#but had to put it to the side for a while because i had family / school / work to prioritize and thats when i picked up fanfic bc it was

[bunny-jpeg]

Hello, Table for 2! Under the name Toto Wolff, I recently came across your "cafe" and i would love to place an order 😁

A Millionare shortcake

A Croissant

And a Fudge

with the side of Milkshake and Fishbowl cocktail

Extra request: Could the reader be daughter of Christian Horner, Team principal of Red bull?

bakery menu

i'm slowly inching my way back into doing bakery orders. i got a really high streak with writing my own ideas (without the prompts) so i got sort of lazy with the bakery prompts. but there will be more of them mixed in. i hope you enjoy this and thank you for ordering!

millionaire shortcake: "if they saw you now, you'd be the biggest shame to your family." + croissant: "i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me." + fudge: "your father is pissing me off." + milkshake: size kink + fishbowl cocktail: protected sex served by toto wolff (formula one)

tags: smut/pwp, horner!reader, secret relationship, age gap (20s/50s), size difference/kink, protected sex, dirty talk

toto tried not to cut his loses too much. he felt like his greatest regret was not signing max verstappen. he often glanced at horner and felt a sense of disgust, especially when the dutch driver sailed towards another win.

and while toto would forever feel the regret of not signing verstappen, he didn't regret one thing. he watched you lounging in his living room in his expensive house in monaco, far away from your father. you looked up from your magazine and smiled at him. horner may have caught verstappen, but toto caught horner's daughter.

toto liked how you look in his arms. there was something about you that just made it feel right for him to hold you the way he did. but sometimes he held a little tighter, mostly when he was mad at your father. it wasn't your fault that chrisitan horner could be such a rat-bastard, but he couldn't help but take some of that pent up aggression out of on your poor little pussy.

horner's prize child, while not a racer yourself, you excelled in everything you did. you had your own trophies for the sports you did and the academic achievements. but no amount of your father's praise could make up how it felt when toto smothered you in his own praise. - or his degradation.

"i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me." toto asked as he held you by the hips a little tighter. you were about to pour another glass of wine and now the older, taller man had you pinned to the counter top.

you replied as you put the bottle down, "he thinks i'm visiting max this weekend. i was supposed to bring him paperwork regarding time off because of his new baby.." the paper work was in your bag, long forgotten as you got wrapped up in your secret lover.

toto leaned in to kiss the back of your neck, "look at you, doing your father's work. how sweet. little does he know that you're here with me tonight." he pressed up against you a little harder and felt you shudder. it was cute.

you were quite small compared to him, toto stood over six feet tall. he could easily encompass you in his arms and move you as he so pleased. there wasn't much you could do when he rubbed the front of himself up against your back. his hard cock pressed against your skin.

"you know, my princess. your father is pissing me off." he said lowly, "he talks and talks like a bratty little terrier." he exhaled loudly, he held on a little tighter, "i wish i could shut him up the way i shut you up."

you looked up at him with a look on concern.

toto laughed, "i meant with a gag. he'd look better with some of his words kept to himself." he then patted your behind before he led you to the bedroom. he kept close to you like a comforting shadow, his hand on your lower back as he guided you to the bed. he was a little more forceful once in the bedroom.

you felt a push and ended up face first in the pillows with your pert ass up in the air. you yelped when he groped the flesh. he didn't like to spank you, it felt juvenile. but, he did have his methods for making you squirm. his large hand gripped onto the swell of your ass and he watched you squirm. you were well versed in the sexual tactics of toto wolff.

"i'm sorry he's pissing you off, toto. i tried telling him to not be as mean." you said as you were stripped of the little shorts you wore. you could feel toto's hungry gaze on your back side. you helped him out by getting out of the tank top you wore.

"i know. he simply can't help it. always has to have the last word. but i think he knew what we were getting up to tonight, he wouldn't have another thing to say." toto smirked as he rubbed the front of his sweatpants at the sight of you. you looked beautiful however he could have you. there was a certain kind of magic to you. he licked his lips, "you look like such a slut right now, princess. did you know that? that you look so desperate on your knees with your ass in the air. ready to accept me."

you whined when you felt him press up against you. your hands found support in the soft white comforter under you. you cursed into the pillows. this was a dangerous game you were playing, even as he grabbed a condom to put on. you were sleeping with the enemy, horner's main rival both on the track and off. if your father found out that you were sleeping with toto, you'd never hear the end of it.

but that excited you, as toto pushed himself into you (with the condom on), you felt nothing but excited. the anxiety over what felt like the inevitable only turned into heated lust as toto started to fuck you.

"if they saw you now, you'd be the biggest shame to your family."

"toto."

"shh, shh. sluts don't get to speak. they only use their pretty little mouths to suck cock." he said as he worked himself against you. his thrusts had a force to them that made you see stars. toto fucked like someone half his age, someone closer to you in age.

you tried not to think too hard about the age gap or why you were so enraptured by someone so much older. he was technically older than your father, but yet you were a panting mess on the bed as he took you like a proper lover.

none of the boys at your school could ever make you feel this good. they stumbled their way through sex and asked for a round of applause when they gave you a crumb of pleasure. not toto, never toto. he knew exactly how to make you squirm and near scream. as he pushed your head further into the soft pillows, your hips further raised as he worked himself against you. the sex between you two was magnetic.

toto was thankful that he had you all to himself, that he didn't pass up the opportunity the way he did on a professional level. horner could be smug about verstappen's winnings, but toto would only be more smug at the idea that he got to fuck the daylights out of horner's sweet princess of a daughter. that she was back in his home waiting for him to make her cum over and over again.

sometimes it wasn't about winning one battle, it was about winning the entire war. maybe one day toto will proper introduce himself to your father, not as a colleague but as your fiance. but that was for another time, for now he was content with watching your ass with the quick movements of his thrusts.

"look at you, your father would be so dissapointed. all those years in private school." he squeezed your ass and continued to thrust up into you. he watched how your body moved against him. it was the perfect sight, you look perfect under him.

"fuck, please. toto." you whined as you lifted your head from the pillows for a moment, only for him to shove them back into the covers. you whined against the soft white pillowcases and felt the pleasure wash over you. you panted heavily and let toto fuck you into sweet submission.

he groaned as he continued to fuck up into you. he loved the feeling of your cunt slick around him. your pussy was like a vice and it left hi hungry for more. he quickened his pace and you felt the electricity in your blood. he was undeniable, he was something so alluring that it made your head throb. your core was soaked and you carnally needed him, even his dirty words made you hot all over.

"you feel beautiful under me. all mine, you know that already." his hands held onto your hips tightly as he worked himself into you. he enjoyed the pleasure, the heat of it all made him only yearn for more. he let out a sharp groan and continued to work himself inside of you. his cock throbbed for you.he continued to fuck you, working his hips against your ass as his cock nudged against all the right places.

you felt divine, a heavenly intervention for him. he kept up the pace, he worked the flesh of your skin with his hands as he loomed over you with heavy movements. the two of you were warmed, flushed with sexual want for one another as the pleasure washed over both of you.

"please, toto." you gasped as you arched your back further. you felt the intensity of pleasure come over you, you climaxed as you held onto the covers tightly. your face squished against the pillows as you tensed up. the feeling left you out of breath, you panted as you relaxed a few moments after.

toto basked in the feeling of you. the warmth of you, all of your love. the hammering in his chest was intense. he thrusted against you further, letting the pleasure bloom in his chest. the felt the excitement in his core as he fucked you feverishly. you felt like a dream come true with the amount of heat in his body. his movements picked up and with a few more strong thrusts he finished inside of you. the condom protected from any mishaps, but he loved being able to finish inside of your tight pussy.

"perfect. perfect for me." he said with affection in his tone as he slowed to a stop and admired your backside for a moment then pulled out.

you laid out in bed and watched him dispose of the condom. even if this was your father's enemy, you couldn't care. you didn't want to care about it. toto was yours above all else, the rivalry will fade one day and all you'll be left with is your adoring lover.

as he got back into bed and you wrapped yourself up in him. he kissed you on the lips, he held you by your middle and pressed you up against him.

"the only good thing your father ever did was have you, my princess." he said softly.

you rolled on top of him, straddled his waist and put both hands on his chest, "enough about my old man, either you get me my wine or we can go another round." then winked at him.

toto may have a career regret with verstappen, but he'd never have the same regret when it came to his personal life. because as you straddled his waist, he always knew that he'd have you <3

[nolita-fairytale]

and for us, it won't be long | joaquin torres x fem!reader | chapter one

summary: after joaquin's accident, you reconnect with your childhood friend

warnings: hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff, eventual smut, spoilers for captain america: brave new world, swearing, use of she/her pronouns, friends to lovers

word count: 2.7k

a/n: so i think this is a small cute mini series of exactly 3 parts. i haven't written a fic in a while so this is wild but i'm happy to be here. the title of this fic is from baynk's song, grin.

You watch him fall out of the sky on national television, the footage juxtaposed with an exterior shot of the Walter Reed Military Medical Center that’s got been stock footage, resulting in the world’s worst case of emotional whiplash. The news anchor’s voice is clear—reassuring, even—as he explains the situation: 

An accident involving the Falcon. 

In critical condition. 

The new Captain America at his side.

Hopeful. 

It’s the word he keeps repeating. 

The doctors are hopeful. 

But his words are lost on you, traveling in through one ear and out through another. In a state of shock, you’re only able to comprehend bits and pieces because watching the man you’ve known for most of your life soar through the air—not to mention, in flames—and plummet straight into the Indian Ocean, makes you feel like you’re going to pass out. 

It’s not like you expect for him to pick up—but you’re calling Joaquin’s phone, your heart practically beating out of your chest like he could—because there isn’t much else you feel like you can do. Besides, if, when he wakes up, you want him to know that you’ll be there.

You get his voicemail. 

Of course. 

But you can’t sit with this alone.

So you call your mom. And then his. And then three of you hold each other through the phone like he held your father all five years through The Blip. 

And when all is said and done, after days of agonizing nothingness, you get a text from his mother saying: 

He’s going to be okay. 

*

It’s the seventh time in the last ten minutes that Sam sees the screen of Joaquin’s phone flash upwards toward the hospital ceiling, signaling that he’s got yet another notification. 

“You should give ‘em a call,” Sam encourages.

Joaquin shoots a quizzical look to the man he’s looked up to his whole life, as Sam nods towards the cell phone once again, clarifying his previous statement with: “Your family, Torres. And whoever else’s been blowin’ your phone all day.” 

His face falls. 

The doctors had called to let his family know that he had made it through a successful surgery, and that he was going to be okay, but he hadn’t reached out just yet. Hell, he was almost grateful that his phone had been dead for days, crossing his fingers that the hospital wouldn’t find a spare charger. But then Sam came in this morning, brand new phone charger in hand, forcing Joaquin to return to reality: an overwhelm of missed calls and texts.

“I don’t-, I… I don’t want to worry them,” Joaquin hesitates, the disappointment in himself evident in how cautious he is. It’s why he’s been putting it off. He can’t seem to beat the nagging feeling that he should’ve done some differently—something so he didn’t have to make this kind of call. 

But he knows he’ll have to face the music sooner or later. 

“What-? What do I say? What am I supposed to tell them?” he asks earnestly, searching the face of his mentor for any kind of guidance. 

“Tell ‘em you’re gonna be okay,” Sam replies gently, the reassurance in his words allowing the obvious to land a little softer than it would had he chosen a different path. Joaquin nods slowly in response, reaching for the phone on his hospital bedside table. 

With a sigh and a heaviness he can’t yet name, Joaquin begins to scroll through the notifications. While he expects to see calls and texts from his parents, extended family members he hasn’t spoken to in years, he doesn’t expect to see 5 missed calls and 3 texts from you. 

Sam watches carefully as a look of surprise washes over his friend, colleague, and wingman’s face, and there’s something different about his reaction when his thumb hovers over your messages. 

“I’ll give you a few minutes, man,” Sam bows out, respectfully. 

*

When Joaquin finally texts you, it’s just a stupid GIF of a zombie rising from the grave. You’re less than amused by his humor at a time like this, but your heart feels like it’s going to jump out of your chest as you see that the notification is from him. 2:08 pm 

You: Not funny, asshole! We’ve all been worried sick. 2:10 pm 

Joaquin: 😣You talked to my mom?!

2:15 pm 

You: 🖕Fuck off. You know Lydia likes me more than you. 

2:16 pm 

Joaquin: 💔

Savage. 

2:16 pm 

I’m jk. Mom told me how wonderful you’ve been with her and Dad. Thank you. 🙏

2:22 pm 

You: I’m just glad you’re okay. 

2:30 pm 

Joaquin: 😅

2:30 pm 

You: Can I call you later? 

2:31 pm 

Joaquin: Yeah :)

*

You’ve never been this girl: the girl that waits by the phone for some guy to text her.

But in the days following Joaquin’s accident, you have to remind yourself that the fact that you’re practically glued to your phone waiting for updates is just a result of the fact that you could’ve lost him. 

Besides, he’s not just some guy. It’s Joaquin: he’s the neighborhood kid you grew up with, the sweet seventeen year-old boy who took you to your senior prom, and the man that both of your mothers still swear to this day that you’ll marry. 

It’s Captain America—Sam, he insists that you call him—who eventually puts you out of your misery by inviting you to see Joaquin, when he notices his wingman’s recovery is going better and better all thanks to his mysterious pen pal. 

“I know kids these days can’t get off their phones, but something’s telling me there’s a cute girl on the other end, Buck,” Sam mentions over the phone one day, when the latter asks him about Joaquin’s recovery. “Hey, I’m not mad at it! Seems like it’s helping him.”

“Kid’s gotta girl?” Bucky asks from somewhere along the campaign trail, a hint of curiosity in his voice as he inquires further. “There’s only one way to find out,” Sam shrugs with a little mischief in his voice. 

It’s not hard to swipe Joaquin’s phone, considering his recovery still requires lots and lots of rest. The last thing you had expected that day was a call from Captain America himself—from Joaquin’s phone, no less—asking you to come to DC to reunite with your childhood friend. 

What’s even more shocking is the fact that it’s Sam Wilson himself, who’s there to meet you at the hospital. You try to keep your cool as you introduce yourself, but you can’t shake the giddy feeling of excitement that fills you upon meeting the Avenger you and Joaquin used to see on TV. He leads you down the long hospital hallways, warning you quietly that Joaquin was pretty badly injured, and he may have a little more wear and tear than you expected. 

You don’t mean to gasp, but your sharp intake of breath upon seeing him in his hospital bed isn’t exactly subtle. Your eyes trace over him worriedly, as you take in the burn scars on his neck and the still-healing cuts and scrapes on his face. It’s the moment you realize that, since making the choice to join The Avengers, your superhero friend is not so invincible. 

“What’re you-?” Joaquin balks, speechless at the sight of you. He looks from you to Sam, then back to you, before returning to Sam once more, his eyes landing on the man like he’s Benedict Arnold. “Sam, you didn’t-. How did you-? You called her?!” 

“Wasn’t hard to swipe your phone when you need a nap every 2 hours,” Sam replies casually, as if he isn’t acting like the world’s most embarrassing dad right now. “And I got tired of watching you wait by the phone all day for your girl to finally text you.”

“Oh my god!” Joaquin groans, at the very same time you let out a:

“Oh he’s not my-!” 

“Dude, we’re not-,” Joaquin gestures towards you in a panic, as he searches for the right words, saying a silent prayer that he can get out at least one full-finished sentence. “I’m not like, waiting by the phone but It’s not like I can go anywhere right now, man!” Sam chuckles only to be met with a very dramatic eye roll from Joaquin as he tries to defend himself. 

“Listen, we’re old friends. We’ve just been catching up,” he tries to explain again, gesturing towards you once more. 

Sam smirks, uttering an unconvinced, “Sure. Well, whoever she is or isn’t to you… seems like she’s been helping your recovery. Thought it couldn’t hurt.” 

You laugh, exchanging a look with Joaquin. 

“I still can’t believe you called her,” Joaquin shakes his head, still trying his best to process this. 

“Well, of course he called me, Torres, considering you’ve always been shit at asking for help,” you finally chime in, with a ball-busting attitude he’s missed. 

“Oh shit,” Sam says, looking from you back to Joaquin as he waits for a reaction. 

Joaquin grins, gearing up to explain: “When she feels threatened, she has a tendency to lash out.” 

Sam chuckles. 

“Feisty. I like it," he smirks with a nod of approval. And he knows that this that’s his cue. It’s time to give you kids some time alone. “Imma step out for a second. You guys… catch up. Or whatever.” 

You press your lips together, stifling another laugh, and waiting a beat as Sam disappears. 

“Dude,” you start, taking a few steps closer to Joaquin, with a look of disbelief.

“Dude,” Joaquin mimics you, unable to hide the smile on his face upon seeing you. 

“That’s like… Captain America,” you nod towards the hallway as you take a few more steps forward. 

“I know,” Joaquin says back, an excitement between the two of you. 

“Captain fucking America,” you emphasize.. 

You’ve really been doing the best to keep your cool, but you’re not sure you can contain it any longer. 

“I know!” he fanboys with you this time, because Joaquin still can’t believe this is real either. 

That he works with Sam Wilson. That he’s Captain America’s wingman. That you’re here, in DC, with him. 

It’s as if a piece of home has joined him for the first time in a long time in this new chapter of his life. 

The two of you exchange another smile and a wave of relief washes over you. 

You take a beat and one step closer to him, sitting down in the chair next to his hospital bed. You shake your head and this time, the expression on your face goes from soft to a much more hardened and worried look. 

“Joaquin,” you start, the tone of your voice a warning enough. 

“Oh God,” he sighs, recognizing that tone. 

“I could kill you,” you threaten, the next part reinforcing his more than accurate evaluation of you from earlier. “But clearly you don’t need my help.” 

“Well, I did technically die,” he parries, light heartedly. 

“Joaquin!” You interject, your voice going up in pitch as you cut him off. 

“What? You scared you’d miss me or something?” he teases, meeting your fire with his. 

“Oh fuck off,” you scoff, with a shake of your head. “It’s not-, don’t joke about that! It’s not funny!” 

“Didn’t you just threaten me with-?” he continues, knowing all the buttons to press. 

“Yeah, but it’s different when I-. Didn’t you just say that I have a tendency of lashing out when I feel threatened?” you snap, the worry in your voice enough to get him to stop. 

You sigh, your eyes scanning him once more, because maybe it would be easier if he really were invincible.

You take a beat, and the two of you share a full silence between you. It’s comfortable, yet filled with ‘what ifs’ neither of you want to acknowledge. 

“I can’t believe Sam stole my phone and called you,” Joaquin shakes his head this time, groaning again because Captain America really should be renamed to America’s Most Embarrassing Dad for this. “How did you get here so fast, anyway? My parents won’t even arrive till tomorrow.” 

“Oh I uh-. Well, you’ve been busy saving the world so I haven’t exactly been able to tell you,” you reply, realizing that it hadn’t even come up in conversation via text yet. “I moved to Philly a few months ago.” 

“Philly?” Joaquin asks, a little surprised, because he’s not sure he could picture you anywhere that has a properly cold Winter season. “Yeah,” you chuckle, immediately recognizing his look. “I had to buy my first Winter coat this year but… the trade off is that I’m only an hour train ride away from you now.”

His face lights up as soon as you spell it out for him. 

“Well, my parents are coming in tomorrow. Are you-, think you’ll be around?” he asks, hopefully. 

“Do you want me to be?” you ask in return. 

He nods, “Yeah. Think they’d like to see you.” “Okay,” you agree softly. “I’ll stay.” 

A beat. 

And another silence between the two of you, one that feels much heavier than the last. 

“You could’ve died, Joaquin,” you state quietly. 

“I know,” he replies, the guilt evident in his voice. 

You could’ve-,” you begin to repeat, your voice breaking this time. 

“I know,” he says again, much firmer as he reassures you. “But I didn’t. And we’re here now.” 

He reaches for your hand, and you’re almost angry with the way your body betrays you. With tears in your eyes you look back at him, shaking your head. 

“Goddamit,” you swear with a small laugh. “You’re the one who gets hurt yet you’re here comforting me.”

He shakes his head this time, squeezing your hand as he smiles, “It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re here.” A beat. “But I’m still gonna kill Sam.”

You laugh, wiping a few tears out of your eyes with your free hand. 

“And yeah. I would,” you finally admit, your voice soft. 

“Hm?” Joaquin asks, his lashes heavy as he blinks, taking you in. 

“I would really, really miss you,” you answer, a vulnerability in your voice this time that you’re quick to put an end to. “So don’t fucking do this shit again!” 

Joaquin laughs as he squeezes your hand once more, knowing it’s not a promise he can make to either of you. 

*

9:45 am 

Joaquin: Mom and Dad left yesterday and Mom told me to tell you that she misses you already. 

10:01 am 

You: You can just admit that you miss me already. 

10:03 am 

Joaquin: 🤐

Thanks though. I think they’re a little less worried now that they know you’re close by. 

10:08 am 

You: How’s it going? 

10:13 am 

Joaquin: Good! I got discharged a few days ago and am heading to Wakanda in a few weeks. 

New suit! 🦸

The last time you see me can’t be in a hospital gown. 

10:15 am 

You: I don’t know why you’d say that! It’s a great look for you. 

10:20 am 

Joaquin: 🙄

Guess I should’ve swiped one from the hospital to wear all the time.

What’re you doing next weekend? 

10:21 am 

You: Nothing. What’s up? 

10:30 am 

Joaquin: What do you think about me coming to Philly? 

10:31 am

You: To visit me? Or just because?

10:32 am Joaquin: Yes to visit you ��

Thought we could hang out before I go.

10:33 am 

You: Yeah! I know it’s only an hour train ride in and out, but I’ve got a super comfy couch you can crash on if you want. 

So that’s an option. 

The next text you receive is a selfie of him, wearing a plain grey crewneck sweater. 

You laugh. The guy loves a good selfie. 

10:40 am

Joaquin: 1 photo attached

Rocky ain’t ready for this 

10:43 am 

You: LOL 

Please don’t tell me you’re coming to Philly so you can recreate the Rocky training montage.

And if you’re wondering, I will not be partaking. You’re on your own with that one. 

But yeah, I’d be happy to host you! 

10:48 am 

Joaquin: Deal. 

I’ll call you later. We can work out the details :) 

11:00 am 

You: Deal :)

[witerh]

To have. To hold. To breed. || husband re: vendetta!leon

NSFW!

warnings: fluff, soft/dom, reader!housewife, kisses, on the table, pussy eating, hole inspection, fingering, mating prees, deep fuck, ovulation, impreg, aftercare

notes: i admired asmr and my imagination was not enough to come up with another name, lmao (my one of the drabbles on dirty stories with leon for women's day, other drabbles can be seen on my ao3)

rating: mature

summary: leon step through the front door, he accosted by his woman. the smell of your cooking, the sound of your moving about in the kitchen. he have no choice but to follow his senses. when he sees you, all sweet and lush and prettied up for him, every ounce of tiredness in his body fades and the only thing on his mind becomes...

It's already sparkling outside, darkness fills the horizon and the noise and smell of cooking fills your home. You were standing at the stove, preparing dinner in the form of chicken and a side dish.

The muffled roar of a motorcycle distracts you, because most likely…

It is your husband coming home from work.

Leon’s life as a government agent was full of danger and chaos — his missions took him to the darkest corners of the world, and it often felt like he was married to his job, not to you.

The traumas were already in his brain dented with nightmares and memories as if for the first time. Every mission weighs on Leon more than the last. He hasn’t been the same since Raccoon City, and every year seems to put more strain on him than the last.He’s getting older now. His line of work has never given him the opportunity to settle down and start a family — not that any girl would want a guy who drunk himself half to death.

But you are like someone else and despite the obstacles of his work you were able to become something more than friends.Now you and Leon have been together for many years, not counting the year of your marriage. There were hard times and pleasant things, but you always got through it together.

He tries to spend more time with you, to be closer and more open, to communicate more with friends and acquaintances. This attempt to get rid of the burden of the past helps.

The smile has begun to appear on his face much more often when he is in your pleasant and cozy company. He is already on the mend and may be able to get rid of his nightmares.

Thanks to the psychologist.

Leon was coming home from work after hours of nonstop reports and paperwork, the younger recruits dumping all of their mess onto the old man. He fiddled with his keys before opening the front door to his house, huffing to himself as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him.He quickly stripped off his jacket, hanging it up before going further into the not quiet house. All faded away as he saw his precious little wife cooking on the kitchen; this gorgeous view from the back along with a fitted apron and a cute bow at the back, this hand stirring something (which he is always sure of it) delicious in a frying pan.

Wrinkles appeared on his handsome face when he smiled and you immediately noticed his steps.

Familiar arms wrapped around your waist, his broad chest pressed against your back while he inhaled your scent against your neck. “Well aren’t you a beauty standing at the stove… beautiful as a picture for me”, he whispers into the crook of your neck.

“Hey, Leon”, he doesn’t see your smile but you are very happy to see him. You turned your head towards him to catch a glimpse of him melting in your presence. “You should take a shower and then you can hug as much as you want.”

“I know I’m all dirty, but let me hold you for a moment.” He breathes deeply and fully. “I just need my girl in my arms.”

But despite your words, he doesn’t leave you, just sighs deeply and hums. Finally, he can relax from all this paperwork.

“I missed you, princess”, he surrenders in your arms, his shoulder muscles relaxing. “The work was hard, I had to take on all the work myself… These recruits can’t be relied upon.”

“All this time I could only think about how I would return home to my sweet wife.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, swear on my heart”, he confesses to you. “I knew you’d be here, beautiful, sweet smelling, with something on the table to fill my belly. Remind me why I work so hard…”

He falls silent again, closes his eyes and breathes calmly while you work over the stove. But something catches his attention, causing him to open his eyes and move his head off your shoulder, but not pull away from your back. He tilted his head to the side, and damn, a smile appeared on his lips at the sight before his eyes. His eyes were already sparkling with joy and it seemed like the fatigue had instantly fallen from his shoulders.

“Hold on now, what is this?” He laughs deeply, grinning toothily. “You’re already trying to push your fat ass against my cock, like if you’re hungry for it… Are you desperate yet, baby?”

“Mhmm,” you bites bottom lip and your back arches slightly. You’re sure he’s noticed it too. “Yes, I am. I need you so much, Le—…”

“Yeah?” he asks again, interrupting you mid-sentence and you were left with your mouth open in bewilderment. “Here’s how… I need to see myself make sure my sweet wife needs «help» as much as she says.”

He pulled away from you, turned and looked around the table set: lace tablecloth with plates and forks and this is for you both this evening. You always set the table for your dinner or breakfast. Everything has to be perfect, right?

“Every night you set this table so pretty, even when it’s just you and me sitting at it.” he moans in pleasure looking at all this beauty. “As much as I want to ruin that, I need something to lay you down on.”

He admired and still admires this, that you bring everything to perfection, but now it interferes a little with his plans. He pushed the plates away with his hand, making a dull thud as the dishes smashed against each other, causing you to look back at the sound.

