#i haven’t written a fic since middle school

[fairytwles]

wanted to write a jackienat fic ended up writing a nat x ofc! fic whoops

[edwinisms]

literally I have not written this much in the span of a couple weeks since like. mid high school. so around 7-8 years ago. what has this show done to me

[hatsukeii]

hi to the 🐤

no rush for this request(?) at all!! i was just rotting thinking about childhood bsf iwaizumi hajime with reader in high school and the fic could be about how hajime is too used to the spotlight being taken by oikawa and gets half sad when he thinks u also got stolen by him but no they’re just scheme to plan a huge date for her to ask him out

OWMXKWNC OR OR OR OR childhood bsf ushijima (do u see a pattern?) always being next to reader and always being there for her, helping her run errands, do stuff and he’s like a rlly big lost puppy following her around and one day they’re just like ‘WE’RE DATING?!’ ‘What do you mean? We’ve been dating since you said yes to my ring pop proposal’

thank you for greeting duck the goose:)

i feel like i haven’t written about iwa nearly enough (he is a need btw yes iwaizume hajime (27) athletic trainer save me) BUT i will get to your ushiwaka one soon after as well‼️ gonna feed the iwa crowd today

bags / childhood bsf!iwaizumi hajime x reader

genre(s) - childhood bsf to lovers!! slight angst, but with a good, fluffy ending, oikawa being his usual self, iwa being hot as always

warning(s) - bags by clairo used for a MAN and not a WOMAN smh:( it just fit well though and I love it, gn reader so the girls the gays and the theys are all covered for!! no serious warnings today my pookies<3

wc: 1834

tldr; he waits for the right time with your bag in his hands, hoping for the day he can hold you with them instead

Iwaizumi Hajime (13) has been holding your bags since the days of middle school. Without fail, every afternoon at 3:10pm exactly as the school bell rings, he is standing outside your classroom, his own bag slung over one shoulder for yours to go on the other. Then, he slings it onto himself, and watches you and Oikawa walk out of the classroom together, cursing to himself for never being put in the same class as the two of you. He drags behind, two bags weighing his little middle-schooler body down, but a toothy grin plastered across his face whenever you look back at him with that face. That face with the ever so slightly widened eyes, and lips apart in a worrisome smile.

“Are you sure you can hold two bags, Iwaizumi? I can take it back!”

“I’m fine! It’s all good!”

Middle schooler Iwaizumi Hajime (13) watches you through Oikawa’s squinted eyes as the two of you chat and giggle on the walk home, his footsteps still lagging behind. He’s rarely close to you, unlike Oikawa, so his mind has to fill the blanks. He remembers hearing you mention the crow’s feet that line the corners of your eyes once in passing to Oikawa, who then rambles on about how they look like whiskers on a cat. He recalls the time you face planted into the floor of the school playground, earning you a faint, white scar that slashes across your top lip. He watches you through Oikawa’s eyes like he’s reading a story. But this is Oikawa’s story, Oikawa’s dialogue, Oikawa’s conversations with you, Oikawa’s descriptions of your face, blank spots filled in with blurry recollections of the details of you, stolen from the vibrations in the air between you and Oikawa, all playing out in front of Iwaizumi’s eyes with your bag slung over his shoulder.

Once in a while (every single day), even now, as the three of you continue to walk home together from Aoba Johsai after volleyball practise, Oikawa turns around to pout at him, feigning betrayal and shock as he accuses high school junior Iwaizumi Hajime (16) of “friendship treason.” Whatever that’s supposed to be.

“Iwa-chan! How come you never carry my bag for me too?”

“You can carry your own, dumbass!”

And every time Oikawa has a childish outburst at Iwaizumi, like this one, you snicker into your palm at his antics, the crow’s feet that engrave themselves into your skin turning into smile lines that lace the underside of your eyes, reminding him that even as the audience of Oikawa’s story, living vicariously through his conversations with you, and the smack on his arm that you mockingly give him, Iwaizumi is still inevitably tied to the plot through the strap of your bag hanging on his shoulder. His body, taller and stronger now, still lags behind the two of you by his deliberately slowed steps. This is Oikawa’s story, and if this is what you want, then he will simply watch it play out.

The walk always reaches your home first, to Iwaizumi’s relief. It is only then that he gets the opportunity to live in Oikawa’s shoes, when he walks towards you and eases the bag onto your doorstep. It is here that he can see you through his own eyes instead, noticing the little freckles from the sun that scatter across your cheeks, and the bits of dried skin on your lips that you gnaw off with your front teeth, and the blood that begins to seep through the raw wound where the skin came off. You look real, not like his fractured recollection of the strokes that make up your face. You’ve clawed your way out of Oikawa’s story into his own, and Iwaizumi etches something new into his mind every time he looks up from placing your bag down, patiently pleading to one day know more than just your face.

"Thanks for holding my bag again Iwa, get home safe, okay?"

Iwa. Oikawa's nickname is rubbing off onto you, and he thinks he can get used to this.

For the rest of the walk, Iwaizumi is inserted into Oikawa's story, like some surprise cameo. He readjusts his backpack, slinging both straps onto his shoulders, and Oikawa knudges his side with his elbows suggestively every time you leave.

"You can lie to them, Iwa-chan, but you can't lie to me."

"I'm not lying."

"Sure."

But Oikawa knows Iwaizumi is being unfair to himself, because he doesn't know the way his name slips out of your mouth into the conversations between you and Oikawa, more like a recurring character than a surprise cameo, hidden amongst every other line of dialogue in a script. He doesn't know that whenever the crow's feet begin to grow on your cheek, like whiskers on a cat, it's at the mention of his name, perhaps about something Iwaizumi said to Oikawa during training, or a new nickname he threw at him, the latest one being Hanger Bastard. He doesn't know that when the laughs begin erupting from your belly, Oikawa can hear Iwaizumi's name under your breath, choking out as you mumble to yourself, "Fuck, Iwa has to hear this, Iwa HAS to hear this,” just for Iwa to leave wordlessly after setting your bag down, before you can say anything to him.

One of these days, high school senior Iwaizumi Hajime (18) decides that he will do it. He will finally, after years of holding your bag, ask to hold your hand at graduation instead.

Until he overhears you and Oikawa talking as he walks out of the changing rooms, sweaty and sore from volleyball training, his bag hanging off one shoulder.

“Okay, let me do it,” you straighten your posture, looking up at Oikawa.

“Let’s go to grad formal together. Be my plus one.”

And he remembers, this is not his story. It was never his story to begin with, always Oikawa’s. Iwaizumi is only a cameo, an easter egg that’s there to hold you bag every chapter of the way, praying that you will see him lagging behind, waiting for the right time. His steps come to a halt, and the ground squeaks beneath his sneakers, the towel in his hand falling to the floor.

“Oh. Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

He snatches the towel off the ground, slinging the other strap of his bag on, and heads out of the gym, ripping his eyes away from staring through Oikawa’s, killing himself off in Oikawa’s story, and in your own. Iwaizumi’s character exits the setting of the gym, just a little too quickly to hear the rest of your conversation.

“Iwa-chan is a little shorter than me, so you’ll probably have a better time trying to reach him if you want.”

“Got it, are you sure I’ll be fine though?”

Oikawa knows this needs to happen. He sees that Iwaizumi has been waiting, his patience never running thin even after five years of holding your bag silently on walks home, dragging behind so Oikawa could have his chance at you instead. He has noticed the glances Iwaizumi takes at your face every time he sets your bag down at your doorstep, softer and gentler than the flipping of pages on a yellowing book, yearning to see more, feel more, know more. Oikawa never needed a chance with you, he never wanted it either, not when all you rambled on about was Iwaizumi’s new nicknames for him, or Iwaizumi’s play on the court, or how Iwaizumi would find some stupid video you saw hilarious, but you never had the chance to show him. The second strap going onto his shoulder is all Oikawa needs to be sure that Iwaizumi is tired of waiting. Which means you have to go, now.

“Go, go after him, now, he’s not too far yet. You got this.”

And so you sprint as quickly as your legs will take you. You run down to the school’s exit, and Iwaizumi is nowhere to be found. Your heart sinks at the possibility that he actually thought you were asking Oikawa to be your date, seeing that he departed the gym soundlessly. Your knees ache and every breath you huff in seems to bruise your lungs a little bit, and you have to stop and hunch over, hands pressed against your knees for stability. Your bag weighs on your shoulders, and you realise you have forgotten how it feels to walk with it on your back, books dragging you down like an anchor in the seabed. You slap your knees, it’s the next corner, and it’s about time you carried your own bag for once anyways.

Iwaizumi is staring at a bouquet of flowers that sits lifelessly on his desk in petals of red and stems of green, contemplating what to do with them, when he hears a knock at his front door.

“Hajime! Someone’s here for you!” His mother yells from downstairs, her words dragging on suggestively as he slumps down to the entrance. You stand at his doorstep, a palm sized journal in one hand and holding the doorframe with the other as your body leans into the wall, face flushed and lowered in exhaustion from the sprint you just took.

“Oh, hey, what are you doi-”

Your head jolts up to meet his eyes, and Oikawa is right. Iwaizumi is a little easier to reach. Your hand shoots out, the journal sticking out temptingly from your fingers. Iwaizumi still thinks this is Oikawa’s story, the one he chose to die in. Yet he takes the journal anyways, unhooking the elastic loop and opening it up.

“21/1- Saw a video of a cat spilling vermicelli everywhere, wanna show Iwa because he’d probably like it.”

“23/1- Chat when will Iwa talk to me on the walk home:(”

“27/1- Oikawa says I should just chat him up but I’m nervous???? what the fuck do i do???”

Lines upon lines of journal entries deck the pages of the book, and Iwaizumi can do nothing but read every single entry, a rush of blood flooding into his head.

“14/4- Iwa invited to me to vball training!! Wonder if i can keep going every day to watch him play…”

“15/4- Why does he go quiet when Oikawa is around:(”

He drops his arm, revealing your face behind the journal. His ears pulse at the sound of his heart in his throat.

“Iwa, let’s go to grad formal together. Wanna be my plus one?”

Shoving the book into your arms, his hand signals for you to stay, and he sprints upstairs, almost tripping over on the hardwood beneath his feet. The bouquet of flowers waits for him at his desk, more lively than ever, and he snatches it into his hand, before stumbling back down the stairs to you. He straightens himself at the door, his windpipe threatening to close.

“Sorry, the hoodie and the sweats aren’t really doing me justice right now.”

You stare at him, who scratches the back of his neck, a bouquet of roses wrapped in coffee stained newspapers in his hand. No, you think, the hoodie and sweats are doing him so much justice.

“I should’ve asked you a long time ago, probably back before junior formal dinner, or at freshman dance night, maybe even playground duty in middle school. Can I make it up to you, and ask you now?”

You nod, crow’s feet threatening to emerge from your cheeks, but you suppress them. Your mouth hangs ajar, not sure what to make of this situation.

