#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

[chiyokoemilia]

considering writing my first fic.. nervous but excited?! 🥺🤍🙈

[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

[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

[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 😔

[heartchoi]

little wishes ㅡ k.th

synopsis: you help out a random anonymous user on a message board woo their crush. all the while, your best friend becomes closer and closer to you.

pairing: best friend!taehyun x gn!reader

wc: 2.8k

includes: fluff, friends to lovers, they're both really oblivious, one curse word, mentions of passing away (it’s a joke)

a/n: a late taehyun birthday fic! i apologize in advance if the writing isn’t good… i haven’t written fluff fics like this since 2021, please forgive me 💔 hopefully you enjoy it, happy reading!

Anonymous [2:05 PM]

does anyone know how to confess to your crush ? we’ve been friends since first grade and im afraid i’ll ruin our friendship… any tips to win your best friend’s heart ??

↳ 444hugfairy [3:04 PM]

thats so cute! i have a friend just like that, i think if i were in their position i’d probably swoon if he gave me homemade goods ^_^ nothing like home cooking made with love to capture someone’s heart!

you immediately pressed send on the reply, a smile overtaking your features thinking about how cute this confession is going to be. to be honest, you wish you’d have your best friend-who-you-might-not-have-been-in-love-with-since-sophomore-year do things like these for you.

unfortunately, you don’t think taehyun feels the same, anyways. he’s too out of touch when it comes to affection, especially with you. i guess it sucks being in the friend-zone. (he’s never explicitly stated that, but you don’t need his confirmation to know.)

you’ve been pining after him for years at this point. it was during your sophomore year of high school when you suddenly realized that you were in love with him. you were in denial about it for weeks, but the pitter-patter of your heart every time he greeted you or pushed his hair back said otherwise. you were blasting some random love song on the radio when your brain finally got it; you were terribly in love with your best friend.

it was almost sickening to accept. theres no way he could ever like you back! kang taehyun? in love with someone like you? that might take a miracle for that to happen.

that’s what you tell yourself, anyways. you’re a little dramatic. but as you’re now in the middle of your third year of college and still painfully in love with him, a little exaggeration should be excused.

in fact, if asked, you could probably make a list of the reasons why you adore taehyun (sweet, handsome, hot as hell, intelligent, quick-witted, did i mention hot?) so much.

god, you love him to bits.

“…what are you doing here?” you ask, rubbing your eyes. taehyun shows bright and early at your doorstep, immediately pushing a tin of cookies into your hands. he’s taken care of his looks as well, suddenly showing up at your door with a leather jacket, black shirt thrown on as well while he wears a pair of dark jeans. he now has a chain necklace on him, god knows wherever he got that. taehyun clears his throat, looking away. a giggle escapes your lips, and you can’t help but think, he’s so cute.

“i didn’t make these for you, i, uh, made too much food yesterday. wanted to give them to you because you like cookies, right?” he gulps, attempting to make eye contact with you. “oh.” um. okay? that’s a little out of character for him, but the cookies he shoved into your arms certainly do look delicious. “you should try one.” he says, staring at you expectantly.

“okay!” you chirp, carefully picking out a cookie before taking a bite.

the cookie is delicious, for sure. it’s simple, chocolate chip. but as the chocolate spreads across your tongue and blends with the chewy dough, you can’t help but close your eyes at how good it is. “is it… is it good?” taehyun asks cautiously, arm rubbing the back of his neck. “it’s great, tyunnie! how’d you make it?” you ask, eyes shining with curiosity. you don’t remember taehyun being so good at baking. in fact, you feel honored that he decided he should give you the cookies in the first place.

taehyun mutters something under his breath, before he confidently states, “a magician doesn’t tell his secrets.”

“this is a cookie recipe though?”

Anonymous [9:34 AM]

thank you guys for helping me with my last post! i gave them some homemade baked treats, but i don’t think they got the hint… any other advice you guys could give me ? : (

↳ 444hugfairy [5:53 PM]

i see you took my advice anonymous… hmm… i think you should probably surprise them by bringing them out somewhere, like a date! you should be a little subtle about it though haha, if you outright say it’s a date you might be too obvious

↳ [re: 444hugfairy] Anonymous [6:02 PM]

i did, thank you so much ! i’ll try to do this as soon as i can, hopefully it’ll make it more clear to them ㅠㅠㅠ

ah, anonymous seems so nice, you think. this person must be so lucky to have someone like this in their life.

