#worm on a string shoes

[any-race-but-human]

We all agreed that if Keahi lived in current era she’d absolutely dress like this. 😆

[mizryk]

WORM SHOES WORM SHOES WORM SHOES

i once found these shoes with silly colors, so i decided to put some silly worm on the strings on them to enhance the silliness!!

every worm on these is unique and different!!

reblogs are verrry appreciated!!!

[l393ndjean]

y'all I have someone to introduce

Her name's Batilthaba.

[moldwood]

found a listing for shoes i wanted Years ago on sale and in my size......... i shouldnt. but i could........

[thegrimreepurr]

so my friend, @be-fae-do-crime , had this AMAZING idea

it was just five words but it was gorgeous and i present to you:

worm on a string!nightmare :D

ignore how i called him silly worm!nightmare in the thing, i forgot what they were called when i was drawing him

anyway, his nicknames are scill and squir, though he most often goes by scill ✨

fun fact: i sorta based his jacket off of an 80s ski jacket, since the squirmels [worms on strings] were made in 1977, which is close enough to 1980

his personality is still a work in progress, so some of the facts shown there may very well change ^^

[greatvalueloki]

ADHD is me

[sunderwight]

Trying my hand at this one:

Shen Yuan transmigrates into a worm.

It's just a normal garden variety (heh) earthworm, not a special magical worm (yet), so initially he thinks this is gonna be a really short transmigration adventure indeed. But of course that would be boring, so he also manages to end up in the body of a worm who lives under one of those magical immortal fruit-bearing trees.

One of the fruit drops, Worm Yuan chows down, and he significantly upgrades his physical abilities, and senses, and gains a cultivation boost! Hooray!

Unfortunately it's not enough to fix that he's still a worm, but it's enough so that he has less to fear from getting hit by a random shovel or such. In the process of eating the fruit, he sees some disciples (come to gather the fruits, slacking somewhat since they even allowed a few to hit the dirt) and overhears enough of a conversation to figure out that he's transmigrated into a worm that lives in the PIDW setting. Specifically, on Qian Cao Peak!

Wow! How random and wild! Why a worm??? What god did he piss off in his past life for this?

Well anyway, it is what it is, and Shen Yuan decides that if he's gonna live a probably short and uneventful life as a worm, at least he wants to see his favorite character. So he inches his way in what he hopes is the general direction of Qing Jing Peak, course-correcting whenever he gathers that he's guessed wrong, hitching a ride on the occasional shoe or once even gripping the internal part of a wheel from an An Ding Peak carriage, until finally, he's leveled up his meager worm cultivation even more and has reached Qing Jing Peak!

As Worm Yuan continues to inch his way across the peak, he keeps just-barely missing Luo Binghe, until finally he comes across... not Binghe, but a recognizable item: a fake jade pendant!

Though lost initially on a tree branch, it must have fallen at some point, down to the ground where Worm Yuan stumbled upon it.

Mustering his strength, Worm Yuan manages to get the broken string of the fake jade around his little worm body, and then makes the herculean trek to the wood shed. Dodging bird attacks, hiding from other QJP disciples, and further upgrading his Worm Skills such as digging, inching, and oozing, until finally he reaches his destination and squeezes under the door.

Leading to the situation of an incredulous disciple Luo Binghe -- who had previously been tending to his bruises -- watching as a little worm climbs into the shed (normal, usually it's spiders but sometimes other bugs get inside) while dragging his long-lost most treasured item in what can only be described as a deliberate fashion (very not normal).

After ascertaining that Worm Yuan is not some cultivator's tool or shapeshifted creature, Luo Binghe decides to approach this situation in the only reasonable way, and offers the worm some scraps from his leftovers. Worm Yuan happily shares a meal with his favorite character, and things take off from there.

Somehow Luo Binghe finds himself learning more about cultivation by watching Worm Yuan than he has in all his attempts to figure out his manual or listen to his shixiongs on Qing Jing Peak so far. He watches Worm Yuan work up the spiritual energy to crack rocks and scale the wood shed walls, and deduces some methods for applying his own spiritual energy in similar ways. He finds it heartening to think that if even a little worm can learn to cultivate through what seems to be pure determination, then surely Binghe can make his situation work, too. He scrounges around and manages to gather up enough materials for a makeshift terrarium, so Worm Yuan can be safe and cozy by his side at night.

Of course, trials and tribulations never stop. At some point Ming Fan and his cronies find the terrarium and smash it. Binghe is inconsolable until he realizes that Worm Yuan got away (extra durable, after all!) and is wriggling back towards him in a reassuring fashion.

Worm Yuan's hero schedule is quite full, too! At some point he digs his way into a tunnel to the Lingxi caves and saves Liu Qingge, and in the midst of the demon invasion he manages to help Binghe at a vital moment by hardening his body and tripping his opponent. He rides in Binghe's pocket when Binghe goes to claim Zheng Yang, too, developing his cultivation throughout it all.

Unfortunately, kind of, Worm Yuan is also in Luo Binghe's pocket when he gets thrown into the Endless Abyss. Through the hardships of the Abyss, Worm Yuan consumes some unsavory things (the less said about the quality of worm food in the Abyss, the better) but manages to unlock rare worm cultivation upgrades, until finally he achieves his first transformation -- a gigantic Dune-esque mega worm!

The less said about the symbolism of a stallion protagonist accompanied constantly by a literal monster worm, the better, probably. But having the ability to tunnel through basically anything does make a lot of things easier, at least in terms of travel, and cuts years off of the Abyss trip. Binghe and Worm Yuan almost have fun, even, just tearing through the terrain and any foes stupid enough to get in Worm Yuan's path until they retrieve Xin Mo and bust out.

Then they get into the demon realms and that actually is just straight up mostly a good time. Worms like Shen Yuan are not common so at first he nearly always surprises Binghe's foes when he shows up to help with fights, and a lot of the time the demons involved don't even seem to realize, at first, that he's with Luo Binghe and isn't just some hellish calamity that's coincidentally also shown up! But word gets around pretty quick that the new Heavenly Demon on the scene has a giant worm companion (probably leading to some misconceptions of people who think it's Tianlang Jun returned and that someone's mistaken Zhuzhi Lang's snake form for a worm).

Once that happens, unfortunately, some demons start taking precautions. After the first time Worm Yuan gets poisoned and nearly perishes (saved by Binghe's blood in the nick of time), Luo Binghe stops letting him participate in fights. Which is just rude! Worm Yuan's not going to make the same mistake twice, duh! But Binghe just keeps holding him in reserve again and again until the fight with Mobei Jun, and then when Worm Yuan intervenes anyway (is it just him or does Mobei Jun seem to know a lot more about potential heavenly demon weaknesses than he did in PIDW...?) and gets partly frozen, Binghe goes berserk. For a while there Shen Yuan is worried he won't actually LET Mobei Jun surrender!

Thankfully though he does, and then Binghe settles into his properties and starts... building a giant-scale worm garden? What about the harem, Binghe? Like obviously it's nice and all, but shouldn't you be focused on housing for, y'know, your future wives?

Other factions in the demon realms clearly are wondering about the same thing, as the marriage alliance offers naturally start pouring in. The most vocal of these being Sha Hualing. Worm Yuan supposed that his Binghe is probably waiting to officially take his wives so that he can marry Ning Yingying first or something, but still, a little planning wouldn't go amiss. Though eventually Luo Binghe seems to get -- if anything -- fed up enough with the questions about his marriage prospects that he does start setting up for a wedding.

Worm Yuan is surprised and touched when he finds himself being fitted for a monster-worm sized amount of wedding regalia. So he can be included in Binghe's wedding procession? That's so sweet! He's not sure he understands the inclusion of a veil, though...?

Anyway. Yes. Binghe marries the worm.

[holy-puckslibrary]

─ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜.

pairing(s) — fwb!MATTHEW TKACHUK x reader wc — 3.2k synopsis — best not-boyfriend boyfriend ever! (read the request here) note — bestie, your brain? marvelous! this was an absolute joy to write, and i hope this captures your vision!!! thank you for the request <3

main masterlist

content warnings under the cut.

cw — hints of a debut-inspired ensemble; complicated, grossly intimate situationship + emotional constipation; angst (not really) to fluffy fluffy; tswizzle references; suggestive section: "heavy petting" but nothing explicit / fade to black; brief alcohol mention + consumption; brief mention of food (no specifics); and ~emotions~ 

I. it’s getting so much clearer… 

Matthew regrets making you a key. 

Majorly.

If he’d known the can of worms he was opening when he unceremoniously dropped them in your lap one night, he would’ve listened to his brother; you don’t give girlfriend privileges to women who aren’t your girlfriend. It only leads to hurt feelings, broken console controllers, and unnecessary trouble. 

However, it’s highly unlikely this is the “trouble” to which Brady was referring. 

Rooted in the entryway, he surveys the damage. 

Beads of all shapes, sizes, and colors sit in a sea of jars. Some have spilled out under the coffee table and couch, others have made it all the way into the kitchen. Knotted balls of elastic are sprinkled throughout the chaos, as are multiple pairs of scissors, skeins of embroidery floss, and shards of construction paper. There are markers everywhere, but for some unknown reason, the crayons and sticker sheets are in nice, neat piles. A white feather boa is draped over the entertainment center and there’s a pink one curled by his feet. And, in the eye of the storm, is an anxious lump frantically stringing together DIY jewelry and muttering along to the megamix blaring through the room; he doubts you even heard him come home. 

“Sweetheart, is there a reason it looks like a craft store threw up everywhere?” Matthew shouts as he gingerly braves the hurricane. 

Something crunches under his shoe, and from the sound alone, he knows it would’ve been worse than stepping on a Lego if his feet were bare. 

He also knows that if the music were even a decibel lower, you would be pissed beyond belief. How dare he move freely through his own home without first checking for rogue pieces of plastic? His ears are ringing, but he’s grateful for it. From many years of mistakes and misadventures, he's learned you won’t get on top if you’re mad, regardless of how much groveling he does. And he's got one foot in the doghouse after last weekend as it is. 

“T-minus two days ’til Taylor, Matthew,” you grumble from the floor. “What do you think?” 

You’ve been at this for weeks. It gets worse the closer the concert gets. The mess and your mood. 

Matthew isn’t stupid, and he knows you better than he lets on. You panic under the weight of your own (often unrealistic) expectations. You need everything to be perfect, or the entire world crumbles. This, Night One of the Florida dates of the Eras Tour, is, understandably, no exception. If anything, the pressure’s dialed up to eleven. 

In stressing over every little detail, you’ve made yourself miserable. Watching you unravel makes his chest feel strange. 

You won’t ask for help. You don’t want it, either.

But, he can’t let you flounder. For his own sanity, he can’t do it. And he does care about you. Maybe not in the way everyone assumes or hopes, but he does. He’d do almost anything to lighten your load. 

Yet, Matthew treads lightly. If he’s too forthcoming, you could get the wrong idea. He doesn’t want to spook you, and he can’t have any wires getting crossed. What’s so good about your situation is how markedly uncomplicated it’s been. He refuses to be the one who fucks it up for everyone. 

So, he does what he can, and he does it without making a big deal about it. 

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, he sinks down onto the floor beside you. You’re perched on one of the obnoxious throw pillows you insisted he order to “spruce up” the space and make it look less “bachelor pad-y." As if that’s not exactly what it is. He takes this as rare permission to do the same, placing one under his hips and cuddling another to his chest as he stretches out on his stomach, phone in hand. 

Well, as stretched as a person can be in the middle of an obstacle course. 

Between the second play of “cowboy like me” and the third of “Tim McGraw,” his various feeds dry up, and he’s spammed his contacts into oblivion. You're still chugging along, like a Sad Girl automaton locked in an endless glittery assembly line. 

At one point, you murmur, “Give me your wrist." 

And he does. 

Matthew’s taken aback when you loop elastic around it to get a measurement.

He’s confused, but not for the reason one might assume. He’s painfully familiar with the friendship bracelet phenomenon and the giddy exchanges, having been force-fed hours' worth of tour content over the past year, but he never thought you’d rope him into it.

The buzz under his skin is oddly auspicious, watching you clip the appropriate length before reaching for the pile laid out near his head. 

It’s not long before you make the same request again. However, this time, you slide on a custom creation. You fiddle with it for a moment, then turn back to your station to begin the next one on the list. 

“And in which era does she cosplay as a camp counselor?” Matthew teases as he thumbs the letter beads.

They spell out a moniker he’d honestly find offensive if you hadn’t looped the song one too many times. He wonders if you’ve made yourself the matching one. 

You emit a sound that haunts his nightmares and side-eye him in a way that would’ve made a lesser man disintegrate. 

“If you don’t want it, give it back so I can give it to someone who will appreciate my time and effort,” you bite with your hand outstretched, palm up and open expectantly. 

Matthew shoves it away, suddenly defensive. “I never said that.” 

The sun slips behind the fence an hour later, and the sky bathes the house in purple-pink hues. As he gathers ingredients in the kitchen, Matthew watches the slow-moving clouds absentmindedly. He hasn't felt this content in a while.