“Can I have the honour of being yours?”

“Fuck yeah you can!”

Iwaizumi doesn’t spare a moment, before lifting you up by your underarms and pulling you into himself. From afar, Oikawa watches from his own house on the same block, grinning with pride. You giggle into his shoulder, arms around his neck. It sounds like the beginning of Iwaizumi’s story, maybe something even better than what he imagined.

“Now, do you want me to walk you home? I can take your bag for you.”

“Sure, Iwa.”

And walk you home he does, except he doesn’t hold the strap of your bag on his shoulder with his free hand anymore, finally linking you fingers with his own instead.

author's note:

HEYYYY I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS BB @catsoupki I started it the day you requested but i was so busy that i ended up getting WRITER'S BLOCK UM?? but i had this whole idea i was NOT about to let it get wasted because i couldn't think smh ANYWAYS

hope everyone else liked it too!! i love iwaizume hajime (27) athletic trainer and his hanger bastard too i guess... need someone to be walking out the door with your bags too

and here's the writing playlist!! feel free to add songs into it for me so i can find new artists and write with more inspo!!

anyways tags as usual:

@chuuya-brainrot @fiannee @starlysama @bailey-reeds

ok love u guys bye bye

[kawoala]

hi meeya :3 i came w a request ‼️ can i request a written fic for atsumu where he teaches reader how to play vb? i think it’d be really cute!! i also LOVE LOVE LOVE you writing!!!!! thanks in advance <3

𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐔 𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀 two favorite things word count ; (687) content warning ; (request, pure fluff, use of babe, set in high school, reader call him atsu one time)

“This is stupid.”

Behind you, Atsumu laughs. You hear the click of the door, footsteps, and then the blonde slinging his arm over your shoulders. He looks down at you, smiling. “This is awesome. My two favorite things in one? What more could I ask for?” He places a quick kiss on your forehead and then removes himself from you and walks to the middle of the court.

You don’t know how he convinced his coach to lend him the keys to the gym, and you don’t want to. It probably involved begging on his knees and corny jokes and you’re not sure if you want to see your boyfriend like that.

He turns to face you, his smile faltering when he registers the look on your face. “We can leave, yanno,” he says, voice quieter than usual. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I know you don’t like sports.”

You blink a couple times before walking over to him. “Atsumu,” you say gently, taking his hands in yours. “I want you to teach me how to play volleyball. It’s your two favorite things, right? Me and volleyball?” When he nods, you smile and take the volleyball that he’s holding under his arm. “Alright. Then teach me how to set and how to spike and how to volleyball.”

He snickers and shakes his head, now fully smiling. “Yeah, okay. I’ll teach you how to volleyball.” He takes the ball back and bounces it on the ground a couple times. “I’ll teach you how to hit the ball right. Bumping or receiving— people call it both.” He shrugs, then holds the ball in between his legs and puts his forearms against each other. You mirror him. “Okay, so, put your arms together like this, then make fists, but keep your thumbs out. Like this.”

“Like this?”

You look up to see him grinning ear-to-ear. “Just like that. You’re a natural, babe.” He takes a few steps backwards, taking the ball in his hands. “Okay, I’m gonna pass to you and make sure you hit it with your forearms and not your hands, ‘kay?”

You nod and take a deep breath. You haven’t played any type of sports since middle school. He throws the ball up in the air and you try to hit it with your forearms, but you take a step forward and it hits the insides of your elbows instead. You both watch the ball roll off your arms and onto the ground. You blink a couple times, then sigh.

“That’s alright,” he says with a shrug. He picks up the ball and looks at you. “Nobody gets it on their first try. Well, I did, but that’s because I’m good at everything.”

You narrow your eyes at him, but can’t stop the smile that creeps its way onto your face. “You’re so cocky.”

He shrugs. “I’m gonna throw the ball again, okay?”

You nod and, this time, when he throws the ball at you, it hits your forearms and you pass it directly back to him. You gasp and jump— literally jumping for joy. “I did it!” You shout, eyes wide. “Atsu, I did it!”

His face practically lights up as he catches the ball. He doesn’t hesitate before dropping it, jogging over to you, and picking you up to spin you around. You squeal with joy as the gym spins around. He sets you down carefully and just stops to stare at you.

“You’re so pretty when you get happy like that,” he murmurs, eyes darting around your face.

You can feel your face heat up and you push his chest lightly. “Shut up.” You look down and he laughs, kissing the top of your head. You step away and put your arms together. “Do another one.”

And the smile that comes to his face is just enough to make you fall in love with him all over again. You see your Atsumu, of course, but you see his mother’s Atsumu, too. The buck-toothed, ornery little kid who stayed up past his bedtime, giggling and running around the house. 

[boyswillbebuggsorsomething]

If I Saw Him, I’d Still Kiss Him - pt.1

Spencer Reid x M!Reader 

Summary: After a case, the BAU has a night out at O’Keefe’s, which unexpectedly reunites Spencer with someone he hadn’t expected to see ever again

Warnings: Vaguely inspired by If I Saw Him, I’d Still Kiss Him by McCafferty but specifically the last verse (or at least that’s how it started, it really doesn’t seem like it in this one but it will come into play in the next few), cursing, drinking/alcohol consumption, kinda insecure Spencer, Spencer is very overwhelmed for the first half or so, mentions of clawing off skin to describe feeling overwhelmed, no physical descriptions for R other than looking kinda dead inside, R & Spencer’s past is somewhat inspired by Trees & Trees II by McCafferty (but that isn’t really expanded upon in this, it will be later though), probably ooc, so many commas, I think it switches from third person to second person perspective but I’m pretty sure it works?, NOT PROOFREAD OR EDITED

A/N: This is my first time ever writing x reader and it kind of sucks so I’ll probably rewrite it someday but I had to create this storyline. I also haven’t written any fanfiction since I was in middle school so yeah this is kind of chaotic, a lot of this was written on notes app after chugging two monsters back to back and praying it turned out okay AND IT SHOWS. Also, I fully forgot about Ethan’s existence until I started writing this so there might be similarities but I did not intend them if they’re too close. And I know this was originally going to be a fic where they go to Vegas and the reader still lives there but I hated writing the case and it turned out really horribly so now it’s this. THANK YOU SO MUCH IF YOU ACTUALLY READ THIS THOUGH.

Word Count: 2169

Spencer hadn’t planned to go out the night after a week-long case. All he really wanted to do was go home and rewatch Dr. Who for what must have been the hundredth time, too exhausted to even read. However, the rest of his team had other plans and he was (somewhat) reluctantly dragged to O’Keefe’s to get drinks.

A few drinks in and he was already regretting coming with them. It was crowded and just a few degrees too warm and loud in the way that only a bar can be. The lights were low to the point that he had to strain his eyes just to have an adequate amount of spatial awareness. It was all just a bit too much, and for Spencer, a bit too much really meant he wanted to claw his skin off. He tried to sit through it a bit longer out of politeness, the stubborn nagging in the back of his mind that never quite went away telling him that only one wrong move and they won’t like him anymore. Logically he knew it was untrue, the BAU was his family, but going through high school and university in the formative years of his early teens still clearly had quite an effect on him. So he sat with the team at their table, fingers drumming on the side of his glass as he tried to pay attention to whatever escapades Garcia was recounting. 

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. 

Someone a few tables over was laughing. Loudly.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. 

A man at the bar was yelling, too drunk to decipher his words. 

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. 

Someone at his table was looking at him. Asking something.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. 

JJ laid her hand on his shoulder and it was just the last thing he could deal with. 

“Spence, you alright?”

He tensed immediately and he barely made out her question before he stood up jerkily, nodding slightly.

“Yeah, yeah, I think I just need some air. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Alright, do you want someone to come with you?”

Spencer simply shook his head and walked away, leaving no room for questioning. Dodging too-warm, questionably drunk people, he elbowed his way to the door, muttering hushed apologies when he bumped into people and fiddling anxiously with his fingers. When he pushed open the door, the cool bite of the autumn night hit him in the face, calming him only slightly. The fist clenching his heart loosened the smallest bit as he leaned back against the brick wall and closed his eyes, taking in the deepest breath he could manage. Despite the city sounds, he began to relax. Drinking when he was this exhausted had clearly brought his tolerance for anything at all down quite a bit, and the regret of going out settled deep in his chest. He tried to ignore it though. He might hate himself in the morning, but it was on him and his inability to say no. The dark of the night enveloped him comfortingly as he closed his eyes, resting his head back against the wall. Spencer still fidgeted with his hands, but not with the anxious fervor the action held within the confines of the bar, now in a soothing motion, helping him regulate his thoughts and feelings.

His peace was interrupted when a young man who had clearly seen better days stumbled out of the bar, muttering to himself in annoyance. Spencer ignored him at first, expecting him to go elsewhere. He did not. Instead, the man took his place by Spencer, slumping against the wall in an almost pitiful way. There were shadows under his eyes, the kind that comes not from a lack of sleep, but an exhaustion that makes its home deep in your bones, and there was a grayish pallor that had taken to his skin, only exacerbating the fatigued look that seemed to possess the man. Spencer attempted not to stare, but something about this guy was familiar. The slope of his nose. The shape of his lips. The colour of his eyes Spencer could swear he had seen in much closer quarters before. 

He fished out a packet of cigarettes, Newports, from his jeans, as well as a lighter. The man glanced at Spencer as he placed the cigarette between his lips, to which Spencer simply shook his head. The two men stood silently against the wall, only the flick of the lighter, the soft exhales of smoke, and the sounds of the city to accompany them. The longer Spencer looked at him though, the more he felt like he knew this man. Somewhere behind his ribs he felt that ache of the past, the one you get when you look at old photographs and realise you will never be that child again. He knew this guy, he was sure of it. 

He spoke up after some time, voice shaky with hesitation, “Sorry if this is a strange question, but have we met before? You seem extremely familiar.”

“Dunno, might’ve. I haven’t been living here very long,” He responded hoarsely around the cigarette, introducing himself with a slight nod and half smile, raising an eyebrow to ask Spencer to do the same.

“Uh, Dr. Spencer Reid.” Spencer smiled a hesitant, tight lipped smile, his heart beginning to race with an unfamiliar excitement as he realised he most definitely knew that name, which seemingly earned a small laugh from the man, a look of amused confusion gracing his features.

“No fucking way.”

“Sorry?”

“Spencer Reid? Really?”

“Yeah? Is- Is there a problem?”

“No, no, just- Used to know a Spencer Reid. Ages ago though, back when I was in middle school,” the man chuckled, breathing out a cloud of smoke, “He was in fuckin’ highschool though, but same age as me. Full on genius, swear to god. Shit, that’s- Wow, what a coincidence.” The man shook his head, a bemused grin across his lips as he took another drag.

Spencer paused, his face twisting together in a strange mix of joy, shock, and confusion. This man, this strange man who suddenly appeared at the same bar Spencer went to at least once a month with the team, was exactly who he thought he was. He knew him. He knew you. 