At one point he grabs your hand and gently pushes you onto the edge of the table that he cleared especially for you. “Mhmm… There you go.” he guides you, helping you to sit more comfortably. “Lie down right here, precious.”

“Keep your legs over this table, push your butt against edge…” He nods, watching as you try to do as he asks. “There you go, good girl…”

“Now spread those pretty thighs open.”You spread your legs, looking puzzled at Leon and his face as he examines what’s under the apron. And you’re there without panties: as strange as it may seem, you were already wet. That's nature.

“Look at this delicious little pussy,” he notices teasingly, leaning closer to your core. “You’re already hungry for it, aren’t you?

”His breath touched your sensitive skin and it was pleasant — you could admit it but with great defeat. If only you knew that you had already lost...

“Oh!” you sigh and blush at his words. You can’t just give in to your husband and tell him that you missed him all day. “What are you talking about?…”

“You know what am i talking about right now. It’s all juices on your thighs… they flow down right on your ass on…” he notices, looking up at your face and then back between your legs. “Let me give my hands under knees to open you up.”

You didn’t object, you just spread your legs even more for him to make it easier. Your fingers tightened on the edge of the table, your knuckles even turned white.

His strong hands grabbed you under the knee, the other placed on his shoulder as he brought his face closer to your pussy. His hot breath fanned over your lower lips.

“God damn, sweetheart… she’s so pretty that I just wanna…”

Lips pressed against your pussy, wrapping them around your clit, kissing and licking, giving and encouraging attention to this pearl. He heard your surprised cry with pleasure and pushed him to go further, but your legs reflexively wanted to squeeze together, to which he looked up at you.It was hard to resist locking his legs together and he chuckled because of it.

“Ohh… Nah-huh, baby, they stay open for as long as I want it be,” He pouts weakly, pretending to be offended. “Don’t pretend you don’t want it.”

“Don’t pretend you just accidentally forgot to put on panties this morning.”

“Damn, you found me out,” you laughed. “Okay, I won't. Just don't stop, okay?”

He nods with satisfaction at your answer. “Mhmm, good. So keep those gorgeous thighs open for me…”

The tongue flicks at your clit, sucking and lightly touching it with his lips, but quickly replacing the pain with his lips. He changed and played with the clit, using his tongue first and then his lips, making you go crazy.

He explores your vagina, giving it his time and attention, for which you are so grateful to him. He is already skilled at this and it is not difficult for him to go down a little lower… and, oh, your humming encourage him as his tongue penetrates you, so full of your juices.

Leon enjoys your excited sighs, even a little proud that he can satisfy his little wife like this.The tip of the nose does not forget to replace his lips and presses enough while he works a little lower and wets his bristles which gently tickles you.

“Fuck, you are just flowing,” he is breathing heavily. “…I swear I can do this all day… all night.”

“Oh my God, Leon”, you grip his hair tightly, guiding him with a strong grip. “I feel so go-o-od… Please don’t stop..”

“You like it, huh?” he smiles weakly and does not resist your fingers, allowing herself to be your puppet. “Of course you like it when I run my tongue over your needy clit…”

Based on his words, he lifts his head and again his tongue attacks your clit, circling it with the tip and lubricating it with warm saliva. From your clit he moves down again, painfully slowly, making your body shudder with need.

“Fuck, I love the way your pussy looks after I run my tongue all over it,” He moves his face away a couple of centimeters to see what he has done to you. “…What if I just run my thumb over this littlе clit just like…”

And your “ahh!” reaction makes him laugh deeply and keep his thumb pinched a little longer for fun. “Tha-at’s, baby…”

His hands were getting tired of holding your hips, and as much as he wanted to explore you with his tongue, he had to use his fingers to do it. You don't mind, do you?

“Put your hands behind your knees, keep your legs open for your husband, sweetheart,” he still leaves your pussy unattended in order to remove his hands from under your knees. “so that he could carefully these holes looking over…”

“Yes…” you nod and as quickly as possible replace his strong grip with your weaker one.

Pulling his face away a little, his fingers came into play. His index finger began to circle around your vagina, collecting all your moisture and his saliva. “This little pussy looks so tight…”

“It doesn’t matter how many times I fuck her, right?” he raises an eyebrow at you and then at your pussy before carefully starting to enter inside. “She always hugs me, good and tight.”

“Damn.. yea-ah,” You grit your teeth, feeling all the moisture surrounding his long finger. “She was made for you.”

“Ohhh, look how it flows…” He draws your and his attention to this, already noticing how the juices have moved to his knuckles. “Is this pussy really desperate for my cock, sweetheart?”

“That’s little hole beg me to hurry up and come inside?” At his next tease, you nod desperately, asking for the little he can do for you: “Please don’t stop looking me over.. and hurry up, I want your dick.”

“Okay, baby, okay. I’m not giving you dick yet, i’m don’t stop looking you over.” he comforts you, running his hand over your cheek. “I have to make sure my sweet wife is okay, right?”

“Yes, you are right, Leon,” You nod, looking at him and agreeing, because he can’t leave his wife desperate and needy on their kitchen table.

“Safe and ready to breed up, nice and full…” he ponders, looking again at your dripping pussy. “I can give you something… how about the finger?”

“The finger?” you ask him again with interest.

“Maybe one of your thumbs will help cool this hot pussy down a little?” he looks up at your face and asks you because he wants you to enjoy. “Howdo you think?”

“Yes, I want your finger,”

“Let’s see…”

His finger penetrates into the hot place inside you, where it is so hot and wet. Your walls squeeze his knuckles so hard that he can only breathe deeply.

“Damn it, precious, did you follow all the rules for me?”

“Make sure nothing gets in that pussy until daddy gets in there…” he praises, his finger begins to pump inside you, starting at a slow pace and touching your vulnerable spots so that you bend over on this edge of the table. “No wonder you’re so eager for it.”

“Uh-huh, I was only waiting for you…” you hum with ragged breaths as he tortures you with this tempo and those blue eyes right on yours. “I need you.”

“You are here alone, in this house, all day, and you have nothing to feed on except thoughts and memories”, he assumes and now gives you what you wanted all day while he was not in your cozy corner. He is already trying to correct your situation with his finger. “I guess it’s clear now why you crave my dick every time I step foot in the door everyday…”

The pace suddenly quickened, your juices flowing down your thighs and further down to your ass cheeks. His face leans closer and he kisses the tip of your nose, blowing his hot breath on your hot face: “Damn, you’re too wet today, baby.”

“Just look at your ass… it’s all wet too.” he thoughts and pulls away from your face still continuously stretching you before stopping and returning her gaze to you. “Speaking of…”

He pulls his finger out with a wet pop and he immediately hears your whine through clenched teeth. The emptiness inside you didn’t suit you at all. “Hush, hush, hush, don’t cry, sweetie. Daddy will be inside you again soon.”

“You have one more hole I need to check on,” he consoles you with assured words. “Even if I don’t use it today, it’s my husband’s responsibility to make sure, that his wife is in top shape… and that includes her tight little ass.”

You choked. Your walls gripped him tightly and he sighed heavily. He hasn’t fucked you in the ass for a long time, so now you’re squeezing him like a vice.

“Fuck… looks like this cute little hole is hungry too,” He puffs and moves his finger back and forth. “I might have to make an effort to use it more often… to make sure she gets as much love as your little pussy.”

The finger began to move more actively inside your hole, to stretch you and tease you enough to hear “aghh” of yours in response.

“Your juices are everywhere. Atta girl.” he remarks with a cheerful tone, looking at how your pussy is oozing more and more. “On me, on you, on the tablecloth.”

A light trickle of your arousal flows right down your ass and he enjoys watching it. So wonderful. But he had to let your holes rest for a moment because his patience was running out.

“I can’t wait any longer,” he announces to you, hearing your whining, because he left you empty. “I need in.”

His fingers unfasten his belt with a loud thud, followed by his fly. His trousers are slightly below his knees. He bares his cock, grabbing the base and using his fist to stroke himself a couple of times, even though precum has already appeared on the tip.

“Are you ready, honey?” he asks to which you nod and say the cherished “yes”. He accepts your answer and, gripping the base, enters you with a heavy sigh.

He allow himself to run the tip of his cock over your wet folds, down and up, and then along before gently entering. He sighs feeling you squeeze him tightly.

“Fuck… that’s it, honey, I’ve got your legs.” With a strong grip, he replaces your hands and does not allow you to twitch. “Mhmm… thank you for holding on to them for such a long time.”

“Time to do all the work for daddy”, he sighs. “Just let me pull your knees up by your ears and stick this dick deep…”

He does as he said, pinning your knees between the table and his strong hands to increase the pace inside you.

“Fuck, that’s it baby, you can take it”, he praises you and strokes your hair with his free hand tenderly despite his careless thrusts. “Do you like it when I’m so deep inside you?”

“Yes, yes, I like it…” moan. and another moan flew from your lips as you looked at him through your eyelashes. “Don’t stop…”

“I didn’t mean that, darling”, he grins at you, baring his teeth in a toothy grin. “Tell daddy he owns you, baby,” sigh “Tell daddy that you belong to him,” sigh “Tell daddy that your little holes are meant for him and him alone.”

“You own me, I belong to you, all my holes are meant for you and only for you”, you gasp and swallow hard as you try to think. “This is just for you.”

“I never get tired of hearing this”, he moves his hand lower and grabs your wrists, trapping them in “shackles” from his strong grip. “But your body is fucking happy to let me know that.”

His hips snap against yours as he claims you on the kitchen table. The room filled with the obscene sounds you both made in the haze of lust.

His head dropped down and he began kissing your neck, watching as your head fell back and your eyes closed as he thrust especially deep.

“Shh”, he sighs between kisses on your skin. “Don’t forget to breathe.”He licks your full skin, wrapping his lips around it and leaving a light hickey on your skin before pulling away again and watching his mark before looking back down at your connection. Your cheeks are red.

“Mhmh… clings to my cock every time I pull it out, covering everywhere with juices”, he notices with a grin, watching how your pussy absolutely doesn’t want to let him go from her grip. Just like you. “It’s fucking impossible to just get out of you. Atta girl.”

A small growl escaped his lips as you hugged him tighter due to his teasing. You panted beneath him, chest rising and falling. He knocks hoarse moans out of your throat.

“Please, don’t stop, Leon..!” you hiccup, your slick hips jerking in response, creating a pleasant friction between you both. “You won’t pull it out when you cum, right?”

“Please, don’t pull it out!”

“Hush, darling. Don’t worry, don’t cry. Daddy won’t pulling out.” he consoles between kisses. “You forgot that I have access to the calendar on your phone too…”

He leans closer, lowering his voice: “I know you’re ovulating.”

“Ahh?!” you sigh and get annoyed because he hid it and now he uses it as a tease. He pulls away with a laugh, hearing your gasps and grinning toothily.

“I’m going to impregnate that pussy, baby”, he promises, almost putting his hand on his heart. “I gonna fill you up so that in a few months you will be bare and pregnant in this kitchen… with proof of my love for you growing in this pretty little belly…”

His promise hangs in the air and you, knowing his tenacity to follow through, already know what he will actually do. But you don't mind. You've long dreamed of children, of that family from glossy magazines or movies..."

“Yes... get me pregnant Leon, please.... I need in this so-o-o ba-a-ad-d...”

you're pulling the letters and it's a fat hint that you're so desperate in your own words. You really need that pregnant belly. With the thought of pregnancy, your walls contracted around his cock as if by reflex and he sighed with sensitivity.

“I feel you tightening around me, darling,” he notices. “Is my dick rubbing against your precious place?”

“Mh-mhmm,” you nod to him in mute agreement. “Is that so, precious?” he raised an eyebrow though he knew it was true. He just wanted to hear your words, not your mooing. “Use your words.”

To accurately get his point across he clicks his hips against yours, reaching almost to the cervix. He didn't hurt you, but it made you shudder.

“Y-yes... you're rubbing against my place...!”

“Let me play with this soaked clit,” he offers you teasingly, releasing your hands from his grip to pay attention to your pearl. “Let’s see how long it takes you to …—”

“That's what you need to cum, isn't it?" It was the last straw for your patience: your back arched, your thighs clenched desperately as you trembled and squirted onto him. You finally got your discharge for that excruciatingly long evening of combined teasing and research. You really walked a thin tightrope, at the risk of getting lost in your own hands of pleasure with your husband (as it happened).

“Leon!” you moan his name with stars in your eyes and a dryness in your mouth. You need air and he slowed down so that his sweet wife wouldn't suffocate under him.

“Fuck..” he clenches his teeth. “You’re still fucking clinging me.”

He could feel your spasms inside, the way your walls desperately hugged his cock as you came on top of him.

"I can't help it, honey", you exhale and cool down under the symphony of his thrusts, you're getting aroused again.

“Milk all the cum out of me”, he orders softly. “Make me make you have a baby!” He needed you as much as if he were the last man in the desert and you were an oasis.

The thrusts became uncontrollable, a growl escaping his lips.

Leon enjoyed these just as much as you did; he needed to be buried inside you to death, he wanted to feel your squeezing walls around him forever. Those dirty thoughts drove him to orgasm.

One more push and he exploded inside you, making another push.... a push, and one more push. The force was exhausted, but the power of wanting to make your family with baby (or even two) more was stronger. He would be glad to see everyone.

“Nah-huh, don’t move”, he mumbles to you, noticing your movements. “I need to fill you with cum deep…”

In a couple minutes that seemed like moments to both of you, he was able to catch his breath enough and freeze inside you to make sure every drop got inside of you. He brought his face closer to you and finally let your knees off his hands only to hug your face with the palms of his hands

“I’m going out, precious”, he whispers in your ear, allowing you to relax a little. “But don’t move, I’ll carry you to the bed, okay?”

“Okay, I won’t move.”

With a wet pop, he pulled his soft cock out of your depths and semen began to spurt out of you right onto the kitchen tablecloth. You rest in his arms as he lifts you up with ease and holds your knees and back, holding you close to him. Your arms wrap around his neck. When he carried you to bed, you lay there while he started looking for some napkins to take care of you. “Will there be a second round?”

“No, the second round will be later”, he laughs. “I’m going to run you a bath and then make you take a nap.”

“You know, I love it when my wife looks well-rested and well take careful.”

“Will you join me?” you asked him, tilting your head to the side.

“My hunger for food can wait, you know?" he laughs deeply running a napkin over your genitals "Of course I'll join." You just laughed tiredly and kissed his cheekbones, hugging him and bringing his face closer so that your breath burned each other faces.

"What do you wanna choose: bubbles or a bath bomb?" He is thinking and needs your help in choosing. "I want..." you think before you answer him: "both."

"Both? My spoiled girl..."

thanks for reading!

[miyaz6ki]

i might let you make me juno ✰

synopsis. literally the title, each are just small drabbles though :)! 1 kink i think they would have, as well as something they'd dislike(?), idrk what I'll put since I make these before I write 😭

the blade has spoken. i forgot to post yesterday :sob: rb for pt 2 ORR FOR MORE OF MY SUPER DUPER SICK CONTENT!!

pairings. albedo, alhaitham, capitano, childe, wriothesley, diluc, neuvillette

warnings. NSFW, mdni please!! sex :pensive:, although some are fluffier than others!, lwk hatefucking in alhaitham's (academic rivals to lovers), corruption kink (capitano's), vision play w diluc (not rly my main point), cockwarming,

albedo, who already has you placed right in front of him, legs spread as he kneels before you. although he glanced at the beauty in front of him, his eyes would tell a million words, the ones he couldn't speak. in general, whatever you were into, so was he.

the alchemist, delving his tongue into real delicacy for the first time, had himself on a chokehold, every now and then gazing back up to the figure he loved the most, pleasured by what he was doing. fuck he loved you so much. the taste had him hypnotized, he could probably do this forever.

every minute that passed, he felt himself falling in love over and over again. holding your thighs closer to the sides of his face, he could feel how much pleasure he gave.

alhaitham, who has you pinned to the wall, your chest pressed up against the surface. he held both your wrists in one of his hands, and the other on the left side of your waist. rocking his hips into yours, archons he was so fucking in love with the way you clenched against his member.

as much as he hates you, or says he does, it's really the opposite. he's never met anyone who could get him as mad as he is right now, not anyone could piss him off. he loved it so damn much.

he loved watching your eyes roll back in pleasure, no one else could get him boiling, but no one could ever be this deep inside you like he does, right? he better be. or he'll spend the next nights trying to prove himself right to you. so at least for once he'll win.

capitano loved to absolutely break you. corrupt you. he wanted to make sure you were indefinitely all his. and no one else's. he loved seeing those cute little tears of yours roll down your cheeks, whining about how you can't take it when both of you know you can!

you're all his, right? hopefully, and rightfully so, because no one as big as him would ever please your little hole now. but he supposes that something should make up for the pain you feel whenever he enters, it should be the pleasure, and somewhat comfort he can attempt to give.

so he lets you pick whatever position you wanted, and honestly, his favorite while letting you choose was whatever position he could see you the most in. especially when it includes your pretty little face. he wants to see how good he makes you feel <3

he always has his hands on you it feels so dirty. but childe has no excuse for himself, his only purpose is to make sure others know how to fuck off from what's only supposed to be his, it's not your fault, nor his, but he just has the indefinite need to show you off. whether it'd be how the marks all over your collarbone would be the prettiest!

he knows it hurts, but for now, just endure it, and he'll make sure to take care of it later. he makes sure to kiss it all away anyway, no matter how deep inside he might be, you're his reason to fight, his reason to live and come back home for another day with you.

oh well, he dreams of starting a nice little family with you. coming home to you and your two.. maybe three children? you'll both figure it out later. after he finishes inside you, his rough hands, which bruised your hips with small, little crescents ingrained into your skin. oh he's already planning the names!

wriothesley is generally turned on by any position he could see you in. similarly to capitano, but the thing is... he much prefers seeing how his cock imprints itself in your stomach.

sure your expressions are pretty cute, but nothing better than seeing you throw your head back, trying to ride his big member when you know you need help from him! all you have to do is say please...

if you didn't, he'd simply watch the show. watch you trying to take him all at once, and only hurting yourself more by trying to take what you can't (without his assistance). and in which he simply.. takes control himself, and helps you slowly sink onto his shaft instead. of course whole holding your hand!

diluc who uses his vision to his advantage, his hands already over your chest, as the temperature of his palm rises slowly, while letting you cockwarm him.

whether it's while he's writing, and signing away paperwork for the wine business, and his other hand over one of your nipples, or if all his attention is focused on you, watching how you react with a VIP seat, which would be taken literally as you sat on his dick.

a teasing touch from one of his fingers would rub against the spot where his cock was snug inside you, infused with a bit of warmth with the help of his vision.

neuvillette who's instincts get to him, as he watches your reaction through the pristine, crystal mirror in front of you both. it was a gift from his daughter figure—furina.

dear archons, please do forgive him for using her gift in such a.. filthy way, but nothing gets him going like seeing you stare at yourself be pleasured so well by none other than himself. his head fitting in the crook of your neck as he only turns himself on more, only reaching even deeper with his shaft inside you.

and wow he couldn't even wait for the main course tonight, for someone who's very knowledgeable on the taste of water from every region—he much preferred whatever substances you could make.

[karthara]

For most people, high school is the last 'every man' experience. Capitalism unfortunately means that a lot of people can't afford university or college in places like america and canada. My parents were the first people in both sides of the family to be able to go to university because before that my family was simply too poor or too uneducated. Once you change the sticker from high school to university you lose the 'universal experience' that is an easy buy in for people to relate and then form affection for these characters. Anyone who is neurodivergent enough they were told they were too stupid for secondary education is going to have that looming over their head while they try to get into the story. Anyone who was too poor to afford to go is going to have that looming over their head. Putting your story in secondary education unfortunately puts your story in a 'not for me' category for too many people for a lot of people to want to risk it.

It's also a financial choice. If you are aiming at highschoolers for your demographic sometimes they will be working their first job and be making their own first decisions on what they want to spend their money on. Sometimes they can still ask their parents to buy them xyz cool thing from this story/show they like. It's a stable choice. While people going to secondary school are deciding between rent and food often enough butter on crackers as a meal is a meme.

And unfortunately there is still a rather large opinion that you put aside childish things when you grow up and get married so even though aiming at an adult audience would be targeting those most financially secure, too many of them have been mislead to believe that you stop having 'children's hobbies' once you 'grow up'.

I had a bad enough time in school I have to mentally brace myself before watching anything set in school and I mostly avoid it as a setting due to the trauma. So trust me, I get not wanting every other show or story to be set in high school. But teenagers don't deserve half the hate they get. A lot of it is misplaced self loathing of peoples own teenage self and a lot of it is misplaced hate of the people who made their lives hell through bullying. They just happen to be the lowest common denominator for universal experiences in this case.

i think more writers need to sit down and think to themselves "is there anything about this highschool based story that wouldnt work just as well if i set it in university instead" especially in anime like i am SICK of 90% of mainsteam anime being about teenagers. university has classes. it has tests. it has school clubs and sports teams. imo you can get most of the same plotlines in a university and MORE because now your cast have some of the freedom of adulthood, and as a fan it wont be as weird when someone puts horny fanart on your dashboard. no more teenagers. i am protesting against teenagers.

[hrrtshape]

PLEASE talk about your gossip girl dr you mentioned and young coryooo🥺🥺🥺🥺

things that my boyfriend does in my better cr that....truly warms my heart ( aka emma yaps about coryo )

finished writing this up in maths class, and i just know my teacher thinks i’ve lost the plot….... why are you side-eyeing me? let me giggle in peace.

he carries (one of) my lip glosses in his pocket and acts like it’s the biggest inconvenience but pulls it out instantly when i ask.

sharing airpods in class like it’s a lifeline but he always gives me the one that’s fully charged while he suffers with the dying one.

taking pictures of me when i’m not looking and making them his lock screen. which. ugh. cutie.

he lets me draw on his arm with a pen during class and then complains when it doesn’t wash off before dinner with his parents.

matching hoodies but we pretend it’s not on purpose.

dumb little inside jokes that make absolutely no sense to anyone else. he texts me "frog incident" in the middle of a test and i have to physically leave the room because i’m laughing too hard.

he always ties my shoelaces for me if they come undone, even if it means getting on one knee in the middle of the hallway like a loser.

doodling on my notes in class and writing things like property of coriolanus snow just to get a reaction out of me. weirdo......cringe lowkey. no i love him.

him randomly biting my shoulder when he’s bored.

me (!!) biting his bicep when i'm bored.

he always waits for me outside my last class leaning against the wall like he’s in a music video.

wearing my scrunchie on his wrist because i “left it in his car” (he did NOT have to keep it on).

fell asleep on each other during long drive and woke up to find he’s holding my hand in his sleep.

we made dubai chocolate, and thank god i know my baking cause he curdled the only chocolate we had.

taking me to the gym (ew), but not for like any malicious reason, actually i was the one who suggested it because this man *exercises*!!!!! like ok miss productive at a gym at five am.

matching the maison margiela tabi shoes, it's such a small detail, but i absolutely adore it. he'd be wearing lace-ups and i'd be wearing ballet flats.

driving me to school every morning.

i just have to mention this one part cause it’s so GRAH but i was walking out of my apartment complex and he was leaning against one of the pillars smoking and i came outside and he like wrapped his arm around my shoulder and continued smoking with his free hand. like okay..........

picking me up from the airport at 1am a few days before new years because i got out of the holiday family meetups just a bit earlier to see him.

when i got drunk on soju during the lighting of the tree at rockefeller centre and he was trying to heat me up.

he pinches my cheek. and that’s so evil. like. what the fawk. cherubicusm is NOT A FUNNY THING.

if he’s tired or annoyed or just being an absolute menace, he hooks a finger through my belt loop and just tugs me where he wants me. like i’m a thing to be dragged around. (and maybe i like it a bit....)

late-night drive-thru runs where he insists on ordering for me even though i could do it myself, just so he can say “and a chocolate milkshake for my girl” like we’re in a 1950s movie.

he keeps a lipstick-stained napkin from a dinner date in his wallet and pretends it’s just in there by accident, but he refuses to throw it away.

when i do my makeup in his room, he sits on his bed and watches.

he always puts my hair behind my ear when it falls in my face. not even thinking about it. just automatic.

when i fell asleep on his shoulder during a flight, he stayed awake the whole time just so my head wouldn’t move.

he let me paint his nails, but only clear polish, and only if i promised not to tell anyone.

he never lets me carry my own suitcase. ever. even when i argue.

when we go to stupid parties, he always keeps an arm around my shoulder when we’re moving through crowds, just so we don’t get separated.

he untangles my necklace chain when it gets knotted. just takes it from my hands and fixes it like it’s nothing.

i didn't respond to his texts once and he sent me a picture of my own house like “i know you’re in there.”

this is the mooooost miniscule but ungodly detail that made me want to marry him, but, having soy milk in his fridge. mind you, he lives with his family (he's 18 and we're still in school) and i visit 7 times max per week (every day....). and. wow. ugh.

every time he borrows a pen, he returns it with the cap bitten.

when i was complaining about my hands being cold, he took them in his and blew warm air on them.

when i’m walking ahead of him, he loops a finger through my bag strap and tugs me back. like...... not so fast. like.... where do you think you’re going?

we hook our pinkies together when walking. monster.

he adjusts my necklace when it gets twisted, gently brushing his knuckles against my throat. no acknowledgment. no reaction. just fixes it and moves on. (like a freak.)

if we’re arguing and i cross my arms, he just reaches out and tugs my wrist free, uncrossing them with this calm, effortless little motion. LIKE??? HELLO??? I NEED THAT BACK, ACTUALLY???

[frostgnawdraws]

failure and futility

for day 2 of campfire fest! prompt: third eye (and i guess could also count for explosion, or a lack thereof lol) @outerwilds-events

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

you wrote a fanfic the other day about Sebastian gaining some weight but I’d love to see a fanfic where MC gains some weight + Sebastian’s reassurance <3

Pool Side | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Anon! I want to apologize for the very long wait (like... two months...) for this fic! It has been a WIP since you submitted this request but the story took on a life of its own and it took a hot minute for me to finish. I hope it was worth the wait!

Also I promised some more fluff/smut on the blog so enjoy everyone💚

Words: ~16,100

Tags: Smut, Modern AU, Reader Insert, Female MC, Plus Sized MC, No Y/N, Post Hogwarts, Fluff, Actually Unrequited Love, Romance

Beta: @newdreamlove95 💚

The coastline stretched before you, the sea a glimmering expanse of blue beneath the midday sun. White limestone cliffs loomed in the distance, dramatic and weathered by time, framing the golden sand of Durdle Door Beach. It was the kind of place people romanticized—secluded, picturesque, the perfect setting for a group of old friends to escape their busy lives for a single, carefree afternoon.

Except, you hadn’t felt carefree all day.