Arms full, he wades through the arts and crafts on the way to the backyard. 

You’re still in the den, still hunched over in the same place he found you in. He shakes his head when he passes you, knowing he’s got an hour (at least) moonlighting as a masseuse in his future. 

You don’t startle or acknowledge him until the grill set you bought for his birthday clatters to the floor. 

“Why’re there two cowboy hats getting glitter all over my patio?” he asks, despite knowing the answer. And hating it. Vehemently. 

You fix him with an unamused glare. Your brow quirks, and your hands still. Then, you blink at him very slowly. Like he’s an idiot. Like he just asked a stupid question—because he did. 

Matthew’s head wags so intensely that his neck cracks.

“Oh, hell no.” 

II. it’s coming undone…

Matthew scowls at his reflection. 

“—looks so fucking stupid.” 

He can’t tell if he looks worse with or without the fur-trimmed, shimmery cowboy hat. And, honestly, it's a little distressing. After temporarily ditching it, he tugs at his curls. Then, the hem of the jersey. 

Resigned, he reaches across the bed for the homemade accessory. Wearing it will make you smile—and it gives his dignity something to hide behind. 

Twitter’s going to have a fucking field day. 

Your panicked voice spills out from the hotel bathroom, “Really?” 

“Of course, it fucking do—” 

His tirade of vanity grinds to a screeching halt at the sight of you, backlit and wilting. 

“That’s not—ah, fuck.” Matthew digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. “What I meant was—me, it looks stupid on me. Not you. On you, it looks… It looks…” 

“It looks, what?” 

It looks like he’s glad none of your friends were available because he won’t have to pretend you’re less than you are.

No lectures, no goading, no scrutiny. Just you. 

“Right.” That’s the word he settles for. “It looks right.” 

The emphasis chips away at what little believability the underwhelming affirmation had. That much is evident from the insecurity bleeding through your makeup. 

“Right,” you parrot. Skeptically, you drag out the vowel long enough that it disappears into the bathroom with you. 

Before the door clicks shut, Matthew’s already berating himself for whatever just happened. For acting like a complete doofus with a foot shoved down his throat. 

His mind is as quick as his tongue is sharp. He’s got confidence for days and a cocky demeanor primed and on-call, one that most women find endearing. Yourself included. He’s never had an issue dishing out pretty words or flirting before, especially not with you. 

With you, banter came easy. Sweet or salacious, it didn’t matter. The bob and weave, from platonic chatter to something charged and suggestive, is effortless. And it’s been that way for as long as he can remember. It's innate. He should be able to uphold his reputation in his sleep. 

What’s gotten into him? 

(You’d say the power of Taylor Swift, or some shit. Which is why he doesn’t open the floor for discussion. Among other reasons.) 

Matthew makes the executive decision to put things right. To redeem himself, to feel more like himself. 

His palms are hot and tingling as he sets off to do what he does best. Something fool-proof. Something that’ll erase the past ten minutes from the collective consciousness. Something to scratch an itch...

He won't make it through three and a half hours without catching a public indecency charge. 

Not with you looking like that.  

“I was thinking,” Matthew trails off as he comes up behind you in the en suite bathroom. His hands land on the counter, one on either side of you. “We should fool around a little bit before we leave.” 

With his chest flush to your back and his chin propped on your shoulder, he blatantly checks you out.

You, albeit begrudgingly, find it flattering. On principle, you roll your eyes. 

You snort. “Funny." 

Sarcasm pinches his face as he unintelligibly mocks you. 

Whatever witty retort he had died on his tongue when you lean forward to put some eyeliner in your waterline, inadvertently pushing the curve of your backside right into his growing bulge. 

Matthew turns you to face him without warning. 

The kohl pencil goes flying, dotting the pristine space as it tumbles to the floor. Its final resting place is unknown; you’ll follow the smudge-crumbs later. 

Later, when he doesn’t have you pressed tight between the harsh edge of the counter and his chest. 

Later, when the dull ache in your arched back dissipates. 

Later, when his attraction isn’t so painfully tangible. 

Later, when he isn’t looking at you the way he is now.  

You’re sinking in a shade of blue you don’t recognize. It’s stormy, vast and disquieting. Like any collision, you’re unable to tear your eyes away even though you know you should. It betrays an aura of foreboding, yet somehow, Matthew’s charged gaze carries a soothing effect. It's hypnotic in an stomach-twisting way. 

“I’m not laughing, sweetheart.” He breathes the words through the slight part in your lips, his voice rich and thick like honey. 

“W-We need to be quick—” 

Matthew buries his face in the sweet-smelling crook of your neck. Intent on shutting you up, he succeeds with infuriating ease once he’s latched onto your throat. He nips and sucks whenever you protest, and soon, you don’t even bother trying anymore.

Why lie and deny when what you want feels this fucking good? 

When your nails dig impatient little half-moons into his forearms, Matthew bares his teeth with a triumphant hiss.  

He grins against your skin, humming atop your erratic pulse. 

“Better hurry up and spread ‘em, then.” 

Matthew’s between your dangling boots as soon as you’ve hoisted yourself onto the counter. Kneading the soft skin of your thighs, inching up and in with eager hands, he doesn’t slow or stop until the white Self-Titled sundress is bunched up in the hinge of your hips.

“That’s my girl.” 

III. it’s delicate…

“All Tequila, No Crime” isn’t as diabolical of a cocktail as it sounds. 

Spending $100+ to taste test it and three other signature mixed drinks is. 

A robbery, if you ask him. 

What's downright criminal, though, is your inability to finish a single one. A “Last Great American G&T” with a few sips missing, a half-finished “Midnight Mule,” and a watered-down “Blue Debut” sit abandoned amongst an assortment of sweet treats and small bites. 

As he waits for what he ordered, Matthew picks at the vibrant fruit salad. He’s about to pluck a honeydew star from the pile stacked high in a bowl fashioned from a watermelon rind when the back of his neck prickles. 

“Knock it off.”

You blink, bemused. 

Matthew, having watched your reaction in a reflection, rolls his eyes. 

Back still to you, he clarifies. “You promised you wouldn’t make this a whole thing.”  

“I'm not.” 

“You've never been a good liar.” 

“Isn't that a good thing?” you deflect. 

You turn your attention back to the lively stadium, watching as it fills with laughter and anticipation. You're hoping he'll take the hint and drop it, that he won't pull the night apart at the seams. 

He abandons the sprawling buffet table in favor of the plush recliner beside yours. Once settled, Matthew slides a plate of your favorites across the small table between you. 

“Don't change the subject.” 

The cement under your boots makes for a captive audience as you sail into dicey weather. “I know—I know what I said, and I'm really trying my best, but can you blame me? I mean, c’mon, Matty. Look where we are.”

“A Taylor Swift concert?” Matthew does what he does best.

You know his tells and his tricks. You indulge neither. 

“My first Taylor Swift concert. Ever. I came out of The Queue From Hell empty-handed and shit out of luck, yet here we are. The Eras Tour. And not way up the nosebleeds or side-stage with an obstructed view. A suite. A private, fifteen-person suite—for just us. You did that.” 

Matthew shifts uncomfortably. He scratches the shadow clinging to his jaw. He looks everywhere, at everything. Everything except you. 

“So?” 

The probe is firm yet reluctant but not inherently dismissive. 

“So,” you heave a labored sigh of unease. “—so, how could I not? This ‘whole thing’ is the kindest, most thoughtful gesture anyone’s ever done for me. It means the absolute world, and I know you know that.” 

A thick, paralyzing quiet descends on the balcony. 

He does know that, which is what makes it so terrible. He knows, he knows, he knows. Matthew knows; he wishes he didn’t. For years, he successfully kept it at bay because… because you can’t just un-know something like that. Even entertaining the thought felt too big a risk. It jeopardizes the delicate peace only willful ignorance can safeguard. 

“Alright, alright. Jesus, sweetheart. Can't have you emptying the tank before the show even starts,” Matthew teases as he thumbs the tears away. “How d’ya know I didn’t pull some strings just to put an end to your perpetual pity party?” 

He’s trying to lighten the mood. Hoping to inch away from the emotionally dense zone of uncharted territory, hoping you’ll have mercy—or take pity—on him and his plight of avoidance. 

And you do.  

Ever the benevolent people-pleaser. 

You take your foot off the gas. You retreat to the status quo. You yield, but for a good cause.

Good and right aren’t synonymous. And we can’t will them to be. So, instead, we choose our battles and bide our time. 

There’s no reason to rain on tonight’s parade. 

“Thank you,” you acquiesce.  

Mathew smiles. 

This ceasefire, this tacit truce, is as fragile as rice paper. It feels as though, if someone pushed too hard from either side, they'd go right through it unchallenged. But, for now, it's enough. 

He takes your hand and squeezes. “And for the hundredth time, you’re welcome.” 

IV. it’s been a long time coming…

He gets it now. 

Truthfully, he understood after the very first bridge of the night. There’s just something about the intimacy of the spectacle; it's… indescribable. With thousands from all walks of life gathered in a single stadium to celebrate nearly two decades of singing, crying, and growing up together, it wasn't difficult to get swept up in the magic. 

For someone who’d consider themselves fan-adjacent at best, he wasn’t expecting to feel much of anything, let alone goosebumps, misty-eyed. 

He can’t even imagine how extraordinarily special it must’ve been for you, a lifelong fan, to partake in the world’s most cinematic sing-along. To luck out with your opener of choice, to be surprised with your favorite song during the acoustic set—you could probably die happy. Matthew can still feel your tear-streaked cheek against his shoulder and your shakey hand clasped in his. And he’ll remember the warmth of your joy for the rest of his life. 

He, however, doesn't have to imagine how much the experience took out of you. 

“Hey, hey. Don’t pass out on me yet, sweetheart.” 

You’re one minute into a five-minute Uber ride, and he’s already had to nudge you twice. 

Curled against the cool window like a cat, you groggily protest, “I’m not. My mind is alive, promise.”  

He snorts. “Then why’re your eyes shut?” 

“They aren’t!” 

They absolutely are. 

Matthew tugs you across his lap with a smile pulling at his cheeks. 

“Sounds like you need to get yours checked, Matthew Brendan,” you quip into his chest before drowning the backseat in delirious giggles. 

In the golden glow of the streetlamps, his smirk rests against your temple. 

Here is the moment. There have been hundreds like it in the years since you met. Lighthearted banter and late night laughter spill over into the early morning hours, all of it utter nonsense he wouldn’t trade for anything. It should be perfectly ordinary, but it's music to his ears. 

The cowboy boots he swore he wouldn’t carry home rest against his similarly sore calves. The ziplock bag, once bursting at the seams with bracelets, is empty and folded in his back pocket, and his arm is full from elbow to wrist. The glitter he contested clings to him like a second skin, there to stay. 

And he doesn’t hate it. 

💌 if you liked it, pls lmk! 💌

⬸ back to the catalog  (masterlist) 

⬸ back to the main blog 

All of the stories and fantasies written or discussed on this blog by the owner or by followers are purely fictional and are not intended to offend any parties.

©2024 holy-pucks, all rights reserved. I do not give consent for any of my work to be copied, re-posted, or translated here, on Tumblr, or on any other platform. Reproduction of any content from this blog is considered plagiarism.

patrons gained access to this piece on MAY 15, 2024 as part of their early bird perks. learn more HERE!

[bejaded12]

BEHOLD!

sleepy stargoth kitties ft. worm on a string

I love finding new things every time I re read cb, this time I noticed chase’s shoes had little worms on strings in toffee break and I think that is the best thing ever!

[skepsiss]

For the @steddiesummerexchange to @stevesjockstrap!

Batter Up: Chapter 2 of 5

Read [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3]

Rated: Explicit

Summary: This fluffy story is about Baseball Player Steve Harrington, meeting Rock Star Eddie Munson and the whirlwind 1-week romance turned committed relationship. They're instantly obsessed with one another, but neither knows how to take things to the next level. Enjoy Steve being a love-sick idiot! (The story turns explicit in Chapter 4, other chapters are all fluff). In this chapter, we get to read Eddie's POV and how obsessed he is with Steve, too. Chrissy is here to cheer him on.

Read Chapter 2 below, or [read it on Ao3]

Big thank you to @thefreakandthehair for beta reading for me and helping me with my NBA terms!

Graphic made by me!