“You lived in Las Vegas, didn’t you?” Spencer tried to hide the elation he felt at this sudden reunion.

“How’d you know?”

Spencer simply smiled. He might not have been the greatest at social cues, but he knew you would know exactly what he meant. And you did. 

Looking at him now, you realised this stranger was most definitely the same Spencer you’d grown up with. He’d grown into his features, his eyes no longer buggy behind his glasses, his smile no longer crooked. His hair was styled neatly, no longer the whirlwind of misplaced strands he had as a child. He still fidgeted endlessly, just as he did when he was young, and he still possessed that kind nature that had emanated from him so freely years ago. Somewhat more hidden now, but there nonetheless. This willowy man was the same person as the boy you had rode your bike to school with. The same boy who helped you with your homework when you were too tired to study. Who held you when you broke down in sobs after you told him you liked boys. Who was your best friend until he wasn’t. Somehow, you couldn’t help but smile. You hadn’t seen him since you were, what? 14? A decade or so ago now. And all of a sudden he was in front of you. 

“Seriously?”

He nodded, still smiling.

“Holy shit. It’s been ages! What’ve you been doing, other than getting, like, a million PhD’s and all that?” You took the cigarette from your lips, letting it burn freely as you spoke.

“Well, it’s only 3 PhD’s, two bachelor’s,” Spencer corrected without thinking, earning a small huff of laughter from you, which left his face heating up slightly, “Um, I work with the FBI now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he continued, speaking with his hands, “I’m a profiler for the BAU, or the Behaviour Analysis Unit, which actually used to be called the Behavioural Science Unit when it was first created, and before that-” he cut himself off, pausing slightly as he became suddenly aware that he was starting to ramble, “Sorry.”

“Nah, I like hearing about ..stuff. That much hasn’t changed. So, what do you do as a ‘profiler’?” You said the word with exaggerated mysticism, waving your fingers slightly and grinning as his face lit back up.

“Okay, well, we analyse the behaviour of criminals in order to catch them. So, things like how they treat their crime scenes and disposal sites or even the crimes they commit can tell us a lot about what causes them to do what they do and with this we create a profile, hence the name profiler, where it will describe the suspect in aspects of appearance, past, relationships, all sorts of things, and we are able to find them and lock them up with it.”

“Oh, wow, cool. So, what are you doing here instead of doing… all that?”

“I’m here with my team, they’re inside, we just finished a case earlier today. Uh, what about you?”

“Haven’t been doing all that great recently so I wanted to drink until I wasn’t thinking about much of anything,” You sighed, punctuating your sentence with a small, bitter laugh before placing your cigarette back between your lips. For a moment, Spencer couldn’t tear his eyes away from your mouth. The menthol cigarette burning, the foul scent wafting around both men.

“You hated cigarettes when we were kids,” Spencer observed, crinkling his nose slightly, confusion in his tone. He knew people could change, of course he did, but you held such a disdain for cigarettes and their smoke as a child he hardly expected you to ever take up the habit.

“Yeah,” you huffed, exhaling a cloud of smoke before putting out the cigarette on the wall behind you, “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologise, it doesn’t really affect me, but it is horrible for your health. Which you undoubtedly know already. Drinking as a way to forget things also isn’t healthy. It actually has detrimental effects on the mind and body in the long run-”

“Yeah, I know, Spencer,” you sighed, pushing away from the wall, “Well, I only came out to blow off some steam and to smoke, so I’m heading back in. You gonna stay out here or go back in with your team?”

He paused for a moment, usually it took him a bit more time by himself to fully relax, but surprisingly enough, your presence had seemingly worked just as well. Just as it had all those years ago. 

“I’m gonna go back inside, I think,” Spencer confirmed, following you back into the bar.

You nodded, and the two of you made your way back inside. Before you split apart however, you stopped him. 

“We should get together sometime. Actually catch up.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah.”

“Uh, here,” you muttered, grabbing out a pen from the same pocket that held your cigarettes and lighter, promptly grabbing his wrist and scrawling out your number on his hand, “Call me sometime. Sorry if you still have, uh, that thing about touch.”

Spencer didn’t respond, he simply watched bewildered as you slipped away into the crowd. A moment spent silently standing in the crowd made him realise just how much he had missed you, the few moments you had shared already leaving him wanting more time. As far as he knew, you still lived in Nevada, but he hadn’t spoken to you since you had started highschool. The last time you spoke, you were doing.. worse than before he left for uni, but you had always refused to elaborate, all he re was a lot of rants about wanting to drop out. He always regretted not keeping in touch, but you hadn’t exactly made an effort either. It was strange though, how quickly you slipped back into such an easy familiarity in a short time span. He wondered briefly what brought you here, what made you leave Nevada for Virginia of all places. He was jolted out of his train of thought when he heard his name called, his attention dragged back to the table the rest of the team occupied where a clearly drunk Penelope was waving him over, giggling about something or other. When he sat back down, he noticed the amusement on the others’ faces.

“So,” Penelope began, wagging her eyebrows suggestively, “Who was that?”

“What?”

“The guy you were with, who was he?” She clarified.

“Oh, just an old friend. I knew him back when I lived in Vegas, believe it or not,” he explained, pursing his lips in a half smile.

“An old friend, huh?” 

“Please don’t make this weird,” he groaned in half-annoyance, half-amusement.

A/N: Thank you all who read this, it really isn’t very good but I really love the character I’ve created for R and am really excited to expand upon it. The next installation of this will follow Spencer and R as they slowly build up their friendship again, and start to actually notice their feelings, and all of that good stuff.

[froidefille]

Day 10: a fest/event fic

📚 Nothing Gold Can Stay by @moonflower-rose

Draco/Harry, 40k, E

Written for: H/D Erised 2023

Summary:

One summer evening, Harry Potter vanished in the middle of dinner with his friends. Four days later he came back. Sort of. Draco Malfoy is on the case.

It’s one of those accidentally-got-himself-into-alternate-universe-where-he-has-a-husband-and-three-kids stories. And there is just something about this kind of story that gets me: the way Harry just wants to come home at first but then misses his AU home like crazy. And the way we stay in the original universe with Draco! Usually, those stories follow one of the boys into to the alternate universe with all the the domesticity and happiness and losing his mind about it. So getting this mirrored version of the one that stays was such a treat!

I really appreciate when there’s an actual logic behind these multi-dimensional incidents other than just *magic*. And here, with Harry being Unspeakable working on a research project about soulmate lore which got him to an alternate dimension where he’s married to Draco with three kids and a hypogriff named Parsley... I mean 😭

I love how Draco slowly becomes part of Harry’s family while he’s not actually here ("it's all part of the service"). And the angst when the other Harry comes through (and gets mad at the original Harry for Sectumsempra!!!) and then more angst as he comes back because the fools fall in love with each other again (“You’re my favourite person in every universe.” *cries* *cries some more*). And then when poor poor original Harry comes back and falls to pieces. No wonder, I feel like as we were slowly finding out the details of his domestic alternate universe, we are right there on the floor with him. Belly! Parsley!!

Also the way Harry and his friends are known as "The War Kids" 😭 When they find Harry’s journal and it's full of Draco including the picture 😭 😭 When Draco sets up new ward runes and he’s not even on the list 😭 😭 😭

This fic really has it all - the plot is well-thought out, it has such a funny banter, and it will make you hurt in the best way <3

Okay, let me stop here before I go and read it yet again xd

Thank you for today’s prompt @hprecfest and until the next one!

Excerpts (and spoilers) under the cut <3

“I care about you very much. I probably haven’t told you that, because we’re work friends. We’re not…it’s not the same as being your real friend. Well, what I mean is, it is the same for me, more so, actually—I’m not making sense.” “Not remotely,” Potter said, his brow creased and half a crust between his teeth. “We’re not real friends?” “No, Potter—I mean, yes. Salazar’s tits. You are one of my dearest friends. And. And I love you.” Potter chewed slowly, still looking at Draco through narrowed, confused eyes. “...Thank you?” “You’re welcome?” Draco said automatically. Upstairs in the sitting room the Floo roared to life, and Weasley’s voice bellowed, “Harry?” “Kitchen!”

It just got me laughing so much ^^

"Fancy a cuppa?” “It’s nearly four in the morning, Potter!” “Is that a no?” “No,” Draco said. He was exhausted, but he was still English.

🤣

“Keep your hair on,” Harry shot back, making absolutely no effort to hide his amusement. “I didn’t want to assume. You know what happens when you make an assumption, don’t you?” Draco looked at him blankly. “You make an ass of you and umption.” When Draco still didn’t respond, Harry stopped putting slices of bacon into the big pan and put his hands on his hips instead. “The Long Kiss Goodnight? Samuel L Jackson? Geena Davis?” “Nitwit, blubber, oddment, tweak. I can say random words too.” “Oh my god,” Harry groaned, and resumed laying out the bacon. “This is a classic Draco, a classic. I think I’ve watched it every Christmas since we graduated from school.”

“You make an ass of you and umption.” 😂

And then - the wild angst appears!

“She was the one who started calling me Uncle Daddy. It was supposed to be Uncle Harry, but she couldn’t quite wrap her head around that I guess, since she’s only two. She sets the tone around the house, you know. It’s Belly’s rules, and the boys all fall into line.”

Belly !!! I love her

“What do you need?” Draco asked, already halfway out of bed and coming towards Potter. Potter took a hitching breath. “You. I need you.”

[kywaslost]

hey :) an idea for a oneshot/fic has been on my mind for a while, student reader in 1A gets kicked out from home and is homeless, aizawa realised something is up with one of his students and makes reader admit what’s going on, happy ending? (please i’m begging)

Happy Endings - Aizawa Shouta

A/N: This has been sitting in my inbox for lord knows how long and I’m so sorry. I turned this into hc’s since I haven’t written for BNHA in a long time. Idk, I kinda just lost interest and stopped watching. I need to catch up. Maybe then I’ll get back to writing for this fandom. I hope this is ok.

It wasn’t too hard to notice a change in your behavior

Aizawa is an extremely observant pro-hero

And he cares for his students more than he’d let on

So of course he noticed when you showed up in a slightly dirty uniform as opposed to usually wearing clean ones

Or when your hair isn’t as clean or neat as it used to be

Not to mention the bags under your eyes that were never there before

So the man asks you to stay after class one day so he could check up on you

It doesn’t take much prying for him to learn that your parents had kicked you out and you had no one else to stay with

Needless to say he was infuriated

And you were afraid upon seeing his eyes glow red and his hair raise, but only for a moment

Aizawa has a strange calming aura around him

Immediately assures you that he isn’t upset with you, just with your so-called ‘parents’

Dismisses you for class

But oh buddy that’s not where this ends

He finds you after school, Present Mic not far behind him, both dressed in civilian clothing

And that’s when they offer that you stay with them, just until UA finished building their dorms

Best offer you could have ever accepted, considering you literally didn’t have anything to lose

They even make sure to make your favorite food for dinner, just to put you at ease

And you may or may not have seen your old parents on the news next morning, found unconscious in the middle of the biggest and most popular park in town

[danakin-skywalker]

Your Mom (Sam Kiszka Imagine)

Taglist: @hailthegodsong​ whose encouragement goes unparalleled

(A/N): from me to you here’s an old draft I finally finished!!