The sound of crashing waves filled the spaces between laughter, between playful shouts and splashes as your friends waded deeper into the water. The air smelled of sea salt and sunscreen, the sand warm and fine beneath your towel. It should have felt perfect. But as you sat beneath the wide shade of your umbrella, the book in your hands barely touched, all you could think about was how different you felt—how different you were.

Time had shaped all of you in its own way—careers, travels, lessons learned, heartbreaks and triumphs, all of it leaving its mark. Garreth had finally cut his hair, and his once-boyish face was now set with sharper features. Imelda had somehow managed to look even more athletic than she had in school, toned and lean, her features even more fierce. Natty had grown taller, even more poised, carrying herself with quiet confidence. Even Ominis, who you’d always considered the most put-together of the group, had softened somewhat, the weight of his family name no longer pressing so heavily on his shoulders.

And Sebastian—He wasn’t the same as he had been at eighteen, either.

You let your gaze drift toward him, tracking him where he stood near the water’s edge, talking with Ominis. His once-boyish face had sharpened, the angles of his jawline more pronounced, the shadow of scruff darkening his face where smooth skin had once been. Even his curls had changed—longer now, though the wind still toyed with them the same way it always had.

And his body—

He had always been strong, lean from Quidditch and dueling, but now he had filled out, broader in the shoulders, thicker in the arms and chest. Not as sharply cut as he had been at eighteen, no longer carved from restless youth and constant training, but something better—something balanced, something solid—not chiseled, not sculpted, just strong, in a way that felt effortless. Comfortable.

Yet while everyone had changed, you had changed the most.

You adjusted the loose cover-up draped over your shoulders, tugging it down to make sure it hid as much of you as possible. Not that anyone in this group would say anything—but that didn’t mean they hadn’t noticed. Because people always noticed. In fact, people commented. Not cruelly, not always, but enough. Enough that when you saw someone again for the first time in years, you had learned to brace yourself, waiting for the inevitable remark, whether it was an aunt’s offhanded, Oh, you were always such a slip of a thing before! or the faux-concerned, Are you taking care of yourself?

The world never let you forget that you used to be different, better.

At least, that’s how it felt.

You had been confident in your teenage years, running through the halls of Hogwarts with reckless energy, sharp-tongued and sharp-witted, always ready to challenge someone in a duel or throw yourself into something new without hesitation. Back then, your body had never been something you thought about—it had just been yours.

You weren’t sure when that had changed.

Somewhere along the way, your body had shifted, weight settling onto you in ways you couldn’t ignore, in ways other people refused to ignore. It didn’t matter that you were still you, still clever and kind and capable—it was as if the world had collectively decided that none of that mattered as much as the shape of you.

It wasn’t fair, but fairness had never been a rule the world followed. So even though your friends never said anything, you knew they had noticed. How could they not?

The weight of your thoughts pressed down heavier than the sun, hotter than the sand beneath your towel.

You felt guilty.

This weekend had been planned for months—a rare break in everyone’s busy schedules, a chance to reconnect without the distractions of work, responsibilities, or the sheer exhaustion of adulthood. It had taken forever to arrange, largely because of them.

Imelda and Natty were impossible to pin down.

Imelda, who had thrown herself headfirst into professional Quidditch after Hogwarts, had spent the last several years building a name for herself as one of the fiercest Beaters in the league.

And Natty—Natty had never stayed still. She had left the Ministry years ago for international work, teaching and training young witches and wizards abroad. If she wasn’t in Africa, she was in Asia, and if she wasn’t in Asia, she was in Australia.

Getting both of them in the same place at the same time, on holiday no less, had been a miracle.

You should have been thrilled. You were thrilled.

And yet all you could think about was how different you felt—how different you were.

You had tried to prepare. You had tried.

Dieting. Exercising. Starving yourself. Hyping yourself up by buying a new bikini, thinking that maybe—maybe—if it was flattering enough, if you just forced yourself into the right mindset, you’d be okay.

But stepping into it today had made you feel sick.

You had stood in front of the mirror in the beach house bathroom that morning, stomach churning, as you studied the reflection that didn’t match the version of yourself in your memories.

You had stared at your body, turning slightly, tugging at the waistband of the bottoms, at the straps over your shoulders. No matter how you adjusted them, you still looked like this.

So, instead of running into the water, instead of being the girl you wanted to be, the girl used to be, you had thrown on your cover-up and settled under the umbrella, staying there like an anchor while the others ran free.

You watched as Imelda and Poppy tossed a beach ball back and forth, their laughter carrying over the sound of the waves. Imelda, ever the athlete, barely had to move to intercept each pass, her sharp reflexes making it look effortless. Poppy, for all her gentleness, was surprisingly competitive, her playful smirk clear even from where you sat under the umbrella.

A little farther out, Natty floated on her back, arms stretched, face tilted toward the sky. She looked serene, perfectly at ease in the water, her dark braids fanning out around her like a halo.

A little closer to shore, Garreth waded through the shallows, carrying a handful of bottles, the brown glass glinting in the sunlight. He trudged toward Ominis and Sebastian, where they stood in the the surf, the waves lapping lazily at their calves.

Sebastian popped off the cap and lifted the bottle to his lips without a care, his other hand raking through his hair. The sunlight made the water droplets on his skin glisten, tracing the lines of his shoulders, his arms, the long stretch of his back where his swim trunks sat low on his hips. You hated how easy it was to look at him, how easy it had always been.

You wrenched your gaze away, but you heard Garreth open his own bottle with a sharp hiss before sighing dramatically.

“Merlin’s balls,” he laughed. “I forgot to tell you. I finally took Eloise out last weekend.”

Sebastian, already a few swallows into his drink, raised a brow. “That sounds promising. Do tell.”

"It went brilliantly," Garreth continued. "Dinner, drinks, and by the end of the night—" He took a swig of his beer, then grinned wolfishly. "Let’s just say I made quite the impression."

"Spare us the details, Weasley," Ominis huffed, tipping his head back.

"Oh, come on, mate. Don’t pretend you’re not interested."

"I assure you, I am not."

Garreth rolled his eyes before continuing anyway. "She’s gorgeous. You know, tall, really fit, amazing legs. I mean she plays for the Falcons, and bloody hell, you can tell." He whistled low, shaking his head in admiration.

Sebastian made a knowing sound, half a chuckle, half a sigh. “Of course. Tall, leggy, tiny waist. Garreth Weasley’s classic type.”

“Right, well, can you blame me? She's something else,” Garreth pointed at him with his bottle.

Sebastian hummed appreciatively. “I get it. Hard to argue with a body like that.”

Garreth nodded firmly. “Of course you get it, you're a man of taste.”

Your grip on your book tightened, the pages bending beneath your fingers. Of course, Sebastian understood. Of course, he got it.

Because women like that were meant to be wanted.

Women like Poppy, who was soft in the way that was delicate, the kind of pretty that made people want to protect her.

Women like Natty, who carried herself with effortless grace, whose body was carved from strength and discipline.

Women like Imelda, who was lean, fit, sharp-edged and powerful.

Women, apparently, like Eloise, whose body was a gift, something to be admired, appreciated, worshiped.

It made sense. Of course it made sense. But it didn’t stop the ache that settled deep in your ribs, the quiet, sinking certainty that you would never be the kind of woman men spoke about like that.

And then—

“Well,” Ominis drawled, tipping his bottle toward Garreth, “not all of us are so visually inclined, I suppose.”

Garreth snorted. “Are you calling me shallow?”

Sebastian let out a quiet huff of laughter. “Knowing what you like isn’t shallow.”

“Perhaps,” Ominis allowed, tilting his head. “But I still think I have better taste.”

Garreth groaned. “Here we go.”

Ominis smirked, lazy and self-assured. “Forgive me for thinking there’s more to a woman than her legs, Garreth.”

Sebastian snorted. “Alright, we get it, you’re enlightened.”

Ominis only hummed, amused. “It’s just that I, personally, prefer someone with a bit of substance—quite literally.” He tapped his own ribs lightly with a knowing smirk. “I’ve already got enough bone for the both of us. A bit of cushion is good for a man.”

You froze.

Ominis' words hung in the air, settling between the easy laughter and the rhythmic pull of the tide.

On one hand, it was almost comforting in a way, hearing Ominis brush aside such narrow ideals. At least someone—someone you respected, someone you trusted—didn’t think a woman’s worth was measured by how well she fit into a neat little mold.

But at the same time his words didn’t fix anything. Not really. Because it wasn’t him you needed reassurance from.

It was Sebastian.

Garreth laughed, raising his bottle. “Well, cheers to that, then,” he said, clearly unbothered. “Honestly, better for both of us. I’d rather not compete with you, mate. If I had to go up against you and your good looks? I’d be doomed.”

Ominis rolled his eyes but clinked his bottle against Garreth’s all the same.

Sebastian made a sound—low, amused, noncommittal.

And that was it.

No teasing rebuttal. No agreement, but no disagreement either. Just a simple, easy acknowledgment that meant nothing.

Or maybe it meant everything.

Because Sebastian had spoken up earlier, when he’d defended Garreth’s tastes. But now? Now, he said nothing.

He didn’t joke with Ominis. Didn’t agree. Didn’t disagree. He just let the conversation move on, unbothered, unthinking.

And that was your answer. The truth you had known somewhere deep down but had tried so hard to ignore.

Sebastian got it. Sebastian agreed. Because of course he did. Because why wouldn’t he?

Hard to argue with a body like that.

A sudden burst of splashing pulled you from your spiraling thoughts.

You blinked up just in time to see Natty emerging from the water, droplets rolling down her sun-warmed skin as she pushed her braids back from her face. She was beaming, looking as effortlessly radiant as ever, and you felt a twinge of guilt when your first instinct was to shrink further into the shade.

She cupped her hands around her mouth, calling toward the shore. "I am going for ice cream. Who’s coming?"

The response was instant.

“Ooh, absolutely,” Poppy chirped, catching the beach ball Imelda had just tossed her before jogging toward Natty.

“I could go for something,” Imelda agreed, squeezing the seawater from her ponytail. “Haven’t had a proper cone in ages.”

Sebastian tipped his beer back for a final sip, then turned to Ominis. "You coming?"

Ominis scoffed. "Do you even have to ask?"

You didn’t have time to react before the whole group was moving, heading toward the shore in a mess of dripping bodies and sun-warmed skin, shaking the saltwater from their limbs as they made their way toward you.

"That book must be fascinating if you’re still at it," Garreth teased as he approached your umbrella.

You forced a smile, gripping the novel a little tighter. "Riveting."

Sebastian was right behind him, running a hand through his damp curls as he reached for the towel he’d left beside his bag. "What’s it about?"

You hesitated. You had no idea. You hadn’t read a single word in—how long had it even been?

"It's romance-mystery-crossover," you lied offhandedly, hoping the vague genre mashup would be enough to satisfy him.

Sebastian gave you a slow, amused look, clearly unconvinced. "Sounds made up."

"Of course it is, it's a fiction novel, Sebastian," you countered, flipping the book closed and setting it aside, hoping the conversation would move on.

It did.

Garreth reached for his t-shirt, shaking off the sand before pulling it over his head. "You going to join us in the water after we get ice cream?"

You hesitated.

The question was casual, easy, but you could feel the weight of expectation behind it. Not just from Garreth, but from the others too. Poppy was already looking at you with hopeful anticipation, Natty giving you a small, encouraging nod.

They wanted you to say yes.

And for a second, you wanted to say it too. To be the girl you used to be, the one who wouldn’t have thought twice before running headfirst into the waves, salt-stung and laughing, sand stuck to her legs and hair damp with seawater.

But that wasn’t you anymore.

So you mustered up a small, apologetic smile and said, “Maybe later.”

Garreth groaned. “Oh, come on. You said that last time."

But before he could complain further, Natty had already tossed on her sunhat and pulled her dress over her swimsuit, slinging her tote bag over her shoulder. She didn’t waste time waiting for further debate.

"Come on," she called over her shoulder, already walking down the beach toward the path leading up to the ice cream stand. "Before the ice cream all melts."

That was enough to get the others moving.

Poppy hurried after her, still wringing the seawater from the ends of her hair, Imelda not far behind. Garreth quickly followed, dragging Ominis along with him, still grumbling about how one day you’d actually keep your word and join them in the water.

And then, just like that, they were gone.

You could have followed. You should have followed. But you didn’t.

You stayed put beneath the shade of your umbrella, hands clenched in your lap, your book abandoned beside you.

Because you didn’t need ice cream. You certainly didn’t need the extra sugar, nor the extra calories.

Then a shadow fell over you. You knew who it was before you even looked up.

Sebastian.

His presence was unmistakable—always had been. Something about him was too big, too bold, to ignore.

For a few beats, he didn’t say anything. Just stood there. And then—

"You’re not coming?"

His voice was casual, but there was something beneath it. Something pointed.

You swallowed, keeping your eyes fixed on the page in front of you as if that would be enough to make him move on. "I’m not really in the mood for ice cream."

Sebastian didn’t move. Didn’t turn to leave. Didn’t let the conversation drop like you needed him to.

"You were in the mood for it last summer," he pointed out. "And the summer before that. And the one before that. And before that."

"Well, people change, Sebastian."

You hoped that would be enough. That he’d just let it go. But you’d been friends with Sebastian Sallow for over a decade, and Sebastian Sallow never let anything go. Not when it came to you. He would poke and prod, just like he always did, the way he had when you were fifteen, sixteen, eighteen—always tugging at you, always unraveling you.

You heard a heavy sigh, followed by the soft sound of shifting sand as he sat down beside you, uninvited but entirely unsurprising.

His skin was warm from the sun, his shoulders still glistening from the water. He didn’t crowd you, but he was close, the scent of salt and sun-bleached fabric clinging to him as he leaned back on his hands, his gaze now trained fully on you.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at you, brows pulling together slightly, head tilting the way it always did when he was trying to figure something out.

"Are you okay?"

You exhaled sharply through your nose. "Why wouldn’t I be?"

Sebastian hummed, tilting his head toward the horizon, pretending—pretending—like he wasn’t watching you carefully, like he wasn’t studying you the way he always did when he knew you were lying.

"You’ve been avoiding the water all day," he mused. "Didn’t eat much at lunch." He nodded toward your book. "And I’d bet my wand you haven’t actually read a single page of that."

You gritted your teeth. "What’s your point?"

Sebastian turned his head then, looking at you fully. "My point is that you’re clearly not okay," he said, voice steady, measured.

"Sebastian," you sighed, voice tired, "just drop it."

For a second, he actually looked like he might. But then his gaze flickered, his expression shifting with realization.

"Is it because of what Garreth said? I know how much you hate when guys objectify—"

“No.” The word left you quickly, too quickly, your chest lurching at the assumption—not because it was wrong, but because it was almost right.

Because Garreth’s words did matter. Just not in the way Sebastian thought.

He assumed you were bothered on principle, that this was about your usual distaste for men reducing women to their bodies. Because that was who you were to him—sharp-tongued, quick-witted, never one to let careless words slide.

And in a way, it felt good that he saw you like that. It meant he wasn’t thinking about your body. It meant that, in Sebastian’s mind, at least, you weren’t standing on the outside of their conversation, trying to pretend the words didn’t sting.

That was… a relief.

But it didn’t loosen the tight, twisting knot in your stomach, because even though Sebastian hadn’t thought of it that way—you had.

And it wasn’t about Garreth having a type. It wasn’t even about Eloise specifically. You didn’t care who Garreth found attractive—everyone had their preferences.

It was Sebastian. Because he had agreed with Garreth.

And it was stupid, really, that it should hurt at all. You had no claim to Sebastian. No right to expect him to think of you that way. He had never given you any reason to believe he did. The only person who had spent the last ten years hopelessly in love with an idea—with him—was you.

But it still hurt.

"I'm sure you overheard him," Sebastian continued, "I know you like to eavesdrop," he added teasingly.

You let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking your head. "Oh, please. I wasn’t eavesdropping. You lot were talking loud enough for the entire beach to hear."

Sebastian huffed a quiet laugh, but it lacked any real amusement. “Fair enough. But for the record, I don’t think Garreth meant anything by what he said.”

You scoffed. “Oh, I know that.”

And you did know. Garreth didn't have a single mean-spirited bone in his body.

Sebastian was still watching you carefully. “Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong."

“Right,” he said, stretching the word out and leaning back on his hands. “So you’re sitting here, sulking under this umbrella, avoiding the water, avoiding ice cream, barely speaking to anyone—all because nothing is wrong?”

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “Sebastian—”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

Your fingers curled tighter around the book, your nails pressing into the cover. “You are wrong.”

Sebastian let out a dry, knowing laugh. “Yeah, no, see—that’s the thing about lying. You’re shit at it. Always have been.”

Your jaw clenched. “I swear to Merlin—”

“What?” He turned to you fully, one eyebrow raised. “You’ll hex me? Go on, then. Should be entertaining for the rest of the beach.”

You exhaled harshly, fingers flexing against the cover of your book. “Look, Sebastian, it—” You shook your head, forcing out a small, humorless laugh. “It doesn’t matter.”

Sebastian made a sound in the back of his throat—somewhere between a sigh and a scoff. "You’re not even arguing properly.”

That made you glance at him, brow furrowing. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Sebastian gave you a pointed look. “It means when you actually don’t care about something, you normally fight back with something biting, something clever. You roll your eyes, you call me an idiot, you tell me to piss off.” His gaze flickered over your face, sharp and assessing. “You’re not doing that now.”

Your stomach twisted. Damn him. Damn him for knowing you this well.

Sebastian sighed, shaking his head. "Just tell me the truth."

You clenched your jaw, looking out at the waves instead of at him. "Sebastian—"

"No, really." His voice was steady, firm. "What’s the point of this? Of going around in circles when we both know I won’t let up?" He gave you a pointed look, eyes sharp. "You’re wasting your breath trying to lie to me. I see right through it, and you know I do. I’ve got a decade of experience, love."

His voice was light, teasing, but you could hear the weight beneath it. The concern. The care.

And maybe that was what did it. Maybe that was what made something in you snap.

Because you were so tired. Tired of pretending, of swallowing things down, of trying to act like it didn’t hurt.

So you turned to him, something bitter curling in your chest.

“Sebastian, you know why I don’t want to go in the water. Why I don’t want to eat in front of everyone. Why I haven’t taken off my cover-up. Why I don’t want ice cream.”

Your breath was heavy, uneven, your fingers curling into the fabric draped over your shoulders.

Sebastian didn’t say anything. Didn’t move.

So you shook your head, voice quieter but no less raw.

"You know." Your chest tightened. "And I know that you know, because you have eyes."

Sebastian just stared at you. It seemed, for once, you had managed to stun him into silence. A difficult feat. And yet, here you were.

The weight of his gaze pressed into you like an iron brand, unrelenting, burning. His lips parted slightly, his brows furrowing, something unreadable flickering across his face.

Hurt. Frustration. Anger.

“That’s what this is about?” His voice was lower now, but no less intense. “That’s what it’s been about this whole time?”

And when he said this whole time, you knew he didn’t just mean today. He meant the past few years.

The slow retreat. The way you had pulled away, little by little, until the girl he had grown up with—the one who had been fearless, the one who had laughed loudly and took up space without hesitation—had hidden herself away.

His jaw clenched.

“Who?” His voice was rough, barely more than a growl. “Who made you feel like this?”

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Who?” You shook your head, gripping the edge of your towel like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. “Everyone, Sebastian.” Your voice wavered, bitter and exhausted. “The whole fucking world.”

Sebastian inhaled sharply, his whole body tense like he was barely holding something back. And then his voice came low, simmering with something dangerous.

“Just give me names.”

You let out a shaky laugh, running a hand over your face. “And what, exactly, are you going to do?”

Sebastian’s jaw was tight, his entire body radiating tension. “I don’t know yet,” he admitted, voice clipped. “But I’d very much like the opportunity to find out.”

Your stomach twisted, a mess of emotions you didn’t have the energy to untangle. You swallowed hard, shaking your head. “It’s not just one person, Sebastian. It’s in the looks, the comments, the offhand remarks. It’s in the way people notice, the way they always notice, the way they feel entitled to remind you, like maybe you hadn’t already noticed yourself.” Your breath hitched, throat closing up. “It’s in the way people talk about women like me—if they even bother talking about us at all.”

He exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face, dragging it down to his mouth like he needed to physically stop himself from doing something. "Merlin, you—why have you never said anything?"

You let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head. "And say what, exactly?" Your voice wavered, edged with exhaustion and bitterness. "That every time I see someone after a long time, I can feel them sizing me up, silently comparing me to who I used to be? That I can’t eat in front of people without obsessing over every bite?" A humorless scoff escaped you. "Or maybe I should’ve told you that whenever people talk about a ‘real woman,’ it never seems to include someone like me—because to them, we’re always just a consolation prize?"

Sebastian stood abruptly, sending a small spray of sand scattering as he pushed to his feet. The suddenness of it startled you, your breath still uneven in your chest, your body tense from the weight of the conversation that had just unraveled between you.

"Come on."

"...What?"

He rolled his eyes, but there was something determined in his stance, something resolute in the way he held his hand out to you.

"Don’t ask questions. Just get up."

You hesitated, glancing from his open palm to his face—his stubborn, determined face, the one you knew far too well. The one that meant arguing would be pointless.

Still, you narrowed your eyes, skepticism thick in your voice. "Sebastian—"

He exhaled sharply, already exasperated, and before you could pull away, he reached down, grasping your wrist with a careful but firm grip. His fingers were warm, rough from years of dueling, calloused in that way you knew too well.

"Just come with me," he murmured, voice softer now, quieter.

You let out a sharp breath but after a long, weighted pause—you let him pull you to your feet.

Sebastian's grip remained steady as he led you away—away from the crashing waves, away from the shade of your umbrella, away from the book you had never actually been reading. Away from the water that had once felt like freedom but now felt like something else entirely.

Instead, he walked you back toward the beach house your group had rented, his pace unrelenting.

You followed reluctantly, the damp sand clinging to your feet as the distant sounds of laughter and crashing waves softened behind you, replaced by the rustling of palm fronds and the creak of wooden steps as the two of you moved past the deck.

"Seriously—what are we doing?"

"Patience."

You scowled. "You’re not exactly known for patience."

"Yeah, well, I’m trying something new," he muttered.

The two of you rounded the deck, past the side gate, until you stepped onto the lush grass of the backyard to where the pool remained untouched.

Because why would anyone use the pool when the ocean was right there? When the horizon stretched endlessly, inviting and vast?

But Sebastian didn’t hesitate. He walked straight to the edge, dropping his towel onto a chair before turning back to you and he reaching for the hem of his shirt.

Your brain barely had time to catch up before he pulled the fabric over his head, revealing his sun-warmed skin, broad shoulders, and sun kissed freckles.

You swallowed hard, heat creeping up the back of your neck.

"...What are you doing?"

"Getting in the pool."

"Why?"

Sebastian shot you a flat look. "Because you won’t go in the ocean. And if you don’t want to swim in front of the whole world—fine. But you’re not allowed to hide from me."

You clenched your jaw, shaking your head. "Sebastian—"

"You love swimming." His said, low and steady, like he was stating an irrefutable truth. "I know you do. And back here, it's just me and you."

You swallowed, your throat tightening.

"Sebastian, it’s not that simple—"

"Why not?"

You inhaled sharply, feeling the words clog in your throat. Because I don’t want you to look at me like everyone else does.

You gritted your teeth, forcing yourself to keep your gaze locked on his. "Because it just isn’t."

Sebastian exhaled sharply through his nose, rolling his shoulders. His fingers flexed at his sides, like he was barely holding something back.

"That’s not an answer."

You let out a quiet, humorless laugh. "It’s the only one I’ve got."

For a moment, he just looked at you—eyes dark, searching, unreadable. Then, before you could react, before you could argue or stop him, he stepped closer, reaching for your wrist again.

"Could you, for once in your life, not argue with me?"

He said it with his usual teasing tone, but you could see the tension in his jaw, the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

You sighed.

"Fine."

Sebastian blinked, as if he hadn’t actually expected you to agree.

You barely expected it yourself.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the silence between you stretching taut.

Then slowly, reluctantly, he let go before finally turning toward the pool and lowering himself into it. The water lapped around his waist as he submerged himself, stretching his arms out with a satisfied sigh.

"The temperature is perfect," he announced. "Trust me, you’re going to love it."

You exhaled sharply through your nose, stomach churning as you reached for the tie at your waist.

This was a mistake.

Your fingers fumbled with the knot, hesitating. Your pulse pounded in your ears. You regretted this already. The bikini—the one you had somehow convinced yourself was a good idea when you bought it—was bright fucking yellow.

Unmissable. Unavoidable. A beacon of self-inflicted torment.

What the hell had you been thinking?

You should have picked something darker, something less obnoxious, something that wouldn’t make you feel like every single part of you was on display.

Sebastian tilted his head slightly, floating lazily on his back, watching you. "You’re thinking too hard again."

You clenched your jaw. Your fingers curled around the fabric, tight, hesitant. This was stupid. This was so, so stupid.

But he was watching you. Not impatiently. Not expectantly.

Just waiting.

And that was the only reason you finally, finally pulled at the knot.

The cover-up slipped from your shoulders, the fabric pooling at your feet. Immediately, your stomach flipped, your arms twitching with the immediate urge to cover yourself, to retreat, to run—

But then, slowly, deliberately, Sebastian let his feet drop beneath him, standing fully in the water. His gaze dragged over you. Slow. Lingering.

"Sebastian—"

"Yellow."

"What?"

His lips curled slightly, tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Your swimsuit. It’s yellow."

Your face burned. "No shit."

Sebastian hummed, his brown eyes dark and unreadable. "It suits you."

Your breath caught.

"Are you coming in or what?" he murmured.

Your throat felt tight.

"Yes."

You forced your legs to move, stepping toward the pool’s edge as if you were approaching a cliff, bracing for the drop.

Every sensation was amplified—the way your thighs brushed together, the curve of your stomach, the stretch marks etched across it. The way your skin dimpled, the way your body moved, the way there was no concealing any of it.

Sebastian was still watching. You felt the weight of his gaze, and it took everything in you not to cross your arms over yourself as you stepped onto the first stair.

The cool water lapped at your ankles. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to move faster, descending step by step, letting the water claim you inch by inch.

By the time it reached your waist, you exhaled, relief flooding through you.

Safe. At least partially.

Sebastian had shifted slightly, leaning back against the edge of the pool, elbows braced along the tiled rim.

"See?" he drawled, tilting his head slightly. "Not so bad, is it?"

You rolled your eyes, trying to focus on the water instead of the fact that you were sitting in a bright fucking yellow bikini with Sebastian watching you like you were the most interesting thing in the world.

"Easy for you to say," you muttered. "You’re not the one out here feeling like a goddamn highlighter."

Sebastian’s laugh was quiet, warm. "I don’t know," he mused. "I think you make a pretty good highlighter."

Your stomach twisted, heat creeping up your neck. "Shut up."

"I’m serious."

"You’re messing with me," you muttered, dragging your fingers through the water, watching as the ripples lapped against his arm.