”I want to bite his ass like it’s a fucking apple,” Eddie gritted out, his hands tense and clawing at the air as he seemingly held back unfathomable amounts of sexual tension. “Gross!” Chrissy trilled, bouncing the squash ball in her hand against the ground to warm it up. “You don’t need to be so crass, Eddie.” “You don’t understand—” Eddie hissed, sitting forward in his seat as he spoke to Chrissy through the plexiglass. She gave him an unimpressed look, saying ‘really’ silently with a twisted lip and a raised brow. “Okay, you understand— just! He’s so fucking hot, and I swear to fucking God if he lets me near him, I’m going to go berserk,” Eddie groaned, sighing dramatically as he bounced his leg. “Don’t you have a date tomorrow?” Chrissy asked, squeezing the little black ball in her hand a few times before casually starting to bounce it against her racket. “That’s the problem! Chrissy! Jesus Christ—he’s like… fucking Adonis. How am I—I clam up like a Mongolian death worm every time he gets near me. I can’t—I can’t even get close to laying the moves on him ‘cause I’m, like, fucking useless. It isn’t even a date tomorrow. It’s like a poorly concealed, deep-fake, seduction attempt. I don’t know! You know I’m fucking useless at actually flirting with guys unless I’m off my fucking rocker, high out of my mind,” Eddie lamented, finally standing up and beginning to pace. Chrissy’s shoes squeaked on the floor as she served and started to play a single game of squash by herself. She was listening, Eddie knew she was, this was sort of par for the course with them. He was on Chrissy’s time, and he wasn’t going to complain about being stuck inside a squash court with his best friend, even if it smelt like an old sock. 

Alright, maybe he would complain a little bit.

“But we’re not—” Chrissy puffed, exerting herself as she kept up the conversation, “—going to get high—right?”

“No, I’m not going to get high,” Eddie groaned, feeling his fingers twitch against his leg. He had given drugs up—or at least he hoped he had—but that didn’t mean that it made existing without them easy. “I don’t want to depend on drugs to flirt, I just—I wish I was starting out with a smaller-fry, you know? First big thing out of rehab, and I’m smacked in the face with Steve Harrington? Why didn’t you tell me about him earlier? He’s just—-ugh! Chrissy!” Eddie whined, his stature devolving as he crumpled to his knees on the squishy floor. 

“Not my fault—you refused every invite—to baseball before—now,” Chrissy retorted, the bang of the ball against the wall making it a bit difficult to hear her. “You didn’t tell me my fucking Achilles heel of men existed in cotton spandex pants, and a baseball cap,” Eddie complained, crawling back over to the bench to pull himself up onto it. “He looks so fucking good, Chrissy. God… it’s like the gods sculpted his ass and put it inside white sheets woven from the strings of fate itself.” Chrissy missed the swing and puffed, putting her hands on her hips as she caught her breath. “You’re really….” she sighed, finally looking over at Eddie and smiling at him, “... into this guy, Eddie. You going to write poetry for all the boys you get a crush on? It’s pretty cute, actually.” “Don’t call me cute,” Eddie huffed, rolling his face toward the bench to hide from Chrissy. “I just… don’t want to fuck this up, Cece…”

Eddie heard the door to the squash court open and the muted sound of Chrissy’s shoes against the mats. It didn’t take long for her to get to the bench and sit down with him, her fingers instantly in his hair. It was soothing, and Eddie only resisted for a moment before he inched forward and put his head in her lap. 

“You won’t mess it up…” Chrissy repeated, tailoring her reply so she wasn’t swearing as well. Chrissy was sweet, and Eddie was no stranger to this sort of kindness from her. They had dated, once upon a time, and Eddie could confidently say that Chrissy was the only person he had been with that he had really loved. He still loved her, even though they weren’t together, and he didn’t think he could ever not love Chrissy Cunningham, but the attraction they had once shared was void now. They just weren’t meant to be romantic, but Eddie knew that losing that intimacy with Chrissy had destroyed his heart. Still, he was more than grateful to have her as a friend. No one knew him better than Chrissy, and he didn’t hold out hope for them to get back together. It had been the drugs that had broken them up, but it had been Chrissy’s confession that she was more attracted to women that had kept them apart. 

He didn’t begrudge her, but Eddie had never been able to shake the feeling that he had been the one to fuck everything up for them. That it was his shortcomings that had poked holes into an already sinking ship. He was great at that kind of stuff— an expert at ruining a good thing. 

“I don’t know… if I’m ready,” Eddie confessed, his necklaces clinking together as he rested his head on Chrissy’s thighs. 

“Ready for what?” Chrissy asked, her voice gentle as she continued to pet his hair away. “A relationship…” Eddie sighed. He had been single for years now and had only really pursued flings or one-night stands. Even then, he had gotten out of rehab a few months ago and he hadn’t even tried to hook up with anyone since getting out. It was too intimidating to flirt when he didn’t have drugs to rely on, and now he was being blindsided by the prospect that he didn’t just want to sleep with Steve. 

“You really like this guy, huh?” Chrissy smiled, her tone so caring it made Eddie’s heart ache. 

He hid again, rolling his face into the crisp white of Chrissy’s uniform. She looked tooth-achingly sweet in it, and Eddie only let himself feel a little bad for getting eyeliner on her skirt. 

“Oh, Eddie…” Chrissy lamented, still petting his head. “You’re allowed to want things, sugar.”

Eddie let out a held breath, his fingers clenching at the soft fabric of Chrissy’s outfit. “But what… if I fuck it up?” He asked again, the fear edging into his voice as he let himself get vulnerable. “How would you mess it up?” Chrissy asked, sounding more like a mother than someone Eddie’s own age. “I don’t know,” Eddie whined, “open my mouth and speak? Show him the fact that I’m a giant fucking nerd with an ego the size of Australia and daddy issues that span the Atlantic Ocean?” 

“You’re being dramatic,” Chrissy sighed, her tone remaining gentle. “Even if that was true, if he doesn’t like or well… accept that kind of stuff about you, he’s not going to be a very good boyfriend.”

Eddie groaned softly, knowing that Chrissy was right, but hating the idea that they could just not work out, and he would have to let go of the idea of Steve Harrington. “What if… he’s just looking for something… short term?” Eddie questioned, feeling his heart and stomach clench in unison. “Well, then you get at least one great night of sex with playboy, Steve Harrington,” Chrissy replied matter-of-factly.

“Chrissy!” Eddie gasped, lifting his head to look at her. He was only mildly scandalized that she would say something forward like that, but he amped up his reaction to get a smile out of her. 

“Lots of ladies are frothing at the mouth to get a date with him, you know,” she continued, grinning. “And you’ve gotten, what? Four dates in the last week?” Eddie breathed a laugh and put his head back down, smiling at her reassurances. She was right. They had been flirting pretty relentlessly, and Eddie was certain Steve was interested in him. So, for flirting to extend over the course of a week… that had to mean Steve wanted more than just a fling, right? 

“You really think I have a shot with him?” Eddie asked, his voice quiet as he turned the idea of just kissing Steve over in his mind. 

“I really think you do,” Chrissy concluded, tugging Eddie’s earlobe until he hissed and sat up. “You’re a catch, Eddie.” He smiled bashfully at her and looked away, rubbing his ear. “Really,” Chrissy offered, patting his thigh. “If you’re just you, really you, without any of the fame or drugs or anything like that… he has to fall for you. If he already likes you enough to ask you out, I have no doubt that he’ll like the real you, Eddie.” 

Eddie frowned, still unable to look at Chrissy as she placated him with compliments. The worst part of it was that he knew she meant it. They weren’t in love, but he loved her. “You’re succeeding in helping my ego take over New Zealand, too,” Eddie teased, sniffing as he tried to hide how touched he was by Chrissy’s comment. She gave his thigh a good pat and then stood up, tucking the frills of her skort behind her as she walked back toward the squash court. 

“Who knows, Eddie,” Chrissy chimed, “maybe this is the makings of real love.” She flashed him a little smile and then slipped back into the court, picking her racket up and starting to warm the ball again. 

Eddie blinked at her, and then slowly felt his cheeks flush as he took those words in. Real love, huh? He really liked the idea of falling in love with Steve. 

Chapter 3

[ven10]

May I request some Quigley hcs pls....... pls sir can i have some more.............. maybe some post-canon perhaps..............

YES!!!!! Quigley my beloved :D!!!!!!!!

(Btw the 1st 4 hcs are quite sad however after that they’re more lighthearted)

1: During his time alone during canon, Quigley developed a habit of talking to himself pretending as if Isadora or Duncan had spoken. [Mainly doing it when he was stressed+wanted to feel less alone, as if he had someone with him who he could rely on.] However even after he’s reunited with his siblings this habit persists, although he tries not to do it.

The first time Duncan, standing in the doorway behind Quigley (who is bent over a map on the floor;trying desperately to track down the Baudelaires) catches Quigley talking to himself he’s confused so hesitates in the doorway for a few moments, sensing that Quigley hasn’t realised he’s there and wondering why Quigley is addressing him as if he had spoken, muttering something along the lines of “no no Dunc, I don’t think that would work…but if we tried what Isa suggested then maybe-”

Duncan stands still for a moment to process before walking over to Quigley’s hunched form, bending down and just hugging him.

2: When he’s anxious he sleeps with his shoes on, prepared to flee at a moment’s notice. He also always keeps a packed rucksack under his bed for this reason. Before he+his triplets inherit their fortune they have very few belongings so it’s really obvious how Quigley keeps his packed.

3: Also on the topic of shoes, I hc that Quigley wears scuffed boots worn to oblivion, the stitches on the seams begging for release, duct tape wrapped and re-wrapped round the left boot (which got stuck in a jagged rock+ripped out). Also the laces would be triple knotted and mismatched (one is the original purple-Quigley’s favourite colour- the other is black and “borrowed” from Isadora after he somehow managed to loose one of his own laces). 🥾

4: Has inner conflict going on between fearing losing the people he loves if he lets them out of his sight for 0.01 seconds vs being the wildly independent person he became in the absence of others

I imagine Quigley to disregard his own wellbeing in favour of “but this plan will work!” eg, Quigley accidentally kicks a ball onto the roof and without second thought tries to scale the building. Leading to the inevitable breakdown of Isadora+Duncan. ⚽️

Uhhh these were all pretty angsty so here’s some more light-hearted ones~���✨

5: loves ‘worm on a string’s , they’re so dumb, he can’t get enough of them. Isadora+Duncan will be struggling over homework meanwhile Quigley (who is legally dead and therefore doesn’t have to attend school) will use the invisible string to make the worm slither over their maths equations like the menace he is. 🐛

6: While his triplets prefer English as a subject (from being an aspiring journalist and poet) Quigley is better at maths due to the calculations he does to figure out the right coordinates on maps. If he craves socialisation(/chaos) outside of their usual circle then sometimes Quigley will offer to impersonate Isa or Duncan if they have a maths lesson/test that day. 📚

7: Quigley is an extrovert and befriends people quickly but this by no means means he does so normally. His hyperfixation on cartography extends into an interest in geography+cultural differences between places so whenever he meets a new person+has time for full discussions he interrogates them till he has a full history on them, their extended family+their ancestors regarding the places they have lived in or travelled to. 🗣️ 💬 🌍

8: Post-canon whenever the triplets have reunited and are in search of a competent guardian (deciding to find one themselves bc social services would have them sent to some grim place like Prufrock) Duncan scourges through newspaper archives for information of any relatives they have and puts together a family tree.

As he searches for more articles, Isadora+Quigley take a black sharpie to X off any unsuitable/unavailable/dead guardians. Since they’ve been in the library with the archive for a LONG time, a librarian approaches Isa+Quigley to ask if they need any help before cutting herself off mid sentence and backing away hurriedly with her lips pursed tight. It is only then that Isadora+Quigley look down at their ‘family tree’ and realise it resembles a hit list. 🌳 🖊️

9: Quigley steals other people’s clothes all the time. Usually his triplets’ clothes+some of Violet’s jumpers or jackets but occasionally he’ll borrow some of Klaus’ too. Klaus’s things aren’t really Quigley’s style but he likes watching to see how long it takes Klaus to realise. 🧥👚👕👔👖

10: Quigley+Violet are a lethal combo bc Violet will invent something worthy of a new hazard warning and Quigley will be jumping at the opportunity to test it out. 💡

11: Post-canon Quigley gets a job at a local café to afford rent and does a double take every time someone asks for a sugar bowl. 🥣

12: Quigley is a massive animal lover. Cannot get enough of them. Tries to adopt every stray he sees. Convinced Violet to install a dog flap on their door despite the fact that they technically don’t even have a pet.

13: Quigley is The Best at water fights. Sunny thinks she’s doing great having dumped a bucket of water on top of Klaus, meanwhile Quigley is sneaking up behind her with a power-hose. 💧

Thanks so much for the ask @cygninae !!!!!!!!!!!!!

I LOVE talking about Quigley!!!!!! :))))))

[skelebellie]

FIRST MEETINGS

million knives [stampede] x plant?reader drabble

synopsis: you meet knives for the first time. he thinks your someone else.

content warning: mentions of sharp weapons, blood, and physical altercations

this an equal household. i pine after all siblings equally. [aka i think knives is a goofy dude and his characterization in stampede is kiss kiss].