Fun fact I started writing this fic 20 days shy of THREE YEARS AGO. Damn. 

So I saw this meme on Instagram forever ago and thought it would be a hilarious fic idea and I haven’t written for Sam (or any of them really but ESPECIALLY Sam) in a HOT minute so here goes nothing! Also I definitely misread the ending but oh well shut up

This was originally intended to be a more meet-cute style fic, but I decided to add a more extended ending than just  “you meet Sam and fucking hit it off immediately.” Also yes I definitely spent a few paragraphs in this fic just infodumping about one of my favorite records I own but that’s a you problem now, dear reader.

Enjoy!

***********************************************

Your Mom

As far as potential ways your morning could’ve started, you can’t say you expected to land on the phone with a random middle-aged woman from across the country.

It all started when your friends dragged you out to a mutual guy friend’s birthday party. You had just gotten out of a pretty messy but well-overdue breakup and both you and your friends knew that this party was bound to be filled to the brim with your friend’s cute guy friends. You were quite certain that you weren’t ready to just hook up with a stranger quite yet, but your friends insisted and you also didn’t want to let down your mutual friend on his birthday.

So there you were, in the middle of his crowded living room dancing along with your friends. You were maybe four drinks deep and feeling tipsy, but not quite enough to encourage any advances from the men all around.

Eventually, you got sick of the chaos and went to the bathroom. When you entered, you smirked to yourself at the sight of someone’s iPhone abandoned on the counter. Funnily enough, it looked just like yours- black with a clear case. You chuckled to yourself and threw your phone onto the counter next to it. Once you were finished in the bathroom, you grabbed your phone and opened the door, only to be hit by the thumping music and excessive chatter once more. You decided since it was approaching midnight and you weren’t having any fun, you would just find your friends, make up an excuse and head home.

So you did, making sure to hug the birthday boy on the way out.

You didn’t even realize your mistake until the next morning, when the phone on your nightstand was blaring at you.

You lifted your head from your pillow and knit your brows together confusedly. It wasn’t just that someone was trying to call you at 9 in the morning on a Sunday. You never have your ringer on.

You picked up the phone and scrunched your face even more when you read the name “MOM” across the screen, but without the contact picture you had set for her in middle school. You hesitantly unlocked the phone and held it up to your face.

“Hello?”

The voice on the other end hesitated for a moment in surprise. “Oh, hello there. Could you hand the phone to Samuel?”

In a moment of morning grogginess, you turned your head to look for who she was talking about, before realizing that you were in fact alone in your room. “Uhh, I think you might have the wrong number.”

“No, this is definitely my son’s phone number. Do you have the right phone?” She asked back, making your eyes widen in realization.

You slowly turned the phone around in your hands to see the black iPhone with the clear case. But not quite the clear case you had meticulously picked out on Amazon. You groaned as you flopped down in bed and pulled the phone back to your face. “I think I know what happened here. Your son left his phone on the bathroom counter of a birthday party I attended last night, and because he has the same phone and case as me I must’ve switched them up on accident.” You explained, rubbing the sleep from your face.

You could hear the woman on the other end chuckle. “Yeah, that sounds like my Sammy. You didn’t look at your phone at all between the bathroom and now?”

You couldn’t help but laugh pitifully at yourself into your pillow. “Nope, guess not. I don’t even know why I was there, my friends wanted me to go to meet some new guys but I literally just got out of a shitty relationship so I really don’t-“ You paused when you realized you were rambling about your personal life to a stranger on the other line. “I’m so sorry I don’t know why I’m telling you this. You don’t even know me.”

She was quick to respond, “Oh nonsense! It sounds like you need to talk. I usually call Sam around this time every weekend just to catch up, but I can absolutely go for some girl talk. Besides, from the night it sounds like he had I’m sure he’s not up yet.”

You sat back up at this, seriously considering her offer. “You really don’t mind?”

You could hear her hearty, warm chuckle through the phone. “Sweetie, not at all! My only daughter has been in a relationship for a while, I’ve sorta missed these kinds of talks. Besides, you sound like you could use some guidance.” You smiled back toward the phone and leaned back onto the bed.

You and the stranger’s mom talked for almost an hour. You walked her through the ins and outs of the relationship you just ended, describing in detail when you knew it wasn’t working and hearing her little tuts and hums of agreement or disapproval of what you were talking about. You quickly learned that her name was Karen, and you introduced yourself as well. You were doing most of the talking, but you were thoroughly affirmed that she was listening.

“Well, from what I can tell, you made the right choice ending that relationship. It sounds like he has a lot of personal work to do, and I think you made the best choice given the situation.”

You bit your lip. “You think? I still can’t tell because now I’m just so disillusioned with the whole thing. I mean, I was at that party for hours last night and I don’t think I even looked at any of the guys. It just sounds so exhausting starting over from scratch and not even knowing if they’re a decent guy or not.” You mumbled, playing with the edge of your comforter between your fingers.

She hummed from through the phone. “Well, that’s the risk of looking for love. You won’t find it right away, even if you sometimes think you have, but that’s okay. Because then when you do find it, all of that hard work becomes worth it and then suddenly it’s not work at all.”

You smiled at her words. “You sound like you’re a really great mother. Your kids are very lucky to have you.”

“That’s very sweet, thank you dear. My kids have all left the nest by now but I try to make sure they know how important this stuff is. Actually, the one who’s phone you’re holding is the one I’m most concerned about in that department.”

You arched a brow and propped yourself up on your elbow, as if she was in the room talking to you. “Oh really? What’s he like?”

“Well, he’s really a sweet boy. He’s got strong morals and he’s very smart. Handsome too, if I say so myself.” This made you giggle, understanding she was complimenting herself just as much as she was him given that he’s her flesh and blood. She sighed before continuing, “He just… He struggles in relationships. He’s always picking these girls with ulterior motives or who change him as a person. But he’s just so stubborn I can’t imagine how to get through to him. It’s nothing like talking to you.”

You hummed in agreement. You knew how stubborn boys could be. What you didn’t know, however, was that from across the phone gears were turning in Karen’s head. “Listen, how about you give me the number to your phone and I call and see if Sam has it. I wouldn’t put it past him to have not realized by now either. I’ll have him call you so you can set up a time to exchange them.”

You raised your eyebrows at the concept of meeting this famed Sam. “Oh, I don’t think he’ll be able to call me without my phone passcode. I can’t on his either.”

Karen hummed from behind the phone, and you could just barely hear the smile on her face as she responded. “Okay, well then I’ll just give you his address and I’ll tell him you’re stopping over tonight whether he likes it or not. Feel free to take your time, that little shit doesn’t need to be going out again tonight if he’s leaving his iPhone behind in random bathrooms.”

You laughed at her idea and agreed, giving her your phone number and writing down his address before thanking Karen one last time and hanging up.

You heaved a sigh and finally got out of bed to make yourself some coffee and start your day.

You took several moments throughout the day to wonder about Karen’s conversation with Sam on your own phone. You figured since she didn’t call again that he did, in fact, have your phone. You couldn’t help but wonder what kind of notifications he was seeing pop up on your screen. You hadn’t seen any on his- he must have notifications turned off for all his apps.

Your quiet curiosity about this boy continued through your afternoon as you ran errands and cooked for yourself. Finally, after you’d finished cleaning the dishes around 7pm, you decided to make your way over to Sam’s apartment.

You didn’t known why your stomach was wound into nervous knots. You didn’t even know the guy, and clearly he hadn’t caught your attention last night.

And yet, as you reached your hand up to rap your knuckles against his door, you felt yourself let out a shaky breath in anticipation. What if you recognized him? What if he recognized you?

You didn’t have long to ponder before the door flung open and you were met by a tall and lanky guy with long hair. He knit his brows at you for a moment, until his eyes met the phone in your hand and he heaved a sigh of relief.

“Oh thank God, you must be Y/N. I was worried you got lost, or that my mom gave you the wrong address.” He explained.

You chuckled at him, “Oh, no she told me to take my time so you wouldn’t go out again tonight.”

He scoffed and threw his hands into the air exasperatedly as you handed him the phone. “Yeah she wasn’t too thrilled with me this morning. I’m Sam by the way. Please, come in. I have your phone charging I’ll go grab it.”

He beckoned you into his apartment and you reluctantly entered as he walked further in to retrieve your phone. You spared a moment to feel guilty for not charging his, but your attention was quickly pulled by the interior design of the space.

He had vintage posters and tapestries strewn about the walls, lots of potted plants lining the windows and an elaborate dream catcher hanging from the windowpane.

You almost didn’t even notice him return as your eyes closely examined his stuff. You had slowly made your way over to his record collection by the time you heard him speak. “See anything you like?”

You couldn’t help but jump slightly, not expecting his proximity, and he smirked at you as he held out your phone to you.

You accepted your phone and turned back to the records, blushing slightly. “Yeah, you’ve got a lot of good stuff here. Jim Croce, Frank Sinatra, Janis Joplin…” you trailed off as you reached out to unsheathe one of the records. Deja Vu by Crosby Stills Nash & Young. “I love this album.” You mumbled, fingertips tracing over the textured maroon cover as it met the delicate gold detailing.

You turned back over toward Sam to see him smiling fondly at you. “That’s a great one. Did you know Jerry Garcia worked on it?”

You couldn’t help but raise your eyebrows. “Really? Oh, I love Grateful Dead!”

Sam took a few steps closer and took the record out of your hands, opening it up to the middle where the musical credits were listed. He leaned in close so you could see and extended his finger to the aforementioned name. “See? Steel guitar on Teach Your Children.”

Trying to ignore the sudden closeness, you sighed in wonder as you looked at the tiny writing near the bend of the sleeve. “Wow... Yeah, I guess there isn’t any steel guitar in the other songs.” 

Sam shook his head, still smiling softly down at the record sleeve before turning over to you. You almost missed the way his eyes flicked down to your lips, but in such close proximity it was easy to notice. And even easier to replicate as you noticed your own gaze flash down to his mouth in response.

Suddenly, Sam piped up. “Hey, do you have anywhere you need to be after this? Or would you wanna stay for a drink? I can pop this record in if it would help persuade you...” He held up the record sleeve and wiggled his eyebrows in an over-the-top seductive way.

You laughed but felt your heart jump a bit at the offer. You allowed yourself a few moments to consider as you weighed the pros and cons in your head.

Okay, this is a complete stranger and you’re already in his apartment, do NOT accept the drink and stay.

Well, hang on. This isn’t a COMPLETE stranger. This is Karen’s son.

DO WE KNOW KAREN THOUGH? DO WE REALLY??