"I’m not," he said, and something about the quiet certainty in his voice made you hesitate.

Your breath hitched as you lifted your gaze to his.

The teasing was gone. His expression was steady, unreadable, but there was something beneath it—something weighty, something real.

Heat crept up your neck, prickling despite the cool water surrounding you. The moment felt too heavy, too close, pressing in on you in a way you weren’t ready for. So, you did what you always did when you felt yourself slipping—deflected.

"Stop looking at me like that," you scoffed.

Sebastian didn’t answer right away. His gaze was steady, focused in a way that made your stomach twist.

Then, finally, he asked, “Did you mean what you said earlier?”

Your brows pulled together. “What?”

“About... feeling like a consolation prize?”

Your stomach lurched. “Sebastian—”

“Did you mean it?”

You let out a breath, gaze flicking away as you trailed your fingertips absently through the water. “It’s not exactly something I pulled out of thin air.”

He exhaled sharply, his grip tightening where his arms braced along the pool's edge.

“So that’s a yes."

You glanced back at him, at the tight set of his jaw, at the way his fingers flexed against the tiles, like he was reining something in.

“Why does it matter?” you asked.

Sebastian let out a short, humorless laugh, dragging a hand through his hair before tipping his head back against the pool's rim. “Because it’s the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

You blinked, startled. “Excuse me?”

Sebastian huffed, shaking his head, his eyes sliding back to yours, darker now. “I mean, do you honestly think no one looks at you like... like you're all they bloody want?”

You frowned, shifting uncomfortably. “Sebastian—”

“I’m serious.” His voice was firm, unwavering. “You think no one’s wanted you? No one’s looked at you and thought about what it’d be like to have you under them, or against them, or—”

“Sebastian!” Your face burned, heat spreading like wildfire from your chest to the very tips of your ears.

It wasn’t like you and Sebastian had never talked about sex before—you’d been best friends for over ten years. You’d sat beside him while he’d swapped crude jokes with Garreth, rolled your eyes at his commentary when Imelda complained about whatever hopeless bloke she was entertaining that week, even endured drunken late-night conversations about past flings and failed dates when the two of you had stayed out too long at the pub.

But never—not once—had you talked about it so blatantly.

Because discussing sex in general was one thing. Listening to Sebastian drunkenly mock some disastrous one-night stand was one thing. But this—this was him, talking about you, saying your name in the same breath as under them, against them—

The thought too much, too impossible, too close to something you’d spent the last decade trying to bury so deep it could never surface.

It was unbearable. Unthinkable. Because you knew if you let yourself really hear him, if you let yourself linger on those words, on that voice murmuring them so low and rough, then you would—

You would implode.

So instead, you reacted, your body moving on instinct, on sheer mortified desperation.

Your hand shot forward, cutting through the water as you splashed hard in his direction, your heart slamming against your ribs as you tried to drown out the image of Sebastian's mouth, the sound of his voice, the way he had said it—

The water hit him square in the face, droplets clinging to his dark hair, his skin glistening beneath the late afternoon sun.

Sebastian blinked, expression shifting from intense to something unreadable as he wiped a hand down his face, exhaling sharply through his nose.

“What the hell was that?”

Your breath came out shaky, your skin too hot, your arms twitching with the urge to cover yourself, to disappear.

“You can’t—you can’t just say shit like that!” you managed, your voice bordering on frantic, your pulse hammering so violently you thought it might shake you apart.

Sebastian’s brows lifted, his face still dripping. “Why not?”

“Because!"

“Look, ’m just saying,” he said, voice rougher now, lower, “that you might want to reconsider your stance.”

Your mouth opened, then closed, because Sebastian wasn't done.

“I hear the things guys say about you.” His gaze flickered over your face, then lower—just for a moment, just enough to make your stomach flip. “I hear the things they want to say to you all the fucking time."

You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling like you were sinking despite being fully buoyant in the water.

“...What are you talking about?”

Sebastian exhaled sharply through his nose. "At work. When we go out. The pubs, the shops, wherever we are. Doesn’t matter." His gaze flickered over you, something simmering behind it. "I hear it."

Your pulse spiked.

“The only reason you don’t hear the shit they say about you is either because they know better,” he said, voice almost bitter. “Because they know you’d hex them into next week if they ever let you hear it. Or—”

Sebastian let out another low laugh, shaking his head.

“Because I scare them off.”

“You... what?”

Sebastian gave you a look, like it was obvious. “I scare them off.”

You just stared at him.

“You think it’s a coincidence no one approaches you when we go out?”

You felt your breath falter, your hands balling into fists at your side. "You’re making that up."

"I promise you," he asked, tipping his head slightly. " I’m not."

You swallowed thickly, your pulse hammering. “That can't be true—”

Sebastian’s jaw ticked. "I know it for a fact. And I can tell you exactly what they say, if you really want to know.”

You clenched your jaw, pressing your lips together, but it didn’t matter—because Sebastian kept going.

“They talk about your ass, how it moves when you walk, how they’d kill to get their hands on it, the kind marks they'd leave if they got the chance.”

You felt burning heat creep up your spine.

“They talk about your tits,” he went on, his eyes flickering over you, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “How full they are, how they sit just right, how fucking soft they look, how they’d kill to watch them move if you rode them."

His voice dipped lower, rougher. “They talk about the way your stomach curves when you sit, how they know you’d feel so fucking good under their hands, under their weight.” His jaw ticked, his fists tightening until his knuckles went white. “How they’d bury their face between your legs and press their hands against your waist and feel all of you.”

You felt your pulse hammering, your entire body caught somewhere between stunned disbelief and mortification.

“And your mouth,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Merlin, they talk about your mouth—that sharp fucking wit of yours that makes them either want to win you or get on their knees for you.”

You made a strangled noise in the back of your throat. Your arms twitched with the immediate, desperate urge to cover yourself, to run, to deny, deny, deny—

“I know the world is fucked,” he admitted. “And it sure as hell isn’t fair to women like you. But just because you’re not plastered across a fucking Quidditch magazine doesn’t mean you’re not wanted.” His voice was softer now, but no less intense. “Doesn’t mean men don’t look at you and think about fucking you senseless."

Your breath came out uneven, your heart hammering against your ribs as Sebastian’s words settled around you like something heavy, something undeniable.

But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t. You refused to believe it.

You shook your head, forcing your voice to come out.

“You’re just—” You exhaled sharply. “You’re just trying to make a point.”

“A point?”

“Yes,” you insisted shakily. “Because you’re frustrated with me, and you hate when I don’t believe you, so you’re just—” You shook your head, your throat tightening. “You’re making a point!"

Sebastian’s jaw ticked, his nostrils flaring slightly. “You really think I’d make all this up?”

You swallowed thickly, your stomach twisting into itself. “Okay, maybe you’re not making it up entirely,” you admitted, voice quieter now, unsure, searching. “Maybe they do say those things, but that doesn’t mean I’m what they want.”

Sebastian frowned, his brows drawing together like he couldn’t believe you were still pushing this.

“I’m what they go for when what they really want isn’t available,” you pressed, voice bitter, thick with something sharp and worn down. “I’m the one they settle for.”

Sebastian stilled. The air changed. His expression darkened, a muscle jumping in his jaw as something sharp flashed behind his eyes. Then he moved—

Closer. Slow. Deliberate.

The water shifted around you, rippling, the cool contrast of it doing nothing to temper the heat pressing into the space between you, heat that came from him.

He loomed, his shadow blocking out the sun, his presence so much heavier now.

“Fine,” he muttered, voice low, tight. “You want to argue? Let's argue."

Sebastian’s brown eyes flickered over you, intent, his focus sharp, almost cutting. “If that were true,” he continued, voice rough, firm, “if guys were only settling for you, then why have I spent years scaring them off?”

“You—” You swallowed hard, your pulse pounding, forcing yourself to lift your chin, to meet his stare head-on. “Because you’re... territorial.”

Sebastian snorted, something dark and frustrated flickering across his face. “Why do you think that is?”

“Because you’re my best friend,” you shot back, shaking your head, like that explained everything. “Because you're you!”

Sebastian scoffed, rolling his eyes. “If you really think that’s all it is,” he muttered, voice thick with exasperation, “that it's because I'm your friend, then you’re fucking delusional.”

Your stomach flipped, something deep in your ribs twisting, recoiling.

“Then maybe it’s because you don’t trust them,” you argued, voice more desperate now, more pleading. “Men can be pricks, Sebastian, you know that.”

He huffed, shaking his head. “Yeah, they can,” he agreed, his voice rougher now. “But that’s not why.”

“Sebastian—”

“You really think I’d waste my time running off blokes if I thought they weren’t serious?” His voice was incredulous now, like he was talking to someone being insufferable. “For Merlin's sake, I know the things they say about you, and I know they fucking mean it because I’ve said the same shit!”

The world tilted. Your heart stopped. Something in your chest lurched, your breath coming out too shallow, too thin, like your lungs had forgotten how to work, like your ribs had locked up, trapping something inside of you that was too big, too impossible to comprehend.

Sebastian just looked at you. Unwavering. Unshaken. Like he hadn’t just ripped open the very fabric of your reality and upended a decade’s worth of carefully constructed walls, of every defense mechanism you had ever built to keep this exact thing from happening.

“No.”

The word was instant, instinctive, ripped from you like it had been lodged in your throat, an immediate act of defense, of self-preservation.

Sebastian’s brows furrowed, the muscle in his jaw twitching slightly.

“No?” he repeated, his voice edged with something that almost sounded offended.

Your head shook before you could even stop it, panic rising fast, too fast, crashing through you like a wave you hadn’t braced for.

“No,” you repeated, voice higher, tighter, desperate. “That’s not true, it can't be true, you—”

Sebastian let out a sharp breath, his jaw tight, his nostrils flaring slightly as he shook his head. Then he laughed—a short, humorless sound that didn’t reach his eyes, a huff of sheer disbelief as stared down at you.

“Do you really think I would say this if it weren’t true?”

His voice was low, unwavering—something dangerous simmering beneath the surface, something unyielding, something that said enough.

You could see it in the way his fingers curled into fists beneath the water, in the way his shoulders tensed, in the way his throat bobbed like he was forcing the words out, pushing past something that had been buried for too long.

“You’re just—” You swallowed. “You’re just saying that—”

"—No. I have always wanted you."

Sebastian’s voice was rough, edged with something aching, something raw, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe the words were leaving his mouth, like he couldn’t believe you were making him say this.

"For fuck’s sake,” he muttered, "I was in love with you at sixteen, and I have been every damn day since.”

Your breath came out uneven, barely a whisper. “Sebastian—”

"I don’t know where you got it in your head that you’re supposed to look like you did when we were kids, but yeah," His jaw clenched. "We’ve changed. And I, as you so aptly pointed out, have eyes—so yeah, you’re right." His brown eyes flickered over you, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. "I do see it. I know you don’t weigh 130 fucking pounds anymore," he continued, voice rougher now, firmer. "And I am fucking thrilled."

You stiffened. Your chest felt too tight, like your ribs had shrunk around your lungs.

"Do you want to know why?" His voice dropped lower, something dark flickering behind his eyes.

Your mouth was too dry to answer, but it didn’t matter. Because he kept going.

"Because every single thing you seem to hate about yourself ruins me," he bit out, his hands clenching and unclenching like he was physically restraining himself. "You have no fucking idea how many nights I’ve spent thinking about this," he admitted, voice rough. "Thinking about you."

You were so hot now it felt like you were burning alive, fire coursing through your veins and settling low in your stomach, thick and dangerous.

“I’ve thought about your thighs around my waist.” Sebastian's voice was lower now, almost reverent. “How you’d taste when I spread them apart. How you’d feel pressed against me.”

Your legs clenched instinctively beneath the water.

“I’ve thought about your ass in my hands.” Sebastian shifted, his brown eyes flickering lower, dark and intense. “How it’d feel to have you in my lap, to make you ride me until you forget your own fucking name.”

“And your tits.” He licked his lips, tiling his head back slightly. “They fucking kill me. I mean, god, you were pretty before, but now? Now, they’re full and heavy and fucking perfect, and all I’ve ever wanted is to get my mouth on them."

Your breath came out shaky, your arms twitching like you needed to hold yourself together.

“Merlin, I have spent years trying to behave,” His voice turned almost gritted, like the words were physically pulling something out of him. Hhe muttered, his voice lower now, darker. “But you—fuck, you have no idea how hard it is when you’re standing here looking like this—”

His gaze dragged over you, hungry, slow, like he was devouring every inch of exposed skin, every soft curve, every part of you, like he had spent years looking and wanting, and now that the words were out in the open, he refused to hold back.

“Trust me, I’ve tried,” he admitted, voice lower now, rougher. “I’ve really fucking tried to keep this in. To pretend I don’t notice, to keep my mouth shut, to respect that you don’t see me that way, that you don’t want me that way.”

Sebastian’s brown eyes flickered over you, dark and certain. “But now I find out that you won’t even step in the water because you think you don’t look good enough?” His voice was sharper now, like the words were physically pulled out of him. “That you think you need to hide?! When you look this fucking good?! It's a crime."

The world wasn’t real.

It couldn’t be.

Not when Sebastian was standing there, saying these things. Not when the same voice you had spent years aching over, pining for, was suddenly confessing all the things you had only ever dared to dream about in your weakest, most hopeless moments.

It was impossible. It was wrong. Not because you didn’t want it to be true, but because it couldn’t be. Because you had spent years overhearing men talk about other women like this.

Women they wanted. Women who fit the mold of desirable, women they admired, lusted after, fantasized about.

You had listened to Garreth wax poetic about Quidditch players, about girls with long legs and sharp features. You had heard Imelda talk about the men who trailed after her, about how they couldn’t help themselves, about how they looked at her like she was something worth having.

But never you. Never you.

So hearing it now—like this, in Sebastian’s voice, in Sebastian’s gaze, in the way his words hit you like a blow straight to the chest—

You felt dizzy, lightheaded, the words pressing against you, into you, wrapping around your ribs, curling low in your stomach, twisting and knotting and refusing to let go.

Sebastian ran a hand through his hair, his voice hoarse, desperate in a way you had never heard before. “Say something,” he muttered, “Please."

You couldn’t. You couldn’t. Your mouth opened, but nothing came out, your breath caught somewhere in your chest, your lungs squeezing tight as your mind raced, as your body fought to catch up to what was happening.

How could you accept that the same boy who had haunted your every dream, every stupid little fantasy, every sleepless night spent staring at the ceiling with want pressed into your bones— How could you accept that he had been living through the same thing?

Sebastian let out another low, frustrated breath.

“Fine,” he muttered, his voice gritted, dark. “Let me make this absolutely clear.”

Then, suddenly, he moved, fast. Aand deliberate.

The water swelled around you as he closed the distance in an instant, surging forward with a force that sent ripples crashing against your skin. Before you could react, his hands were on you—gripping your waist, anchoring you in place. His fingers pressed firm and unyielding against the soft curve of your sides, holding you steady, pulling you closer until there was nothing left between you.

Every inch of him was flush against you—solid, warm, inescapable. You could feel the tension in his body, the quiet strength beneath the water, the way his fingers dug in, pressing, gripping—possessive in a way that stole the breath straight from your lungs.

Sebastian’s breath was uneven, his chest rising and falling hard against yours. His jaw was clenched tight, the muscle feathering beneath his skin, and when he spoke, his voice was nothing but gravel and heat.

“You feel that?”

"Feel wha—oh."

Oh.

Oh.

Heat flooded your face, your pulse hammering, your skin burning. Because fuck, he was hard. Right there—there—pressed against your stomach, undeniable proof that every word he had just said wasn’t just frustration, wasn’t just heat-of-the-moment reassurance, wasn’t just a desperate attempt to make you see.

It was real.

It was real.

It was so fucking real.

“Yeah.” His voice was rough, strained. “That.”

Your mouth parted, but nothing came out. Your thoughts tangled, scrambled, lost somewhere between disbelief and something hotter, deeper—something that made your fingers twitch against his shoulders, your breath come quicker, your body suddenly hyperaware of every single point where you touched.

But then he went rigid. And suddenly—too suddenly—his hands dropped from your waist.

The moment he stepped back, the absence of him was like a shock to your system, your body instantly missing the heat, the weight, the certainty of him pressed against you.

Sebastian ran a hand over his face, exhaling sharply, his jaw clenching.

"I—fuck. I'm sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

Your stomach dropped.

“What?”

Sebastian let out a sharp, humorless laugh, but it sounded frustrated, almost self-loathing, his expression twisting like he was kicking himself for losing control.

“That was—” He exhaled harshly, shaking his head again. “That was out of line. I’m sorry.”

Your pulse pounded, your skin still burning where he had touched you, still hyperaware of every place your bodies had been pressed together.

He was still so close. You could still feel the ghost of him. But Sebastian wouldn’t look at you.

His brown eyes flickered away, somewhere over your shoulder, his hands flexing at his sides like he wanted to reach for you again but was physically forcing himself not to.

“I know you don’t feel the same,” he said, his voice gritted, like he was forcing the words out despite the fact that they physically hurt him. “I know you never have.”

Your heart lurched in your chest, but he kept going.

“I mean, how could you?” His fingers flexed at his sides, like he was trying to keep himself from reaching for you again. “It’s been ten years, for fuck’s sake. You’ve never—” He cut himself off, exhaling sharply, shaking his head. “I don’t expect you to just, just change your mind.”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Your mind was reeling. Because what the fuck was he talking about?

You didn’t feel the same? You had never felt the same?

It was so absurd, so absolutely mad, that you actually laughed—a short, startled sound of pure disbelief, because he could not be serious.

Sebastian’s head snapped up at the sound, his eyes narrowing, his entire body going tense. "What?"

You shook your head, still breathless, still dizzy, heat and disbelief and something else—something sharp—twisting in your chest.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you demanded, voice thin, incredulous. “You think I don’t want you back?!”

Sebastian stiffened then rolled his eyes, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you were even trying to argue this. “Oh, come on.”

“No—no, you come on,” you shot back, your hands lifting out of the water, gesturing sharply. “Do you hear yourself right now? Do you actually believe that? You think I—” You let out a sharp, incredulous laugh, pressing a hand to your forehead. “Merlin’s sake, Sebastian, are you insane?”

Sebastian’s nostrils flared, frustration flashing across his face. “I don’t know, am I? Because for years, you—”

“For years, I have been in love with you, you dolt,” you snapped, cutting him off.

The words rang between you, loud and final.

Sebastian froze. His breath stopped. His brown eyes went wide.

For a long, weighted beat, neither of you moved. The only sound was the water lapping gently around you, the distant crash of the waves against the shore, the sharp thud of your pulse in your ears.

Sebastian’s mouth parted slightly, his breath coming out uneven. His voice, when he finally spoke, was hoarse. “...are you serious?”

With a surge of boldness that felt almost foreign, you stepped forward, closing the space between you. Your hands found his waist, fingers curling tight, anchoring him in place as if daring him to move, to run, to deny what was right in front of him.

You tilted your chin up, locking onto his gaze, refusing to let him look away.

“Sebastian, for ten fucking years, I have been in love with you.”

Your hands flew to his shoulders, fingers digging in, grasping, clinging, and Sebastian let out a low, desperate sound against your lips. His grip shifted, one hand sliding up your spine, pressing against your bare skin, holding you there, anchoring you to him.

And the other—fuck.

His fingers skimmed down your hip, tracing the soft curve of your side before sliding lower, gripping your ass with a reverence that made your stomach flip. Like he wanted to memorize every inch of you beneath his hands. Like he had dreamed of this—fantasized about this—but never allowed himself to take it.

A quiet, breathless whimper slipped from your lips, and the moment it reached him, Sebastian groaned into your mouth. His hands tightened, his hold possessive, his body pressing against yours, solid and burning and real. You could feel everything—the heat of his skin, the hard planes of his body, the tension coiling beneath every touch, every breath.

He was shaking. Like he was barely holding himself together. Like he was one second away from losing control.

And honestly—

So were you.

Your fingers slid into his wet hair, tangling, tugging just slightly, and Sebastian moaned. His grip flexed, his breath hitched—and then he moved.

In one swift motion, his hands pressed against the curve of your ass, lifting you effortlessly as he backed you against the edge of the pool, pinning you there, chest heaving, eyes dark and wild as he hovered over you.

“Fuck.” His voice was low, rough, like it had been dragged over gravel.

Those dark, hungry brown eyes locked onto yours, burning with something thick and dangerous, something that sent heat licking up your spine and pooling low in your stomach.

His fingers flexed against your skin.

“Do you want to get out of this bloody pool?”

Your breath hitched. The weight of the question slammed into you, wrapping tight around your ribs and squeezing. Because this wasn’t about getting out of the water. This was about what came next.

Sebastian knew exactly what he was asking. And, Merlin help you, you knew exactly what you were answering.

You swallowed hard, your pulse hammering, fingers twitching against the bare skin of his shoulders.

“Yes,” you murmured.

Sebastian inhaled sharply. His grip tightened. And then he was lifting you, strong hands braced beneath your thighs, guiding you up onto the ledge. The water sluiced off your skin, the cool air shocking against the heat burning through you.

You blinked down at him, chest rising and falling, heart slamming against your ribs.

He stayed in the water, hands still on you, grip firm, unwavering.

His gaze roamed.

You knew exactly what he saw.

Your thighs, still slick from the water, parted where he had positioned you. Droplets clung to the soft curve of your stomach, catching in the dimming sunlight, tracing slow, deliberate paths down to the plush flesh of your hips, slipping lower—between your legs. Your chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, the thin, taut fabric of your bikini stretching over the swell of your breasts, highlighting every dip, every line, every part of you he had spent years trying not to look at.

His hands left your thighs for only a second. Just long enough for him to hoist himself out of the water in one fluid motion, muscles flexing, skin dripping, water cascading down his chest and stomach—catching on the waistband of his swim trunks, pooling at his feet.

And fuck, he was beautiful.

You barely had time to process before he was reaching for you again—one hand extended, palm open, waiting.

You placed your hand in his and then he pulled. Not gentle. Not soft. Claiming.

Your breath hitched as you stumbled forward, but before you could find your footing, his grip shifted, and before you could think, before you could question, he was dragging you across the deck—his grip firm, his pace unforgiving. Like he had already decided. Like nothing—not a single fucking thing—was going to get in his way.

Your heart pounded as he led you straight to the lounge chairs, his breathing heavy, uneven.

Your thighs hit the edge of the lounge, and suddenly, there was nowhere left to go. Nowhere but down.

Your stomach flipped. Your pulse hammered. Because—fuck—this was happening.

You sank onto the chair. Sebastian followed. No hesitation. No second-guessing. No pause to let you catch up.

He just moved.

Climbing over you. Caging you in. Settling between your legs, his hands braced on either side of you, thighs pressing against yours—the weight of him hovering just above, heavy, consuming.

Dripping water.

Dripping heat.

Dripping desperation.

His gaze dropped, drinking you in—your parted lips, your heaving chest, your bare stomach, the mess of your thighs spread open beneath him, the fabric of your bikini clinging to wet skin.

"Tell me you want this." His voice was rough, barely above a whisper, his fingers pressing into your waist, grounding himself in you. "Because if you don’t, if I’m wrong, I need to fucking stop before I—"

"You’re not wrong," you interrupted, breathless. "You have never been more right about anything in your entire life."

Sebastian huffed a laugh, and in the next breath, his lips crashed against yours, claiming, taking, devouring. It was rough, messy, all instinct. All heat.

You gasped into his mouth, fingers flying up to his hair, tangling in the damp curls, pulling him closer, needing him closer, needing more. Sebastian groaned, low and wrecked, shifting his weight, pressing against you, forcing you to sink further into the lounge chair.

His hands were everywhere, hot and demanding, tracing the dips and curves of your body like he was mapping them out after years of pretending they weren’t his to touch. His fingers pressed into your waist, sliding over the soft curve of your stomach, his grip firm, reverent, like he needed to feel every inch of you beneath him.

“God,” he muttered against your lips, voice rough, strained. “You feel so fucking good.”

You let out a quiet, desperate sound, fingers tightening in his hair, tugging slightly, and Sebastian growled, low and wrecked, pressing his hips harder against you, grinding down just enough to let you feel exactly what you were doing to him.

Your head tipped back, a gasp breaking free, and Sebastian wasted no time, his lips trailing along your jaw, down the column of your throat, hot and wet.

“You’re mine,” he murmured against your skin, voice dark. “You’ve always been mine.”

Your stomach clenched, your entire body burning, too hot, too much, and you didn’t even realize you were saying his name until his teeth grazed the sensitive spot beneath your ear and you whimpered it, breathless and wanting.

Sebastian groaned, his hands flying to your thighs, gripping tight, spreading them wider beneath him, pressing himself between them, flush against you. His lips dragged lower, down the slope of your shoulder, his hands skimming higher, fingers teasing at the strings of your bikini top.

"Please," he muttered, voice thick, unsteady. "Let me see you."

You nodded.

Sebastian sat back on his knees. His breath came out heavy, uneven, as his eyes dragged over you—taking in the way you looked beneath him, sprawled out, wet, wanting.

His jaw tensed, and then slowly, carefully, his fingers found the ties of your bikini top.

Your breath hitched as he tugged at the strings, the knot loosening, the damp fabric clinging stubbornly for a moment before slipping, before baring you completely to him.

Sebastian inhaled sharply, his throat working, his hands freezing where they had been resting against your ribs.

For a moment, he didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He just looked.

And—Merlin help you—the way he looked at you was like you were something to be worshiped. Like he couldn’t believe you were real, that you were here, that you were his.

His hands twitched.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he muttered, almost like he didn’t mean to say it out loud, like the words had been ripped straight from his chest.

Heat flooded your face, your entire body burning beneath his gaze. “Sebastian—”

But then his hands were on you, and you couldn’t breathe.

Fingertips, warm and reverent, traced over the breadth of newly exposed skin, slow, unhurried. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, featherlight, teasing, making your breath stutter, making heat coil low in your stomach, before he pressed more insistently, fingers disappearing into the plushness of your breasts.

Sebastian exhaled hard, his pupils blown wide, his tongue flicking over his bottom lip like he was barely holding himself back.

"Fuck," he breathed. "You’re so soft."

Sebastian cursed again, leaning in to kiss you again, deeper, rougher, his hips pressing into yours, his hands gripping, exploring, memorizing.

Your mind was spinning, your pulse erratic, heat licking at every inch of your body, and fuck, this was happening. This was really happening.

Sebastian’s hands trailed lower, fingers tracing the curve of your waist, your hips, gripping them tight before sliding to the ties of your bottoms. His hands trembled slightly as he pulled at them, loosening the fabric with each tug.

They clung stubbornly to your skin for a second before he slid it away, baring you completely beneath him.

Sebastian inhaled sharply.