↳ [re: Anonymous] 444hugfairy [6:05 PM]

of course, anything to help! you go ~~

it’s a chilly thursday, snow crunching beneath your feet as you walk around the streets of seoul. you can barely feel your nose, occasionally scrunching it every once in a while to get the nerves in your nose unfrozen. the low temperatures were enough to make you want to never go outside again and just stay curled up in a ball all day in bed. even through all that, winter remains your favorite season. something about it just makes you feel so nostalgic and at peace. the snowy peaks catch your attention immediately, admiring how it looks until you’re snapped out of your daydream.

a call from taehyun rings through the air as you pick up, but you nearly lose your grip and drop your phone the second he speaks.

“let’s go out. where are you? i want to take you somewhere.”

is he insane? does he not know the effect he has on me? my god, kang taehyun. you’ll be the death of me.

“what’s the occasion? this is a little out of character, tyun.” he can’t see it, but you’re sure he can envision how you raise an eyebrow at his sudden proposal. “nothing. was just a little bored. can we meet at the park? i’ll pick you up from there.” shyly, you agree and immediately hang up the phone. he’s driving you crazy and he doesn’t even know it. this is awful for your health.

the snow has become heavier now. your once clean coat is now covered in a thin blanket of ice crystals, and you cant help but shiver as you wait.

it feels like eternity in the cold when you finally see taehyun drive up to you. "i'm sorry for being late, ___. are you cold?" he asks tenderly, hands cupping your cheeks.

suddenly, you no longer feel cold. you can't tell if its the blush radiating from your cheeks or his warm hands holding them while he inspects your face thoroughly. "your face is red." he comments. oh my god. he noticed. your face turns even redder, absolutely flushed with embarassment. "it's just a bit cold, that's all." somehow, you managed to stutter out a response. a look of concern flashes over his features, but disappears immediately when he fronts a grin. "shouldn't have kept someone waiting, hm? come on. let's go."

the car drive is very silent between the two of you. what just happened? the scenes replay in your head over and over again, and you can't help but feel sick to your stomach at just remembering it. the way his hands caressed your skin, all you want is for it to happen again. (bonus points if both of you touch lips. kdrama mentality is real. anyone can dream.) taehyun quietly turns on his radio, the sweet sounds of a mellow love song playing in the background. damn, even god wants you both to get together. there is absolutely no way this should be happening right now.

taehyun clears his throat when you both arrive at a red light. carefully, he cranes his neck to look at you, but you seem a little too invested looking out the window. he sighs, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. "so, ___. it's been a while since we hung out like this, huh?" his attempt at starting conversation is a bit lame. (you didn't realize this at the moment, but now that you look back at it, what was he thinking?)

"um, it's been pretty good."

"that's uh, that's good." he says, awkwardly.

silence envelops the two of you, time seeming slower than ever as you both wait for the red light to pass.

"do you still like to ice skate?" taehyun asks, the first to break the heavy silence.

"i haven't skated in years, taehyun." he chuckles, a smile now gracing his features. "it doesn't hurt to start over again, right?"

taehyun leads you inside the chilly ice-skating rink, already filled to the brim with couples and friends laughing and screaming as they slid over the ice. "come, ___! let's go!" he pulls at your sleeves excitedly, already preparing to get pairs of skates for the two of you. of course, you agree, albeit reluctantly, but not because you didn't want to skate. god, no, of course you wanted to. especially with taehyun.

it’s just that you feel as if your heart is about to pulse out of your body and run away, would this be considered a date? between… friends? theres no way you could confront him about this without pulling a “what are we?” moment. what even are you two now, anyways? it feels like you’re a couple in the talking stage.

you follow taehyun wherever absentmindedly, your body seating itself on a bench while you put on your skates. the laces feel unfamiliar in your fingers, twisting and turning it every direction. the rough rope slightly burns your skin, making you hiss out in frustration. “here, let me help you.” taehyun says softly, placing his hands over yours while he ties your laces. he chuckles a bit, hands never letting go of yours. “can’t believe you forgot to tie laces, ___. thought everyone knew that.” your face turns red for what seems like the umpteenth time that day. he just seems to know exactly how to fluster you. you pray to god for him to stop testing you like this.

