t show those two extra powers b/c she keeps them to herself

☔︎ - pretty much is bisexual, pronouns r she/they/her

☔︎ - doesn’t like when you yell at her, makes her upset and angry

☔︎ - doesn’t really like lila that much

☔︎ - likes to break the fourth wall >:)

☔︎ - can’t stand loud ass noises or sounds

☔︎ - loves animals sm, doesn’t like kids that much

☔︎ - can’t stand relationships or romance stuff, makes her throw up inside and makes her cringe

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yall liked the hcs? I do too lel

what are your thoughts on Fiona? let me know in the comments lel

If you got any ideas on her, feel free to tell me :)

[heartfullofleeches]

cows heat hcs?? (like rootbeer, banana, eggnog etc :3)

I only do one character per NSFW sheet and I'm choosing Eggnog. Squeezing general nsfw with the heats. I got way too carried away because this is the love of my life right here. (mention of consensual somo and stalking [they kinda live in the walls afterall])

As some may know Eggnog is an.... odd character. In regards to the bedroom they are more confused and a little worried than anything at first You are the first person they've felt these things for so they don't have much experience, plus it's confusing why you would bed with them to start with. So soft and warm, meanwhile their skin is so cold and nowhere near as nice to touch. By laying with you, they become a little more comfortable with themselves since if someone like you can love them - they are capable of so much more than they believe.

Eggnog kinda just like to watch you sometimes. They tried to be a bit more respectful at the beginning of your relationship, but as you grow closer they can't look away. It starts as them wanting to learn the ways you like to be touched, but something about you pleasuring yourself or being relaxed in the tub is quite pleasant.

They try not to bite you as it's hard for them to control the force, but Eggnog absolutely loves to taste you. They lick and nip at you without their teeth as a daily activity, but the second your clothes fall their tongue isn't leaving your body. An agreement is made if you sleep without underwear or a shirt any bare skin is fair game. They will eat you out until the sun comes up if you just expose yourself to them like the fine course you are. The makeouts with this one are next level

Eggnog hand makes any "special" clothing you like to wear. They are a fan of cow print obviously, but they have a love for rabbits and sometimes sews a tail onto the back of the frilly outfit they make you.

During heats Eggnog has two stages. Lethargic and desperate for your care, and a feral, frenzied creature with no objective other than to breed.

During the first one, Eggnog barely moves besides clinging onto you and begging to make the ache go away. They like it if you use your mouth similar to how they cater to you, but really they just want to be completely enthralled in whatever you have to give.

On the opposite side of the table - you will be pinned to the whatever surface they got you on and worshiped while they ravaged you until their body gives out. That previous rule of no biting is thrown out the window here. Eggnog is mostly nonverbal during heats, but they will grunt the occasional "Mine" or "Love you." when they can. They speak a bit more when submissive, but it's most whines for more and for you to never leave

In heats and out, Eggnog steals things you aren't using for... private use. A shirt you never wear in your collect - still smells like you so it's theirs. They have their own little horde of items in the attic, careful not to get any fluids on them when they miss you too much and are in need of anything resembling you to get by.

Cuddle the creature. Eggnog wants to be ad close to you as possible and the afterglow is one of the times they feel relaxed. They're the type of drift off immediately after sex, but not before locking their long limbs around you first.