His eyes traced the soft curve of your stomach, the way the dimming sunlight caught the droplets still clinging to your skin, rolling in slow, lazy paths over your navel, down to the plushness of your hips, the swell of your thighs, settling lower, lower—

His throat bobbed, a sharp inhale shuddering through him as his gaze caught between your legs, at the glistening wet heat of you, already slick, already open for him.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, his voice strained, thick with want. His grip on your thighs flexed, his fingers pressing into soft flesh, kneading, his eyes locked onto you, staring like he was witnessing something divine.

Then, finally, finally, he tilted his head up, his brown eyes locking onto yours.

“You’re soaked,” he rasped, voice wrecked.

"Whose fault is that?" you murmured, gazing up at his though half-lidded eyes.

Sebastian let out a low, strangled sound—somewhere between a groan and a curse—his grip sliding up to your hips, tightening, his fingers flexing against soft flesh like he was grounding himself, steadying himself.

"Mine," he muttered, almost to himself, almost reverent. "All mine."

And then he moved lower.

His lips brushed the inside of your thigh, slow, deliberate, his breath hot against your damp skin. His hands, one on your hip, one on your breast, pressed, kneading, gripping, holding you in place as he trailed his mouth along the sensitive skin.

Your breath hitched, your fingers twitching at your sides, instinct begging you to reach for him, to pull him closer, to demand more.

Sebastian hummed against your thigh, slow and pleased, his lips curling against your skin. “You’ve always had such a sharp mouth,” he murmured, voice like gravel, teasing.  “But now? Now, you’re going to be too busy moaning my name to run that pretty mouth.”

And before you could even react, before you could do anything but shudder beneath him, Sebastian’s mouth was on you.

A sharp, breathless sound broke from your lips as his tongue pressed against the slick heat of you, slow and thorough, licking through your folds like he wanted to savor you, consume you.

Sebastian groaned, low and wrecked, his fingers digging into your thighs as he buried himself between them, licking, sucking, devouring like he was a man starved—like he had been waiting for this for years.

Your fingers flew to his hair, tangling in the strands, pulling him closer, needing him closer, needing more.

He shuddered, his tongue flicking against your clit, slow and deliberate, before dragging lower, teasing and pressing inside.

A whimper spilled from your lips, your thighs twitching around his head, your entire body trembling at the heat of him, of what he was doing to you.

“You taste so fucking good.” Sebastian muttered, his fingers flexing, holding you open for him, his mouth moving with precision, slow and intentional, like he was mapping you out, memorizing every reaction, every sound, every tiny movement that told him exactly what you liked.

Your hips bucked, your fingers tightening in his curls, and Sebastian let out a sound that was nothing short of filthy, his grip on your thighs tightening before his tongue stroked, pressed, teased—

"Look at you," he rasped, voice thick with something dark, something possessive, something hungry. "Falling apart for me already, hm?"

You let out a desperate, broken sound, your body aching for more, for him, and Sebastian just smirked, grinned, before plunging his fingers inside you, insistent and deep.

Your body jolted, a sharp gasp ripping from your throat as your hips bucked into his hand, chasing the pressure, the feeling of him inside you. Sebastian groaned at the reaction, his fingers flexing, curling, teasing—spreading you open in the most devastating way.

His mouth was back on you in an instant, tongue flicking over your clit, slow and purposeful, as his fingers worked inside you, stroking, coaxing, ruining.

Your head tipped back, pleasure surging through you, sharp and overwhelming, And this time—

You did moan his name.

Again.

And again.

And again.

And then—

“Let me fuck you,” he rasped.

Your breath hitched.

“Wha—”

Sebastian’s grip tightened, his nails digging into your skin just enough to make your breath stutter.

“Answer me,” he repeated, his voice lower this time, more desperate. “Before I forget how to be a gentleman and do it anyway."

You huffed, a flicker of defiance sparking through the haze of pleasure. "How demanding of you," you murmured.

Sebastian's grip flexed against your thighs, his fingers still buried inside you, his mouth hovering just above where you needed him most. His jaw tensed, his pupils dark and blown, his expression twisted with want, with something near desperation.

"Answer me," he repeated, his voice thick with warning as his fingers curled inside you, imploring you to respond.

But you just smirked, still gasping, still wrecked, but unwilling to give in that easily.  Sebastian wanted an answer? He could wait.

Your fingers twitched against his shoulders before you moved, pushing yourself up. Sebastian’s gaze flickered up to yours, pupils blown, his lips still slick with you, his hands flexing against your thighs like he knew what you were doing—like he knew you were about to make him suffer.

Good.

You reached for him, your fingers curling around his biceps, pushing him back, and Sebastian let you, let you take, let you flip the balance of control.

Your hands trailed lower, down his chest, his stomach, and then your fingers dipped beneath the waistband of his swim trunks.

Sebastian inhaled sharply, his entire body going rigid, his jaw tight, his hands twitching where they still braced against your thighs.

You smirked, slow and deliberate, tilting your head as you looked up at him through half-lidded eyes. “What’s wrong?” you murmured. “You were so talkative a second ago.”

Sebastian let out a breath that was more growl than exhale, his head tipping forward slightly, his entire body coiled like he was barely holding himself back.

Your fingers curled tighter around the fabric of his trunks, teasing the band, pulling just slightly.

“Let me see you,” you whispered.

Sebastian stared at you, eyes dark, lips parted, his hands clenching, flexing, aching to touch, to take. Then, without breaking your gaze, he reached down, fingers curling over yours, helping you undo the ties.

Your breath caught when the fabric slid down, when his cock sprang free, hard and thick, flushed and leaking, heavy against his stomach, every inch of him aching, straining.

"Like what you see?" he asked, voice smug despite the raw edge of need in it.

Yes.

You swallowed hard.

"I'm deciding," you managed to shoot back.

Sebastian barked out a laugh—short, strained—before he caught your chin between his slick fingers, tilting your face up, forcing your eyes back to his. "Fucking tease," he muttered.

You arched a brow, smirking, and without breaking eye contact, you leaned in.

Your lips brushed over the flushed, aching tip of him, barely there, just enough to make his entire body shudder, to make him suck in a sharp breath through clenched teeth.

His cock twitched against your mouth, a bead of precum glistening at the tip, and you—slowly, deliberately—dragged your tongue across it.

Sebastian jerked, his grip tightening on your chin, his breath stuttering, a low, guttural groan escaping him.

You hummed, pleased with his reaction, with the way his muscles tensed beneath your fingers, with the way his jaw clenched like he was barely holding on.

But you didn’t take him fully. Not yet.

You let your lips trail down his length, your tongue flicking out just enough to taste him, to tease him, your hands smoothing over his thighs, slow, measured, unrushed.

Sebastian groaned, low and dangerous, his grip tangling in your hair, tugging and demanding, his body vibrating with restraint, with the barely leashed need to take control, to take you.

“Enough,” he ground out, his voice a raw, strained command. “Either stop teasing, or I’ll fuck your mouth like I know you want me to.”

Heat flooded your stomach, your entire body pulsing at the sheer dominance in his tone, at the way he looked at you like he was losing his mind, like he was aching to wreck you.

You pulled back just enough to make him groan in frustration, enough to make his fingers flex against your scalp, enough to make his cock twitch in anticipation.

Then you licked your lips, slow and deliberate, gazing up at him through half-lidded eyes. “What’s the rush?” you asked, voice syrupy sweet, filled with challenge. “I thought you wanted to be a gentleman.”

Sebastian snapped.

A growl rumbled from deep in his chest, his grip shifting as he pushed you back onto the lounge chair, his body pressing against yours, hot and unyielding.

“You really want to test me right now?” he muttered, his voice dark, dangerous, his cock pressing hard and heavy against your stomach.

“Maybe."

Sebastian exhaled sharply, shaking his head, a rough, strained chuckle escaping him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his grip shifting to your thighs, spreading you open for him again, positioning himself exactly where he wanted to be, where you wanted him to be.

His gaze locked onto yours, dark and searing, one last time.

“You’re done teasing,” he rasped, voice raw as he pressed the thick, aching length of himself more firmly against your stomach, teasing, taunting. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll still feel me tomorrow.”

You grinned, fingers curling into the damp mess of his hair, tugging him down to kiss you. His groan vibrated against your lips, his hands clenching against your thighs as you deepened it, licking into his mouth, tasting the desperation there.

And then, you shifted beneath him, twisting, arching—attempting to flip yourself over, to press your chest to the lounge, to give him the perfect view of your ass as you braced yourself on your forearms.

But before you could turn completely, Sebastian’s hands flew to your waist, stopping you.

Your brow furrowed, confusion flickering through the haze of heat as you turned to look at him, your breath coming in short pants. “Sebastian—”

He shook his head, softly, slowly, like he wasn’t rejecting you—like he was pleading with you.

“No, don't,” he murmured, voice low and wrecked but suddenly softer.

Your brow furrowed, eyes searching his. "Don’t?"

Sebastian's lips curved into a small, strained smile, one hand reaching to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin.

"As much as I love your ass," he admitted, his jaw tightening as his gaze dipped, sweeping over the soft curves of your body—lingering, wanting. "And as much as I’d love to see it against my hips, to watch myself sink into you, to see the way your back arches, to hold onto these soft, perfect fucking hips and bury myself so deep—”

His voice broke, his breath coming out sharp, shuddering.

“That's not what I want, not for our first time.”

Your stomach flipped, something warm and devastatingly tender blooming in your chest, twisting around your ribs.

Sebastian sighed, his grip on your face tightening just slightly, his gaze flickering back up to yours, something raw, vulnerable shining behind the wrecked hunger in his eyes.

“The first time,” he murmured, voice rough, stripped down, honest. “I want to see you.”

Your breath hitched.

“I want to watch you come.” His lips ghosted over yours, featherlight, reverent. “Want to see every expression, every little fucking reaction. All of you.”

You swallowed, your breath still unsteady, your body still burning, aching—but the heat had shifted, changed.

This wasn’t just need. It was something more.

His lips brushed over yours, featherlight, his hands framing your jaw like you were something fragile, something precious. "Is that okay?"

Your fingers curled around his wrists, your pulse hammering beneath his touch.

You nodded.

Sebastian exhaled, a breath that felt like it had been trapped inside him for years. Then, so softly—so reverently—he kissed you.

Not like before.

Not feverish. Not desperate. Not a frantic chase of pleasure.

This was different.

This was tender. This was worship.

“I love you,” he said against your lips.

Your hands slid up to his face, cupping his jaw. "I love you too."

He huffed a soft laugh, the sound breathless, almost disbelieving, like he couldn't quite process that this was real. That after everything, after years of tension and stolen glances, after all the pushing and pulling, you were here, beneath him, wrapped up in him, saying the words he'd never let himself hope to hear.

His lips found yours again—slow, unhurried, savoring—before he finally shifted, positioning himself exactly where he wanted to be. Where you wanted him to be.

He teased, barely pressing into you, the slick heat of your body driving him to the edge of his restraint. His breath fanned against your lips, uneven, ragged, his body trembling with the effort of holding himself back.

His gaze locked onto yours, dark, devouring, and his voice, when it came, was hoarse.

"Tell me if—if I need to stop."

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to make his breath stutter, your own lips parting as you whispered, "I will."

Sebastian exhaled sharply, pressing his forehead against yours, his grip tightening at your waist, anchoring himself to you.

"Keep your eyes on me," he murmured, fingers flexing against your skin, voice rough, edged with something deeper than desire. "I want to see everything."

A shudder ran through you, your breath catching, your pulse hammering beneath the weight of him, the weight of this moment.

Because this wasn’t just need.

This wasn’t just giving in to years of tension.

This was love. A love that burned. That consumed. That settled into your bones and refused to let go.

Then, with a slow, steady roll of his hips, he pushed inside.

Your breath caught, a sharp gasp ripping from your throat as he stretched you open, filling you completely, inch by inch, until he was buried to the hilt, until you could feel him in every part of you, until there was nothing between you.

Sebastian shuddered, his grip tightening, his fingers pressing hard into the soft flesh of your hips.

"Fuck," he rasped, voice trembling with the weight of his own need. "You—God, you feel unreal."

You clung to him, your hands grasping blindly at his shoulders, his back, needing something to hold onto, needing to ground yourself as pleasure crashed over you in waves, hot and overwhelming.

And Sebastian—God, Sebastian—

His head dipped, his lips brushing against your jaw, the column of your throat, breathing you in, his hands roaming and greedy, mapping every curve, every dip, every soft, yielding part of you like he was memorizing you, like he wanted to brand this moment into his soul.

“Move,” you whispered, your voice trembling, your nails scraping against his skin. “Sebastian—please—"

He didn’t make you wait.

A ragged groan tore from his lips as his hips pulled back, slow and deliberate, before thrusting forward again, deeper, dragging another gasp from your throat as he filled you again and again, his movements measured but devastating.

His lips found yours, desperate, consuming, claiming, swallowing every sound that escaped you, every broken moan, every whispered plea.

And he was watching—just like he said he would.

His gaze flickered over your face, drinking in every expression, every quiver of your lips, every flutter of your lashes, memorizing you.

"You’re so fucking beautiful," he murmured, voice thick with reverence, his hands gliding up your sides, over your ribs and gripping at your breasts.

You whimpered, your body arching into him, your thighs tightening around his waist as he kept moving, slow and deep, dragging out every inch of pleasure, unraveling you entirely.

Heat curled low in your stomach, winding tighter and tighter, every shift of his hips, every roll, every stroke against the most sensitive parts of you sending you hurtling closer to the edge.

"Oh god," you moaned, head falling back, tension coiling tighter as he stroked the bundle of nerves inside you, the one that made you see stars, the one that made your entire body tighten around him.

Sebastian let out a wrecked, filthy sound, his hands flexing against your waist, like he was barely holding himself back, like he was trying to keep himself from unraveling too soon—because he wanted to watch you come first.

He moved faster now. Rougher, deeper, every thrust dragging a desperate, broken moans from your lips, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter inside you, sharp and electric, ready to snap.

"Sebastian," you whimpered, your fingers fisting in his curls, your head tilting back, your body begging for release, needing it.

"I've got you," he murmured, breathless, his lips brushing against yours, his movements never faltering, never slowing. His forehead pressed against yours, his voice a ragged whisper. "Let go. Come all over my cock—let me feel it."

And fuck—you did.

Pleasure ripped through you, blinding and all-consuming, stealing the breath from your lungs, the world narrowing to just him, just this, just the way he held you, the way he filled you, the way he worshipped every sound you made.

Sebastian followed you over the edge, his body jerking, his thrusts turning erratic and desperate as he groaned, his fingers digging into your waist, pulling you closer, deeper, until he was buried impossibly deep, spilling inside you, hot and thick and completely undone.

You felt utterly spent, boneless beneath him, warmth pooling in every inch of your body, but you welcomed his weight, the way he sank into you like he belonged there, like this was exactly where he was always meant to be.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, your chests rising and falling in tandem, your heartbeats thrumming in sync, a quiet, unspoken connection settling between you.

Sebastian finally let out a slow, shaky breath, his lips pressing against your temple, lingering there for a heartbeat, maybe two.

Then, his fingers—still gripping your waist—softened, smoothing over your skin in slow, lazy strokes.

"Holy shit," he murmured, voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. "That was—"

"Perfect," you finished for him, your voice still breathless, still heavy with everything this was, everything it meant.

Sebastian's lips curled upwards, nudging his nose against yours, his breaths still uneven. "Yeah," he murmured. "Perfect."

You smiled, cupping his jaw and tugging him down for another slow, lingering kiss—one that wasn’t filled with hunger or urgency, but something deeper. Sebastian melted into you, sighing against your lips.

"You're beautiful," he murmured. "You're so fucking beautiful, I'll remind you until the day I die."

You swallowed, your thumb brushing over his cheek as you pulled back, dazed, overwhelmed, utterly wrecked by the way he looked at you—like you were something sacred, something cherished, something he had never once doubted wanting.

“You really believe that?”

Sebastian let out a soft, breathy chuckle against your mouth, nudging his nose against yours, his hands still tracing over your body.

"I don't believe it, I know it," he murmured, pressing another kiss to your lips. "You’re the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

Another kiss.

"Perfect, really."

Another.

"Always have been."

Your chest tightened, your stomach twisting, something thick and overwhelming settling in your throat. Because God, you had spent so long believing you weren’t enough—so long shrinking yourself, making yourself smaller, convincing yourself that someone like him could never want you like this.

But he did.

He always had.

And now, with his body wrapped around yours, with the heat of him still lingering between your thighs, with the way he was looking at you—like you were the only thing in the world that mattered—it was undeniable.

It had always been you.

A shaky breath left your lips, and you smiled—small, but real—your fingers tracing over the sharp edge of his jaw, feeling the tension there, feeling the way he was holding himself together, barely, just for you.

"I love you," you whispered, and God, it felt good to say it again. To let it out. To give it weight. "I will for the rest of my life—" your thumb brushed over the corner of his mouth, and you grinned, "and after that too. I'll fucking haunt you, Sebastian Sallow."

A rough, breathless laugh escaped him, and his head dropped, his forehead pressing against yours. "Good," he murmured, his voice warm and teasing but full of something deeper, something raw. "Because you're mine. Completely stuck with me."

You huffed a quiet laugh, fingers threading through his curls, nails scraping gently against his scalp.

"Obviously," you mused, voice still breathless. "I can feel you dripping down my thighs right now."

Sebastian groaned, deep and wrecked, his grip on you tightening like he physically couldn't handle what you'd just said. His forehead still rested against yours, but you could feel the way his body tensed, the way his fingers flexed against your hips, like he was resisting the urge to do something about it.

"Fuck," he muttered, and his breath was hot against your lips, his nose brushing yours. "Don't say shit like that unless you're ready for round two."

You smirked, utterly sated, utterly pleased with yourself, your body still thrumming with euphoria. Your hands trailed lazily down his back.

"Who said I wasn't?"

He groaned, half in frustration, half in amusement, and buried his face against the crook of your neck. "You have no idea how badly I want to," he admitted, voice muffled against you, breath hot and uneven. "But I’m pretty sure I have nothing left to give you."

You giggled, running your fingers through his sweat-damp curls, tugging lightly just to feel him groan.

"Nothing?" you teased.

"Love," he mumbled. "I think I came enough for three sessions in one. My soul left my fucking body at some point."

You bit your lip, holding back a laugh. "Sebastian Sallow, surrendering? What in Merlin's name am I hearing right now?"

He groaned again, lifting his head to glare at you—though the effect was utterly ruined by the small, satisfied smile tugging at his lips. "I'm not surrendering," he argued. "I'm just acknowledging that I may need to recover before you completely break me."

You laughed outright this time, the sound bright and breathless, warmth blooming in your chest at the sheer wreckage of him.

"I'm serious," he insisted. "Give me, like, ten minutes. Maybe fifteen."

"You might as well use that time wisely, then," you mused, voice teasing, but laced with something softer, something full.

Sebastian hummed against your skin, pressing a lazy, absentminded kiss to your collarbone. "Mmm, and how’s that?"

You smirked. "By cleaning me up. Preferably with your tongue.”

A low, wrecked sound rumbled from his chest, somewhere between a groan and a laugh, and suddenly his grip on your waist tightened.

"You're killing me," he muttered, his breath hot against your skin.

You grinned. "Am I?"

Sebastian lifted his head just enough to meet your gaze, his pupils still blown wide, his expression caught somewhere between utterly ruined and utterly obsessed with you.

"You are," he admitted, voice rough, hoarse, his fingers tracing slow, absentminded circles against your hip. "Because now I have to."

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. "Oh? Have to?"

His lips curved into a smirk, dark and lazy. "You asked me to," he murmured, voice dipping into something dangerous, something possessive. "And I'm a very considerate boyfriend."

You arched a brow, amusement flickering in your expression as you lifted your head slightly to meet his gaze.

"Boyfriend?" you mused, voice teasing, but beneath it was something softer, something real. "When did that happen?"

Sebastian blinked, then scoffed, like you had just said the most ridiculous thing in the world.

"Merlin’s balls, woman," he muttered, shaking his head as he let his weight settle more firmly against you. "You just let me fuck you into a patio chair, told me you’d haunt me, that you've loved me since we were sixteen, and now you’re questioning whether I’m your boyfriend?"

You grinned. "Well," you drawled, tilting your head, feigning deep thought. "You never asked."

Sebastian groaned, dropping his forehead onto your chest like he physically couldn’t handle you right now. "Unbelievable."

"You’re the one making assumptions," you teased.

He lifted his head just enough to meet your gaze again, and there was something fond in his expression, something soft beneath all that exhaustion and wreckage.

"Alright," he murmured, voice low, hoarse. "Be my fucking girlfriend."

You huffed out a laugh, amused, delighted. "Wow, so romantic."

Sebastian rolled his eyes, but the corner of his lips twitched upward. "Please be my fucking girlfriend," he corrected, smirking as he trailed a hand down your thigh, fingers teasing, possessive. "Though, given the fact that I've also loved you for a decade, and the fact that I’m about to devour you, I’d say the answer’s pretty obvious."

Your breath hitched slightly, your amusement shifting into something warmer, something deeper, something that curled low in your stomach.

But you weren’t going to let him off that easy.

"Hmm," you hummed, running your fingers down his back, tracing the hard lines of his muscles, enjoying the way he shuddered beneath your touch. "I don’t know..."

Sebastian narrowed his eyes, his smirk turning wicked, dangerous. "You don’t know?" he echoed, voice dipping low, teasing, edged with something predatory.

You grinned, thoroughly pleased with yourself, fingers still lazily tracing patterns down his back. "Mmm. Maybe you should convince me."

A deep, wrecked groan rumbled from his chest, and his grip on your thigh tightened. "You really don’t know when to quit, do you?"

You shivered beneath him, your breath catching, anticipation coiling in your stomach. You opened your mouth—maybe to challenge him, maybe to tease him further—

A sharp click rang through the air, the unmistakable sound of the gate latch unlatching.

Sebastian froze.

You froze.

Then—

"OH MY GOD."

You barely had time to process before a chorus of voices erupted from behind you, overlapping in shock, amusement, and sheer disbelief.

"Finally!"

“Sweet Merlin—”

"No fucking WAY."

"I cannot bloody believe this!"

Sebastian flinched, his entire body going rigid, his head snapping up so fast you thought he might injure himself.

A strangled sound ripped from your throat as you followed his gaze toward the entrance of the secluded deck—where your friends stood, frozen, their expressions ranging from amusement to absolute agony.

Poppy had both hands clapped over her mouth, her wide eyes darting everywhere but you. Natty looked like she didn't know whether to laugh or leave the country. Garreth, the absolute menace, was grinning like he'd just won the lottery, nudging Imelda—who was looking at the two of you like she was seconds away from hexing you both for subjecting her to this.

And then—

"Thank fucking Merlin I'm blind," Ominis declared, his expression nothing short of relieved, even as his face twisted in mild disgust. "This was the single greatest blessing Salazar ever granted me."

Sebastian dropped his head onto your shoulder, his damp hair sticking to your skin. His breath hitched—somewhere between a groan and barely-contained laughter—as you immediately scrambled to cup your breasts with frantic desperation.

Mercifully, blessedly, he was still positioned between your legs, hiding the most damning evidence from your group of unwitting, horrified spectators.

"Fuck," he laughed, voice wrecked, his arms tightening around your waist. "This is so much worse than getting caught by a professor at Hogwarts."

You let out a strangled, humiliated sound. "Sebastian, please, we need to get a towel or—!"

Garreth howled with laughter, his voice ringing loud and delighted over the deck. "We left you alone for an hour," he crowed, "and you two finally decided to stop pining and start—”

"SHUT UP," you and Sebastian both shouted at the exact same time.

Poppy let out a giggle from somewhere behind Garreth, and you could practically hear the barely-concealed amusement in Natty's voice when she muttered, "It's about bloody time."

Imelda groaned. “I just—why here?” She gestured toward the deck, still looking like she wanted to bleach her eyes. “This is communal property!”

“Technically,” Sebastian muttered against your thigh, “we were here first.”

“Oh, so that makes it better?” Imelda practically screeched.

You groaned, feeling the heat of absolute mortification creeping up your neck.

Ominis sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t care how inevitable it was,” he said, voice utterly flat. “I do care that I now have to suffer through knowing where it happened.”

Poppy giggled behind her hands. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Ominis.”

“You try sharing a living space with Sebastian after this,” he deadpanned.

Sebastian grunted, finally sitting up, his broad frame still angled protectively in front of you, shielding as much of you as he could manage. His hair was a disheveled mess, his expression caught somewhere between resigned acceptance and unapologetic defiance—like a man who had been caught red-handed but had absolutely no regrets.

“Well,” he exhaled, his arm still braced protectively in front of you, still shielding as much of you as he possibly could. “Guess we’re not keeping this a secret anymore.”

Natty snorted, crossing her arms, her smirk barely contained. “You two thought this was a secret?”

Poppy giggled from behind her hands, her eyes still squeezed shut like she wasn’t quite brave enough to risk seeing something scarring. “We’ve known for years.”

Garreth grinned like he had been waiting for this moment his entire life. “I knew you two were in love, but this—” He gestured wildly to the deck, to the situation, to Sebastian still bracing himself between your legs like a human barricade. “This is beyond what I could have ever imagined.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Alright, that's enough commentary from the peanut gallery.”

Imelda scoffed. “Peanut gallery? We walked in on this absolute nightmare! You don’t get to act like we’re the ones inconveniencing you.”

“I do, actually,” Sebastian quipped, deadpan. “You’re the ones interrupting our afterglow.”

Natty’s voice was full of strained patience, but there was no hiding her mirth. "Alright, alright, everyone, let’s give them some space before they die of embarrassment."

"Bit late for that," you muttered under your breath.

There was a collective shuffle of movement, a few muffled laughs, and one last dramatic sigh from Garreth before the door clicked shut behind them. Silence settled over the space, thick and still buzzing with lingering mortification.

Sebastian snorted. "You think they’re ever gonna drop this?"

"Absolutely not," you muttered, knowing full well that the moment you and Sebastian emerged from this, you would never hear the end of it.

And yet—

Somewhere beneath the mortification, beneath the utter embarrassment, there was something else.

Something warm. Something real.

Something that felt like forever.

Sebastian shifted slightly, pulling back just enough to look at you, his brown eyes still twinkling with amusement, but soft, fond, full of something deeper than just humor.

"You still gonna haunt me?" he murmured, smirking.

You huffed a laugh, still hiding against his shoulder, pressing a quick kiss to the bare skin there.

"Now more than ever, Sallow."

Banner Credit

[moonlitcelestial]

Chapter 9

Beyond the Lens - Logbook Videographer!Reader x OT8 Ateez

W/C 7,878

🎥 Series Masterlist 🎥

☽ Masterlist ☾ 

Inspiration Pictures

Pinterest Board Masterlist

Previous Chapter (Chapter 8)

Disclaimer: This story is purely a work of fiction. It is not meant to assume or mock anything about Ateez, Atiny, or anything relating to what I do not know about being a videographer.

Contains she/her pronouns.

The logo in the center is mine. Please do not reuse or copy.