“it’s okay. i’ll tie them for you whenever you want, sugar.”

…

sugar?

he just called you… sugar? kang taehyun just called you a pet name. oh my god. the world is ending. this is it. you’re about to pass away.

taehyun smiles up at you when he finishes tying the other skate. he acts as if he didn’t call you sugar just now, pulling your hands towards him to enter the rink. his fingers intertwine with yours, fitting perfectly in between the spaces like a puzzle.

the two of you end up skating on the ice just like that, hands intertwined, gliding across the ice. the silence between you both now feels more comfortable. you opt to savor the moment, relishing the warmth of his hand on yours. “this is nice.” and it really is, here you are, holding hands with the boy of your dreams while you ice skate together. if you had your phone on you right now you could take a picture of this moment and go pinterest viral. you’re not quite sure if that’s a thing. but it makes sense.

the boy next to you merely nods, lost in thought. “uh, ___, i-“ he starts nervously, heart palpitating through his chest. if he didn’t know any better, he’d think it’d be pressing against his ribcage right now. you hum questioningly, “what is it, tyun?”

“i think i’m- oh my god, are you okay?”

he’s immediately cut off by you falling on your butt, wincing in pain. i guess that’s one way to present yourself in front of your crush, you muse while you brush ice off your pants.

the ice-skating dilemma, as second-best-friend choi beomgyu dubs it, remains fresh in your mind the next day. you just cant fathom that the whole thing really happened.

“can you two just kiss? no one can stand it anymore.” beomgyu practically begs when you tell him about the whole thing. “even soobin is sick of it. and it’s soobin, for god’s sake! he’s practically a fool when it comes to love! he didn’t even notice that one girl hitting on him for weeks until she actually said it straight to his face!”

“i don’t think you needed to diss soobin like that,” you say quietly, as if the man in question was going to appear from the shadows at the mention of his name. “he’s not here. i’m allowed to say whatever i want about him. no one is stopping me.” beomgyu retorts, rolling his eyes. “but-“ you try to say, but he immediately shuts you down. “no buts! and we’re getting off track ㅡ PLEASE just date taehyun. everyone is getting sick of it." you play with the hem of your clothes nervously at the thought of having to confess to him. “but how are you so sure he likes me back? the chances feel like a solid one percent.”

beomgyu facepalms with a loud ‘smack,’ he’s sick of you at this point. it has him questioning why he’s friends with you instead of vice versa, as per usual. “he literally does not shut up about you. every day. it’s always ___ this, ___ that. he does not shut up.” his sudden confession has your eyes widening. “he talks about me?” you say, in disbelief. beomgyu sighs exasperatedly. it’s almost like it was obvious. “okay. originally i was gonna stay silent about it. but after that, i cannot do it anymore. do what you want with that information. go kiss taehyun.”

“i can’t believe it.”

“i can’t either. please get out of my living room now.”

Anonymous [3:13 PM]

thank you all for your help! i think i’m going to tell them now, i just can’t handle it anymore. i just need to get this off my chest :( thank you all for your help once again !! hopefully they accept !

you can’t bring yourself to reply to their mysterious person’s last post.

you’re laying in bed. beomgyu revealing that taehyun had talked about you had you all giddy: kicking your feet, giggling with a hand over your mouth, and rolling around on your bed. you couldn’t believe it.

perhaps you and this anonymous person will get their happy ending. just maybe.

it's been a few days since you've last heard from taehyun. ever since he carried you back from ice skating, he's been radio silent.

like, he's silent. he has not said or done a thing. a tiny guilt monster has been eating away at your stomach everytime you refresh taehyun's social media, only to find nothing new. you're starting to feel like a stalker (even though the victim has been friends with you for years).

beomgyu's been very assuring, encouraging your relationship and even going above and beyond to trend "#___HYUNREAL" on twitter, despite the fact the only people using the hashtag are him and soobin. they're great wingmen. you should applaud their efforts.

you're giggling to yourself over some meme they sent you when taehyun strolls up to you, seating himself right next to you. "hey." he says, smiling. his smile is almost cat-like, it makes him look so adorable. "hi, tyun!" you greet him, and you believe you might be head-over-heels in love.

taehyun's smile falters a little as he ponders his next words.