—————

it was a particularly normal day as you spent your time around town, discovering odd patterned geological formations that helped adhere the homes to the sand below it.

was it the smartest idea to go into a dark alley alone. no. did you think anything would happen to you in the middle day. also no.

you were lost in the sauce. failing to notice the screams of town folk as you observed the calcified rock. one moment you were holding it and then boom, it was dark.

when you woke up, you were shocked to be in a white room. it sent shivers up your spine, as the environment caused old memories to rise to the surface. questions could wait until later, for now you’d try to get out of here. hopefully the town was still there when you got back.

the door was unlocked, odd considering you were kidnapped.

you also didn’t have shoes on, thankfully that old socks separated the floor and your feet. you could sense your bag somewhere within the building, your body able to feel the shawl of plant material that you had been born with, always tucked into your bag.

it was like you were an assassin, peering around every corner and ears on high alert.

the closer you got to your objective, the quieter it seemed to get. an odd sense of loneliness filling the room.

you had found your bag and shawl, even your shoes (thank god, you didn’t have the money for new ones). the only downside being that some blondie covered in a robe was holding it, allowing light to shine through the transparent shawl.

you became defensive knowing he was touching something as important as your shawl, so you started making fast paces towards him. “Hey! You shouldn’t touch things that don’t belong-“. The sense of danger came first, luckily stopping you from making too much contact with the tail of sharp objects that wrapped around you. it certainly didn’t save your overalls, as a large rip formed across the front panel. damnit, now you’d have to sew it back again.

“anything plant belongs to me. im its rightful owner, a god” blondie chided at you, only causing more anger to bubble up to your throat. “J.J Doe, right? Elusive scientist who has published series of plant based experiments. No committee or board to shift through your work, your research seems to pop up in small town libraries. Never the same one.” The man stepped down from his pedestal, inching closer to you. You backed up, only for a reactive spindle of metal(?) to wrap around your neck. it swiped, leaving a sliver of blood and for the stop part of your turtleneck to fall to the ground. the more he keeps going the more work you’ll have to do to fix whatever clothes you have.

“i detest humans, a species of parasitic worms who use plants as tools for their selfish survival. however, I hate those who knowingly use their will to torture my brotheren even more.” he was too close for comfort now. a string of knives swiping close to your forehead, which you barely dodged by shifting backwards. the shift in weight caused you to fall backwards, rows of spindles wrapping around your legs, keeping you from getting up from the floor.

“should i take a finger for each sin you have committed. maybe slowly sever you limb from limb, so you may know the suffering of the plants who you experimented on. maybe-“ You were too focused on the rows of knives wrapped around your legs to notice that he now stood atop of you. crouching to straddle you as his eyes sent daggers into your mind, like a searing hot flash of static. “i should do it with my own hands. as disgusting as you vile creatures are.” his hand slowly began to approach your neck. his weapons should have instilled enough fear into you, but now you seemed petrified, tears threatening to pour at the very thought of him touching you.

“disgusting.” he muttered, looking down as you. his hand wrapped around your neck, and immediately began to squirm, your leg receiving shallow cuts as it brushed against the sharp cage around it. the contact sent an immediate blossom of heat from your neck. you wish it was another gang of badland raiders, anything but an independent plant. you covered yourself up to avoid making contact with anyone, trying to prevent the surge of information that you would receive and give which writhed out of your control.

behind closed eyes, you could see the blossom of blue, geometric shapes spreading from your chest to your neck, reaching out to the man who’s hand was around your neck. the closer it got the more erratic you reacted. It seemed like the man above you no longer intended to kill you, for now. Instead he fixated his eyes to the spread of patterns slowly approaching his hand, his own body reacting in a similair manner. the contact left your mind heavy with shocks of malice, anger, and pain? The scorching sensation caused a moan of pain to spill from your lips as fat tears fell from your eyes.

The man above you felt the fear over the connection, a dark pit of misunderstanding and embarrassment overflowing with an ebb and flow of confusion. flashes of images of syringes and scalpels as you held the blade towards yourself, harvesting your flash to run under analysis. you hadn’t been experimenting on other plants, you had been experimenting on parts of yourself.

the cage around your legs unwinded, as did the hand around your neck. you quickly moved your arms to cover your eyes, still unable to cope with the wave of information that was forced into your head. however, your action failed as another hand wrapped around your wrists to move your arms from your face, revealing puffy eyes and still falling tears. another hand came up to caress underneath your lashes, gathering the salty tears before they could run onto the floor.

“interesting. not entirely human, not entirely plant.” the contact caused a shocking sensation underneath your skin, flinching as his thumb made lazy circles on your cheek. you relaxed, feeling as if the threat of danger was finally over with. until the blunt end of a knife slammed into the already bruised skin at the base of your neck. knocking you out once more.

[furashuban]

Coast

Somfthearted 'father figure getting along with his sort-of-daughter' story for the soul <3

Words: 1.6k

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60730333

Summary: During a warm, sunny day out in the coast, Frankie goes fishing with Zachariah by her side.

The coast was one of Frances Schwinn’s favorite places to be in. It did not matter if you were on that side of the county or the other side—you were still at the same coast for as long as there was water and a shore to relax on. It was quiet, with only the rustling of tall trees and shrubs to break the silence; such a sound made her feel free, like running around and twirling in the air so much that her hair became frizzy, which she certainly did with a smile on her face the moment she arrived at the coast. The sun was bright and warm with little clouds in the way of it, and the water was bluer than any other blue the girl had ever seen. Even the shore was perfect; not made of pebbles or sand like most other shores in the county, but it was grassy and fenced by habitual patches of Purple needlegrass further inland.

She did not come to the coast alone, for it was Zachariah’s idea to spend the day out. He did not have to work at his step-father Jeb’s ranch on Saturdays nor did any kids have to go to school. His partner, Svetlana, and her two sons had plans beforehand to see relatives from abroad who were visiting a few counties away from theirs. That left the former cavalryman to have a go at looking after his…daughter-but-not-really? Practically everyone in the whole county including himself took turns taking care of her, however long they could until the next person offered, and Zachariah did not always know how to perceive her as or who she saw him as. He just knew the girl did not have a father to call her own, and he promised Carole Paxson that he would do everything to make her feel comfortable enough to see him as one.

“Frankie?! Where ya at, kiddo?!” Zachariah called aloud, having lost sight of her moments ago.

“I’m right here!” the little girl answered immediately. Zachariah followed her voice towards the shore, trekking through the needlegrass grazing his boots and denim jacket. He found Frankie sitting by the sea wearing a straw sunhat and sitting with her legs crossed as she held a branch over the water.

“Wat’cha doin’ there now?” Zachariah asked, taking a seat beside her. He noticed that Frankie had taken off the laces from her shoes, having tied them to the end of the branch she was holding and dangled it into the water.

“Fishing,” Frankie told sprightly, tugging on her makeshift rod and causing the water to ripple. “I haven’t caught anything yet though.”

“Well, you can’t catch nothin’ without any bait tied to your rod,” Zachariah explained.

“Oh,” Frankie pulled the fishing rod string back to her hand, showing that she indeed never tied any bait at the end of it.

“Tell ya what, we gotta go find you some.” Zachariah proposed, “I can dig up some dirt and pick a fistful of worms for you to use.”

“Eww, no thanks!” Frankie squirmed and recoiled, she and Zachariah sharing a quick laugh. “I wanna use not-alive bait, I know those are a thing.” She looked around to see if there was anything she could forage to make good fish bait out of. “Hmmm…Oh yeah!” the 10-year-old shoved her hands inside the pockets of her jeans before pulling out a pinecone. “I picked it up a while ago, this is perfect bait,” she remarked as she began tying it to her string. Then, she heaved her rod back and flung her arms forward, the pinecone causing a splash on the water.

“There ya go,” Zachariah applauded, “now you’ll have fish in no time,” he glanced to see the girl beaming enthusiastically.

“Where’s Maddie and aunt Sophie by the way?” Frankie asked, “I don’t want them to miss when I catch my fish.” Zachariah knew just how close she was to the Hewitt family, who took her in more than any other family in the county with the exception of Carole, and because Sophie and Zachariah himself go way back and that the latter was Maddie’s godfather, it only seemed fair that they too would be invited to spend a day at the coast with Frankie.

“Oh yeah, Sopes gave me a call before ya ran off,” Zachariah said, “they’re just buying some snacks but they’ll be here pretty soon,” the bearded man looked around for a spare branch, which to his luck had found one lying at the edge of the water and caught it before it could be swept away by the little waves. “In the meantime,” he freed the laces of his boots to tie around the tip of his newfound branch. “I’ll fish with ya, kiddo.”

Soon, Frankie let out a little gasp, as if an imaginary lightbulb suddenly flicked on above her head. “Let’s have a fish-off,” she smirked at the bearded man.

“Hm?”

“I mean, whoever catches a fish first wins, and whoever loses needs to do a cannonball from up that tree,” she pointed towards a tall oak nearby, overlooking the sea.

Zachariah chuckled, “Alright, it’s on, Frances Schwinn,” he accepted the challenge—he knew neither one would catch fish with the kinds of rods they had anyway. To see the girl happy and indulging in play, however, gave the cheeriest feeling in his heart that he could never find the strength to express openly other than through his grin.

“Wait—” Frankie raised her hand up, “you don’t have any bait yet,” she reached for her pocket and pulled out yet another pinecone. “Here you go,” she extended it to the bearded man, who along with his enduring grin was looking at her curiously.

“Just how many pinecones are ya keeping in those pockets, kiddo?” Zachariah asked.

“Only those two,” Frankie shrugged. “I really like collecting pinecones when I’m out. I don’t know what they’re for exactly, but they look really pretty, and I have a collection in every house I live in. The one I have in Carole’s house is the biggest one I have.”

And so, the bearded man and the little girl sat side-by-side in mutual calmness as they let the wind be their only sound. When it seemed like they were waiting too long for a fish to catch their bait, Frankie started humming the tune of a random Fats Waller song to liven the mood.

“You know, this is the kind of thing I’ve seen dads do with their kids, I think.” Frankie expressed out of nowhere. She then turned to Zachariah, who looked subtly taken aback though Frankie did not seem to notice, choosing to carry on with what else was on her mind. “Zachariah, I kind of wanna start calling you ‘paps’ from now on,”

“Paps…?”

“Yeah, you know, like what you call Jeb,” Frankie continued, “I don’t think I will call you paps all the time though, maybe not yet. Just when I’m doing dad-stuff with you, because it feels right to call you my paps sometimes.” She lowered her rod, suddenly and slowly feeling awkward. “You’d be okay with that, right, Zachariah?”

There was a soft sting in the former cavalryman’s heart. For a moment, he turned ahead to face the water, not wanting to let a little girl see a grown man cry if he ever failed to hold a single tear back. She could not have known how Zachariah would take being called anything close to the word “father”, to be acknowledged as one. It had been so long; she could not have known that either. That warm and sunny day at the coast had now felt like the warmest, sunniest day in the history of planet Earth for Zachariah. Frankie was a whole village’s girl, that was how he usually saw things, but she was his girl, too.

“That’s quite alright, kiddo,” Zachariah nodded, letting himself sniffle before bringing back the wide grin under his beard. “In fact, you’re very lucky, ‘cause you have the best paps this county’s ever seen,” he tussled Frankie’s sunhat which frizzled her hair within, and the 10-year-old could not help but affectionately burst in laughter.

Before long, another child’s voice was heard shouting in the distance. “Yoo-hoo! Frankie!? Zachariah!?” Frankie recognized that voice from anywhere, and as she and Zachariah stood up to answer the call over the yonder, they saw a girl Frankie’s age with long blonde hair carrying a box of donuts while a woman in a sundress, also blonde with shorter and wavier hair, trekked behind her as she carried a woven picnic basket on one hand and tried to pull a cooler with the other.

“I see them, Maddie, over there!” the woman told aloud.

The Hewitts had finally arrived, and Frankie waved her hands in the air as she walked towards her best friend and gave her an embrace around her shoulders. She told Maddie about the fish-off she was having with Zachariah, and the blonde became so enthralled at the idea that Zachariah happily gave up his rod to his goddaughter so both girls could fish together this time. The bearded man helped Sophie set up a picnic at the fishing spot by the coast, and from there, Frankie was enjoying the day more than she already had, with Maddie by her side equally anticipating a fish to catch and Sophie helping brush and braid her frizzled hair, and then there was her paps, making her a sandwich with the food the Hewitts had brought.

“Heya Frankie,” he raised up a sandwich he put together, “I think this would make better bait, don’t you think, kiddo?”

[sirenologyyy]

ATWOW MODERN AU!