I strongly recommend looking at the inspiration pictures and the Pinterest boards (which will be updating as the story goes on).

General Warnings: slow burn, cussing, conflict, angst, fluff, and obliviousness. 

CHAPTER WARNINGS - Overthinking and mentions of an abusive family member. Read at your own risk.

Thanks for reading <3 Moonie

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

You actually woke up to your alarm this time. It had been about a week since you got to hang out with the boys after their practice. You grabbed your glasses and swung your legs over the side of the bed to get your day started. Deciding that you were going to be halfway comfortable and halfway stylish you opted to grab a big My Chemical Romance shirt and some ripped up jeans. There was no telling if you were going to be sitting and monitoring cameras or if you were going to be wearing the harness and recording the boys talking to Atiny. 

After getting dressed, packing your dobok (uniform) into your backpack with your laptop, and doing your morning routine you said goodbye to the giants. Stepping into the garage you grabbed your helmet quickly putting it on and you got on Ink to head to KQ. Before you took off you tied your hair back to make sure that it wouldn't be in your way. It was steadily getting warmer and you looked forward to being able to ride more often. Thankfully you had missed the early morning chill. You blasted some Ateez on the way and you had made it there just as the others had. Getting off the bike you took off your helmet and put it under your arm. You passed Willow who was nursing what was most likely her second cup of coffee. She nodded at you and got out of her car. Forrest and Aurora were already standing on the sidewalk chatting. You smiled as you approached them deciding you were going to be a pain in the ass. You put down your helmet and jumped on Forrest’s back as a greeting. He almost toppled over with you, Aurora was laughing at your antics. You knew that he would be able to catch you because this was a normal thing for you. Once he recovered he readjusted you and stood there with you on his back, he had just continued like nothing happened. Unbeknownst to you a couple of the boys had seen you and were almost steaming at you being on his back. 

Willow approached the three of you, “Who is doing what today, we need to start setting up if practice starts in an hour.” 

“I have no idea, want to play kai bai bo to figure it out?” You asked, scooting up on Forrest’s back. 

“Sure,” Willow held her hand out “gawi, bawi, bo” each of you held out your hands, the three of them had chosen rock while you chose scissors. 

“Oh fuck all of you,” you scrambled to get off Forrest’s back. You puffed your cheeks out, snatched your helmet off of the ground and stomped away. 

“You get to wear the harness today,” Aurora shouted after you. You swiped your card and marched in toward the office. Setting your helmet down on your desk you started rummaging around in the office looking for the harness that you had to wear. You had found it tucked away in one of the storage closets. Someone had the common sense to hang it, thank god that thing was damned expensive. Honestly you didn't really mind wearing the harness it was more about how they all chose the same thing and you were the odd one out. 

“Good morning Shutterbug,” you turned to look at Hongjoong. He was wearing a jean jacket, sweats and a cute hat. You felt all of the tension leave your body while you turned to look at him.

“Good morning Joongie,” you bowed with a small smile on your face. 

“Aish, I told you don’t do that,” he dismissed you, walking into the room. You had forgotten that he told you that. He had gotten tired of you doing that within the first few days of you being around them. The rest of your team walked in shortly after he had plopped into your chair. You set the harness down on your desk and leaned over the back of the chair, you rested your hands on Hongjoong’s shoulders and sat your head on top of his. 

“What is the plan for today?” Aurora asked the room. 

“We are going to be going over the last bit of our choreography to clean everything up for the MV shoot next week. We were wanting to have three cameras around the room that are stationary and someone walking around with a camera just in case we have something we would like to say to Atiny. We plan to have practice for most of the day today.”

“Sounds good, I will be the one moving around today, but I will have my computer setup in the corner so we can stream all of the cameras to it again. Let's get moving so I have the time to make sure everything is situated before everyone starts getting here.” You stepped away from Hongjoong and smiled at him when he turned around in your chair to look at you. 

You grabbed the camera you would be using and put it onto the portable desk you requested from KQ. They spared no expense and had gotten you one that had a little bit of storage. You put the other backpack with the streaming things onto it as you wheeled it toward the practice room. Everyone followed you out of the room after they grabbed their cameras, tripods and suction cups. Hongjoong was walking beside you, he had almost stolen the portable desk from you but you gently hip checked him out of the way. You could feel his eyes roll as you continued walking. You made it to the practice room and wheeled yourself into the back corner opposite of their setup. Gently you unpacked all of the things you needed. First the router, then the laptop. The team had come and taken the cameralinks to set up their cameras. You got everything booted up and checked the cameras that had started to connect up. 

“Fuck, I forgot the harness” you groaned throwing your head back. Forrest, the perceptive person he is, walked over to you with the harness. “You're a lifesaver, I really didn't want to have to leave to go grab it.” 

“Like we have said before, where would you be without us?” He remarked walking away after you took it from him.

“Probably out playing in traffic like a chicken with its head cut off,” Willow said from across the room. You flipped her the bird and Aurora laughed at you. Hongjoong chuckled from beside you. He always watched you set up if he was there. You looked at him and squinted, you pulled your glasses down your nose to glare at him. He fell into more laughter. You pushed your glasses back up and stuck your tongue out at him. He did the same to you and you heard someone snort. Looking around you saw the choreographer. He was watching you and Hongjoong like you were two teenagers in love. 

You looked at your computer and checked the angles of the cameras. “Hey Rora, you need to adjust the side mirror camera to the left just a smidge, it isn't quite centered. Tree boy, the one on the front mirror looks good. Lo, yours needs to go slightly to the right.” They minutely adjusted their cameras and you gave them a thumbs up. You grabbed the harness from where you set it down. 

Joongie, can you help me into the harness? It is fairly simple. All I need you to do is adjust the buckles and help me clip everything up.” He nodded to you and stepped back so you could get it over your body. Once you had it on you turned your back to him and pulled your hair out of the way. He was gentle with pulling on the straps as he swiftly fixed it to fit you. 

“Is that okay? Do I need to make it looser or tighter?” He asked. 

You did a mental checklist of where the pressure was and how much movement you had. “It feels good Joongie, thank you.” you grabbed the metal arm and put it into the slot, after you were sure it was secure you grabbed your camera. Making sure the cameralink was attached and where it needed to be you booted up the camera. As soon as you turned it on it started streaming its feed to your computer. You adjusted some of the camera settings to make sure the lighting looked good. Once you were satisfied it looked good you started walking around getting the feeling for having it on after so long. Hongjoong had stuck by your portable desk and watched as you went and spoke to the rest of the team. 

As you were speaking to Aurora, Hongjoong spoke up to make sure his voice reached everyone. “I just got a message that the rest of the boys will be here shortly.” You walked back to your computer. You looked at your team, they were already watching you. You nodded at them and they turned on their portion of the recording. You pushed a couple of buttons on your camera and computer making sure everything was working correctly on your end. Aurora walked over to you and the portable desk to start watching the feed. Willow was going to head back to the office because she had a deadline she needed to meet. Thankfully if anything went awry she would be close. Forrest sat himself down in the front of the room right under the camera on the mirror. You made your way to the front corner of the room to get some decent angles for the dancing shots. Hongjoong and the choreographer had started up the music and were practicing while they were waiting for everyone else to arrive. Now it was time to wait. 

Thankfully you did not have to wait long as the boys had started coming in one by one. The boys had started checking their choreography as everyone was showing up. Yeosang and Seonghwa appeared not too long after you had settled watching Hongjoong and the choreographer. 

Were they trying to kill you? They both looked so good. Seonghwa with a backwards cap, a black tank top, and sweats. That man was so fine. Not to mention Yeosang, he may have had a cardigan over his tank top but the small glimpse of his arms had almost sent you into cardiac arrest. You were thoroughly intrigued by Yeosang’s choice of pants today. They had high slits on both legs which prompted him to wear what looked like leggings under them. You would definitely have to ask him where he got those. 

They both approached you as soon as they caught sight of you. You turned the viewfinder to the front so they could check their appearance. Both of them checked themselves out and made a couple of faces at the camera. You covered your mouth to stifle your giggle at them. They looked at you with smiles and walked off to go start prepping their choreography before the rest of them got here. You rotated the viewfinder back as San came waltzing in. He looked to make sure he was out of the way before stepping beside you and speaking in a quiet tone, “what is that? I’ve never seen something like that.” You waved to Wooyoung as he came into the room. 

“It is a harness and gimbal setup that keeps my camera steady when I am filming. It is especially helpful for days like today where I know I am going to be filming a lot.” 

“Ahh, I see.” He said quietly, once he was satisfied he gave you a pat on the head and walked toward Yuhno at the back of the studio with the computer. All of the rest of them greeted you with a smile as they wandered in and sometimes they stayed in front of your camera to check their reflection. You snickered at each one of them while they made faces at the camera. Little did you know they were doing it to get a reaction out of you and not for Atiny. 

While you were waiting for everyone to get here Seonghwa, San, and Wooyoung had taken to walking up to where you were standing and checking themselves in the flipped viewfinder; more often than you thought necessary.

As they were practicing the boys had gone in and out. You had giggled as they came back in time with their parts. Specifically when Seonghwa came in dancing backwards, and again when Mingi appeared with his sunglasses on. Those would have to be pulled from the mirror cameras to get the best shots. You pulled out your phone and texted Aurora. You watched as she grabbed her phone and hit a couple of buttons. She looked at you with a thumbs up. Through the years of working with each other you had come up with a quick system of silent communication. Ironically enough you learned it from the bastard who deleted your footage, he was all about shortcuts. 

As the boys had continued practicing you knew that you would be doing lots of cuts back and forth to make sure you had most of the boys in your shots. When it came down to it you had made sure to follow the center person with your camera. Every once in a while you would catch one of them looking at you. They seemed to be acting as if you were their audience, which was going to technically be true because you would be filming them while they performed. On more than one occasion you caught them winking and smiling directly at you, you chalked it up to them flirting with the camera.  

The time came for a break after about an hour of them practicing. You knew you had a short amount of time to go and grab drinks for everyone. You turned off your cameras recording and walked to the back of the room where the rest of your team was huddled up. Willow had reappeared and quickly came in a few minutes ago.

“I am going to get myself a drink, do any of you want anything?” You asked as you approached. 

“I'll have a water if you don’t mind” Willow chirped

“I'll take anything with flavor!” Forrest replied shortly after 

“I’m okay, I have my water.” Aurora motioned to her sticker covered tumbler sitting next to the computer.

“Okay, I will grab those and be back in a few minutes! Will one of you hold this?” You took off the arm from the harness with the camera on it and offered it out to them. Aurora took it from you. “Thanks!” You walked off following the trail of boys toward the drinks. 

“Thank you for staying back for a minute, I have an interesting question to ask you. I ask that you be open minded with what I am about to ask.” 

‘Okay, we are all ears.” 

“We would like to ask if you think that Y/N would be remotely interested in joining our relationship.” 

They all looked between each other with wide eyes. Smirks adorned their faces as they looked back to the man in front of them. They knew it.

“She has always been very open minded. I am not sure how she feels about poly relationships because I have not seen her in one, but I know that she is someone who loves wholeheartedly. I don't think she would be opposed, but more surprised.”

“Would you guys be okay with us dating her? We know that you are the closest thing she has to family here and we value your opinion.” 

“I don't mind one bit, I will tell you that she is hesitant about relationships because she has been burned in the past.” 

“I think that you guys will be really good for her, she deserves all of the love in the world.”

“I am hesitant because there are eight of you, but I can see how much you truly care for her so I know I will warm up to the idea. If any of you hurt her, I am not afraid of you being a very public figure, I have connections and know how to hide a body.”

“Duly noted, I will let the others know that as well.” 

“We will support all of you, if anything we have been trying to get her to see how blatantly you guys have been flirting with her, she is so smart, but so oblivious.”

“We will see if we can get her to notice.” 

“Thank you, for everything, your opinion on the matter means so much to us.”  

★☆☽ O ☾☆★

“What do you think of the choreography so far?” Seonghwa asked you as you approached the stash of drinks. 

“I really like it, I am so excited to see how they pull off the concept. I'm sure all of you will look so good with whatever they come up with.” You said grabbing a couple of waters and a gatorade for Forrest. 

“Wait, Y/N!” You turned to look at San who was holding a Monster out for you. “I grabbed this for you, it is getting close to your nap time so I figured you would need some sugar.“ You looked at him in shock, you could feel the heat raising up your neck.

“That's my favorite, how in the world did you know?” You asked, taking it from his outstretched hand. 

“I see you with Monster a lot, this is just the one I see you with most frequently so I took a guess.” he said rubbing the back of his neck. 

“You are the sweetest, thank you so much.” You kissed his cheek. His eyes got comically wide as you pulled away. You giggled and started walking back to the practice room. As you were making your way back to the practice room you could hear the laughter erupt behind you. San must be cherry red wearing that cute small embarrassed smile. When you got back to the practice room you handed the drinks to your team, took the camera arm and attached it while walking. You sat on the floor next to the farthest marker and smiled up at Yeosang who came to sit by you. Both of you sat in silence watching the rest of the boys, choreographers, and your team.

“I love being able to people watch, even though I hate people.” You watched as some of the boys were practicing to get something down. You turned to look at your team that was just hovering by the the laptop. 

“I do as well, I have always wanted someone to sit and do this with as most of the boys get bored and don't pay any attention. I always like knowing what others perceive from watching others.”

“If you need someone to sit with and people watch let me know. I don't even mind if we aren't people watching and just sitting with each other. I am content just being in a room without talking.” You said with a smile. He looked at you and smiled but before he could reply Hongjoong called everyone back. You quickly put your vest back on and started recording again. 

You watched as they started practicing again, in between all of the cuts you saw Jongho mess with Yeosang. He had a hold of his shoulders and was waving him around. You messaged Aurora again and she gave you a thumbs up. After a while you were watching them get back into the full swing of things

In between dancing Yuhno had walked up to the camera on the mirror across the room from you. He started doing a little Ice on My Teeth dance while the others were lining things up behind him. You looked at Aurora. She was smacking Willow, who was standing beside her as calm as a cucumber. Her eyes were comically wide at the display, you didn’t text her this time because you knew she already bookmarked it. You chuckled at her, she had always been able to be calm around the boys but when it came down to Yuhno she freaked the fuck out. He was her bias which was absolutely hilarious because she had his female counterpart for a wife. Both of them were such golden retrievers, she definitely had a type. 

You suddenly got the craving for something sweet, you already finished your monster which deeply saddened you. You grabbed your phone out of your pocket and put in an order for you and everyone else. It wouldn’t be fair if you got something and didn’t share. You messaged Willow and asked if she would go out and get the drinks when they got here. A little while later you got the notification that they were here. You got Willow’s attention and gestured to the door. She nodded and silently made her way to go grab the drinks. She brought everything back in, handling the thirteen drinks beautifully. She grabbed hers and Aurora’s before heading back to the computer. You threw something small at Forrest to get his attention. His attention snapped to you as you pointed down to the drinks at your feet. His eyes immediately lit up and he slowly attempted to make his way over without being too suspicious, which only made him look more suspicious. You caught Aurora and Willow laughing in the back corner at him. 

As soon as the boys started taking a break you got their attention and pointed to the drinks at your feet. Thank god you had taken note of what everyone liked previously, otherwise this would have been a disaster. They all lit up and made their way toward you.

“Everyone should have their own drink and one for the choreographer too.” You watched as they picked through the drinks and handed them out to each other. Each of them thanked you in their own way, Wooyoung, San, Mingi and Yuhno hugged your sides being careful of the camera and harness. It was then that you noticed the ache starting to settle into your shoulders and legs. Fuck around, you had forgotten how harsh this was on your body, even if you were standing mostly still and leaning against the wall it did a number on you. It would be okay for a little while longer.

Jongho and Yeosang lifted their cups to you in a cheers motion. Seonghwa and Hongjoong smiled at you with small bows. The choreographer bowed politely and thanked you before moving over to the center of the room to talk to the boys as they rested. Most of the boys had wandered around the room listening to the choreographer as he addressed them. Mingi had a specific question about his movements and just as you were getting your camera to focus on him, San stepped in front of you. 

He flirted with the camera a little before noting that the choreography was really cool. He gave you a thumbs up before he left. You looked over to Aurora and Willow and they were both snickering. You raised your eyebrow in question and they shook their heads at you. You offered a thumbs up to Aurora and she gave you one back indicating that she bookmarked the spot. 

“He totally did that to just go talk to her.” 

“Absolutely, the only thing is, did she notice or think of it like that? Or was it “just him speaking to Atiny” 

Just shortly after you were watching the boys monitor their choreography when Mingi knocked over Wooyoung’s coffee. Hongjoong had freaked out just a little and you laughed at the whole situation. When Wooyoung got back from doing whatever he was doing he noticed his spilt coffee. Hongjoong jumped in and offered his two cents while they made up talking about a coffee date later. 

You startled as Seonghwa approached. He had been in and out of the room and you hadn’t noticed him amidst the chaos. He had stepped beside you and gently put his head on your shoulder. You smiled and put your head on top of his. You could feel your heartbeat pick up and you worried that he might be able to hear how fast it was beating. Glancing over to Aurora and Willow they were already looking at you and they had raised eyebrows. Aurora broke out into a smile at something Willow whispered into her ear. She over exaggerated a wink in your direction. You rolled your eyes and looked back to your camera. Just as quickly as he appeared he left, you watched him walk back over to the choreographer and start asking questions. 

You turned to look at Forrest who was at the zero mark just waiting until he was needed. “Psst, Forrest,” he looked at you with his head tilted to the side. “Can we trade for a bit? This harness is starting to hurt me.” He nodded and stood up, making sure to avoid the camera above his head. Gently and quickly you took off the harness and helped him get settled into it. Once you both were satisfied that everything was okay you ducked under the camera and walked out of the room. Thankfully you had stashed some pain medication in your KQ office. 

As you wandered through the office you passed many people waving at the ones you recognized. You had passed Eden and the rest of his crew. They waved at you with large smiles. You had become close with them over the past few weeks. Generally new people freaked you out but just as soon as you got to know them you realized they were just like the boys just a little older. 

You just turned the corner to the office before you heard Willow calling out your name. You turned to look at her and smiled. She caught up to you and threw her arm around your shoulder. You held back your wince and walked the rest of the way to your office. 

“Are you okay, are your legs hurting you again?” She asked once you closed the door. You nodded and went to your desk digging through it to find the pain meds. You downed the pills with a drink of water you left here the other day. 

Yeah, that and my shoulders, that damn thing can get heavy after having it on for hours. You bent your leg to get your knee to pop to see if it would relieve some of the pressure. It did, but you let out a groan because it also hurt like hell for a second. You glanced at Willow as she winced. You knew she was remembering when you told her about what happened in college. Which made you think back to the entire ordeal. 

You had been filming something for a school project and one step wrong while you were framing a shot led to it popping out and right back into place. Being the busy dumbass you are you didn’t rest properly after doing that and you had to get a surgery to fix the instability. Which led to you being out for almost a year learning how to walk again. On the plus side you did have a gnarly looking scar on your left knee. You put your foot back on the ground and tested your weight on that leg. Thankfully you were stable, sometimes you wobbled after a pop like that. 

“Come on, we should probably get back, the boys were taking a quick break before starting to film the full thing.”You nodded and started to walk toward the door, you almost got smacked in the face with how quickly the door swung open. You leapt back just a little and looked to see who had flung open the door. Yuhno stood there with a large smile. 

“Damnit Yuyu you almost took me out,” you rolled your eyes and walked over to the tall man. Making a shooing motion you ushered him out of the doorway so you could get back to the practice room. He threw his arm around you as soon as you got into the hallway. You felt the twinge of pain flare up at the place he rested his arm around your shoulders. You shook your head at him and turned to look at Willow who was just a step behind you. She was smiling at you mischievously. You ignored the look and turned to look at Yuhno, he was smiling at some of the people you passed by. His face was a little red from practicing all day. The thing that caught you most was when he turned to look at you, his eyes widened just a hair and you saw his face get just slightly more red. He held eye contact with you for what felt like a millisecond before greeting Eden and his team. 

This man is so beautiful. His personality shines so brightly when he is surrounded by the people who support him. You could tell that everyone here cared for him, and he them. Most of the people you passed greeted him, and by extension you. You smiled politely and kept walking. Not even half of those people had greeted you, even some of the ones you recognized. 

Why would someone like him want to be associated with you? Why would someone so much like a ray of sunshine want to be anywhere near someone who was a shadow. You could feel yourself falling into your old habits, ones that weren’t mentally healthy. You could see the light he brought to a room. How well loved he is and compared yourself to him, how could you not; especially when it was all you grew up with. 

Why can’t you be more like them? Why can’t you have a social life like them? Why do you stay in your room all the time? Why haven’t you found yourself a boyfriend yet? Why aren’t you going to school for something actually useful like a doctor? How come all you wear is black? Why not add some color to your wardrobe? 

Before you even realized you were back in the practice room. Forrest was hanging out talking to Yeosang and San about something. You pulled away from Yuhno and headed to where Forrest had been. You sat against the mirror. Closing your eyes you focused on the cool seeping into you, it was grounding. Focusing on your body however leads you to feel the pain of your shoulders and knee. You raised your right hand to gently massage the junction between your shoulder and neck. You opened your eyes to see Hongjoong and Jongho looking at you with concerned looks on their faces. You waved them off with the hand that was massaging your shoulder. You let your other hand rest on your knee to put some pressure on it so maybe it would stop hurting so bad. 

“One more time and then we run it through to record it.” You heard the choreographer say from the side of the room. Everyone shifted back into being professionals and you watched as they almost flawlessly danced to the rhythm pumping through the speakers. 

“Y/n, can you record this or me while I watch?” The choreographer asked you. You nodded and stood up slowly bracing your hands on your knees. Everyone went to the mirrors to cover them. Once they finished you grabbed your phone from your pocket and started the recording. You had taken some creative liberties with the recording, making sure to follow the leads and get closer to the choreography as needed. Once they finished dancing you walked to the back with them to plug in your phone so they could watch the video.

“I love the angles you got Y/n,” Yuhno said, his eyes not leaving the monitor. The rest of them hummed in agreement. You heard someone behind you and turned to find a couple of people you didn’t recognize. You took a step to the side, effectively running into Jongho. You smiled sheepishly at him and subconsciously rubbed your shoulder. Taking a step back you felt your heel catch something. You stopped all movement and realized it was one of the new people. You muttered a sorry as he stepped aside to let you out. Quickly stepping away from the huddle of men you released a breath. You went to the only solid wall and leaned against it. Your heart was beating a little faster and you could feel your breath coming out a little quicker. You closed your eyes and tightened your hands into fists. Now isn’t the fucking time for this. 

You aren’t there, you are here. You could feel your heartbeat slow a little as you muttered the affirmation to yourself over and over. You are surrounded by good people, not your father and his friends. You aren’t their punching bag, they are normal people. Your breathing started to even back out from the erratic pattern. Thinking about that wretched man has always sent you into a more sensitive state. He haunted you even after all this time, you could feel the ghost of him at your back sometimes; just waiting to grab you and throw you around. You could still hear the hurtful words that he had thrown at you. Once remembered they chimed through you like a bell; the reverberations always lingering. You opened your eyes and counted down from twenty releasing a long breath. 

Thankfully the boys hadn’t noticed as they were too wrapped up in their monitoring. Aurora, Willow and Forrest did though. You could feel their looks on you. You turned to the side and looked at Aurora and Willow. Willow mouthed “are you okay?” you gave her a small nod and looked back at the boys. They had separated and were chattering about how to fix some of the more minute details. You went and grabbed your phone before heading back to the front of the room awaiting further instructions. You watched as the choreographer went over things with a couple of the boys. Yeosang had wandered out of the room for something and as he made his way back you watched as he closed the door with his butt. You couldn't hold back the laughter that erupted from you. His gaze snapped to you as he realized that you were one of the only ones who saw him. He blushed cherry red and put his head down wandering toward the monitor in the back.

Everyone had practiced a little more and as Wooyoung was leaving the monitoring station he yelled Movement check and you watched as Seonghwa glared at him and shook his head. You lightly laughed at the reference. 

The rest of the day went smoothly you had only had to do a couple more takes of them doing their thing until they were done. You helped Forrest out of the vest and carried it out of the room. Aurora and Willow were quick to dismantle the rest of your setup and made their way after you and Forrest. Once you were happy with where everything was you grabbed your helmet and started toward Ink. 

“Hey Y/N want to go out to eat with us?” You turned around and were met with San and Yuhno. 

“If it were any other day, I would love to but I have weekly plans.” You responded, hefting your backpack over your shoulder. Your laptop and your change of clothes which made it fairly heavy. Thankfully the meds had kicked in and you were relatively pain free.

“Ahh I see, well I hope you have fun! We will see you soon,” San said with a large smile and a hug. 

“Thank you, see you soon!” You replied, returning the hug and giving Yuhno one as well. You meandered the rest of the way to Ink before heading out. You needed the reprieve from today and this was one of the few ways you could escape. You felt the wind in your hair as you drove to one of your favorite places. After a short drive you arrived at The Black Dragon. You have been coming here for just over seven years. It had become a home away from home. When you did some looking into it, and after a few unsuccessful classes, you fell in love with this studio and how their people treated you like family. The owners treat everyone with kindness and are some of the most open minded people you have met.

You got off of Ink and toted your backpack into the dojang. They had all greeted you with warm smiles as you made your way to the small bathroom to change out of your outfit into your all black dobok. You had been recently instructing some of the younger children in your free time before your class took place. You absolutely loved being able to connect and teach them and you seemed to be a fan favorite of the parents because of how you responded to their kids. Most of the time you had heard complaints that the other instructors elsewhere were too hard on them but you pride yourself on being understanding and kind to them. They were little kids after all. 

You walked out to the main room and saw some of your students stretching and having fun. Once they noticed you they all ran to hug you chattering about the week they have had since they last saw you. 

“Sabum-nim, have you had a good week?” You heard one of the boys ask you. 

“Yes, I have had an excellent week.” You ruffled the boy’s hair as you walked past him to the front of the room. When you were satisfied that everyone was here you started the class. You went through the basics just like normal. Going through the lines of children you made small adjustments to some of their stances. Once you were satisfied with how they had progressed you started teaching them something new. 

About an hour later you dismissed the class and greeted some of the parents that had been sitting and watching the class. They all loved to chatter about how the children practiced at home and how much they adored you. Once all of the young children and their families left, all of the adults started filing in. Your class was about to begin, this was something that you looked forward to each week. It helped you release the tension that you were holding. You started your basic stretches, your mind and body falling into autopilot. You were so in your zone that you hadn't noticed a person speaking to you until they put a hand on your shoulder as they walked around in front of you. Because you were in your zone your instinctive response was to knock them on their ass. You kicked at their knees, wrapped your arm around the one on your shoulder, jabbed them in the throat, and knocked their legs out from under them. You heard his shout which brought you back to reality. You looked down to the person who had scared the shit out of you to notice it was a man. You had never seen him before in all of your years coming here. Some of the other people that had been stretching beside you snickered as the man that was on the floor groaned. They knew better than to touch you without your permission especially when you were warming up. They knew how you got after years of learning beside you.