"___... i..." he begins, cautiously saying each syllable, afraid of what will come next. you cocked your head slightly, confused as to why he was suddenly so hesitant.

"what's wrong?" you ask. his demeanor has changed entirely, in a matter of seconds. it's become concerning. "i- i just need to tell you something." he responds, eyes wavering.

"oh. okay then, what is it?" you question sweetly, and that does it for him. he can't take it anymore.

"i'm in love with you," he confesses. "i've loved you for ages. i can't imagine myself being with someone other than you. it's driving me crazy, every sunset, every sunrise, every second, every minute, my mind thinks of you. and my heart just can't take it anymore, ___. even if you don't like me back, i still want to be friends, because i just can't see my life without you in it somehow."

when he finally finishes his ramble, his chest heaves, exasperated from blurting his inner thoughts and feelings so quickly. taehyun notices your shocked expression as soon as he recovers. his head hangs low, already accepting his wordless rejection. "i'm sorry. i shouldn't have put that on you so suddenly. but i really mean it, i-" his words are cut off when you press a kiss to his cheek, softly turning his head to give him a kiss on the lips as well.

"you think too much, silly. i love you too."

the poor boy turns into a blushing, mumbling mess with your hands cupping his face like that. certainly a rare sight for the kang taehyun.

"i thought you'd never feel the same."

"taehyun, love, i've had a crush on you since forever. how could i not have fallen for you?"

"...love?"

Anonymous [1:43 PM]

i have an s/o now !!! i'm so happy, ___ if you're out there i love you to the moon and back ♡

↳ 444hugfairy [1:58 PM]

i love you too ♡

[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 🤍🤍

[bluesunflowers21]

I have no posts and no followers so this probably won’t see the light of day, but it’s 1:53 am and I’m up reading yumihisu fanfics from 2014 and I just had this thought I needed to share.

Does anyone ever read these older fics and just think about their age? It’s almost like time travel, right? You’re looking into a time in fandom where so many things hadn’t happened yet, secrets not yet revealed, ship wars that have yet to exist. To see a ship you hold close because even if it’s painful in canon it was the first you ever saw that matched who you were in some small way, and it’s young again. It’s all new, and the angst hasn’t hit, and the tragedy isn’t tragic yet.

And then I look at the comments. 2013, 2014, 2017, 2018. All are people, who at one time or another, have read the exact same work I have, and have enjoyed it enough to make a comment. And it’s not just fanfic either, it’s YouTube comments, it’s old vine compilations, it’s late 90s and early 2000s music. It goes beyond nostalgia, it is for just a moment, seeing peaks into peoples lives in a more in-depth way than any history book I have ever read. It is a diary of humanity when things were easier, when we were all young and bright eyed and full of hope.

I feel that since Covid, even before it, the world has been so dull. Colors are faded, and sounds are muted, and smiles aren’t as wide anymore. But tonight, even if for one moment, I caught a glimpse of what once was. I saw the beginning of a world I had just discovered over 10 years ago. I saw a hole in history, and I remembered myself. I remembered humanity. I remember when I cared about people beyond a surface level, when I had empathy and sympathy carved so deep into my heart that I bled comfort and love. I remembered the little things, the fallen log in the woods behind my papas house, just past the field that was decided by and electric pole, and the hill covered in cherry blossoms that I dug arrow heads up from, I remembered my wooden easel that I painted when I ran out of paper, and my bed frame that was once white and ended in an array of pastel colors. I remember when I liked pink and purple like the walls of my bedroom before first grade. I remembered when I started to hate pink and purple. I remembered the bullies from elementary school. I remember my fourth grade teacher convincing me to read The Stone Child, and how it was the first time I had finished a proper book. I remember looking for any horror book I could find after. I remember starting middle school and being so scared of what would come. I remember making a huge card for my seventh grade math teacher because he was retiring, and him hugging me and the other student who helped, because I don’t think he expected that from any of us. I remember starting highschool and trying to figure out who I was. I remember my mom getting cancer. I remember theatre being an escape. I remember friends I haven’t spoken to in years, and some I still speak to today. I remember the little kid who would think “future me, please tell me it will be okay” and I now think of the adult me who says, “yeah, it will be”.