(a.k.a my hot take if the kids were in highschool)

part 1 part 2

tsireya

- a glossier girlie through and through

- she's the most popular girl in their whole school and it is really hard not to hate her

- she listens to kpop specifically NEW JEANS, her bias is Minji, her bias wrecker is Hyein, she loves the song Ditto and would memorise ALL THE DANCES

- this is basically connected to the one before this but is a dancer, she did ballet as a kid then her parents enrolled her in a professional dance school. She had to quit because that on top of being the student body VP, her work in the animal shelter and being a farm hand in her family's farm it's just too much work

- her and ao'nung are irish twins so even though they were both born in the same year she had to step down a grade (hence why she's classmates with Lo'ak and Kiri)

- the Maihoa family are loaded so you'd expect her to be snobby and uptight right? HELL. NO. Tonowari and Ronal raised her better than that (she would make do with whatever she has, she's literally so low maintenance and would appreciate ANYTHING)

- they have this private strip of land where they converted into a golf course where they'd go golfing any time (it's literally a 5 minute drive away from their estate) she and Ao'nung would golf every weekday if they didn't have any homework and would stay there until sunset

- literally just good at everything she does ahsjsnz

- everyone expects her to be that one coquette girl but nah let's be honest, she's the coastal grandma

- this girl cannot LIE she's such a goody two shoes (one time Lo'ak and Ao'nung decided to sneak out to go to some party the swim team were having after hours and they asked her to cover them but she ended up selling them out nonetheless (both of them got an ass whooping the next night but hey, at least she waited 24 hours to rat them out)

- she runs hot so she always wears shorts and bra tops

- dosen't swear if necessary, maybe mutters a 'fuck' or 'dick' but only if she's royally pissed, if she starts swearing in Māori GET UP AND RUN no, wait scratch that, don't run, SPRINT

- her makeup is always organised in tubs by most to least used, her beauty blenders are always washed, her makeup brushes are cleaner than when she first bought them, her room is basically an Ulta branch with a bed and books laying around

- MAKES FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS ‼️ everyone from the group has one, sometimes she strings seashells and beads she found in her travels onto the thread (Lo'ak takes his off everytime he swims or takes a shower because he dosen't want it to get wet)

- a hardcore people pleaser, she'd brutally exhaust herself if it meant people would be happy with her assistance (that's why Ao'nung rarely asks her for favours)

- would ditch you for a chance to advance study

- she was that one person in the class where in between subjects the other girls would line up by her desk as she does their hair

- she and Lo'ak went as Amy Santiago and Jake Peralta the first Halloween they were officially together

- her favorite subject is Chemistry (she's memorised every quantum formula there is) and Advanced Lit because let's be honest Tsireya is a book worm (Ronal would walk into her room at 2 in the morning to find her bundled up in the covers while wearing a headlight reading some 10 inch book she borrowed from their library)

- is a cancer, must I go on?

- let's be honest, she's vegan too

- multilingual, she can speak French, English, Māori, and Dominican (learnt that to impress Neytiri)

- won an award in 4th grade for being the person in their batch that borrowed the most books

- she and her father would bond over the Percy Jackson series because it's what statted her love for books (they'd talk shit about the movie adaptations LSNSZKZ)

- she likes collecting seashells, everytime they'd visit their father's home town in Rotorua or literally any beach Tsireya would not leave until she'd find a shell (this was never an issue until they came down for a visit where she spent her 12th birthday, it was raining cats and dogs when they left and Ronal didn't allow her to grab some random shell off the sand before they climbed in the car and she was upset the whole 17 hour flight back)

- she does her own nails, they'd always be white French tips but sometimes she'd use coloured nail polish

- wears Jo Malone perfume

- she's always active in class let's be fr, she studies like a junkie, she gets conscious about it though so she decided that in every subject she'd only raise her hand 5 times

- you CANNOT trust her in the kitchen, when she says she'll be trying out this recipe from tiktok you need to watch her or she'll slice her palm open

- you need 20 bucks, she'll give it to you, if you can't pay her, no problem, if you can, she won't be reminding you (she literally forgets everyone she lends money to)

- rarely gets mad, if she is though she'll bite your fucking face off

- girls ask her what product she uses for her eyebrows and she's like what product (baby girl has naturally thick eyebrows she does not need to touch them to look that good)

- her favorite movie growing up was Cars (specifically Cars 2), when she was a teen it was Pitch Perfect and now it's the 2005 Pride and Prejudice adaptation (she hates the Netflix Persuasion one)

- "Hey whose got some acetone? My nailpolish looks real streaky" "Oh I do!"

- has only drunken 3 times and she's always the spacey kinda drunk that laughs at like literally everything

- had that huge ass barbie doll house with the working lights, elevator, slide, and garage when she was a kid

ao'nung

- when he'd cook meals with his mother (I know, shocking) they'd always make a shepherd's pie and they'd practice her Māori, when she'd pronounce a word wrong or forget what the Māori translation would be he'd pretend to be angry at her but he ends up in a laughing mess

- listens to Rob Zombie

- when he was a kid he could not sleep without a night light on, Ronal and Tonowari decided to take it away one night and they wake up to a cranky 7 year old smashing plates in the kitchen at 2 in the morning

- he sleeps at 10 pm or at 4 am. Strictly.

- his wardrobe consists of Ralph Lauren and Nike (the duality 🤌🏼)

- Ronal and Tonowari never had any problem feeding him and Tsireya, what she wouldn't eat he'd eat, what he wouldn't eat she'd eat

- he wants everyone to think he's the living epitome of basketball bro, shooting hoops everyday because ball is life bro... and he is

- no one would think he's on the honor roll, he'd never brag about his test scores to anybody except Tsireya, all that seems to leave his mouth is basketball, basketball basketball, he'd never ace tests because most of the teachers do a roll call of the students with perfect scores and he'd hate to be standing by the blackboard with Neteyam and Rotxo so he purposefully gets one question wrong, wether that be forgetting to add the negative sign to an exponent, being a year off of important dates in history, forgetting to add the correct unit of measurement

- used to vape as a joke but now he just does unconsciously

- has and always been a momma's boy

- he picked up on Ronal's british accent and Tonowari's Māori accent and sort of have this unique hybrid accent when he talks, it was hard to understand him when he talks really fast but especially hard when he was in preschool with his speech impediment, his teachers and classmates could not understand a thing he said

- plays chess and will obliterate you in a matter of seconds, you'd be too focused on getting your rook to his side and by the time you got there he's already taken most of your chess pieces and your king 💀

- plays Royale High with Neteyam's baby sister and Mortal Kombat with Lo'ak

- everyone expects him and Tsireya to attend private school (mostly because Ao'nung's an entitled douchebag) they only stayed because the school they were supposed to study at didn't have any more spots so they studied at Pandora High instead, they went back the second year because he'd been acquainted with Rotxo at the time and his parents decided he was a good influence on Ao'nung (also they wanted Tsireya to run for the student body so)

- flirts with too many girls but never takes anything a step further, there are about dozens upon dozens of rumors circulating the school of him getting it on with this one girl in the auditorium, making out with this one girl in the science lab, taking this one girl to his car and Tsireya hears all of it 💀

- never raises his hand to recite and if he does it's during the last 5 minutes and he's trying to kill time by making their teacher talk about their children or the Vietnam War or something until the bell rings and all the students bolt out of the classroom before their teacher could get another word in. If he gets called on out of the blue he'll always get the answer right

- sleeps in class lol

- he drives an Audi to school everyday

- he dosent speak Māori as well as Tsireya but he understands just as well as her

- watches kid cartoons when he's stressed like the magic schoolbus, pink panther, angelina ballerina, but he's always stayed true to his roots which was cartoon network like Ed, Edd, and Eddie, The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy, and Camp Lazlo

- zones out when he's upset

- they have loads of beach houses scattered along the coast but the one they always go to is their Fairfield house in Connecticut where they'd surf from dawn to dusk, his parents would join him and Tsireya in the first 5 hours but they'd leave after that and let them surf on their own. When they'd be done they'd have seawater in their ears, sand in places they never would have imagined, and their hair would start turning golden because of how long they spent under the sun

- he's the type to never tell you anything unless you ask him about it, you'd never know how his day if you don't pester him about it, you won't know if he's feeling alright or not because he is so incredibly hard to read.

rotxo

- drinks tea but has a raging caffeine addiction

- spends his off time watching sitcoms with some popcorn

- does not have any clue what is going on

- since everyone agrees on this, yes, he was raised by his grandmother

- he has all the ap classes too let's be fr

- HE SAYS SUCH OUT OF POCKET THINGS SOMETIMES, he says it how he sees it, he'd literally go out of his way and call you a perforated ballsack if he felt like it (and he never got a citation for it EVER) it almost fazes Ao'nung how someone so sweet could say such BOLD things 😭

- he wears cargo shorts and blue t-shirts and vans and/or black converses

- A HUGE SZA FAN, has been since the release of CTRL and we all know he was there the moment SOS was released also because he was literally blowing up the groupchat with the countdown (GUYS 5 MINUTES GUYS 5 MINUTES) a week after the release he's already memorised almost all the songs

- he sometimes asks the most obvious questions that some of his classmates start laughing as a result 💀 jokes on them though they didn't ace the test like he did

- he just gives Charlie Kelmeckis energy

- he's the type of person to stutter when he's nervous so when he came to Kiri's house to meet their parents for the first time it took him 1 whole minute to say hello to Tuk who opened the door asking him if he was the doordash guy

- wouldn't be opposed to a night in as much as a night out

- he isn't exactly that well off but will pay for EVERYTHING he won't even let Ao'nung (whose father is a billonaire) pay for 2 fries and 2 sundaes at McDonald's

- really likes Spiderman (went as Miles Morales 2 years in a row, he only went a second year because Kiri thought it would be a good idea to play Spidergwen and you best believe they got a lot of candy)

- is the type to remember the littlest things about you

- very emotionally intelligent

- he tutors Kiri sometimes but those sessions always end up with them getting take out or watching poorly made hollywood films and laughing their asses off at the cringy dialogue and shit special effects

- he's in film club and the school newspaper column he loves writing and wants to work in a real film set one day

- with that in mind, when they were younger Rotxo produced plays with Tsireya and Ao'nung during family gatherings, they made all the props, asked Rotxo's grandma for help with costume design (of course they always get standing ovations)

- is an only child

- canonically a teacher's pet and Ao'nung makes fun of him for it

- GOLDEN RETRIEVER ENERGY THROUGH AND THROUGH

- the unluckiest luckiest son of a gun ever (got detention for dropping a weight on a girl's head, said girl gave him a kiss on the cheek when she left to go to the hospital, the script he'd been working on since middleschool got lost, immediately gets invited to a film set on a bigshot Hollywood movie for a day)

- surfs A LOT, not as much as ao'nung since he competes in surfing classics but Rotxo could if he wanted to (he has stage fright poor baby)

- is a peace maker - Duane Evans Jr.

- puts his hands over his ears when he's scared

- HAS LITERALLY NO SENSE OF DIRECTION, his first day in Pandora high he was 20 minutes late to all his subjects because he's always miles away from his classes, if his Chemistry class was in the the second floor jit'd be out in the football field asking Seniors where the chemistry classroom was and they'd purposefully give him the wrong directions making him another 20 minutes late and he literally just missed the entire Chemistry lesson 😭 you can give this boy a dozen compasses and he'd still be lost (Ao'nung actually did give him a compass for his 12th birthday before he realized that Rotxo did not know the difference between his East and his West)

- he can hold his breath for 3 minutes (imagine you're just relaxing on the beach and you see two 7 year old boys floating on the surface of the water)

- literally just unintentionally funny

- he's always been the friend that was almost NEVER allowed outside, if his grandma does allow him outside she only gives him an hour or so but Ao'nung has already used up like 15 minutes for begging so...

- animals love him, it's almost annoying really

- he says sorry to inanimate objects if he bumps into them

- HE NEVER SLEEPS, he's shit at time management too so he just crams extra credit assignments the night before it's due and ends up getting a 90% on them like it's witchcraft???

- sings songs out of nowhere like some broadway star

- parents and grandparents love him, (they once stole beers from Tonowari's mini fridge in their vacation house in Martha's Vineyard in Massachusets and Ronal caught them and Rotxo lied to her face when she asked them what they were doing in Tonowari's private study, he told her that they were throwing the beers out because the fridge was on the fritz again, which dosent seem so believebale granted they were two teenage boys but Ronal took one good look into Rotxo's puppy dog eyes and FELL FOR IT. They drank them on the rooftop that night while they watched the sunset (and scrambling down when Tsireya spots them halfway across the beach)

- braids Kiri's hair for them (they could literally be eating lunch together with the group and next thing she knows Rotxo's asking for a rubber band to tie her hair off)

- plays the pianoforte

- wears those puca shell necklaces and sometimes wears a sweatband to school (I know im describing Michael from Duckrockers but HUSH)

- used to always eat in the classroom of his favorite teacher who teaches AP Lit, that is until Ao'nung found out and invited him over to eat with him and his swim team friends, until they eventually just started eating on another table, Tsireya joined them as well because her friend group was getting a bit too tight iykyk (fake ass bitches) then Lo'ak started sitting there because he Tsireya started dating, then Lo'ak invited Kiri over because he had a bet going with Ao'nung that Kiri would be the first one to ask Rotxo to be their boyfriend, then Neteyam decided to eat with them too because someone had to ratio the absolute havoc these 4 wreak during lunch time (2 to 4 is better than 1 to 4, poor Reya)

PART 2! Finally got through to finishing Tsireya, Ao'nung, and Rotxo! I had sm fun doing these which ya'll can clearly tell given the amount of headcannons I wrote 😭 anyway, I might be writing more atwow fics in the future who knows honestly...