“Ah I see you've met Ji-ho.” You heard Iesul speak from a few feet away. She was one of the women that started about the time you did. You smiled wide at her and walked over to her. She had been away from practice because she just had a baby, you must have missed her the past couple of times because your schedules did not always line up. You stretched your arms out to offer her a hug and she gladly accepted. 

“I've missed having you around, how are you? How is your beautiful baby?” 

“I am doing well, the baby boy is doing well too, this is one of the first couple times I have been back since I have had him.” She responded with enthusiasm. Her voice dropped to a whisper, “He has been here almost every day since last week according to the owner’s wife. He seems to think he is the shit and has been hitting on some of the women around here. If you ask me I think he needed to be knocked down a peg.” You laughed at her and the rest of the people in the short vicinity of you did as well. 

You heard someone clap and you turned around and moved to get into your place next to Iesul. You all bowed to Instructor Chung Ae as he looked down to the floor at Ji-ho who was still in the fetal position clutching his windpipe.

“What are you doing?” He deadpanned. You held back your snicker at his monotone question. He was one of the goofiest men you had met, once you got to know him. You and he had become close over the years. He and his wife had often given you some of the food they had prepared for dinner to take home. He always treated you well and held you to a high standard. Much like a father figure would. He was the closest thing that you had to a true father, even though you only saw him about once a week. 

“Y/N handed his ass to him after he touched her while she was in her zone.” Someone piped up from the back. Everyone snickered at the response. Instructor Chung Ae looked at you and raised his eyebrow. You smirked and shrugged at him, he smiled at you shaking his head. 

“Get up, if you cannot understand the personal space of other people, or take a couple of punches, you can see yourself out.”

Ji-ho got up off the floor and glared at you. You had seen worse glares from babies. All you did was smile at him which seemed to piss him off further. He took his spot toward the back of the room and you turned back to Instructor Chung Ae. Once he was satisfied that Ji-ho was not going to be any more of a hindrance he began the class. 

You continued with everyone for about an hour. Your movements seemed to be smoother and your head clearer once you were finished. The earlier fog and lingering thoughts had dissolved away the more you went through the motions. This class has always brought you clarity, sometimes you came here to clear your mind when you needed inspiration for shoots. There was just something so cathartic about losing yourself in the movements. Most of the time you would join in on whatever class was going at the time, and if it was late you just went cruising on Ink. 

After changing and stopping to chat with some of the other people around you said your goodbyes and made your way out to Ink. As you approached you noticed someone standing next to it, Ji-ho. 

Of fucking course. 

“What's up?” You asked as you approached him and your bike. You were really hoping that he was out here to apologize for invading your space. If you knew his type though, it would be the absolute opposite. Thankfully if he made a scene you had parked close enough to the front of the dojang that they would see you. 

“What the fuck was that in there? Why did you have to embarrass me in front of everyone? I demand an apology.” He got very close and in your face. This man was really asking to be not only punched but laid out on his ass again. 

“First of all, please step the fuck back and get out of my face, we have already established I can put you on your ass. Second of all, if you hadn't noticed, we are close enough to the front of the dojang that we have an audience.” You said looking over your shoulder. There were several people watching you in the window, including Instructor Chung Ae and his wife. “Third of all, I am not afraid of people like you in the slightest. You may act like a big macho man but all you are is a weak ass little boy. I heard about you from a couple of the people there and I can guarantee if you take one more step out of line you will be banned from this establishment. Fourth, you do not deserve an apology for something that could have been prevented by using your common sense to not touch someone when they are not paying attention. So I very highly suggest that you walk the fuck away before anything else happens.” you stated.

He looked at you very unimpressed. He reached out to grab you but before he could even fully raise his arm you heard the ding of the front door. Instructor Chung Ae and his wife came out of the building, you took a side step and bowed to the couple.  She had a small thing of tupperware in her hands and a large smile as they approached you. 

“Everything okay out here Y/N?” Instructor Chung Ae asked as he approached the two of you. 

“That is up to him,” you said, poking a thumb over your shoulder. 

“Everything out here is great, I was just complimenting her on her bike, it is very beautiful.” Ji-ho said with a tight lipped smile. 

Instructor Chung Ae’s wife stepped closer to you, handed you the tupperware and said “you forgot your dinner inside, we figured we would bring it out to you and thank you for helping instruct the children, they seem to love you.”  

You bowed and accepted it with both hands. “Thank you!” 

“Well if everything is okay out here we will let you get home Y/N,” Instructor Chung Ae said, clapping his hand on Ji-ho’s shoulder practically dragging him back inside. Instructor Chung Ae’s wife stayed behind for a second.

“Are you okay? She whispered to you.

“Yes I am perfectly fine, for the safety of the others I would highly recommend him being banned. He was out here demanding an apology and being a complete asshole. I am sure if you hadn't come out he would have ended up back on his ass.” You said in a hushed tone. 

“Consider it done, we will see you next week," she said cheerfully. She turned around and walked back to the building. You looked down at the tupperware in your hand and couldn't help but to be thankful for the two of them and their dojang. 

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

Next Chapter (Chapter 10)

Taglist:

@breadedloafs @a-short-ass-disappointment @ateezswonderland @staytinyluv @cherryangel-coke @11glitch11 @neivivenaj @herpoetryprincess @premverse @starryjoong-jeongcheollie @sol3chu

[marshbarks]

i stopped in the middle of a game to type this. there's a slime about to attack me. whatever.

au where stan moves away a lot lot lot earlier. they met a little later. he only knew kyle for a couple years; long enough to form a bond neither of them will ever be free of. long enough to both fall in love.

and stan remembers certain things super clearly. kyle's birthday, for example, and the smile that kyle flashed when he showed up at the arcade to celebrate. yeah, all of kyle's other friends were there, sure, he was happy for that! but stan was a little late, so he'd gotten into a little bit of a funk. wanted his best friend at the party. its obvious how the entire mood of the place shifted once kyle caught sight of stan's hat at the entrance, getting his hand stamped to come in. they locked eyes, as they always do, and stan almost ripped his hand out of the attendant's grip with how fast he shot it into the air to wave. they spent most of the party side by side.

(eric and kenny are also in town at this point, but ken also ends up moving away because of family stuff. so for a while, its just eric and kyle still in south park. stan's there from age 9 - 12)

so then 5 years later, at 17, stan has re-met with kenny --- ken walked into the dispensary with one hand in their hair, the other holding a note, trying to read off their dads fucking order- sighing and dragging their hand down their face and mumbling behind their palm, just shoving the note into stan's hands. and stan tried small talk. mentioned how he had a friend as a kid with an orange parka like that- ken's face splits into a grin and they're like "yeah? did you? mhm? tell me all about 'em, marsh." and stan freezes, then he's rolling his eyes and laughing and being like dude cmon you can't just let me make an idiot of myself like that! kenny, holy shit- hold on. let me pack this bag and then i'm taking my break---

and they form crimson dawn. jimmy's out in LA too, trying to work the comedy angle still. hoping that being out somewhere high profile will do the trick. leo moved out of his place and is crashing at kenny's family's house while he works on getting on his feet. being the Only Guys From Their Fuckin TOWN out here, of COURSE they form a lil meetup at stan's place (which his dad is sooo proud of their big house, stan cmon PLEASE bring your friends here [what friends, dad?] to show off my wealth) and the band isn't even a thought at first. stan's always had his passion for music, but it hasn't ever been something he's taken seriously.

until jimmy picks up a notebook and sees some lyrics stan was fucking SUFFERING trying to write- and being someone who is well-versed in the art of rhyming for limerick purposes (one of his favorite forms of comedy)- he offers some help with the words. stan panics at first- no its okay seriously thats not even anything important- but leo looks it over over jimmy's shoulder and compliments him. and then before they know it, leo is softly singing the revisions to himself and kenny is humming a melody along- and it doesn't take long for the idea to plant itself.

and they've been performing now for a decade. honestly, they're still not super big. its all gigs in local clubs and bars. most of their music is passion projects and personal feelings in the songs. they've all got lives to lead, recruited someone into the group who films all their performances to put online. and.

every year, if they perform around may 26th, stan stamps something on the back of his hand. normally its just whatever he had on hand. sometimes it's a drawing from someone else in the band. sometimes its a stencil- it doesn't matter. all that matters is that he sings the same song as a celebration to a birthday he'll never forget. to his best friend, even now, and he throws his arm into the air, facing the crowd. the memory doesn't sit with the others as hard, and stan won't explain it. says it's an important tradition to him!

and this year, kyle stumbles across an uploaded video while he's trying to find new artists to listen to and sitting through a random youtube mix.

[magiclwritings]

There had always been an unspoken notion between all of them. Oliver and Isaac didn't ask, Apollo and Cassio never made them privy to the darker side of their friendship. For the time being, it had been working flawlessly. Well, if you counted that both partners were completely in the dark to either Cass or Apollo's safety at any point during the day. That had always been the unspoken part that lay between them all. Whether or not they all knowingly signed up for it was another matter all together. So as Isaac stood there, hating that there was no other alternative than what he'd been given before him, he sighed and gave in.

"Please be ca'eful." He spoke softly, moving his hands up Apollo's back and he pulled him in close. There was no sense in even trying to talk him out of it when he had that look in his eye. Isaac was a lot of things but stupid was not one of them. And at the risk of those marks on their friend becoming a reality on that little boy safely tucked into their bed, he couldn't stomach that more than what Apollo had been proposing. What did that say about him? Of course, any rational person would think the same. But perhaps not nearly as dire as this. But that was Apollo. All brute force and brains that were so brilliant it sometimes scared Isaac but ultimately brought out love all the more.

Isaac gave a gentle nod to Oliver, his hand lowering for him to lay back down. There was so much bruising still but he'd been fairly confident that now all he needed was to administer some sort of pain killer for Oliver and they all could take a deep breath. Well ... for the time being anyway. He brought his hand up to Apollo's cheek and turned him to look at him again. "Ya ha'e ta come back 'n one piece too." He chided as playfully as he could muster under the circumstances. "We ha'e a kid now an I won' be one o' them da's tha' tal' abou' how we los' ya in the wa'." He teased, leaning in to kiss those lips oh so softly. "Jus' co'e back ta me." He whispered, hugging onto that solid frame he'd loved for so many years.

At least we're all on the same page. He thought, hearing Oliver from the other room. He wondered briefly why he never wore all black more often. It was amazing how well it complimented him. Cass looked over his arms in the snuggly fitting clothing as he made his way to join the others. Seeing Oliver again was going to be jarring but he'd be alright. Those bruises and marks would fade and Oliver would be as he always was. The person that made them however? It'd been a while since he'd had to consider making this sort of choice concerning someone's life but the look on Apollo's face made it clear that there was no room for anything but that.

Cass saw Isaac first and shimmied by both him and Apollo to see Oliver. It made his stomach flop the moment he saw the marks again but he pushed a smile to his face and moved in closer to him. "Hey." Cass breathed, setting himself down gently on the bed next to him. He sucked in a deep breath seeing the movement caused Oliver some discomfort. "It never ceases to amaze me how fierce you are." Because he was. Oliver always made it a point to say how great his siblings were and what they were great in but what he didn't know was that he was the glue for them and even their little rag tag family under this roof.

"Think I can leave you in charge of that one?" He nodded towards Isaac and smiled. Honestly, at this point, whatever had happened before had to be left for the time being. It just had to be. His eyes moved from one mark to the next and then the next. He had never questioned when Apollo and he went on missions like this before but now, this was personal. And he'd make sure that man knew the hell he put that little boy through. "Honestly, I think you've been the bravest tonight." He told him in earnest, moving his hand gently to lay over Oliver's. "You always are. I don't .." He sighed, smiling warmly at him. "I just want you to worry about getting better." Cass glanced to Oliver and nodded, ready when he was.

The underlying fear was that Apollo would eventually push Cassio past his breaking point. The two had been through so much, and Apollo knew it was because of him. He had developed the habit of dragging Cassio into his bullshit, leaning on him to help fix every shitty thing in his life. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t fair. He knew Cassio deserved better, but Apollo was selfish, and Cassio was his crutch. 

But standing in front of him now, Apollo wasn’t sure if Cassio would come with him. He would be going, with or without Cassio, but their security in backing each other up made the difference. It made Apollo feel like he could overcome anything that came his way. It wasn’t until Cassio said, “I’m with you always.” Apollo’s lips twisted into a smile, and he felt a wave of reassurance wash over him. He pulled Cassio into a hug, squeezing his body against Apollo’s chest, inhaling the familiar scent of his person. They could do this. They would do this. Together. As it should be. 

“We’ll get to the bottom of it,” he said, pulling away. I promise.” Apollo turned towards the bed, taking in the sight of Theo sleeping peacefully. He was curious if his biological dad looked like Apollo, which was why the boy resembled him, or if Alexandra had used magic, knowing that could happen in the future. The boy looked too much like Apollo had at that age for it to be purely a coincidence. It didn’t matter much to Apollo if she had or hadn't. She trusted him with his son’s life, and he would do everything he could to treat him like his son as if he had always been meant to be Apollo’s son. In another life, he would have been. 

“If you want to change clothes, do it now. There’s extra clothes that’ll fit you in the closet.” The chest would open for Cassio as anything revolved around their work. “I’m going to go tell the others we’re going out.” Apollo walked past Cassio, stopping for a moment to squeeze his shoulder. Then, he continued through the room and went to the guest bedroom. 

Isaac was hovering over Oliver, tending to his wounds. “Isaac,” Apollo called out, getting his boyfriend’s attention and beckoning him over. With Isaac standing before him, Apollo’s arms immediately circled the man’s waist. “I’m taking Cassio, and I’m going to Alexandria’s house,” He explained, looking up at Isaac. There was no beating around the bush with this. He knew there was tension between his boyfriend and best friend, but Apollo didn’t have the luxury of time to soothe those insecurities. “I have to go tonight. I can’t give him more time to hide evidence or plan his next move. He must be taken care of before anything else happens to Theo.” Maybe it would count for something that he was being truthful with Isaac, or perhaps it would make things worse. After Theo was safe, Apollo would worry about the forgiveness part of it later. 

“Apollo.” Oliver’s voice was weak and fractured, and he rolled over onto his side, the pain cutting across his face. Apollo flickered his gaze from Isaac over to Oliver. The man’s eyes welled up with tears, and his chin quivered. It was hard for Apollo to imagine exactly how much pain Oliver was in, but he knew it was a great deal. He was a lot stronger than Apollo had ever realized. “I want you and Cassio to make him pay.”

[midnightshindig]

Single Mama! Reader with Cecil or Donald headcanons, pretty please. I’ll give you my prized Pokémon book for it.

Donald and Cecil x SingleMom!Reader

oh my god i read this as sigma while scrolling through requests and had an aneurysm I'm so fucking brain rotted

anyways- Cecil and Donal are separate hcs, sorry if these are sort of short!

hcs under the cut!

Cecil

Cecil is ambivalent and distant

he's not against you having a kid, but he doesn't know what to do with it

"Want a beer?" "HES FOUR" type shit

For the most part he treats your kid as cordially as possible.

If they're an elementary schooler, he might try and bribe them into liking him with toys

If they're more like a middle or high schooler, however, he treats them with respect

Cecil over her shaking some fourteen year olds hand like "I promise my intentions with your mother are good, I'm a good man and she's a great woman."

like oh my god just stooooop

but they lowkey kind of love it? Like, he's so aloof and weird, your kid(s) adore him

It's a very parallel-play type of thing

Cecil and you will be watching a movie and your kid will come downstairs and sit on the other side of the couch, casually reading a book or playing their 3ds or something

If your kid is interested in government or safety, Cecil will happily take them under his wing

You come back from the bathroom to find Cecil explaining calculus to your high schooler

or explaining the concept of government to your eight year old, who is happily absorbing it all like a sponge

He keeps it age appropriate

Cecil has a LOT of resources

So when he wants to take you out, you've got your pick of the best babysitters in the world

It's usually Donald ngl

sometimes, though, a teenage superhero will volunteer to babysit for some extra cash

So Eve-- or, more accurately-- Rex and Rae-- come over to babysit.

(ignore season three for these purposes- stfu it's cute)

And Cecil takes you out on the town

being a single mom means you have a hard time getting to be just Y/n, not Y/n the mom

Cecil makes sure you know how special you are

Corny ass man probably takes you swing dancing or something

Red Lobster type mf

I'm kidding he takes you to a very nice dinner

and buys an extra dessert for your kid <3

Donald

BIG nerd

Your kid like pokemon? Oh he's studying up rn to impress them

Because of this Donald's at work reading Warrior Cats and Cecil is like "Donald what the fuck is that?"

"Oh- My girlfriend's kid is really into this serious, I want to make a good impression."

"A grown man having warrior cats knowledge is terrifying, Donald."

psshhh whatever Donald doesn't care.

Tries to win over your kid by showing off his robotic features (once he gets used to it himself)

WILL take your kid to the park with you as a date

I hc Donald probably doesn't have too much in the way of his own family, so he's charmed by yours

Donald likes to take your kid(s) with you on dates

Group family dates if you will

So you all go to the movies, or maybe to dinner every now and again, stuff like that

But he makes time for just you don't you worry.

Type of dude to throw your kids in the air.

he's just casually available and emotionally supportive

ALSO teaches your children stuff, but more like history or lower level math

I have the very specific image in my head of your 3rd/4th grader coming home crying because her school is doing a daddy daughter dance and like.... she doesn't have a dad? What is she going to do?

You offer her to bring her uncle, or maybe she could bring you?

Donald comes back from the store with groceries for dinner and your daughter lights up

"I want Donald to take me!"

"Hm?" he puts the bags down to high five your daughter hello "Take you to what, kid?"

You sighed, leaning awkwardly against the kitchen counter "She's having a daddy daughter dance at school- Honey, why don't you take your uncle?"

Donalds eyes widen and he has to hold back a wobbly smile "No it's okay! I'll take her." Oh fuck it, dude is smiling

Ugh i'm a wreck he's so sweet

He's not trying to replace their dad or anything

like literally "not the step dad he's the dad who stepped up"

[osarina]

im honestly shocked ur not pursuing a career in writing/literature in the first place bc the civzai series is just absolutely insane?!?! like hands down the best bsd series fic I've read on this app,, ur writing just sounds so well thought out and educated like wowww id buy a book from you if you ever wrote one 😭😭

YOU ARE SO SWEET I WILL CRY <333 my dream is to pursue a career in writing but unfortunately i had to put it to the side bc its just not a stable enough income unless you get very lucky and my parents really pushed me into the field that im in hahah. in an ideal word </3 i would be pursuing a career in writing </3 but thank you nonnie, you warm my lil heart i love u so much

[currentfandomkick]

Edit: HEY tumblr ate half the post. Just noticed so. Here’s the rest.

—

“Nah. She’s one of my best friends back home and gets both sides of the mask. Like Batgirl and Robin are better off as friends than dating—though Cass and Babs have granted me honorary Batgirl Rights a while back. We do spa days and movies nights.”

“And we’re not invited because???”

“Not a batgirl or honorary; as declared by Oracle.”

“And that matters as…” Greta baited while Cissie shook her head.

Tim paused his calculations to turn to his friend. “First Batgirl gets to decide, duh.”

The group erupted at that.

Tim smiled. Just a bit. Baby steps with reveal and all. Hopefully the Ivy alliance overshadowed the ‘ability to hear plant speak and learning to use it.’

He loves them, but its just. A lot of anyone wants to help with his abilities and how to compensate. Telling Virgil most of it had been a pain, and easy enough as he was a teammate but not. Not Just Us, not one of his chosen family members he'd switch sides for.

He still can’t quite articulate how it makes a difference, just, that it does. The degree of separation and long term personal investment and stakes are just. Lower with Virgil than most Titans, let alone Tim's team.

Virgil helps with exposure therapy, sure, and Tim listens to him work through what to do with his family. He’s the emotional support Robin, but this time its mutual.

Its also fun to see how his pitch can affect Static’s control and vice versa. Tim is working on more compensation tactics for long range combat not relying on his weapons.  And Virgil smiles more and ruffles his hair on occasion.

The two did agree that given Dick’s own habit of… hallucinating Jason, it was better to not tell Dick about Jazz and the cause of his narcoleptic tendencies with his insomnia is a red head dream-walker who was his older sister in a prior incarnation.

Too much of a chance Dick would try to steal his sister for his ginger allies and ex’s club, they agreed.

—

Dana raised an eyebrow as a teen that was not her step son came in through the window.

The boy was unfazed by her being there.

“Is Tim here? It took ages to track him down,” the teen complained.

Dana hummed, wondering how to answer the red head around Tim’s age in front of her.

“Why would I tell you?”

“Oh, right. Tim is my Robin." the boy offer his hand. "Anarky. Or Lonnie. I bet you heard a lot about me!”

Dana came to understand Bruce’s adoption habit at the way Lonnie had a clear mask of false bravado.

“Not much, he keeps what happens in his Mask to himself and tells us small anecdotes here and there. He did mention you a few times though.”

She idly wondered how her husband would handle her potentially adopting a former rogue to their semi-retired vigilante son.

“Cool, cool… so he’s not here now?”

“I’ll see when he’s on his way and let him know you’re here.”

“Okay, okay… can I get your WiFi while I wait orrr….”

Dana passed him the sticky-note with the information.

Not even five minutes later Tim rushed in and Lonnie perked up.

“Found you! Now you have to help me!”

“That is not how it—“

Dick Grayson barged in next, looking at her son and potential second son with a wide grin.

“You got you’d. By a rouge.”

Lonnie stuck his tongue out at Dick.

Tim looked up at the ceiling, clearly calling for powers that abandoned Gotham long ago.

Dana did laugh when Lonnie babbled about a plan to take out another corporation dumping into the harbor. Why he hadn't handed that off to Ivy, she didn't know.

She hummed, grabbing a snack for herself and putting on Star Trek. If the boys present were going to talk about things outside of her jurisdiction, that was a problem for them.

Tim shushing them as she picked which iteration, made her smile.

“Uh, is it okay to help with this one?”

“Online or in person?”

“Online! Just the hacking part! No in person vigilantism like we agreed,” Tim threw his hands up in his defense.

Dana texted her husband code yellow-green.

He agreed to be home to discuss the issue of how involved Tim would be with Lonnie’s scheme in an hour. They did know this could happen, given the early signs of a new alias' construction.

Dick had the courtesy to buy them all takeout using one of Bruce’s cards, while laughing at Tim.

It was good to see him being less tense, more relaxed now that things were in the open. And if she finds Lonnie’s situation lacking, they do have a spare guest room. Lonnie would just be required to stick to this ‘hacktivist’ thing rather than bombing buildings once he moved in until after college or trade school.

Doxxing would work just fine, in her opinion. So would reporting their tax fraud to the IRS if what she’s seen Tim try to do to a number of people, given he can’t fight them as Robin or another alias again quite yet in Gotham.

—

Tim feels like he should have seen Bernard and Darla walking in on him and Lonnie mid-hacker fight against Black Mask as a bad thing.

Instead Bernard asked if Tim wanted any more info and Darla just hummed at him until he and Lonnie got what they wanted.

Irrefutable proof that Black Mask is Roman.

Once they got out, Tim kept grinning and Lonnie was cackling beside him.

Tim half wished he could tell Stephanie about it right then and there, but she’s patrolling right now.

He’s also tempted to find the new player in Crime Alley and see what the newbie does with this information. So far his moves have fascinated Tim, and amused his father.

Bernard toyed with Tim’s additional “protected by” pins. Harley and Ivy merged territories. So new pin for both of them. Being Harley’s “duck boy” was more than what he expected. But her actively helping him find a discreet therapist for former vigilantes in Gotham is nice. Stephanie decided to throw her own pin at him a while back, and Oracle nearly branded his stuff with her call sign.

Anarky still has Two Face’s pin, and Bernard is running around with a Penguin one recently. Darla was pin-less, but her necklace made it clear which crime family she was from.

“So. Whose life are you ruining?”

“Exposing Black Mask,” Lonnie damn near crowed. “Now it’s how to release it, and when.”

“Hm, gala party, or when he’s on TV?” Tim mused. The goal is the reveal being done when he can’t run away; pinning him physically until less corrupt authority figures arise… and preventing their intervention.

“Isn’t he visiting Metropolis for Lex’s thing,” Lonnie asked while scrolling through Roman’s calendar events.

Tim hummed. “If we drop this as a tip to Superman…”

“You mean you,” Lonnie clarified. “I’m still on probation. Legally speaking.”

Tim shook his head. “Fine, I’ll go and pass it on to Superman through his inbox and spam him until Roman’s arrest.”

“Excellent!”

“Do we even exist when you two have a project?” Darla asked.

“There are voices, but not helpful ones to the cause,” Lonnie answered.

“I’d be more offended,” Darla glanced at the multitude of computers between them. “But I don’t think I can be here.”

Bernard hummed in agreement, wrapped around a content Tim, high off a case’s major breakthrough.

“So, how big will the shake up in Gotham : underground be?” Bernard asked, eyeing Darla.

“Pretty monumental given Roman’s hands in everything. Power vacuum will suck. Think the Newbie can use it? Guy has been listening to the working girls before profit,” Lonnie muttered. "and good with environmental protections."

“That would mean poking Bat’s latest fixation…" Tim leaned into Bernard's embrace like a cat into a sunbeam. "And probably able to absorb a decent chunk of the areas near the Alley, and hopefully take out more of Mask’s lieutenants. If we can get Oracle in on this, maybe save more victims too.”

Lonnie whooped.

Bernard got that mad look in his eye that reminded Tim his friend joined multiple pain-cults on his own out of boredom.

Darla leaned over to grab at Tim too. “Save the world is over, now it’s mall time. Your mini can come with.”

Lonnie doubled over at that. “Thanks but no. Enjoy your date!”

“We will!” Bernard answered as he and Darla dragged Tim away.

Jack yelled to “wear protection!” While Tim protested his friends calling their hangouts dates lately. Only when it was the three of them however.

He could feel Jazz laughing at him and something about history repeating. Still no idea which history she means, or why it’s so funny.

Bernard and Darla did continue to refer to Kon as his ‘bi-awakening’ and stated they can wait for him to get over the "situation-ship of his life," but are retaining joint-custody of him.

Tim is fairly certain they’re just being supportive, and joking about the legalization of polycules in Gotham… right?

The Aquista family member tailing them did tell Tim not to “break her heart” only for Darla to shoo them off as “oh, he’s processing this is a thing still.”

Bernard did laugh as Tim blinked owlishly at the pair and the guy giving him a… platonic shovel talk? Darla hummed, stating regardless of if the three date romantically or platonically, Tim is Theirs Now, no returns.

Tim did his best not smile at that, and failed miserably as Bernard agreed.

Bernard grinned and dragged him into the middle of one of the growing group hugs the three end up in.