Maybe this is all nonsensical rambling, but now I can’t help but think of a game I played for the first time after watching YouTubers play it online. There’s a specific quote that I don’t think I really understood until this moment, one that I saw make others cry in…I’m not sure, relief? Sadness? Happiness?

“Despite everything, it’s still you”

Despite everything, reading those comments on a random ballerina AU fic written over 10 years ago reminded me that yes, after everything that has happened, things I’ve caused and things I’ve never had control over, the little kid who believed in people still exists. She is a part of me that has never and always existed. Everything she was, and everything she ever will be, is who I am. Everything any child was and will ever be is who they are. Everything a child could have been and will be, is who humanity is.

We are angry, and selfish, and cruel.

But

We are kind, and we are hopeful, and we are love.

Not that we are loved, or that we do love

We are the embodiment of the concept.

And this is all the sleep deprived ramblings of a 21 year old who has no idea if I am actually writing this or if I am just dreaming it. Who knows, either way I won’t remember it in the morning. Tbh I barely remember it now.

[geralts-yenn]

the natural thing to do

Mikey (Hellraiser) x reader (female reader, no race, bodytype, or physical features mentioned)

summary: After another breakup, instead of your best friend you only find her brother Mikey at her home. The guy you had a crush on since you were 12…

warnings: mention of relationship problems, smut: fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p-i-v sex (be smarter than these two and protect yourself, guys!)

word count: 2,8k

A/N: This is my first time, be kind, everybody.

I‘m writing a longer fic right now but I just can’t help myself to write the chapter that needs to be written. So I started this small story that came into my mind one morning because I think we definitely need more Mikey fanfics.

I‘m not a native speaker, so there will be bad grammar, vocabulary and typos. Also, not beta‘d

Inspo board

You stop at the door, gasping for breath. Not sure if it was the stairs up to the fourth floor or the exhaustion of crying like mad for the last hour. You know you look like shit but you don’t care. Cathy knows you well in the state you’re in right now. It’s not the first time you show up at her door in the middle of the night after you split up with some guy that you thought would be your prince, only to turn out he’s just a frog. You ring the door and wait for Cathy to get up and let you in. You hide your face in the palms of your hands, trying to steady your breath.

When you hear the door being opened you let your hands fall down to your sides. Your eyes fall onto a face that you didn’t expect to be there. You freeze in shock, your mouth agape. „Sweetcheeks, hey, everything okay?“ Mike looks at you with an expression that is quite unusual for him. Instead of his signature smirk that was plastered on his face most of the time, right now his eyebrows are drawn together to a frown.

Of course he looks confused, you probably woke him and now you stare at him like an idiot with smears of mascara in your face. You are still not able to form a word. Mike cocks his head and lifts one hand to grab the back of his neck, his long fingers running through his dark curls. When he steps to the side, a silent invite for you to enter, you realize he is only wearing some loose boxers. Your look falls onto his wide chest. His body isn’t the same as you remember it when he was younger. There are muscles that you didn’t recognize and you also notice the soft hair that covers his chest and stomach. 

You enter the hallway, toe off your sneakers and throw your jacket onto the chair in the corner. When you look up to Mike again you finally realize that you still haven’t said a word to him. Your mouth is dry and your voice sounds rough when you finally speak to him. „Sorry, you must think I‘m mad. I wanted to see Cathy. Isn’t she here?“ Mike leads you to the living room. „She’s with Ryan. I don’t know when she’ll be back.“ You notice pillows and a blanket on the couch. The TV screen shows a paused scene from ‚Nightmare on Elm street‘. Following your gaze Mike explains: „She lets me sleep on her couch tonight. My roommate asked for a little privacy. He and his girlfriend want to celebrate their anniversary.“ There it was again, his signature smirk, accompanied by an eyeroll. 