[thenerdykneazle]

Sallow Soul - Fusion

Summary: Sebastian freaks out when MC disappears. Once she's back, she agrees to talk to him, but then she overhears something that sends her running again. Things culminate in a rather explosive argument - and more. Even so, all is not as it seems to Sebastian.

Sebastian Sallow x F!MC

Warnings: 18+, sexually explicit content, aged-up characters, angst, toxic relationship, bit of a breeding kink

Word count: 11,247

Read on AO3. Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 5. MC's perspective (Kindred Spirits).

Part 4: Fusion

In lieu of his normal run, Sebastian paced around his flat on Wednesday morning as he tried to come up with what to say to MC. He considered everything from demanding another chance to laying his soul bare to “I am but a worm desperate to return to your soil.” It all sounded terrible. He had all but lost hope at the prospect of reconciliation. He was starting to wonder if he could ever even be happy. His whole life had been blown up – Anne was gone, Ominis was estranged, and MC hated him – and he had no one to blame but himself. There were no words to fix what he had done – even before the mess of things he’d made more recently. He resigned to be honest with MC about how much he had missed her, how sorry he was, and how ardently he wished to have her back. The rest would be up to her.

All throughout the morning training, Sebastian tried to steal a moment with MC. He struggled, though. Sofia seemed intent on partnering with her. Sebastian tried catching MC between drills, but Mikko kept coming up to praise his performance or ask for advice. Normally, Sebastian would preen at the compliments. Given the current circumstances, they just annoyed him.

He was stuck behind her on the walk to the cafeteria – too far away to talk to her, although it did give him a rather prime view of her arse. It was hardly his fault. The sway of her hips was damn near hypnotising, and she’d changed into leggings after her shower, which wasn’t helping. He could see the cleft of each cheek, and it made images of her arse in nothing but a green G-string flash into his mind. Gods, it’d have been so easy to pull that string to the side and fuck her from behind. Sebastian shook the thought from his head before Sofia could overhear it or his body could get too excited by it. Besides, he needed to focus on the task at hand, as tempting as it was to take full advantage of the fleeting chances he had to memorise every detail of her. The memories would fade, anyway. They always did.

At lunch, Sofia and Mikko separated him from MC at the table, so he couldn’t easily lean over and ask for a private chat. He was desperate enough to just shout across the table, but Sofia would not stop rambling long enough for him to break into their conversation.

“I really like his style, because it lends itself to rereads. He has these great twists that you don’t see coming, but then you go back and see all the hints he had dropped leading up to it. It’s just enough to make you feel like you could have guessed it but never enough to actually predict it ahead of time and spoil it for yourself. I can’t give examples, as that’d ruin it, of course, but I will say–”

Sebastian could’ve bashed his head into the table in frustration. Honestly, did that woman breathe? It hardly mattered, though, because Mikko was playing 20 questions with Sebastian about his workout routine, which made it difficult to focus.

“What sort of running shoes do you prefer?”

“Do you always run outside or do you use a treadmill sometimes?”

“Aren’t you worried about slipping on the ice?”

“Do you have to change your shoes for the winter?”

“What sorts of warm-ups do you do?”

He was relentless. Sebastian went for a wee just to remember what his own thoughts sounded like. It turned out to be a rather brilliant decision, because he took the opportunity to walk by MC on his way back.

“Hey, can we talk for a second?” he asked, having resisted the urge to lay a hand on her shoulder.

MC had a look of fear in her eyes as she turned to Sebastian. It was crushing. He hated that his proximity made her so uncomfortable, especially when he wanted nothing more than to just be near her.

Before she could respond, a voice came from over Sebastian’s shoulder. “I wanted to ask you something else about your intervals,” Mikko said.

The large blond was genuinely one of the nicest people Sebastian had ever met, but in that moment, he could’ve garrotted the great git.

“Can it wait?” Sebastian asked through gritted teeth.

Mikko gave him a friendly smile. “I just didn’t want to forget. How often are you doing time intervals vs distance, because I feel like it’s hard to push myself for the timed ones. But when it’s distance, the faster I run, the faster it’s over, you know?”

The man, by all accounts, took working out entirely too seriously. Surely, he had nothing else going on in his life to be this dedicated. Sebastian, on the other hand, had much more pressing matters to attend to.

“Then just do them by distance!” he snapped. He really could not give less of a fuck about Mikko’s intervals.

The whole table stared at Sebastian, who let out an exasperated sigh.

 “Look, mate, we can discuss it later,” he said, clapping a hand on Mikko’s shoulder and willing him to understand the importance of the conversation he was trying to have with MC. “All right?”

Mikko’s eyes narrowed at him in a way that quite unnerved Sebastian. He didn’t know his face could look so unamused, so…unfriendly. “I’d really rather talk now,” Mikko replied. It wasn’t up for discussion, evidently.

Sebastian glanced down to MC, who avoided his gaze, and then Sofia, who had a similar look to Mikko. His jaw tensed as he realised what was happening. It was all intentional. They were keeping him from MC on purpose. He glanced at MC once more in hopes of catching her eye, but he didn’t. “Actually, I’m gonna go get settled in the conference room,” he said as he met Mikko’s hard stare.

Sebastian felt numb as he skulked out of the cafeteria. He didn’t know how to process the fact that people felt the need to protect MC from him. The thought made his breath shutter. Was he still so dangerous – so dark – that the Hero of Hogwarts needed saving from him? He loved her. He wanted to be the one protecting her. He would never hurt her. But, then, he had, hadn’t he? Constantly since they were 15. He might never have used an unforgiveable on her since they were trapped in the Scriptorium, but he had caused her plenty of pain – and when he should’ve been the one easing it.

Sebastian didn’t try to talk to MC again. She clearly wanted space. He would give it to her. He would wait until they got home to try to talk to her. If she refused, he would leave her be for the night and try again in the morning. He just hoped she’d hear him out before she left for England.

As such, he didn’t rush after her when she darted out of the conference room at the end of the training. Unfortunately, when he apparated into his flat after completing his cleaning duties, it was empty. Sebastian wasn’t totally surprised by this. MC had gone out frequently enough. He hoped it was to pick up dinner and not dick this time, though. He didn’t think he could take knowing she was with someone else again, even if they did end up using her bed instead of his.

As the time dragged on, the probability that she had gone out just for food dwindled. An hour after Sebastian had gotten home, he started to feel sick. He was certain she’d run off to some stranger’s arms. Not that he had room to judge her on that front, but that didn’t stop him from hating it. In a rather rash decision, Sebastian snatched up his cloak and headed out. He might’ve stumbled upon a receipt in the pocket of MC’s discarded cloak after her last tryst, so he knew where he was checking first.

But MC wasn’t at that pub. Or the next three he tried. After he had spent two more hours searching, frequently stopping back at his flat to check if she’d returned, Sebastian began to panic. What if something horrible had happened to her? He couldn’t search a whole city on his own.

He sent a patronus to Niko before showing up at his flat. Sebastian implored him for help finding MC. The younger lad folded his arms and arched a brow as he considered the terrified Brit. “Why exactly do you think something bad happened? You said she’s gone out before, yeah?”

“She wasn’t out this late before. Something’s not right. She…She would’ve told me if she wasn’t coming back,” Sebastian argued.

“Weren’t you convinced she was missing last time, though?” Niko argued.

Sebastian huffed. “Yes, but something feels wrong. I’m supposed to keep an eye on her. She knows that. She wouldn’t’ve just disappeared without a word.”

“You think she’d have left a note? ‘Gone out to find a bloke to bang. Might stay at his. Don’t wait up.’”

Sebastian narrowed his gaze at his friend. “That’s not funny.”

Niko shrugged. “I wasn’t really joking. I think you’re crazy–”

Sebastian opened his mouth to argue.

“But,” Niko continued before he could speak. “I’ll help all the same, Sepe.”

Sebastian gave him a small smile. “Thanks, mate.”

“Don’t mention it. I don’t want you getting fired on the off chance she actually is in trouble. I like having you around.”

Sebastian had Niko stay near the flat to keep an eye out for MC returning. Sebastian checked further and further locations. He talked to dozens of people, but no one recalled seeing her. He even sent a patronus to try to find her. It was a long shot, as most magical businesses had wards against spectres. He didn’t get a reply.

He sent Niko home at 2 in the morning. Sebastian himself wandered for another few hours, checking both muggle and magical hospitals, before going to the headquarters. His eyes were heavy, but he was too anxious to sleep as he waited in the hopes that MC would show up. If she didn’t make it to the training, he would file an official report that she was missing. He sent another pantronus, but he still received no reply.

As he waited, a thousand horrific scenarios played through his head on what might’ve become of her: slipping on a patch of ice and cracking her head open, running into some thugs that caught her off guard, going home with the wrong guy who attacked her. She could be unconscious in hospital, being tortured, or already dead. There was nothing he could do about any of it. Sebastian had never felt so powerless since his parents’ deaths back before he had magic.

Sebastian alternated between sitting on one of the weightlifting benches and pacing around the room. He was doing the former when the door to the training room opened a little after 5 in the morning. His head snapped up at the sound, but he sat frozen as he looked at the figure walking toward him. Relief flooded through him as MC walked across the dark room, heading straight for him. He worried that she might be a hallucination until she was in clear view.

 “Hello,” MC said in mild surprise once she spotted Sebastian gaping at her.

It was as if her voice reanimated him, and Sebastian instantly shot to his feet as a fury filled him. “That’s all you have to say? Bleeding ‘hello’?” Sebastian yelled as he marched over to her. He was filled with the inferno of his favourite spells. “Where were you? I was up all night trying to find you!”

MC was clearly caught off guard by his outburst, and she skittered back as he advanced on her. “Sofia let me stay at hers,” she replied as if it were no big deal.

Sebastian breathed out a bitter laugh. He was going to need to have a long chat with Sofia about her meddling into others’ lives. “And you didn’t think to tell me?” he demanded.

MC crossed her arms defiantly over her chest as she glared at him. “I told you I don’t need a babysitter.”

Sebastian gripped handfuls of his hair rather than MC’s shoulders to shake some sense into her. “You are literally the biggest pain in the arse I’ve ever met!”

“Then it’s a good thing you don’t have to deal with me anymore,” MC replied, turning to walk away.

Sebastian’s arms went slack at his sides. What was she implying? She was done with him? Gone? It didn’t make sense. Her things were still at his flat. Or, at least, they had been a few hours ago. That might’ve changed. He felt a new wave of panic rising in his throat. “W-what? You’re not coming home tonight?”

She gave him a disdainful look over her shoulder as she headed for the conference room. “I don’t get to go home until tomorrow. But, no, I’m not staying at your flat tonight if that’s what you meant.”

Sebastian jogged after her as adrenaline flooded his veins. No, no, no. She couldn’t leave. He already had so little time left with her. He was supposed to say things. Memorise her features. Maybe give her a message for Ominis if he could find the words.

“Look, I know I crossed some boundaries the other night…” he started.

MC just scoffed, not bothering to look at him.

“I shouldn’t’ve…propositioned you like that,” he continued. “I just…Look, I know I’m never going to get to see you again after tomorrow. I just want one honest conversation before that.”

MC laughed. It was cruel and humourless. “You make it sound like you’re so torn up over this,” she said acridly. “Doesn’t really fit with how you’ve been acting, though. So, what is your real goal here, Sebastian?”

He sighed, defeated. He didn’t know how to convince her he was telling the truth. “I know I’ve been a git for…forever, essentially. I really do just want closure. I’ll answer all your questions, too. I haven’t been the most rational the last two weeks, but…I’ll try to explain. Tonight, yeah? After I finish cleaning this place.”

MC chewed her lip. “Fine,” she gritted out. “But leave me alone until then.”

Sebastian’s face broke into a smile. She’d agreed! She’d actually agreed to talk with him! “Okay. Yeah,” he said eagerly despite trying to temper his excitement. He didn’t want her to change her mind. “I’m not even here.”

He was so elated that he almost hugged her, but he quickly retracted his hands and clenched them into firsts, which he shoved in his pockets for good measure. He gave her a nod of his head, instead, before jogging out to the conference room. He headed to the holding cells and took a nap in an empty one before training began. It was the best he had slept in days.

At 8, he returned to the training room. Jari made them redo the tests he’d given them on their first day of training. The duelling would be postponed until the following day, so they spent the extra time practising defensive spells.

Having promised to leave MC alone, Sebastian spent lunch talking to Niko. “Looks like your school friend wasn’t dead in a ditch, after all,” Niko whispered, looking rather smug.

“She stayed over at Sofia’s,” Sebastian replied in an equally quiet tone.

“Ah, she’s a unicorn,” Niko said knowingly.

Sebastian gave him a confused look.

“Is that just an American one, then?” Niko asked.

Sebastian shrugged, still befuddled.

“A unicorn,” Niko repeated as if saying the word again made its meaning any clearer. “You know…prefers witches.”