But he’s cuuuuuuute...

“Hey, you still there?”

You were shaken from your inner turmoil by the reminder that time was still passing outside of your head, and Sam needed an answer. “You can say no if you want, I know we literally just met...” He scratched the back of his head bashfully as he started backtracking.

Somehow, this was what won you over. “No, I don’t have anywhere to be. Although, I think your mother’s elaborate plan to keep you from going out tonight is starting to fall through.”

Sam leaned back and barked out a laugh at this. “Oh I see, so you really are in cahoots with my mom. Okay, okay. Has she already betrothed me to you?”

You shook your head and chuckled in response, “Not exactly, but she did give one hell of a sales pitch.”

Sam tilted his head back with a groan and rubbed his face in fake exasperation at his mother’s antics. In this moment you couldn’t help but let your eyes travel down from his face to his hands, his neck, his chest...

“Well, let me do my best to forget that happened. Besides I’m pretty sure this still doesn’t qualify as going OUT, so I feel like we’re in the clear. Anyway, what can I get you to drink?”

You were snapped back to reality by Sam once more as he left your side to hover between his refrigerator and the little bar cart parked right next to it, swaying from side to side and reaching each hand toward the different options as he swayed closer, eyes trained on you for a response. You couldn’t help but smirk at his relentless efforts to make you comfortable in his home. It made you wonder what kind of coaching Karen might have given him after your phone call with her.

You ended up choosing a bottle of red wine from near the back of the cart, as that would be both an easy thing to share between two people while also allowing you to quietly max out on two or three drinks in case the situation did end up requiring a quick escape.

Sam was more than happy to oblige and immediately donned an exaggerated Italian accent that was slowly but surely drifting into a rough New York Italian accent with each passing sip. However, the laughter that bubbled up out of you each time only further encouraged his antics.

Both sides of the record came and passed and you two were still deep in conversation, covering everything from where you both grew up, to what you do for work now and casual interests. 

You couldn’t help but arch your brow at the admission of his work, “Oh you’re in a band? You guys any good?” 

Sam let his eyes travel over to the coffee table in the little hallway leading toward his bedroom. Sitting proudly there was his personal copy of the Grammy award for Best Rock Album of 2019. “I think we’re pretty good.”

He decided against flexing the award itself so as to not come off as arrogant, a motive that similarly inspired the object’s current placement in his home. As he let his eyes return to yours, he was surprised by your expectant expression.

“Well?” You asked. “That’s it? No elaboration? No new single I just need to listen to? You’re band is ‘pretty good’ but you don’t seem to be in any rush to show it off, Sam.” You tried to hide your smirk behind your wine glass.

Sam’s jaw dropped open in indignance at your remark, which immediately made you giggle. “Well, I- I don’t know, I feel like it’s not in good taste to boast. Besides, we aren’t exactly making music for the general public to all enjoy so the last thing I’d wanna do is gas us up only for you to not be into it.”

You hummed to yourself and turned away for a moment to let your eyes once again survey the vast record collection before you. “I mean, if your taste in vinyl is any indication I think it’s a pretty safe bet. But fine, keep your secrets.” You adopted a more playful tone for the last bit as you finished off the last of your wine.

Sam watched wistfully as the last of the red liquid vacated your glass and disappeared down your throat. He knew what this meant.

“Well, as much fun as it would be to drink you out of house and home, I should probably get going.” You remarked as you unfolded your legs and moved to stand. Sam matched you and took the empty glass from your hand after swallowing the last mouthful from his own.

As Sam walked back into the kitchen area with both glasses, he called out to you, “Hopefully you don’t have to trek too far, do you live nearby?” Facing the wall, he raised his eyebrows hopefully and craned his neck in search of your reply.

“Not too bad, just a few blocks away really.” You responded, putting your shoes back on and raising your voice slightly to be heard over the faucet Sam was now running.

You missed Sam closing his fist to himself in a little “yessss” motion before turning off the faucet and placing both glasses rim-down on his counter to dry. “Oh, well in that case, why don’t I walk you home?”

You froze for a moment and considered the option.

I guess he would’ve murdered me by now if he was going to.

Before you can decide, Sam returns into the room and adds, “But if that’s too forward I can send you off into the night by yourself. Up to you.”

You tilted your head as you considered that element as well.

I mean it certainly WOULD be safer to have a chaperone on these streets after dark...

“Alright, yes, you may walk me home.” You chuckled, standing over him as he hastily started putting his shoes on. “How very chivalrous of you, you really sweep the girls off their feet, huh?” 

He scoffed and stood back up to be more eye-level with you, “Oh, surely your initial encounter with my mother naturally gave you that impression?”

You laughed, thinking back to your conversation with Karen, “Well, sure, but you would think she might be biased given it’s her own son she’s describing.”

Sam smirked as he opened his front door and held it open for you to lead the way, “Okay, well did I live up to your expectations?”

You followed his nonverbal direction to walk through the door and smiled to yourself. “I mean, my expectation for tonight was to run over, drop this phone off, grab mine and be home two hours ago. So it’s safe to say you’ve definitely exceeded my expectations.”

This got a full laugh out of him as the two of you started walking down the hall toward the building elevator. “Hey I gave you plenty of opportunity to take that route as well.”

You nodded, giving him credit where it was due. But it was just so much more fun to tease him. “Sure, like when you coerced me with alcohol...”

“HEY!”

“...And lore about my favorite albums...”

“LISTEN maybe I’m just an enthusiastic host in my humble abode. Have you considered that?”

Somewhere in the middle of this back and forth, Sam’s hand had brushed against yours twice before catching onto your own hand. The conversation didn’t cease as you both divided your attention enough to interlace fingers. The tiny little act of intimacy, the microscopic affirmation that you were in fact picking up on something between you two, it made your heart flutter like a schoolgirl.

“Either that or you’re really playing the long game to kill me. Is that why you needed to see which building I live in?”

Checkmate.

Sam heaved a sigh, stupid grin still plastered onto his face. “Okay, yeah. I’m the world’s worst serial killer personally escorting you home safely.”

“Or about to follow me inside so as to not have evidence in your own home.” You pointed out as the elevator door opened up to the building lobby.

Sam smirked down at you as he held the front door to the building open for you, “Damn, I think you’re watching too many true crime documentaries. Maybe it’s me who should be worried about you.”

You chuckled and used your hand interlocked with his to pull him in the direction of your apartment building. “Mmm yes, this has all been a misdirect. Now come with me to this undisclosed second location where nothing bad will happen to you.”

Sam stopped walking for a moment and you turned around with a cheeky grin, “Oh my god I’m kidding Sam, come on.” He smiled softly down at you before following your lead, matching your pace with his much longer legs as your entwined hands swung slightly between the two of you.

Sooner than you’d have liked, you arrived at the front door of your apartment building. You stopped walking and turned to Sam, “Well this is me.”

A brief look of panic washed over Sam’s face as he frantically tried to decide how to proceed. “Well, I won’t be getting murdered tonight so I will not be following you inside.” You rolled your eyes as he continued, “But this was fun, and you really do live nearby, which is cool.”

You nodded, subconsciously closing your hand a bit tighter around his at the thought of it being gone soon. “Yeah, I had a good time tonight. And of course, thank you for taking care of my phone... and make sure you thank your mom for me otherwise we would’ve both been out of luck today.”

Sam’s eyes widened and he turned to look down the street in thought. “Shit, yeah, I don’t even wanna think about how long that would’ve taken to sort out without her.”

A brief spell of silence washed over both of you before Sam, looking down at your hands interlocked, mumbled, “You know, we could do this again sometime. If you wanna.” He used his shoe to fidget with a pebble on the ground as he dared not meet your eyes, just in case you didn’t give the answer he was hoping for.

You, however, beamed back up at him and squeezed his hand affirmatively, “Yeah, I’d like that.” You took a small step forward and Sam’s head whipped up as he processed your words. “I mean, maybe not the trading phones thing. I did feel rather naked without it today.”

Sam cracked a grin and gently pulled you even closer by your hand that still joined his, bringing the two of you nose to nose. “Yeah, maybe we could just trade numbers instead.”

You couldn’t help your eyebrows shooting up in surprise, blood rushing to your cheeks as he stared you down. 

Now there’s the ladykiller Karen was describing.

You reached into your back pocket to retrieve your phone, unlocking it quickly and opening it to a blank contact page. You couldn’t bring yourself to put more space between you and Sam while he typed his information into your phone, especially once you felt Sam’s hand in yours guide your arm around your back so he could physically hold you close as he typed.

You went back and forth between watching the focus in his eyes as his face was lit up by your phone screen, watching him gnaw slightly at his bottom lip, and peering down at the phone screen himself. He finished up by saving the contact and hitting the “call” button before immediately ending the call upon hearing his phone start to vibrate.

His head whipped up to hand your phone back, only to find your eyes fixated on his mouth. As quickly as you could, your eyes darted back up to meet his. But it was too late, he caught you. His eyes flit down to yours as he handed you back your phone.

“Well, Y/N, I guess it’s until we meet again.” He started, and you took a moment to consider the fact that this is the third time the two of you have delayed parting ways that night.

However, every last thought siphoned right out of your mind when he pressed his forehead to yours, eyes trained onto your lips as he licked his lightly. You couldn’t help your eyes when they fell down to watch him partake in the action. 

You had to put this poor boy out of his misery. It was only right, right?

You raised yourself onto your tip toes to close the gap and place a gentle kiss onto his lips. One of his hands came up to cradle your cheek softly as the two of you got lost in each other for a moment. You pulled back after a few seconds but he didn’t; still frozen in time with his eyes closed, rubbing his lips together slightly to memorize the feeling.

Against his lips you breathed, “Goodnight Sam.”

By the time Sam’s eyes opened, you had walked up the small set of stairs leading to the entrance of your building, flashing him a bashful smile.

He beamed over at you, waving goodbye with his phone in his hand. That is, until the phone began to light up causing him to stop and see what the commotion was all about. He barked out a laugh, “Well guess who it is?

You couldn’t help but laugh. The day was ending the very same way it started; facilitated by Karen.

Sam looked back up at you from the sidewalk, “I’ll take this on my walk home. Have a lovely night, Y/N.”

You waved him off as he answered the phone, still smiling and watching you as you disappeared into the building.

“Hey mom, what’s up?”

“Sam, ok good so you did exchange the phones? I’ve been watching your location today and I saw it get brought over, why are you back where it was before?” She asked, her tone of voice implying she already knew the answer.

Sam shrugged to no one, and responded, “Well, what kind of a gentleman would I be if I didn’t walk her back home as a thank-you?” He couldn’t help the giddy smile creeping onto his face as he spoke.

Karen was smarter than this though, “Mmhmm, yeah alright. So are you gonna see her again?”

This stopped Sam in his tracks as he physically pulled the phone away from his face to stare at his mother’s name on the screen. Before he could ask she added, “Did you think I didn’t also notice the fact that your phone made it safely to your apartment HOURS ago?”