He gestures with his arm for you to sit down. As you walk over to the couch Mike leaves the room. You let yourself fall onto his makeshift bed. As soon as you lean back you close your eyes and take a deep breath. It smells like Mikey. A scent that is so familiar to you. That you smelled so often when you were at Cathy‘s home, back then when all of you were still in high school. That you haven't been able to smell since Mikey left for college. A scent you didn’t know you missed that much. But now that it fills your nose again it feels like you found a treasure you had long forgotten.

Mike comes back and sits down next to you with crossed legs. He hands you a bottle of water that you take with a small smile as a thank you. „Wanna talk with me instead, Sweetcheeks?“ The soft expression on his face surprises you. You don’t think you have ever seen him like that. You take a sip from the water bottle to gain some time. In your mind a million thoughts are fighting to come to the surface at the same time and yet not one of them seems to make any sense. Mike wraps an arm around your shoulder and slowly rubs with his thumb over your arm. „It’s okay, Sweetcheeks, take your time. I just want you to let me know if I need to kick someone in his balls.“ For a second his smirk appears on his face again before it changes back to a warm, soft smile.

„No need to kick anyone, Mike!“ you say, chuckling. "Actually it's pretty silly that I'm crying. I split up with my boyfriend tonight. It was my decision. But it hurts nevertheless." Mike watches you intently. When you pause, he puts his hand onto yours. You appreciate the reassuring gesture. It seems as if Mike learned to be a little more sensitive in the last months. You half expected him to tease you with a mocking comment. But he stays silent, waiting for you to go on. "It‘s just so frustrating. Everyone else seems to find someone that makes them happy. But I can go on a thousand dates, every guy that is interested in me is an idiot.“ Mike licks his lips and gives you a sympathetic look. „Oh, Sweetcheeks, you‘ll find someone, too. I’m sure of it. You are sweet and you are beautiful. And most of all you are funny and laid back.  Every guy should be glad to be with you.“ Mike‘s words make you feel heat crawling up your cheeks. Feelings that you had buried deep down in your heart suddenly fill your whole chest. Your heart is racing. You can’t avert your eyes from Mikey‘s plush lips. It takes all your willpower not to crash into him and kiss him. 

Like so many times before you remind yourself that you can’t be with him. Not like that. He’s your best friend’s brother. No matter how much you like him, you can’t risk your friendship with Cathy. You notice you're staring at Mike without saying a word, again. Nervously you look over to the TV. You need some distraction. „Hey, can I watch the movie with you?“ Mike reaches for the remote on the coffee table. „Yes, of course! Want some snacks?“ He jumps up and gets a package of chips from the kitchen. He lets himself fall back onto the couch and puts his feet onto the coffee table, right next to yours and offers the package to you. With a smile you grab a handful of chips as Mike presses the start button. You watch the Movie in silence, your hands meeting from time to time while fishing for some chips. One of the jump scares gets you so bad that you grab Mikey‘s arm. „Easy, sweetcheeks!“ he chuckles. ��Sorry! I should have known. I have seen that movie at least 5 times already.“ But your hand rests on his arm for another few precious seconds to feel his warmth. 

After some time Mike‘s mobile starts to ring. „It’s Cathy“ he shows you. „Don’t tell her that I’m here. I’m sure she wants to stay at Ryan‘s. But she would come home for me. Let her have a nice night. I’m alright again, anyways.“ Mike grins at you and nods. He talks to his sister and as you expected, Cathy tells him that she’ll spend the night with her boyfriend.

After the movie ended you stand up, time to go to sleep before you get to think about kissing Mike once more. „I’m tired. I‘ll go sleep in Cathy's room. I’m sure she doesn’t mind“ Mike watches you through his long eyelashes. „Okay, good night, Sweetcheeks.“

When you lay in Cathy’s bed you are everything but tired. Restlessly you toss from side to side. Every time you close your eyes you see his handsome face, his curls, his chiseled jaw, his blue eyes and his cheeky smirk. The unplanned encounter with Mike hit you hard. Every emotion that you thought was long faded ran through your body and mind again. It was him. It was always him that filled your whole heart. No wonder you could never feel anything for someone else. He's the reason no relationship ever worked. No other guy could keep up to him. 