Sebastian snorted out a laugh before covering it with a cough. “Yeah, no. Definitely not,” he said decidedly.

Niko raised an eyebrow at him. “Pretty sure about that, aren’t you?” he said teasingly.

Sebastian’s cheeks heated, but he quickly replied, “Well, it was pretty clear after the whole…wrong bedroom debacle.”

Niko sniggered. “Shit, I’d forgotten that part.”

“Lucky you,” Sebastian intoned as he stabbed his fork into his chicken like it still needed killing. “It’s seared in my brain for life, I think.”

“Yeah, I bet! I mean, you two were close at that boarding school, right? You grew up together? I imagine it’d be like walking in on my sister,” Niko said with a shudder.

“Something like that,” Sebastian replied in a stilted tone. “I’m gonna clear my tray. Want me to take yours?”

“Yeah, sure,” Niko said casually, though he gave Sebastian an odd look. Like he could tell something was off.

“You’re being weird,” Niko stated as they walked to the conference room, lagging a bit behind the rest of the group. Sebastian was actively not staring at MC’s arse even though she’d ended up directly in front of him again and her hips had no less sway to them than they had the day before.

“I’m not being weird,” Sebastian asserted, painfully aware that he’d just been looking at ceiling tiles as they walked.

“You are. You have been all training,” Niko argued. He leaned in toward Sebastian and continued even quieter, “I should say since MC showed up.”

Sebastian shot him a look. “You’re imagining things.”

“I’m not,” Niko said firmly. “I haven’t heard you talk about anyone so much since you first joined our squad and wouldn’t shut up about your ex.”

Sebastian’s eyes darted to Niko before he could stop them. Niko had already been studying his face and looked like something had just clicked into place for him.

“Wait, she’s the chick you banged back in school?” Niko hissed.

 Sebastian shot him a deadly glare.

Niko continued unperturbed, “Bro, you didn’t tell me she had special magic! You focused on the wrong talents – I mean, not that her tongue didn’t sound magical, too, but…damn.”

MC whipped around looking irate, and Sebastian’s heart died in his chest. He was fucked. She glared at him like she hoped it could set him ablaze. His throat dried up, suddenly unable to produce saliva let alone words as MC slipped into the conference room with Sofia.

Jari started talking before Sebastian even made it inside. He sat at the empty seat at the back of the table. MC was up at the front by Jari. He had no hope of explaining himself for hours. He. Was. Fucked. He’d been so close to finally talking to MC. He could’ve killed Niko. Bumbling prat. Why couldn’t he have kept his bloody mouth shut?

Sebastian wanted to scream. Or vomit. Or do both simultaneously to disastrous effect. Hopefully, he would aspirate and be put out of his misery.

The training was torture. Sebastian couldn’t pay attention. He hadn’t the foggiest idea what Jari had taught them about. He just sat and sweated and panicked for hours as he tried to telepathically communicate to MC that Niko was a bellend and he had never said anything like that to him. He really should’ve studied legilimency.

The second Jari began dismissing them, Sebastian jumped to his feet and rushed to MC.

“Can we please talk about this tonight?” he begged as she glared daggers at him. “Or now, even! Niko twisted what I–”

“I don’t want to talk about it right now,” MC said, cutting him off as she got to her feet.

“I’m really sorry. I swear it’s not as bad as it sounds,” he said, needing her to know she was not a conquest to be bragged about. She was the love of his life.

MC scoffed as she tried to push past him. He followed after her. He needed her to hear him out.

“Can we still talk tonight?” Sebastian asked urgently as she rushed down the corridor, weaving through the crowded hallway.

“Sure,” she replied sharply before he’d even finished the question. “But don’t send a bloody search party if I decide it’s not worth my time.”

“I’ll be back at my flat within the hour,” he promised, praying to every entity he could think of that she’d be there when he got home.

She pushed the exit open and left without so much as a backward glance.

When Sebastian returned 45 minutes later, it was to an empty flat. Not just “MC was gone” empty. There were no clothes in her dresser, no toiletries in the loo, and her trunk was nowhere to be found. Sebastian started hyperventilating. What if she’d gone back to England? Was he never going to see her again? He’d missed his chance. He’d fucked up his last chance with the woman he loved because he was too proud to just beg for her forgiveness as he should’ve the moment he saw her.

Sebastian lay catatonic in his bed, utterly miserable. He didn’t know how he would finish training if she didn’t show the next day. He didn’t know how he’d live with himself having blown things with her again. He just wished he could see her. Even watching that prick fuck her in his bed would be preferable to never seeing her again.

Every pop of a car outside or click of the radiator had Sebastian half-convinced she’d come back, so when he heard a crack that seemed to come from his living room, he didn’t react, at first. It was only when Sebastian heard a deep, masculine voice that he realised he wasn’t imagining it this time.

“Gods, I’ve wanted to grab this arse all night,” the man had groaned.

The universe, it seemed, had a rather twisted sense of humour. Sebastian crept out of his room and toward the voice to find exactly what he was expecting – MC mauling some bloke. She was rutting against his lap on the sofa like some feral beast, while he groped her arse and mashed his ugly mug into her breasts like a starved infant. He looked at MC’s face reflected in the window, her expression twisted with desire and something else. Something dark.

The sight made Sebastian’s muscles burn. He wanted to storm over and rip MC off the bastard who dared touch her. But he had no right. Besides, she was clearly making a statement fucking some random bloke on his sofa. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing she could get to him so easily.

MC’s hooded eyes raised, and she locked eyes with Sebastian through the glass. He arched a brow at her as if to say, This again? Really?

She seemed startled at first, and then embarrassed as she looked down only a moment later. Her lover was too absorbed in mouthing her tits in all the wrong places to notice anything was off, let alone spot Sebastian.

The young aurori made himself comfortable against his living room wall, leaning a shoulder back on it and crossing one ankle over the other. He folded his arms over his chest, as well. Despite himself, his gaze fell down to MC’s increasingly exposed arse. He wondered what the couple would do if he just went up and grabbed her plump cheeks or pulled her hips up and took her from behind.

MC glanced over her shoulder at him, and it reminded him vividly of when she’d done so bent over his counter in nothing but the lacey green underwear he’d transfigured.

Sebastian winked at her. Thanks for the show, love.

MC manhandled her lover into a heated kiss as she grew even more fervent in her movements on his lap. The man was not to be separated from her tits for long, though, and his mouth was soon back on them. MC’s eyes closed as her head fell back. She groaned out a husky, “Oh, fuck.”

Sebastian’s cock jumped in a truly Pavlovian response to her keening. He automatically started stroking himself over his trousers to relieve the tension.

Her lashes fluttered against her cheeks as her eyes opened, and she immediately looked to Sebastian’s reflection instead of the man beneath her. He had to bite back a moan. That git might have her body, but Sebastian had her attention. Fuck, was he about to get himself off watching MC with another bloke? Surely not. He felt at least as angry as he did aroused.

Probably more as the git’s hands wandered up MC’s dress, pulling the hem up toward her waist. Sebastian’s gaze dropped to her bare arse. Only it wasn’t bare. Not totally. She was wearing a G-string. The G-string.

Sebastian saw red at the sight of the green lace caressing the top of MC’s arse. He cleared his throat loudly and relished the frightened jolts MC and her fuckboy gave.

“Could you not?” Sebastian asked drily. “That’s my favourite place to masturbate, and you’re defiling it.”

The top half of the man’s face poked out over MC’s shoulder. “Who the fuck are you?” he asked.

“Name’s Sebastian. This is my flat,” Sebastian growled back with a false smile. It was taking all of his self-control not to draw his wand. “Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m Anton,” the man replied, an undertone of fear in his voice.

“Gods, I was so close!” MC whinged rather belatedly.

No point in whining about being interrupted now.

Anton seemed equally shocked by her outburst. Before the prick could get too smug about it, Sebastian said in a firm voice, “I think you should go, Anton.”

He scampered away like the rat he was, wasting no time apparating out of the flat. MC tugged her dress back into order before sitting on the sofa, calm as you like. It made Sebastian even angrier.

“Nice lingerie,” he bit out.

“Isn’t it?” MC replied with a saccharine smile. “I mean, Anton certainly seemed to think so.”

Sebastian glared at her. His jaw tensed as he held back the venom that demanded to be unleashed on her. She was trying to rile him up. He knew she was. And he finally realised it was for show. She was just trying to push him away. But he wouldn’t let her make him lose focus. This could be his last chance to really talk to her.

“Seeing as you’re free now, how about we have that chat?” he asked, unable to mask all of the irritation in his voice.

MC scrunched her nose. “Ooh, it’s a bit late,” she said, standing up and looking down to a watch she wasn’t wearing. “I’d best turn in. We’ve got the duels in the morning. Wouldn’t want someone getting hurt.”

She’s just doing it to piss you off.

Even with the reminder, Sebastian still felt his anger swell. “Sit. Down,” he demanded.

For once, MC just listened. She immediately planted her arse back down on the cushion, looking up at him like a chastened child.

Sebastian took a calming breath as he raked a hand through his hair. “We’re going to ignore that–” Sebastian waved a hand over the scene of the crime against decency “–whole situation that just happened and have a civilised chat.”

MC crossed her arms, pouting like a schoolyard bully when the object of their teasing refuses to react. “Fine.”

She snuck her nose in the air, avoiding looking at Sebastian with a truly boggling air of defiance. As if he were the one being immature. He supposed she likely thought he was quite a juvenile twat given what she’d overheard during training. He’d be upset too if he thought MC only ever cared about his skills in bed – though, they were admittedly excellent if he said so himself.

“About what Niko said earlier,” Sebastian started, and MC rolled her eyes. “I told him about our relationship a long time ago. Way before I thought I’d ever see you again. He was ribbing me about how ‘whipped’ I seemed, and I made an offhand comment about it being your mouth that I missed. I wasn’t bragging about details. I was deflecting from emotions that I didn’t want to deal with. But I know it was stupid, I just…I’m sorry it hurt you.”

MC shifted on the couch. “You said you’d explain your behaviour over the last two weeks,” she pointed out.

“I…” Sebastian started, but the words wouldn’t come out.

He didn’t know where to begin, anyway. He’d done a lot of stupid things since she’d arrived. Saying out loud how crazy she made him was terrifying, especially when their feelings for each other were so different. And her estimation of him was rather hard to pin down – sometimes she seemed quite taken with him still, others she seemed to think he was the foulest creature she’d had the misfortune to meet.

He sighed. “It’s…complicated.”

MC scoffed, getting back to her feet and starting for the hallway, where she would no doubt disappear into her room until the following day’s training. Sebastian moved to block her path, refusing to let her slip away yet again.

“I’ll do my best,” he promised, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. He bit his lip before continuing, “But it…it would be easier if I knew why you paraded around in that lingerie on Sunday.”

That by far was the most confusing for him. By all accounts, she seemed to be trying to seduce him – quite actively. Then she just ran off the instant he responded.

MC gave him a quizzical look. “I figured if I could get you worked up enough without you being able to do anything about it, you would either change my clothes back or beg me to fix the temperature so you could get hard and have a wank. Either way, I’d get you to give me back my wardrobe.”

Sebastian’s heart sank into his stomach. It had all just been a game for her.

“Oh,” he said, and his voice was distant like it belonged to someone else. But he clung to his second-best hope, risking further devastation rather than give up on the idea that she might still be able to love him back. “What was with the reaction to my hair?”

MC looked peevishly at some spot over his shoulder. “I thought you were supposed to be explaining your actions.”

Sebastian pulled his mind from its despondent haze.

“Right. Well…” Sebastian took another deep breath, this time gathering his courage. “After what you said about me not being worth anything, I guess I just went looking for something that would make me feel like I was. With you calling me the worst mistake of your life, it…” He rolled his jaw to relieve the tension it had gained at the memory of the regrettable way he’d tried to numb his own pain. “It was similar.”

MC finally looked at him, her eyebrow raised with scepticism. “Did it work?”

Sebastian let out a bitter laugh. A dalliance with two witches he was happier to see leave than naked. Crying alone in bed after, plagued with memories of MC. A drunken encounter with a nameless woman that somehow managed to end in him being rejected by MC. Did it work, indeed.

“No,” he said definitively.

Sebastian was the one avoiding looking at her now.

MC gave him a pitying sort of look, as if she knew by some impossible means the sad truths of the events that had occurred behind his bedroom door. “For what it’s worth, I shouldn’t’ve said either of those things.”

Sebastian’s breath halted.

Worthless.

Mistake.

Those two words had weighed heavily on his soul. And she…she regretted saying them. Probably never meant them to begin with if she was taking them back now. It didn’t fully remedy the sting of them, but it eased their burden significantly. Hearing her say that might’ve been better than if she had been trying to seduce him on Sunday.

“I shouldn’t have called you a bitch,” Sebastian admitted in kind.

“Or interrupted my tryst tonight,” she replied cheekily.