Sam’s face flushed scarlet as he walked back through the door to his own building. “Mom, ok it’s truly none of your business but... Yes I think I am. At least, I hope so.”

Sam could hear her chuckle from the other side of the phone, “Good. You better treat her nicely, Samuel. She’s been put through the ringer but she’s got a good heart.”

Sam rolled his eyes as he walked down the hall, “Aren’t you supposed to be saying that to her? ‘Treat my son well that’s my baby’ or something like that? You’re my mom.”

He jumped a bit at the sound of her loud “HA!” coming through his phone speaker. “Yeah and your mom scored you the date you had tonight so don’t blow it, I like this one.”

Sam couldn’t help but smile as he reentered his apartment and his ears immediately perked up to hear the subtle sound of the Deja Vu record still spinning on the turntable, needle aimlessly bouncing around the middle area of the vinyl. 

“I like this one too, mom.”

(A/N:) AAAAA I wrote something again!! If my writing voice has changed mind your business bc shockingly enough I have aged. Also I forgot what my typical fic length used to be but this feels long sorry about that, also very dialogue heavy so sorry about that too if that’s not your vibe. 

But this was fun. I had fun writing this. Thank you very much for reading it.

[kotton-kandy953]

please please please please please do another TBHK fic, thank you!

━ 𝚂𝚆𝙴𝙴𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙰𝚁𝚃

❏ 𝐘𝐎𝐔

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🔪 love interest ꒱ . . . yandere!stalker!akane aoi x fem!reader || I kinda changed the layout of my posts if it isn’t too obvious. I might change it back, idk yet

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🔪 warnings ꒱ . . . blood, delusions, murder, obsessive tendencies, stalking, yandere themes

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🔪 synopsis ꒱ . . . you, a new student at kamome academy, have caught the attention of a boy in your class who turns out to be an obsessive stalker; willing to murder anyone who could get in the way of their relationship. but he would never… right?

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🔪 authors note ꒱ . . . I’ve recently started watching “you” and i really wanted write a fanfic based off of it. I haven’t written a anything in first person, or a tbhk fic in general in a while so I had to reread the manga to grasp akane’s character (he might be a little ooc sorry) || I have the fucking flu so I posted this wayyy later than I wanted :( || tbhk fics: sweetheart

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🔪 word count ꒱ . . . 3.5k

The first day of the school year after summer break is always the worst. Everyone is forced to re-introduce themselves to the same kids they’ve had classes with since middle school; As if they’ve never seen them before.

Not only that, but trying to make a decent impression of yourself on you new teachers is a drag in itself.

And quite frankly, I’m over it.

The same uniforms as last year, the same school mysteries or wonders, the same crush you’ve had since elementary that would never, ever, dare to look your way… why can’t life change for once? I’m not even asking for anything too drastic. Just a slight shift in the room that’ll make my life a bit more enjoyable, y’know?

And, as if answering my desperate prayers, — you entered the room.

Your uniform dress looked so nice despite looking the exact same as every other girl’s’. You walked slowly and had a resting smile on your face, yet you still avoided eye contact… were you nervous? I’m not surprised, I’ve never seen you before so I assume that you’re a new student.

You paused for a moment, examining the class before you chose a desk to sit at. And where will that be?

Will you sit in the front back of the class? Or on the wall by the window? Maybe even—

“-Is anyone sitting here?” You asked, gesturing towards the vacant seat right next to me.

You… you want to sit next to me? Why me? Am I really that important to you?

“No. No one’s sitting there,” God, you’re even prettier up close… stop it! I can’t fall for you after only 5 minutes. It’s pathetic, really…

Nonetheless, I wasn’t expecting you to greet me first. well, you technically didn’t greet me, it was more of a question…

Pushing up my glasses, I cleared my throat. I guess I have to introduce myself then… “I’m Akane Aoi.”

“I’m Y/n L/n, nice to meet you Aoi,” you smiled at me… your smile is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid my eyes upon. Ever since her—

-Once our first class had finally started, it was a struggle to pry my eyes away from you. I just… found everything about you so fascinating. From the way you styled your hair, to the way your (s/c) complexion seemed to glow.

Even the way you awkwardly glanced over in my direction enchanted me. Wait, you’re looking at me? Crap, was I staring for too long? Quickly, I diverted my gaze down at my paper.

Why do I feel this way around you, Y/n? This can’t be normal, right? No. It has to be. Then again, there was only one other person I’ve felt so strongly about before…

Despite my efforts to avoid staring, I just couldn’t stop thinking about you. You’re just so pretty, too fucking pretty…

I failed to notice the soft redness rising to my face until it was a bit too late. Why did I have to get like this whenever I like someone?

No, no, I couldn’t have became obsessed with you already, we’ve only just met. I only find you, Y/n, very, very interesting.

Is it even alright for me to address you as ‘Y/n?’ I’ll just assume so for now, but I’ll make sure to ask you whenever we get close.

The second I got home from school today, I threw myself onto my bed after dropping all of my things on the ground. I’m too exhausted to do anything productive and my mind is too preoccupied with more pressing matters.

Then again, I believe it’s pretty normal when you have a crush for only them to circulate though your mind… 24/7. It doesn’t exactly have to be an “obsessive infatuation” as some may call it. But all things do have their limits — so why can’t I stop thinking of you, Y/n…?

I rolled over onto my side and reached for my phone, the least I can do it look for your social media right? I just want to know your hobbies, what shows you like to watch, your home address…

Your account was a bit difficult to find giving that you don’t use your full legal name unlike most people online… You’re an overall average person on the internet, posting mostly about your different interests.

Does this count as a form of stalking? No, it can’t! I’m just… browsing your reposts.

Not only that, but it took me an even shorter amount of time to find your house believe it or not. Well, it’s mostly because i have your first and last name imprinted in my memory despite only hearing it once.

After a bit of digging, I would have your home address. Seriously, the internet shouldn’t make it this easy to find someone’s address. That’s how people get robbed and even kidnapped…

Comparing the picture from Google to the real thing, I wouldn’t have ever guessed that your home was this big. Yes, I know watching someone from inside their house at 10:47 PM while dressed in all black is… not morally okay. Maybe even illegal in some countries, but I’m doing this all for your sake, Y/n.

I pulled up my hood up over my head in fear of being recognized as I stared into your bedroom window from behind a large tree, I’m glad I’m not wearing those damn glasses.

But dear God, you looked even more elegant out of your uniform and in your pajamas. I instantly tore my lingering eyes away when my gaze began trailing down your thighs.

Wait. Are you in there alone, Y/n? I don’t see any cars parked outside… but there could be cars in the garage, right? Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable.

I can’t believe your parents would leave you alone in your house like that for so long. Especially with the curtains wide open this late at night… seriously, haven’t you ever heard of privacy?

You never know what kinda creepy wierdos could be watching you in your sleep or even following your every move. Good thing I’m here, Y/n. I’ll always protect you.

❏ ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁

It’s been a few weeks after school has started Y/n, and I’ve kind of gotten used to this routine we have now. I wake up extra early every morning to get dressed and ready for school. I walk over to your which isn’t very far from mine, and watch you get dressed and leave the house for school through your window.

This actually helped me learn so many new things about you, you leave your home around 7:30 every day and walk to school. You know, it can be dangerous walking all alone like that, good thing I’m here to watch over and protect you, Y/n.

You do have a few friends, some a bit closer than preferred but I can’t really control who you’re around… for now.

We have most of our classes together which I thank God for, but our first one is my personal favorite. The main is because you sit right next to me. Sure, you barely speak to me unless you, like, needed to borrow a pencil or something… but at least you acknowledge my presence.

And once you finally settle in your seat, I always pause time. Despite my supernatural power only allowing me to do this for five minutes, it still feels way too short for my liking. I just want to stare into your beautiful eyes and admire your stunning beauty for eternity.

God, why did you of all people have to steal my heart. I’ve always believed that… she would be the only one for me, but that just can’t be. Because if it were, why else would I be head over heels for you, Y/n?

My crush… no, my obsession with you has grown so bad that I can barely think straight when I look at you. Even frozen in time, you still find a way to drive me mad.

With only a few more seconds from the five minutes left on the clock, I looked away from you and sighed combing my fingers through my red hair. I couldn’t possibly be on the brink of insanity after only seeing you for a fucking week.

But no matter how much I criticize myself, I just can’t and won’t stop thinking of you. Of how you smell, how you feel, how you taste… oh, the feeling of your soft lips against mine would be simply euphoric—

“Akane, are you okay?” You asked, nervously laughing a bit. “You seemed a bit out of it a minute ago.”

Coming back my senses, I realized my fingers were delicately touching my lips as if we actually did just kiss.

“Actually Y/n, there’s something really important I need to tell you,” I began, urgency in my eyes as I stare into yours. Is this too soon to tell you how I feel?

Well it must’ve been because as soon as you opened your mouth to form a response, our teacher entered the room.

Great.

❏ ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁

‘Good morning You,’ is what I wish I was saying to you this dreadful day — but no. Sadly, only in my deepest, darkest imaginations can I hold you tightly in my warm embrace without a care in the world.

Call me delusional or whatever, but I can’t help it.

Because I’m so in love with you.

Sure, I haven’t forwardly told you this… well, every time I tried I was either interrupted or I couldn’t find you. I stal-follow you all the time, so why is it so hard to locate you whenever you turn the corner and get lost in a big crowd.

But still, I haven’t given up on you — on us.

Because my brain can’t go five minutes without you running through my head, I have to do something about it. From the second I woke up this morning, so for about 3 hours? I’ve been… innocently looking for your social media on every app that I can think of, but you barely post at all. So seeing your beautiful face was out of the question.

Beginning to grow agonizingly bored, I throw myself out of bed and walk over to my closet. My hands landed on a black hoodie and jeans, that’ll be fine I guess.

Now in the bathroom, I looked up at the mirror and was a bit taken aback at my appearance. Well, mainly the dark circles under my eyes that anyone could notice.

Dammit, have I even slept last night? Or the night before?

Whatever, I can’t change the past. But it’d be nice if I was given that power anyway.

I sent a text to my parents, making up a lame excuse as to why I’m abruptly leaving at… 10 AM!? Damn, I didn’t know that the thought of you, Y/n could keep me up for that long!

It didn’t take much walking for me to end up here, right in front of your house. And even after I (indirectly) told you, Y/n, you still have your curtains wide open. Letting anyone see the inside of your bedroom.

Oh, you look so peaceful laying in your bed… I could only imagine how it would feel laying next to you in the morning. The way your soft skin would ever so slightly brush against mine. The sound of your soft warm breaths escaping your lips—

“Well good morning to you, Aoi!” A voice rang out behind me, making my whole body stiffen. I didn’t realize I had been staring into your bedroom window for a few minutes until now. Fuck.

“Sh- Shit! You scared me, Minamoto!” I looked up at the taller blonde in frustration. “What’re you doing here anyway!?”