You think about all these hidden feelings that you denied to acknowledge for so long. The love you felt for Mike was always there. Since you’ve been twelve. But now it rushed over you with a force that swept you off your feet. 

Your mouth feels dry and you get up to fetch a bottle of water before you should finally try to get some sleep. As you enter the kitchen you see Mike squatting in front of the fridge. He doesn’t notice you. The light of the fridge illuminates his body and you can’t stop staring at him, thinking how desperately you want to kiss him, want to make love to him. A silent tear rolls down your cheek. Mike gets up and turns. His eyes go wide when he sees you standing at the door. But he doesn’t say a word. Slowly he walks over to you, stopping way too close. His face is only inches away from yours and you hold your breath. Mike notices the wet trail of your tear on your skin and rubs his thumb over it to dry it. 

And this tender touch is everything it needs to make your world turn upside down and crash all the walls you built around you. You see Mike’s pupils grow wide and in the next moment your lips crash into each other. Mike kisses you fiercely, sucking and biting on your lower lip. You stumble through the kitchen until your thighs are pressed against the kitchen table. Your hands start to wander over Mikey‘s body. He feels so good, silky skin over hard muscles. You inhale his scent and then open your mouth for him. You feel electrified as your tongues touch.

His big warm hands are all over your body. A moan escapes your mouth when you feel his hardness press against your core. Mike‘s lips travel from your mouth over your jaw to the tender skin under your ear. You rub your palm over the thin fabric of his boxers and Mike answers with a deep growl. One hand finds its way under your shirt and squeezes your soft breast. His thumb and index roll your hardened nub. „Oh god, Mikey!“ you say, pleading. His other hand lets go of your neck and his fingers brush over your chest and ribcage into the waistband of your panties. „Oh fuck!“ he moans when he runs his fingers through your wet folds and then pushes two of them into you. Slowly he pumps them in and out. 

But then, suddenly, Mike opens his eyes wide and takes a step back. Panting he looks at you with a shocked expression. „We can’t do that,“ he tells you. It almost sounds as if he needs to convince himself. Silently you nod. Another tear runs down your cheek when he starts to walk out of the kitchen. At the door he stops and turns. You see the pained look on his face. "I am so sorry. I can't ruin your friendship with my sister. And this is what will happen when I mess up. Like I always do. I'm just an idiot sometimes. Guess, I messed it up already. But I thought about kissing you so often, it felt like the natural thing to do."

Your heart beats like crazy. And you know it's time to take a risk. You get up and walk over to Mike slowly. A hand on his cheek, you shake your head. "You won't mess up! We won't mess up! Because THIS IS the natural thing to do for us." 

Your lips brush over his cheek, over his lips, carefully, almost not touching. Mike doesn’t move. Desperately, you increase the force of your kiss, press your lips on his. Slowly your heart sinks. Was it wrong to do this? But then he fists your hair and returns your kiss. The world stops turning for a brief moment. All the love you had in you for so long erupts into your kiss.

Mike grabs your thighs and lifts you up effortlessly. You wrap your legs around him. He walks you through the kitchen and lets you down onto the table again. He tugs at the hem of your shirt and you help him dragging it over your head. Mike steps back and watches you with dark eyes. „You are beautiful, Sweetcheeks!“ 

Then his hands are on your bare breasts again. He spills wet kisses all over your neck and shoulder, slowly sinking lower until he sucks on your sensitive nipple. You gasp at the sensation. Mike sinks on his knees, his kisses following him from your breasts to your belly button. His fingers slip into the lacey straps of your panty and you lift your hips so he can drag them down. 

With his shoulders he presses your thighs wide open. Your heart races in your chest. Mikey purses his lips and blows over the wetness that covers your folds. You chuckle over his teasing and when you look down to him you see his smirk stretch over his face again. But your chuckling transforms into a loud moan as Mike’s tongue dips into your folds. You grab a handful of his dark curls as he works you with his lips and tongue. You‘re almost over the edge when you pull him up to you again. 

In a deep kiss you taste yourself on his tongue. Your voice breaks as you beg: „Mike, I want you inside of me!“ Mike lets out an animalistic growl. He pulls his boxers down and kicks them from his feet. Your eyes go wide when you see the huge cock in his fist as he slowly pumps himself. Mike runs his tip through your wet folds up to your clit and back to your entrance. „Please, Mike! I need you!“ With your plea he can’t hold back any longer and he pushes into you. 