Harley perking up mid-robbery when she spotted Tim passing by and teasing him about his dates with Darla and Bernard, the pair proudly nabbing his hands as “some of us aren’t scared to take them” did confuse him further.

He came home to the Poly Pride flag slapped onto one of his cactus pots. At least it was painted?

Jack reminded Tim about maintaining his group and individual relationships with Darla and Bernard.

—-

Tim showed jack his latest design for a new vigilante ID—the one he wanted to transition into.

Phantom Shriek.

He still had leaps and bounds to go on training with Static. Dick caught them in an exposure therapy session and took to giving Tim stickers.

He later caught Tim and Ivy practicing his scream and plant speak.

Nightwing did not stop hugging him, and said something about his brothers all being alive and different but its okay and kept babbling.

Ivy knocked him out for Tim, and he called Wally to pick up his best friend.

Ivy said she already figured him out a few weeks after their lessons began, and had known about Dick for almost a decade.

Tim did his best not to laugh hysterically. He failed and screamed for a bit.

She helped him minimize the damage.

Wally came in on that and agreed to give Tim “bat berth”.

It reminded him weirdly of Amorpho and his deal back in Amity. Ancients, he missed it like a phantom limb some days.

Finding out that the more danger he’s in, the more abilities he has, had been a Time to work out with data sorting.

Harley helped with triple checking his numbers. And consoled him mid-break down.

—

Tim gave the info to Clark Kent while visiting Metropolis with Dick.

Clark gave him a look before asking Tim if he and Conner had a fight.

When Tim answered Kon had been avoiding him and he didn’t know why, but he was giving his clone boy the space he made clear he wanted.

Clark froze.

Dick adding Tim had a girlfriend and boyfriend too now, so Kon must be jealous of Tim for bagging two partners and showed off pictures Dick got of their “dates.”

Clark must have had some realization as Tim pointed out that “it’s just Bernard being Bernard and Darla going along with it. They’d have to ask me out first, and Bernard is into Darla. And Darla is my friend, not girlfriend, or, the kind you and Kori are Dick.”

“Uh huh. Keep telling yourself that Timmy,” Dick answered while Clark kept an eye on Tim as he wandered off to give Lois more scoops about corrupt multi-billion dollar companies and debate which tactics to destroy them systematically before the rats can jump ship.

—

Luthor invited Tim to the very event that Roman would be exposed at.

Lois grinned at him when she saw him with his Dad vibrating in place while going over a particular artifact's importance to showing signs of civilization, while Dana chimed in with the healed broken bones as better proof.

Tim did side with Dana, but argued settled civilization’s best sign was yeast-y pottery for bread and beer.

Lex brought out Kon during the discussion. Kon who froze when he saw Tim.

Tim waved awkwardly, message well received Kon didn't want to see him, before Cassie ran over with Cissie and the two began interrogating Dana and Tim and Jack in turn.

Kon didn’t approach him the whole time. Which.

He’s had less painful vivisections, if he's any bit honest with himself. The bear trap was easier to deal with.

He doesn’t know why that rejection hurt as much as it did.

Cassie ran off to check up on Kon while Cissie grumbled about cowardice and took to bugging his dad over various ‘hunting projectiles’ used in various areas and their methods. It was as good a distraction as any, his dad's voice soothing something that smarted something awful.

Tim kept his growing glee off his face as the pings went off and the cops poured in. Black Mask was exposed as Roman. In Metropolis. After his local allies had been picked off earlier that week, one by one.

And his arrest and trial are outside of his political connections and strongholds, while Lex is in one of his ‘PR parent’ moods.

The man is cooked.

Cissie looked at Tim, sensing him shedding his attempt to look sane. He put that mask back up quickly.

Tim feigned innocence while Dick barged over to “check” on Tim and Cissie over the shock.

When things settled down, Kon and Cassie returned with Kon freezing at the sight of Tim, who decided to see if the poor houseplant wanted a larger pot. At least the plant would talk to him, and he had chosen to be out as a meta with his parents' help over the last few months.

As Tim Drake, he was going to admit to being capable of speaking ‘plant’ and hearing them since the JJ incident. Which is public knowledge, and trauma induced meta gene activation is well known.

Cassie flipped Kon off and dragged him over the rest of the way, while Kon kept his eyes on Tim’s ‘barely noticeable now’ scars around his mouth. Like those were all that mattered and all Tim was now.

Like the portal accident with Sam and Tucker checking his pulse daily all over again.

“Tim, uh, how you holding up?” Kon tried, obviously not wanting to be around a tainted Tim.

“Okay.” He wouldn't force Kon to talk to him when he clearly doesn’t want to be around him. “I think we’re leaving soon, I should do my goodbyes. Good to see you.”

Cissie shot Tim a look as he escaped.

Kon grabbed his arm. Too tight but Tim is a fast healer. “So. Virgil?”

Tim blinked slowly. that was what Kon wanted to talk about after limitless radio silence? His frustration seeped into his tone. “Helps me with the triggers. And I listen to his.”

Kon almost let go at that. “Oh, oh,” he spoke too softly.

Tim tried to pull back. Kon let him.

“Anyways yeah,” Tim put more distance between them.

“Say hi to your dates for me Timmy!” Cassie yelled as he left and waved her off.

Tim missed the panic in Kon’s face, already turned away.

The rest of the gala did not. Gossip was brewing.

“I’ll send them your love Cassie!” Dana yelled back with too much teeth.

Jack looked between his son, Kon and Dana’s too-knowing look he’d come to trust when it came to emotions.

“How is my son’s life a soap opera. How," he muttered as he herded Tim and Dana to the car.

—

Okay! Let me know if i forgot tags and if you want another part as this is a lot of fun to write.

Pt2 reincarnated Tim gets the Wail aka Phantom Shrike

Part one here

Virgil let Tim in, leaning against the wall as Tim looked about his room, clearly searching for where to start as his head looked everywhere, largely at the walls and floor, but not directly at Virgil.

“So," Tim began as he wrung with his hands awkwardly. "I’m going to guess you noticed the early reflexes thing and flinching when you use your powers or Nightwing lights up his escrima sticks?”

Vigil raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t need to be a detective to see that a mile away.”

Tim took a seat at last, settling the urge to scream as the beanbag chair engulfed him. “So, Dick told you all about the uh, JJ incident, or do i get to explain that?”

Virgil moved back to his desk, moving his project to the side. “Just that it was bad.”

“It was.” Bad enough to revive a former lifetime and activate his meta gene. “Kind of shot him, but not me? He’s still in a coma from it.”

Tim waited for Virgil’s reaction. Virgil merely turned to face Tim again, sitting backwards in his swivel chair with an unusually neutral expression.

“I, uh, always had a thing with electricity before that.”

Tim fiddled with his hands again. Counting taps in twos and threes. Dad mentioned it after his last anger management session as a grounding technique. Tim found it… useful. For other things. Largely subduing shrieks, and kicking his trauma triggers in the nuts—when he was certain it was rude to break out tetris anyways.

“Mom called it ‘soul memory hugs’, and not to look into it when I was a kid.” Tim continued, tapping out one of his favorite songs in a modified version of morse code.

He remembers going to Janet in the middle of the night, asking where the nice red head girl went, and why she was crying when he got shocked in his sleep and everything went green. Janet just soothed his concerns and reminded him that the Talons don't go for society kids, but maybe the little girl lost someone and Tim reminded her of him. That he was not responsible for the girl and to let her come to him on her own terms, but to keep a few back ups prepared "just in case" and had him sleep with salt in hand and an iron bracelet.

“Didn’t stop the flashes of," he still couldn't adequately describe the flickers of his pre-Tim life. Of a realm made of ectoplasm the way theirs was made of carbon. The sentient food, watching people walk off injuries that should have crippled them, or the Fenton Driving Watch for the weather. Tucker's laugh and his varied PDAs, or Sam's smile promising someone pain. Dani's joy when she stabilized and befriended Val. Val's everything. "Of something,” he finished lamely.

It'd all been so difficult to pin down back then, as it was too vague without the rest of his memories giving context. A hand holding his. Someone protecting him, other times being punched in the arm or patted on his shoulder almost in condolence of some sort.

“Usually just a warm feeling that uh, stuck if it was static, no pun intended!”

Virgil shook his head with a smile, leaning into the cushion of the chair. “Sure thing Rob, keep going.”

“But when I started going out as Robin," it began a bit before, when he was gathering more evidence of Bruce as Batman to validate his threat of exposing Bruce's secret identity if that was the only way to the man to stop and get help. The sense of dejavu and the stray thought of 'Wes is rolling in his grave' that he never could explain away…

"As Robin," Tim repeated after a beat of silence. "and got hit anytime? It, it changed." his taps stopped being to any song at all. Mouth pulled to one flat, Tim continued. "Flickers of something," he leaned his head to one side, before moving it to the other as he spoke. "Became more and bits of something else.”

Virgil leaned back minutely, face starting to tinge with pinches of worry. “Do any of the Bats know about that?”

Tim shook his head. “B wasn’t, uh,” Tim fiddled with his hands more, not taps or morse code. More hand wringing and flexing phalanges. “In any state to even recognize I wasn’t Robin the Second when I started,” he confessed.

Virgil seemed frozen, like he was mentally recoiling as he moved from his chair to perch on his bed to see Tim and be closer to him for some reason. And now far more attentive than the earlier lull.

Tim shrugged off his concern, as it wasn't like anybody was unaware of how badly Bruce took losing Jason, or how badly Batman took flying solo. People are excellent at ignoring inconveniences to them. and a compromised bad was inconvenient to the GEL.

“No one noticed in the field as Robin was still who he called. My job was to deescalate him, not the other way around.”

Virgil pinched his brow. “So your mentor was violent, and you mentored him rather than mentoring you.”

“Yeah, for most of the three years I pieced him back together. He had me go through the ringer and work under a lot of mentors for combat. Some villains too.”

Tim briefly wondered if Lady Shiva’s offer would extend to helping him take out Joker… And if he could live with himself if he did. Joker killed Jason and was a contributing reason to his parents' hesitation to letting him take up a mantel again in Gotham.

Tim ran a hand through his hair, trying to push that thought aside and the relief of it out of his mind. “Didn’t really tell B things until it was mandatory or necessary. And I wasn’t Robin like Dick and Jay were. I wasn’t and won’t be his son. Just the kid pulling his ass out of his own head and enforcing his old code on his ass. With whatever weapon I need to keep others safe.”

“Hey, Rob?" Virgil interrupted. "You do realize what that sounds like out loud, right?” Virgil's form radiated tension.

Tim could only give a strained smile in return. “Dad and Step Mom lectured me on it and not sacrificing myself for someone that can’t even see me, not the people they wish I was.”

Virgil shook his head as he leaned back. “No wonder you’re off patrol in Gotham.”

Tim let out a long exhale through his nose. “Yeah. Dad sort of wasn’t around until after Mom died, and uh, fixed his priorities.”

“Deathlike do it,” Virgil muttered to himself bitterly.

Tim tactfully ignored that as he knew it was something for Virgil to reveal to his family (not being dead) not Tim’s brand of meddling.

“So uh, Dad always knew about the memory hugs, and more recently the uh, flickers? I've been calling the longer and more detailed memory hugs that. A lot of people get flickers of previous lives and shit, so no need to tell Bats when he frankly couldn’t tell ass, elbow and knees apart.”

Virgil whistled long and low. “Cool, cool… so what does that have to do with the Joker Incident and the extra sensory shit you’ve clearly got going on.”

Tim took a deep breath. “Joker uh, used electric shock repeatedly as a way to torture me. Tried to re-write my memories to be his kid, not B's."

Virgil froze.

“Which is ridiculous. If anything, B was my kid." Tim curled his toes as the memories tried to creep back in. He wished that etiquette allowed him to play tetris right now—to distract him from the phantom sensations.

"Same thing happened in the last life and it," he struggled how to articulate the change of impressions and images to the meshing of time and emotional intermingling. "It stopped being flickers."

He bite his inner cheek and could feel the barely noticeable mouth scars pinking as he bit down. All while Virgil's eyes watched his every move. "More, more like flashbacks, I guess. A lot of time being tied down with an asshole demanding I kill my dad and join him as his evil apprentice. Sometimes it was bleeding memories and superimposed images of people I knew then onto people I know now. And it uh, kicked my meta-gene into activating.”

Virgil finally moved, visibly tabling most of what he said. The tension in his own shoulders dropped when he realized he wouldn't have to go back to that horrid laughing place in his mind . “What kinds of activating, and how’d they emerge?”

“A few my step mom clocked—I could hear better and had a larger pitch range that my voice cracking couldn’t hide. Mostly on their own but the uh, scream one is uh, a work in progress on emerging still.”

“So you can hear people coming from further away?” Virgil surmised.

“Not exactly. Its uh, complicated<" Tim let his shoulders and hands do the talking again. "A local eco-terrorist and meta is helping me with where it overlaps on her turf. Apparently plants can hear a lot more than we thought and have opinions on my singing skills. Mainly, that they suck.”

Virgil took a deep breath and looked up. Tim waited for him to give the okay to keep going.

Virgil waved him on once he was done pleading to the ceiling for something to make this more bearable.

“So uh, Ivy is teaching me how to understand plant languages, in exchange for beach cleanups and something I already planned to and had in the works.”

“A rogue is teaching you about your powers, and the adult who you were monitoring in hindsight has no clue.” Virgil rubbed his face before looking up. “And Dick, he looped in?”

“Not yet, I uh, want to know more before becoming a pet project for the extended Bats, you know?”

Virgil conceded that much.

“And its only one aspect the rogue knows! She helps a lot of metas hide their abilities and teaches them how to cope and work with it on their terms. B knows about her doing that and doesn’t interfere with that part of her work. Everyone knows about her doing it.”

“But not regarding you?”

“Its," Tim scrambled to find the right word. "Its complicated.”

“A lot of things with Bats are.”

“Look," Tim held his hands up in surrender. "My dad will go down for attempted murder, if not murder one, if B is around me anymore. I don’t know what they said, but Dad found out about Robin a few weeks after I escaped the JJ incident…”

Virgil paused, face loosening as something clicked. Shoulders slack, he muttered, “you almost died, didn’t you?”

Tim bit his inner cheeks and scars, tapping a littler harder than before. “Legally dead a few times during it, and uh, got to relive the times I died in my last life.”

“How Bad?”

Tim could feel Maddie cutting into him, could see her comparing his insides to Ember’s.

“Mad scientist parents found out I stopped being fully human. It, it was, it was bad.”

“Shit.”

Tim swallowed dryly. “Yeah. Uh, I was hoping, no pressure or obligation, if you’d be okay helping with exposure therapy with electricity. Yours doesn’t sound the same as, as,” Tim felt that urge to scream grow in his throat. He clamped his hands over his mouth and used that trick from Fear Toxin.

“Tim?!”Virgil stood up.

5 things he could touch. His mouth, shoes, ground under his feet, the chair he was sitting on, his clothes.

4 things he can see. Virgil, door, poster, desk.

3 things he can hear. His breathing (too quick), Virgil’s static field, hum from the lights.

2 things he can smell. Stress and BO.

1 thing he can taste. His teeth.

Tim dropped his hands as his throat loosened to safe speaking levels as he repeated the steps. “Sorry, just uh, some stress requires screaming now and it, its not safe to be in the blast radius.” Tim ran a hand over his face. “Learning pitch control still and the screams tend to uh, level things. Missions are fine, the, the flashbacks…”

Virgil nodded slowly. “Not far off from Canary then. Talking about JJ triggers it?”

Tim nodded with a hard swallow. “Talking about the, the memories from the life where my parents uh, killed me and the dying by them after half dying from fixing an invention of theirs and having multi-dimensional portal kill and revive me simultaneously multiple times does it too.”

Static opened and shut his mouth. “Flashbacks frequent?”

“Yeah, kinda. Telling my body we’re not being strapped down and vivisected is uh, not something it likes to believe. And survival first, questions later. Fear gas is so much easier to handle,” he complained.

Virgil nodded slower this time. Tim knew it was a lot to take in.

“So, a Canary Cry?” Virgil began once the silence began to stretch to uncomfortable.

“Kind of?” Tim read her file enough before just in case, and he had clear add-ons she didn’t have. “Enhanced hearing too, but I can use infra sound and hear it if I tune into it. Also can hear the weather more than usual.”

“More than—you could hear the weather before?” Virgil stared at him.

“Assumed it was the autism,” Tim dismissed. “Could be both now.”

Virgil shook his head, possibly grumbling about 'white boys' under his breath. “Any other metas in the family?”

“Not that are still around. Dad’s cousin had a similar voice ability,” Tim talked around the issue of Black Canary Senior being his disowned cousin. “But never met her. Fled long before I was born on Dad’s side. Mom’s is a mystery in general unless you ask for someone specific about a specific event or topic.”

Virgil shook his head. “Okay, but are you sure nothing else has gone on, anything unusual?”

“Not that I can think of off the top of my head. Broke down Batman’s resistance to me being Robin using what Mom taught me about destroying my enemy’s mental fortitude, so… I don’t think so.”

“Think on it. And I can help with the exposure therapy thing if you want, but getting any help for all of this besides me?”

“Step mom, Dad, and Ivy. Robin’s supportive but doesn’t know any specifics… I think. She caught me during training on a surveillance mission, only knows some powers. Dad, step mom and me are the only ones that know about all of them.”

Virgil sighed. “Bats can’t know?”

“Not if we want my dad to stay out jail.”

Virgil looked up at his ceiling. “Planning to your tell your friends?”

“…When I have a better idea of how to control the screaming part. They were already convinced I’ve been meta since we met.”

“Might have been.”

Oh, Tim had not thought that part through.

“…maybe? I’ll have to work that out at home… and thanks. I mean it.”

“No problem man, just try not to mix me with anyone you knew last life, or not too bad.”

“You’re safe. More worried about mixing current friends with my dead ones.”

Virgil shooed Tim out.

Tim relaxed, just a touch, before going back to cases in the commons and catching Stephanie up on Titans BS with everyone chiming in.

It was good to be home.

—

Tim knows, logically, he can tell his team about being murdered by his parents in his last life. He also remembers meeting Greta and knowing she wasn’t truly Dead, which is something he can’t explain fully still…

Virgil might have had a point about being some sort of meta (or maybe magic?) long before the JJ incident. Most kids can’t evade Batman and Robin for years just to take pictures of them mid-flight.

Maybe a sound nullification ability or something to that effect… he can bribe Ivy to help experiment with it later.

The problem is he doubts Kon wouldn’t lead the charge with his dad to summon and beat up said former filicidal parents. And he knows that the whole team would be on board if they knew.

He would rather not see Maddie or Jack again. Especially while awake. Jazz showing up a bit different in his dreams and complaining about his broken sleep schedule making it harder to visit was something he remained on the fence about telling anyone.

Possibly harass Captain Marvel about it as that guy said nothing about people’s shit unless it becomes a game of which plane of existence you can stay on… but even then, tracking him down without bat-tech is a game of whackamole.

There’s also the complication of Tim being very aware he likes Kon, and not necessarily as a friend alone. Which. He doesn’t have time for the additional sexuality crisis on top of his varied identity crises at the moment and the media’s questions about the two Robins and if Robin was gender fluid, flux or only out as a girl in Gotham and a young man elsewhere. He cannot add ‘crushing on a teammate’ to his list when he and Stephanie only broke up a week before the JJ incident and are just now easing back into their old friendship. He doesn’t want the amputated feeling of losing a friend again because he keeps catching feelings for them, and is 10,000% certain he should not touch romance until he’s in a better mental state.

He has Problems on his plate, and it’s already overflowing. He’d rather not break.

And he loves his friends. But he has no doubt that Cassie would set up the pitchforks rather than stop any of the retribution his father was undoubtedly planning. He can’t gift-wrap his friends as minions in his dad’s crusade to fuck over the Fentons across dimensions, spacetime and afterlife status.

He did manage to make a small list of oddities for himself about his capacity to do things that were vaguely ghostly or similar to powers he’d pieced together.

So far potential intangibility or density shifting, invisibility, faster recovery rate than non-metas yet slow for a meta—speed seems dependent on how likely the injury is to kill him. His high tolerance for the cold was making sense the further in Winter he got and the more he’d see flickers of Frostbite training him in his last life.

Whatever an ‘ice core’ is, seems cool. He may have taken to playing with discarded freeze guns and be reworking them to be smaller and more compact. Possibly to add to his future vigilante ID, or to be a general weapon as a civilian given non-lethal status and his ability to add a melting rate adjustment knob of some sort, and call 911.

Bart saw him with it, grinned manically, and joined in helping him improve and adjust it. Slobo joined them both.

Cassie took one look at them and declared it ‘not her problem if they freeze themselves’ while Kon was out on another press tour thing.

Tim pretended not to note those had increased lately only on days Tim was staying with Just Us for non-mission things and Kon’s increase in excuses to avoid him in general.

If Kon wanted distance, then he’d get it. Even if it stung. Kon’s time and his life to spend as he pleases. And clearly, Tim displeases him. /worthless. Monster. Failure. Stand-in. No wonder you’ve always been a loser—/

“So, for Robin time or outside the mask?” Greta asked when she caught the three near the end of a schematics debate.

“Not sure yet,” Tim admitted. “Rogues are weirdly chill with me in civvies lately. But that could be Ivy being Ivy.”

Bart and Slobo’s debate died at that. “Ivy?”

“Uh, Poison Ivy’s plants outted civilian me for something i was dealing with. She’s decided she’s helping with fine-tuning my control on it and gave me one of her ‘protected by’ pins.”

Greta hummed, floating nearer while Bart was buzzing in his place.

“and its a good thing?”

“Other than her shipping me and my ex? Parents approve of the additional support and it’s made intel gathering easier. She was right about the hearing range increase being a bitch to deal with daily.”

Cassie came in with their takeout then, and everyone dispelled to their usual nonsense.

“So, Ivy ships you and your ex?” Greta began with innocently enough.

Tim debated banging his head against the table.

“My civvie self and Gotham’s Robin,” he clarified. “And only enough to throw cuddle pollen on her and lock us together in… varied situations. And laugh about it.”

Cassie blinked at him slowly. “You are being teased by a Rogue who ships civilian you, with a vigilante.”

“… to be fair I am getting plant speak lessons, but yeah.”

“Rob, what the fuck,” Cassie shook her head.

Tim shrugged. “Its Ivy. A safe distraction for the minors she fights is her preferred MO. if it’s just Bats she can and will use sex pollen. If kids or unclear on minor status are involved, cuddle pollen galore.”

“Uh huh.” Cassie and Greta share a look. “So you dated girl Robin, before she became Robin?”

“She was Spoiler first, and I gave her tips on managing Bruce’s ass when I uh,” Tim still didn’t know how to explain ‘forcibly removed from vigilante activities as his dad worried about him dying in a cape like the last Robin, so Tim was forced to pass the buck of Bruce’s mental instability onto his ex-girlfriend and close friend, Spoiler, and coaches her in Bruce Wrangling at a distance’.

“Forced semi-retirement?” Cissie suggested as she stole a slice of pizza, cringing at Tim’s. Which was all his as Bart didn’t care for it. Sucker’s bet on keeping their slices safe from speedster snatching. Amateurs; clearly they never went to boarding school.

“That,” Tim took a bite of his Canadian bacon and pineapple goodness. “And also she’s officially Oracle’s Robin," he swallowed. "Just B’s for combat scenarios. Dad has decided to threaten B’s living status for her too.”

“Rob,” Slobo interrupted. “The fuck.”

“…in my defense, she asked me out a week after almost killing me the first time.”

“Your dad, not other Robin!”

“First time?!”

“She prefers bricks as her projectiles.” Tim wiped his hands clean after his first slice, humming as he went over the blueprint… how should he compensate for his screams and Wail?

“Oh, and she aimed at my head. She’s into three section staffs lately which is a lot less deadly.”

“Rob. She asked you out after almost killing you?” Bart clarified.

“… not on purpose but yeah.”

“She asked you out by accident?”

“No, almost killing part. She’s gotten better aim since, and is following the no killing until you’re not a bat-affiliate rule.”

His team shared looks he didn't bother to check. The urge to analyze could spiral into another screaming attack if he didn't nip it in the bud.

“So not getting back together with her?” Greta clarified with a smile that screamed Gossip Detected.

He let her have either way, even with the looks Cissie, Bart, and Cassie shared.

———-

Let me know if i missed any tags ^^

[moliathh]

hellsing and the case study of vanitas crossover would be so cool omg i like how blonde hair green eyed monster-hunter priest that is overly enthusiastic, have superhuman strength thanks to medical enhancement, is a big brother to others in his team and is only loyal to god is a universal thing in both of this media

cute short haired vampire girls with big ahh weapons

and a lot of vampires too (basically vanitas no carte is a manga about vampires)

it would be amusing to see alucard in this setting because according to the vanitas lore vampires are born under red moons and those born under blue moon are cursed, alucard was born in sunrise so hes built different plus that would be interesting to see a new type of vampire being introduced in the vanitas universe

in the vanitas setting there were vampires everywhere but they function and disguise like humans until there is a type of vampire rabbies that make them go bloodlust 🧎‍♂️ i would like to see alucard get sick with this typa rabbies too

and the vampire biology in vanitas universe allowed vampire and human crossbreed into half vampire half human called dhampir 😭 omg alutegra can have kids in this setting

and the difference is that vanitas is set in france while hellsing is set in england, that explain the big difference in attire etiquette (vanitas is set in 19th century and hellsing is set in 20th)

probably it have to be some sort of time travelling shenanigans that get the hellsing cast into vanitas universe where women dressing in breeches is not new but guns like hellsing arms is definitely a refreshing addition to the lack of gun as a weapon choice in vanitas no carte

i like how the vanitas cast are mostly bourgeois and dressed like one while the hellsing cast is also very high status but due to their job requirementsthey dress in uniforms like military force, it is stated in gonzoverse that there are other true vampires besides alucard that fly under the radar and was not exterminated since they did not pose a threat (idk if hellsing knew about helena’s existence but im sure they must had known and with the way helena phrased it there are more than only her and alucard) so despite france in vanitas universe being swarmed with vampires in hiding i dont think the hellsing cast would butcher them all since the vampires in vanitas universe live by vampire’s underground codes and rules forbid them from attacking human to protect their own people from hunters too

also vanitas no carte is a manga i would recommend because the WOMEN

[atherflame-theconcubus]

Old Sona lore.

For anyone curious I’ve had multiple Sona’s throughout my Internet life. I haven’t even mentioned it yet, but my profile picture isn’t even my main Sona anymore.

If anyone is curious, this is my second ever Sona and technically was my last pixel gun 3D avatar. This was one of her earliest designs as well. As of right now, her current name is flame Foxtail. I decided to make an origin story for how she got her first pet, Gabby, the goat. (almost every single pet after Gabby was named after a Minecraft YouTuber, except the spider crab pet, which I named blood vines. And if you’re wondering, yes, I am having regrets now.)