“Well I was just going on a walk but suddenly ran into you. But wow, Aoi, I never took you for the creeepy stalker type… Actually, I did.” He laughs a bit to himself, that same damn smile plastered onto his stupid face.

“Ha, ha, very funny Mr. President,” I scoffed, “Don’t you have a supernatural to exorcise or something?”

“Well, no actually.” He put a finger on his chin and looked over towards your house, “But I do have a question for you: Whatever happened to you and Akane? I thought you lover her unconditionally, hm, Aoi?”

“I…” My eyes narrowed at him. Did he seriously have to bring her up here and now? “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” He sighed, “Just — forget I said anything.”

He turned on his heel and proceeded to walk away from me, “Enjoy whatever it is you’re doing, Aoi.”

I rolled my eyes at him, what was he even doing here? I don’t know, and, quite frankly, I don’t really don’t give a fuck either. Looking up at your bedroom window once more, you were… gone?

“The hell…?” I muttered under my breath, my hands reaching up to pull my hood over my head. Did you notice me watching and decided to move? No, there’s no way could’ve seen me…

“Dammit, did I really loose you?” I panicked, despite it not even being that serious.

Just calm down, maybe I can find you—

“Oh, hi Aoi! I didn’t expect to see you around here!”

Slowly, I turned around and pulled the hood off my disheveled hair; I could really take better care of myself before leaving the house.

But when did you…? You know what, I don’t even care.

You laughed a bit at my close to mortified expression. Oh, your smile is so beautiful…

“You uh- yeah! I just ran into Minamoto so I guess everyone from school’s here or something!” I responded as calmly as possible, obviously failing in the process.

You went silent for a bit and narrowed your eyes at me, “There’s something off about you… where are your glasses?”

You pointed to my eyes and I only blinked at you. How the hell did I forget my glasses!? No. I didn’t forget them. I didn’t bring them on purpose because I didnt think I’d need them so… shit, shit, I need to make up an excuse..!!

“I… forgot them. The glasses, that is,” I lied. I had to lie, Y/n, because your were asking too many damn questions. But that’s okay… for now.

“That’s a shame… but do I like you a bit more without them on anyway,” I’m glad that’s we’ve became close enough friends whereas you can trust me even after I blatantly lied to your face.

Wait did you just compliment me?

“I don’t have anything important to do today, so do you want to go to the movies with me? If you’re not busy, of course.”

And are you asking me out? I have to be dreaming.

A big, stupid smile illuminated my sleep-deprived face as I eagerly agreed, “Yeah of course! What Time do you want to go?”

“Why not now? If you don’t mind…”

I wasn’t expecting that… do you really like me that much, Y/n?

“O- of course! I don’t mind at all!!” God, i probably sound so desperate right now, but who wouldn’t when you’re literally asking me out, Y/n!?

As we were walking to the theater that was too damn far away, I read aloud the movies showing around this time today. When I got to the last on on the list, you stopped me.

“If you can read that well without your glasses, I don’t see why you need them,” you giggled. It’s so cute how oblivious about me you are.

Yet, it’s understandable. I can’t tell you that I gained the power to pause time and see supernaturals from school mystery number one but use my glasses to block them from my view. But that’d take way too long to explain, you know?

Oh shit, don’t I need to make up an excuse for that too?

“So which movie were you thinking of seeing, Y/n?” I’ll just act like I didn’t hear you.

❏ ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁

It was late afternoon when the movie was over, I asked if I could walk you home and of course you accepted the offer. My home is on the way anyway… well, if I were to go the shorter way.

We stopped at your front porch and you turned to me, “Thank you for going to the movies with me, Aoi! I knew it was sudden?”

Why are you so worried about that Y/n? I would literally do anything for you.

“Oh you’re welcome, really I should be thanking you.” I smiled, my hands fidgeting nervously in my pockets. Why the hell am I so nervous? Get you shit together Akane. This my perfect, only chance I get to tell you how I really feel!

“Y/n, I love—“

“—Hey, Y/n!!”

You turned around, your face lighting up at the sight of this random guy. I’ve never seen him be- wait I have. He’s some kid who went to your old school. He follows your account actually… and it pisses me off.

“Y/n you know him?” I forced out my mouth. But what I really wanted to ask was, “Y/n, who the fuck is this loser?”

“Yes, he went to my middle school!” You exclaimed, a bit too happy to see him.

His name is Ryota, a boringly average student with average grades, looks, and personality… he posts a bit more than you and seems a bit more on the extroverted side. Despite his average-ness, he has a blatantly obvious crush on you, but I think you would’ve caught on by now.

But who cares about him. I want to know what is and was he to you, Y/n? A close friend? A past crush? I have to know.

Wait a second, I just remembered he made a post about Kamome, does he go the—!?

“Aoi? You there?” You giggled, waving your hand in my face. I must’ve zoned out… again. “Akane Aoi, this is Ryota! My best friend from middle school!”

“Oh yeah, I’ve seen you around campus! Nice to finally meet you Mr. Vice President!”

So he does go to Kamome. Great.

I already hate this guy.

“You too, Ryota,” I plastered a fake smile onto my face then turned to you. “I’m going home now, don’t want to worry my parents! Bye, Y/n!” I turn and walk away.

When walking back to my home, I suddenly find myself eavesdropping on you and Ryota’s conversation. Completely by mistake! You both just speak very loudly…

“Why were you on a date with… him?” Ryota huffs. I knew he was a little shit!

“It wasn’t… really a date. We just went out…” You avoided eye contact with him. Were you embarrassed? For what?

“On a date.”

“Why do you even care? I thought you were over me!”

“I am! But Akane Aoi isn’t… he isn’t right in the head, okay.”

“What are you talking about, Ryota! You said the same thing abou—“

“-but I’m serious this time! He gets really, uh, really obsessive okay? There’s a rumor he’s killed someone over a girl he liked before.”

“that’s just a rumor it can’t be proven.”

“Whatever. Believe what you want. I’m going home,” and he walked away.

Why would he say something so… untrue about me! I’m perfectly fucking sane. And why would he feel those.. those lies to you, Y/n? I can’t let him try to brainwash you or anyone else at school with that stuff.

Y/n, you really need better friends.

❏ ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁

I spent my Sunday doing absolutely nothing. Not even stalking you interested me today. All I could think of what’s that stupid piece of crap Ryota. Why the hell is he even named that, I bet he can’t even animate.

At school the next day, I did what I usually do all day. Most of which is either me staring at you or thinking of you.

But that stupid Ryota has plagued my mind, and they weren’t the lovesick thoughts like I have with you. No, I cant go three fucking minutes without imagining myself bashing his skull in with my bat.

God, why can’t he just disappear!?

When school was finally over, I headed straight to my locker, the shoe locker, then the exit doors. I may haven’t mentioned this to you yet because the author forgot to write this earlier, but I sent an anonymous message to Ryota asking him to meet me behind the school.

Only an idiot could fall for something like that, but it guess it worked because he’s literally walking right towards me as we speak.

“Oh… it’s you. What do you want, Aoi?” Ryota sneered. Man, I really hate this guy.

“Oh, I just need to show you something really important…” I muttered through gritted teeth as I took my heavy backpack off and shuffled through the contents.

Why do I still have this thing in here?

“Oh, I found it!” I stood up in front of him with my hands behind my back.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes, “took you long eno—“

In the heat of the moment, I had swung what my hands had a firm grip on directly into his skull. I’m so glad I had kept this spiked baseball bat.

When the warm liquid splattered onto my face and his body had collapsed at my feet, I could only react with two words: “Oh shit.”

I hope it’s not obvious that I got lazier w/ my writing as the story progressed. I just realyyy wanted to post this soon lol :P

If this gets popular, I might make a part two!! :D

[prncssie]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you’re sick to your stomach.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“are you mad at someone?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“oh my gosh, hobie brown!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“promise?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you shake your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[tojiscrack]

on my weekly re-read of liar liar, and i was GOING TO pull an all nighter and finish it all, but i feel asleep before i could 😞😞

ANYWAYS!! i find it so funny that throughout the first chapter (and even later chapters, but not as much) its mentioned (and made very obvious) that y/n is a little devil child, that can be too much to handle, but never w megumi. like, idk how to explain it, but hes never thought shes “too much”, and lets her do what she wants, just puts his input in (like when she switched classes, he didnt feel overly annoyed by it, just told her that she was gonna get in trouble) (i might be wrong about this LMAO) youve written them in a way that they balance each other PERFECTLY, like they are genuinely soulmates.

the end scene of the first chapter is oddly one of my favourite parts of the fic, because we get other characters (albeit, minor characters, but wtv) opinions on them, and youve written them exactly like how they describe it. they keep each other in line, and thats why they work so well together.

anyways!!! i love this fanfic so sosososooos much!!! i dont understand how this isnt more popular because???? ITS SO GOOD???? literally how arent people falling in love with your writing within the first 1k words??

(also i meant to include this in a previous ask, but i forgot lol, BUT ONE OF MY FAV DUOS IN THE FIC (and in canon lfmao) is megumi and nobara?? everytime they’re together i genuinely laugh, you nailed their characters and character dynamic)

liar, liar masterlist here:

INCOMING YAP SESSION CUZ THIS ASK GOT ME SUPER DUPER EXCITED KSJSJDIWJ

WEEKLY reread? girl, stop, you’re gonna notice all the typos i cba to get rid of 🫣

HAHAHA, NO STOP, I HAVEN’T HAD ANYONE MENTION THE WHOLE ‘DEVIL CHILD’ THING SINCE THE FIRST TWO CHAPTERS WERE RELEASED 😭 and that, my friend, was months ago 🌝

so i’m so excited to just talk about this omggg!!! 😫💘

yes indeed 😤 megumi would most likely say she’s sm to handle, but really, he lowkey enjoys it. it’s the only time he can be an accomplice witness to such foolish behaviour, and not be reprimanded for it as much ‘cause he just has her to fall back on and blame. he won’t ever stop her, per se, but he’ll tell her once or twice ‘whatever you’re doing, it’s not gonna work’ or ‘don’t be dumb’, and think he’s done his part before being influenced by her 💀

‘i might be wro-’ stfu you’re right and you know it 🙄❤️

and you’re also right in it not being mentioned as much when they’re older. no, i did not forget to add it, that was done intentionally for two reasons:

they’re older now, so as much as she does what she wants with him, she’s a lot more tame than she was as a child. that doesn’t mean she ever regrets the stupid things she’s done (except for the whole mermaid thing, that is a lifelong regret she’ll always have 😭)

the idea that she’s such a menace has been established enough over the years to the point where no one feels the need to voice it. new characters probably would — someone like miss b who was introduced in the middle school chapter — but even then, she was exposed to the more tame versions of the chaotic duo. so everyone kinda silently acknowledges it, and only during crazy moments (like the tragic helicopter incident of 2016, rip satoru/suguru’s will to live 😔) will it actually be voiced (like ogi mistakenly believing that y/n didn’t start any of the nonsense that occurred during the incident, and that was mentioned cuz of the fact that she’s famously known to be so incredibly out of control).