Slowly, inch for inch he stretches your walls around his cock. You want him to go faster, but he takes his time until he finally bottoms out. For a moment both of you don’t move. Mike looks into your eyes. He is as close to you as he can be and if feels like this is exactly how it needs to be. The perfect moment. 

And then he starts to move his hips. He fucks you slowly and sensually. His lips and hands are all over your body. You hook your legs around his waist to press him closer, stilling the desire to feel him as deep as you can. Mike grabs your hips and finally he increases his pace. You arch your back when you feel you're coming close to your climax. Mike moves his fingers between you and when he starts drawing circles around your clit you fall apart. Your walls are clenching and milking him. With a grunt Mike crashes one more time hard into you and fills you with his seed. You both move slowly, riding out your highs. Finally Mike stops and takes you in his arms. He spills small kisses over every inch of your face and neck.

Once more Mike lifts you up and carries you bridal style into the bathroom. He puts you down onto the rim of the bathtub and starts to clean you with a warm, wet washcloth. „Thank you, Mikey!“ You say, your voice hoarse. You are totally spent. „I feel like my brain isn’t working at the moment, sorry.“ You giggle. Mike lifts his head and smirks. „Did I short cut your brain? Maybe I need to do the same thing once more so that it‘s working again.“ You both laugh. „I don’t think I need my brain anymore tonight. But maybe tomorrow when we wake up we should try.“

Mike takes your hand and you walk into the living room. You both crawl onto the couch. Mike pulls your back against his chest, wrapping his arm around your waist and letting his hand rest on your breast. He nuzzles his nose in your neck. „This feels good,“ he murmurs. „Good night, Sweetcheeks.“ You already drift off to sleep.

You both are sleeping deeply when Cathy opens the door of the apartment the next morning. Her gaze falls onto your jacket and shoes. The corners of her mouth curl up. On her toes she carefully enters the room and looks down onto the sleeping figures of you. You lay on Mike’s chest, your arms and legs are entangled with each other. Cathy pulls the blanket over you both. Slowly she walks over to her own room. With a wide smile she says: „Thank god, they finally gave in to their feelings.“ It was the right decision to go back to Ryan after she had seen your car in front of the building.

[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!!!

[callivich]

I’m back with another underrated author rec!

verily_i_say has written five stories. While I think they were probably known at the time, since it’s been quite a few years I think there might be a lot of people out there who haven’t read their fics.

All their fics are set around s3 and do a great job of capturing the drama and heartbreak of this time. Their stories are a mix of canon divergent, character studies and missing scenes. I’d recommend all five as the writing really captures the characters well as they navigate such a difficult time. Especially the very interesting take on what the relationship between Svetlana and Mickey could have been like in a canon divergent world.

In general, I think it’s always really interesting to read work written as the show was airing and seeing how writers interpreted things without knowing what was coming next.

The Interrupters -

To her surprise, Mickey Milkovich is standing on their porch, looking significantly less filthy than the last time she saw him, pants down and bleeding in her kitchen. He seems vaguely nervous, shifting backwards and forwards slightly on the balls of his feet.

Even before he says anything, Fiona has the sudden notion that he’s trying to be polite, make a good impression. For some reason she’s reminded of the boys in middle school who came to pick her up before a date, terrified they might be interrogated by Frank. 

If he’s here for Debbie, she’s going to fucking kill him.

The Honeymooners -

He hears the keys in the door and a second later she walks in carrying a tray of food. She’s still wearing the white dress, her hair is down, make up smudged a little around the eyes. She smiles a little when she sees him, says good morning. Her accent is thicker than he remembers.

Here she is, the new Mrs Milkovich. Fuck.

War Wounds -

Mandy finds her brother in the hallway, smoking and leaning up against the discoloured, pockmarked wall. Mickey gestures his head back into the reception, the opening notes of La Bamba echoing and distorted out of ancient speakers. “So. You finally got that sister you always bitched about wanting.”

Mandy punches him. Hard.

————

Remember, if you enjoyed a fic, please leave a comment! 💖

[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

[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