the bonus scene for the first chapter was my fav to write as wellll (tho arguably, i say that about so many scenes, so the value of this statement is probably worth nothing 💀). bonus scenes were initially meant to be ONLY from other people’s pov, but i noticed how so many things from y/n and megumi’s childhood tgth are littered around the story, and that the only way you could ever get any insight of them is through the bonus scene since the chapters are too long to add flashbacks AND bonus scenes. i could always do a separate set of oneshots for them, but i don’t have the time for that (yk this through my horrid updating schedule) 😟

but i am so glad you’re telling me what you enjoyed — and more importantly, being specific about it. it lets me put into perspective how the later chapters (tho already planned) should be set out. your feedback means the world to me, and you deserve a million set of kisses every night for them <3333

‘i love this fanfic sosososo much!!! i don’t understand how this isn’t more popular because??? IT’S SO GOOD???’

okay brb, gonna go and find my right to exist and have the perfect life when cutie pies like you grace this earth 😖💞💓💗💞

maybe one day it’ll get bigger 😊 if that day ever comes, i’ll remember my og readers. i’ll remember the support i was given from them. i’ll remember people like you, who continuously flood my inbox with enough love to pull yank me out of writer’s block and squeeze out another chapter, how because of your long and juicy asks/messages/dms, the cycle of writing i have going on here continues, and i feel more and more proud that i even developed such a fic to begin with ❤️

‘literally how aren’t people falling in love with your writing after the first 1k words’ — errr probably ‘cause the first 1k words were just y/n trying (and failing) to explain what happens in her horror stories without stuttering 💀 LMFAO, SORRY 😭 i’d fall asleep on that carpet if i were the kids surrounding her, and they went to listen willingly.

but ugh, that’s so nice of you, i’m gonna siwjosnwidjwjd

AND OMG YOU’RE SO RIGHT

like everyone talks about yuji/nobara, or yuji/megumi, bUT WHAT ABOUT MY BEANS NOBARA/MEGUMI? they have a level of deep understanding with each other in canon (and in my fic, which will be addressed CHAPTERSSSS later) that i’d love to yap about, but i’ve already yapped enough, like you’re probably cringing rn i’m sorry 😭 another time, maybe 😔

[xoxochb]

— prue’s official 1k love letter ꣑ৎ‧₊˚.

💌 - dedicated to: all of my lovely followers and mutuals 🫶🏼🫶🏼

if you haven’t seen from my various posts about it then long story short I’ve hit 1k followers! I know for every new 100 followers I’ve hit that I’ve written notes like this whether they’re short or long. unfortunate for you, I’m a writer, so this one is going to be very long, my props to anyone who’s about to read all of this you’re a real one 🤞🏼

I’ve been using tumblr for nearly a year now. It started as a simple blog where I would just make silly pjo posts because I had been re entering that phase from middle school. after a while I started reading fics the lovely writers made on here and I became addicted to them to be honest. now, I’ve always been a writer at heart, when I was little I used to staple papers together and write silly childish books and at school I would always go above and beyond with creative writing assignments. after a while of being here I received a request from one of my early followers asking for a fic. I was new to this whole “sharing my work online” kinda stuff but nonetheless I proceeded to write it for her. It didn’t get many notes but it got enough for more people to come into my inbox and ask for more of my writing. since then I have been an avid riordanverse writer though most of the fandom has diminished by this point I’m still here to serve the people

over this time I’ve been on tumblr I’ve had some issues and I got accused of something that wasn’t true at all and received tons of hate over this (situation is resolved don’t worry). and if you’re still here reading this I suppose that you’re one of the many followers that didn’t leave me over this. but besides this slight issue I’ve met tons of great people on here and I’ve made many friends and found people who love my writing and love seeing my posts. honestly I think joining tumblr and sharing my work on here has been one (or probably only LMAO) of the best decisions I’ve ever made and it makes me incredibly happy to be thanking you all for helping me reach one thousand followers, it’s truly unreal to me and I am beyond words grateful for everyone who’s helped me achieve this accomplishment (I’m giving you all virtual forehead kisses rn 😙😙). I wish I could put into words what I’m feeling… but just imagine happy times, like, infinity!!!

anyways I’m gonna wrap this up because I swear I could ramble on and on all day but I’m pretty sure nobody would listen or read for that long plus I’m basically just talking about the same thing, anyways… again thank you so so so much for one thousand followers it truly means a lot and I will never thank you enough for this <3

with much love, prue 🤍🤍

[sydsbian]

finally writing my greys anatomy/iZombie crossover fic

i haven’t written fanfic since middle school

[delvalentine]

Hi!

I've been reading your fanfics since I was in middle school and I'm in college now, so that's really funny to think about lol.

I know that you've been writing for a really long time and you may have been asked this question before (I promise I tried to scroll through and look for a similar question, but I couldn't, so sorry if you've answered this multiple times before!!), but how do you stay motivated when writing?

I have a few writing projects that I've started on, but have yet to finish or publish because I always find something that could be fixed or changed. And whenever I try to write shorter, one-shot type fics, they end up being longer and I keep adding new ideas to them. But this ask is long enough as is, so I'll stop here.

I really love your work and I hope you're doing well!!!

A long-time fan ♥️

It’s so emotional for me to hear that my writing is impactful enough for people to keep reading it as they grow up with me 🥲 thank you so much for reaching out 🤧 & no need to apologize as I’m happy to answer any question or chat! I don’t think I’ve gotten this one yet either 😙

The simple answer is: I don’t stay motivated 💀

I have drafts I never go back to or publish. Fics I think about for years and years and suddenly 5 years have passed and I still haven’t finished it. I have plenty of incomplete stories on my page right now; some I still think about wanting to finish, and others that I’ve abandoned and moved on from. People come to ask and even beg me to finish fics, and I wish I could for their and my sakes, but creativity doesn’t come on command no matter how much you want it to. I tire out while writing a chapter and forget to go back for months. Even when I’ve planned out the whole story, I’ll still lose steam when it comes to actually writing it. The main thing is forgiveness; it’s okay.

I’m sure you’ve heard of motivation vs discipline. Nobody is motivated all the time; it’s impossible to be. Now that I’m a working adult I’ve lost the time and energy I used to have, so I end up prioritizing other things—but I’ve never felt the need to quit writing, because I still enjoy the process of it.

When I write fanfic, the goal is always just to have fun. Like you said, I’ve written fics for a long time; my first ever Big Time Rush Logan x OC on Quotev (when it was Quizzaz) was written ~2010. And I still write reader insert romance fics today even after I graduated university and got married 😂 and the only reason I would be able to keep doing something for so long is because I still find it enjoyable to craft stories!

It always helps when I receive reader feedback. I don’t think anybody should write with the main goal of hitting kudos goals or getting clout as it sort of takes the joy away from creation, but that’s my personal belief. Knowing people liked your hard work can make you feel validated and proud; but I think if you’re not proud even if 0 people left a like or comment, then there could be some introspection about why you’re writing something that doesn’t bring you, the author, joy.

It sounds like your concern is less that you have a block in creation and that you feel that it has to be perfect before you can release it for others in the public to read. Every artist feels this way; I myself reread my fics and wish I’d said this, or worded it a different way, added a scene, etc etc. But the base feelings I look for before I’m ready to hit publish:

- am I proud of this?

- did I convey my story meaningfully?

- if it’s a chapter, does it make me feel like I’d like to keep reading? Did it serve the purpose of answering questions posed earlier in the story?

Sometimes the philosophy “fuck it, we ball” and hitting publish without looking back is enough. It’s just a fic; if there’s some spelling errors or it’s boring to some or OOC to others or whatever—it doesn’t spell the end of the world. In fact, noticing flaws means you’re able to recognize areas that you’d like to grow in to become an even better author. The joy of online fanfic is that the genre is so broad and diverse. It’s all subjective. No matter what you put out, somebody’s put out something “better”, and somebody’s put out something “worse”, and people would still disagree in their personal opinions. If nobody read your writing, would you still feel proud reading it? Did you have enough fun writing your story that you’re keen to write the next one?

Sometimes writing and not publishing has value. Sometimes writing and not editing helps spark creativity or gives you a base of a different story. Sometimes dumping the skeleton of a draft in word dumps on a page without going back to edit until you’re done is what you need to complete your product. If your good ideas stay trapped in your head, I think it’s better to have at least the bare minimum down so you have something that you can edit and clean/fluff up to your liking instead of working yourself into circles and not having anything to show for it. A drill to help practice breaking that particular habit is setting timers and not allowing yourself to go back until the timer is over; this can train your brain to work in a continual flow rather than get tripped up and losing steam.

And I think one of the most important things for creators to do is ingest media from other creators. Read other peoples fics; what do you like about them and what might you do differently in your own style? Published books, TV, movies, etc. The more exposure you have, the more ideas you have available to draw from, and the more you can visualize how you want to tell your own story.

Another tip that helps me to achieve that writing flow is to see your fic/writing as visual media. How does your “movie” end? How would people write the synopsis for your “film”? Are these scenes actually necessary or is it awkward and taking up screen time? Might it be better for the scene to be earlier or later to help with the flow of the “movie”?

This in itself was more of a word dump than a concise answer, but I hope it’s helpful at least a little bit to your writing journey. TL;DR… just publish it 😉 if it’s got a beginning, middle, and end, it’s ready. You can always publish a rewrite (I’ve done that before!), so just trust yourself. There isn’t anybody you have to please online in the fanfic world except for yourself 😌

💌 Love, V

[mooki3-bear]

Got a quick surprise for y’all! I decided to make my own kk fic cuz I was bored! It’s super short but I thought it was a cute idea! I haven’t written fanfic since I was in middle school so if it’s terrible I’m so sorry😭 it’ll be up in a bit so get ready!!!

[maarriiii]

Hello everyone!!! How are you all?? I just wanted to say thank you so much for following me. I’ve been on Tumblr for awhile now—since middle school I think—and writing have been my escape, so it’s really awesome to have people like my stuff.

So, moving on, to celebrate getting 300 followers (minus one, so 299) I’m doing a celebration by posting 3 fics!!! It’s not a lot but I feel like it’s better than nothing.

The first fic is out now and it’s for my current favorite character, Mr. Draco Malfoy and you can find that here.

The next one is for my favorite british man/streamer/singer, Wilbur Soot. I haven’t finished that one yet. Hopefully I’ll get that done in the next few days—it’s here

And finally, the third fic would be decided by all of you!!! You can request a fic for whatever characters I’ve written for before and I’ll pick one at random. Just one rule though: NO SMUT!! I cannot write a sex scene to save my skin also I don’t think I have the capability so yeah.

That’s all folks. I look forward to posting and seeing all the requests (if I do receive some 💀) I’m gonna go to bed now. Byeeeee