Sebastian scoffed. She seemed to be joking, but he couldn’t let it stand. “You expect me to believe you were enjoying that?”

MC rolled her eyes. She puffed out her chest with indignation. “Just because you've never been with a woman who wasn't faking it doesn't mean they can't be pleased.”

That does it!

He would not let her twist their history. He had failed her in many ways, but he had always done his best to take care of her – by fighting her enemies in the forest, comforting her when she had nightmares about Fig’s death, taking over when she let her “extracurriculars” get in the way of basic functions like eating and sleeping, and especially ensuring she was satisfied in bed.

Sebastian stepped into her, forcing her back against the wall. “Don't lie to me, MC,” he growled, crowding into her space further and pinning her in place. “I know you better than you think.”

She laughed arrogantly. “You certainly seem to think so.”

It was a front, and he saw right through it this time.

“You want to know why we worked so well together? Because, at the end of the day, after you've been running around saving everyone - solving all their problems, making constant life or death decisions - you want someone else to carry the burden for you. You want them to make the decisions. And, for me, being with you was the only time I was ever truly in control. We're a perfect match, you and I.”

“Then it’s a shame you ruined it,” MC bit back, pushing his chest and forcing him off of her.

Sebastian staggered back, but MC didn’t escape to her room right away.

You ruined it, echoed in his mind.

It was true, but it wasn’t the whole story. Not at all, and definitely not where it ended. Sebastian let out a frustrated noise as he pulled his hair. “I’m trying to fix it!” he said, his voice raising significantly.

“You picked dark magic over me!” MC said, matching his tone. “And then you left us all behind like we were nothing!” Her voice cracked on the word, and a part of Sebastian’s heart cracked with it. “You don’t get to just pretend none of that happened! You can’t undo that! You can’t fix it!”

“I was trying to save Anne!” he argued. He’d never meant to hurt MC. He hadn’t wanted to leave her – or Ominis or Anne. But he couldn’t stay and just watch his sister die. “I left to find something, anything that might help her!”

“Well, that worked out splendidly, didn’t it?” MC said cruelly, throwing Anne’s death in his face like wine on a handsy cad at a bar. She was callous, letting the words flow out without remorse.

Sebastian shook with rage. He couldn’t believe she would go there. How dare she?

The air around them crackled with his magic as it fought to explode out from him. It was all he could do to contain it, lest it burst free and raze his flat or worse. His emotions were left unrestrained. “YOU DON’T THINK I REALISE IT WAS A MISTAKE?” he screamed, the words clawing his throat raw as they spewed out.

MC fell silent.

Sebastian couldn’t see her reaction as his eyes had welled with tears. They quickly began spilling down his face as he dissolved into a fit of sobs. His legs failed him, and he slid down the wall into a heap on the floor.

“I lost my last months with my sister,” he said, his voice rough and unsteady as his body continued to shake. He had never admitted the guilt he felt over it before. He had always worried that if he did, it would become too real and consume him. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

“Sebastian,” MC said softly, taking a step toward him.

“I’m–” Another sob tore from his throat. “…s-so sorry.” He had his face buried in his knees as he hugged them to himself. “I know I should’ve come back, I just–” He took a gasping breath as he fought to get the words out. “It was easier to start over. Pretend that version of me had never existed.”

MC’s fingers ran through his hair. Like they had thousands of times. Like they always used to when he was upset. In that moment, it was like having her back. Like he wasn’t alone.

Sebastian looked up at the blurry image of her, blinking to try to clear his vision so he could memorise how she looked at him. With compassion. Or even if it were pity. Either way, caring about him – and not with the hatred her eyes had so frequently held since she’d arrived.

“I missed you,” MC said quietly as she continued to rake through his hair. “That you. This you. A new one. It doesn’t matter to me. I just…miss you.”

At her admission, Sebastian started crying again. He got to his knees and buried his face in her hip, his tears soaking into her dress. He clung to the backs of her thighs like she might disapparate at any moment. “I’ve missed you somuch!”

He had. And he needed her so badly.

Still stroking his hair, she said in a gentle, cautious voice, “I’m sorry you didn’t get to say goodbye to Anne.”

“It was my own fault,” Sebastian admitted, and the truth of it almost crushed him.

“I’m still sorry,” she said.

She combed his hair out of his face with her fingers, and he clung to her even more tightly. She was a buoy keeping him from drowning in his sins.

Sebastian swallowed a lump in his throat. “She died thinking I’d abandoned her.”

MC didn’t look at him with disappointment or disgust. Or even pity. As she pursed her lips, he saw a look of stern resolution in her face. “If you read the letter she left you, you know that isn’t true.”

Sebastian had read it. Anne assured him that she held no ill will against him for leaving. It helped, but it didn’t change the facts. “I still should’ve been there for her,” he argued. “I would’ve. I swear, I would’ve come back. I just…” His voice grew small. “I thought I had more time.”

“I know, Seb,” she said, hugging him to her legs. “We all did.”

He grabbed her waist and pulled himself slowly to his feet.

MC placed a gentle hand on his cheek, and Sebastian covered it with his own as he leaned into the warmth of it. “I don’t want to lose you again,” he croaked.

MC stared up at him with wide eyes, though whether it was from surprise or disbelief or fear, he didn’t know. But what he did know was he needed her to know he meant it.

When he cupped her face in both hands, she tilted her chin up towards his. When he leaned in to kiss her, she leaned in, too. When he kissed her, she kissed him back. He devoured her lips, drinking in all that she would give him. Her hands were already tangled in his hair. Her reactions to him – her acceptance of him – was rapidly stoking his desire.

He backed her against the wall until her shoulders smacked against it, and then he brought a hand to her throat – just resting there, not squeezing. He could feel her pulse bounding under his thumb. He pressed his body flush against hers, eliminating any space between them. She tasted faintly of firewhiskey, and he wondered fleetingly if she’d be the one to drink it or Anton had. The thought drove him feral. He kissed and nipped and licked at her bottom lip until it was red and swollen to show proof that he’d been there. That MC was his.

He nudged his thigh between her legs. She let out a deep moan without bothering to stop snogging him to let it escape. Sebastian swallowed her noise greedily. It was only a taste of what he had in store for her.

They broke for air but stayed close, panting in each other’s breaths because they couldn’t bear to be distant.

“I love you, MC,” Sebastian said with abandon before diving in again, tongue and teeth everywhere on her lips as he continued to grind his thigh against her. “I never stopped loving you.”

MC gripped his shoulders for support as she rutted against him. She didn’t say it back, but that was okay. She was there. She was with him. He would take it, even if she only wanted to use him for the night. He would gladly be hers. He already was anyway.

Sebastian lifted her onto his hips, and she linked her ankles behind him and laced her hands in his hair. He groaned as she tugged the strands, and he attacked her neck as he carried her to his room. He kicked the door shut behind them even though there was really no reason since she was his only flatmate. Maybe it was to dissuade her from darting away if she started to feel flighty.

Sebastian threw MC down sideways on the bed. She smiled as she bounced on the mattress. She’d always liked when he manhandled her a bit. Sebastian kissed her one more time before dragging her to the edge of the mattress as he got down on his knees. MC let out a surprised yelp, but her smile never faltered. Her eyes burned into his as her teeth sank into her lip, and her hips squirmed with anticipation as his hands trailed over her thighs.

He pushed her dress up over her hips, and then he was biting his lip, too, as he took in the sight of her in those damned knickers. They were damp from grinding on his thigh in the hall. He had a matching spot on his trouser leg to prove it.

Sebastian checked back in with MC before he was too far gone. She looked back at him through large pupils in her half-lidded eyes. She wanted him, and he was eager to give himself to her. He’d remind her what they’d had – what he could be with her. He would make her forget what it was like without him, ensuring she never wanted to return to that version of life.

He dragged the green lace off MC’s hips, down her legs, and tossed them away. His hands slid up from her ankles to just above her knees, ghosting over her smooth skin. He leaned forward and licked up her slit. He’d intended to keep his eyes locked on hers the whole time he ate her out – at least until her first orgasm. But when he tasted her, he couldn’t stop them rolling back as he moaned.

“Fuck, I missed you.” He said the words like a prayer of thanks.

MC was already whimpering as she gripped one hand into his hair again. Sebastian took his time warming her up, nevertheless. He alternated, tracing his tongue up one lip, then the other, and pausing to press delicate kisses against her clit in between. Nothing too aggressive, though he kept a firm grip on her thighs. She was a hazard once she got going.

Finally, Sebastian pressed his tongue into her heat, making her gasp and her cunt clench around it. He moaned in response, and it caused her hips to jolt. She’d probably have bashed his nose in if he hadn’t been holding her so tightly. A hazard. He loved it – loved how she lost control with him.

Sebastian chuckled at his needy girl. “Patience,” he said. “I’m not nearly done with you.”

He tried not to think about it, but he couldn’t totally banish the thought: If this was goodbye, he was going to make the most of it. He hoped it wasn’t, but he’d be foolish not to acknowledge the possibility. He’d already made that mistake once.

MC keened as he returned to his efforts, focusing on her clit for a bit now that she’d been sufficiently wound up. He smirked against her as he raised his eyes to see her reaction. Her brow was drawn tight and her teeth were biting hard into her bottom lip. She was aching for release.

“I’m going to make you come until you can’t see straight,” Sebastian vowed before placing an open-mouthed kiss to her clit. “Fuck you like you deserve. Like no one else can.”

He licked firmly up the centre of her cunt to coat his tongue in the taste of her. When he reached the top, he stayed, flicking up and down over her clit. When he sucked on it, she let out a keening cry.

“Fuck, Sebastian!” she moaned, and he had to press his hips into the side of the bed with how badly she had him aching. Her taste, her noises, his name on her lips. Gods. How had he survived years without her? He refused to think about having to do it again. All that existed was the two of them in that moment. No past. No future. Just the present. Just being together.

Reuniting.

MC’s hand grew painfully tight in its grip on his hair. He’d gladly let her rip it all out if he got to see her come undone. “Oh, gods! Please!” she cried. “Please, please, please!”

That’s it, love. I’ve got you.

He could tell she was close, and he was as desperate for her release as she sounded. Sweet Salazar, he wanted her to come for him.

Sebastian redoubled his efforts, holding her firmly in place lest he risk losing an eye – she’d always told him he had rather pretty ones, so he’d rather not.

She swore like a sailor as her body drew tight. The telltale spasm of her hips followed – jerky, irregular movements as pulses of pleasure wracked through her. It was an addicting sight. One Sebastian was eager to see again as he refused to let up. He worked her body to a second orgasm, gave her a brief reprieve, and then started building her toward a third. She already looked spent – poor thing was probably out of practice. Not to worry. He’d whip her back into shape.

With some teamwork between his tongue on her clit and fingers buried inside her, Sebastian brought her to a third climax, her whole body arching off the bed. When it was over, she released his hair and panted heavily as her head fell back on the mattress. He knew her muscles must be tired after he’d kept her tensed up for so long. Every inch of her skin glistened with sweat. Sebastian was tempted to lick it off her. Though, his tongue was admittedly a bit fatigued. He might have been out of practice, too. Though, he’d always been very dedicated to training – Crossed Wands, the aurori academy, running. He quite liked the idea of a new hobby – or, rather, picking an old one back up. He really, really hoped he got the chance.

She lifted her leaden head to look at him. A soft, contented smile on her face was illuminated by the dim lamplight. Sebastian swallowed thickly as emotion caught his throat at the idea of making MC content forever. Making her happy. Being the type of man she could build a life with. He stroked MC’s thighs lovingly as he pictured a thousand different futures with her.

Sebastian pulled himself up and let his weight press into her as he covered her body with his, careful to make sure he wasn’t crushing her. He brushed back the hair clinging to MC’s sweaty forehead. “You’re perfect. So perfect,” he whispered reverently against her lips before capturing them in his own.

MC clawed him closer as she kissed him back. The kiss was slow and deep, but she had an urgency in her movements all the same.

“I love you,” she said breathlessly.

Sebastian pulled back, looking down at her in shock. Had she really said it? Had he imagined it?

He searched her eyes and found sincerity, vulnerability, love. Those thousand futures suddenly seemed truly possible instead of mere fantasies.

He crashed his mouth back into hers.

“Please,” she begged when they broke apart for air. The tips of her fingers traced down the buttons on the front of his shirt. “I need you.”

Sebastian was glad he was lying down, because those three words would’ve made his knees give out. They definitely made his cock throb with his own need for her. “I’m here, darling. You have me,” he promised her.

He stood up to strip his clothes off. If he’d had his wand in hand, he’d have vanished them. When he turned back to his witch, he found her lying on her stomach over the edge of the bed, feet on the ground and bare arse in the air. He groaned at the sight.

He smoothed his palm over her backside as if to say, I’ve missed you. “Gods, I’ve been thinking about fucking you like this nonstop since Sunday,” he said as he trailed his fingers up her spine, sliding her dress up higher as he went.

“I know,” MC replied with a smirk.

She’d always had a good sense about when he was particularly randy, whether from absence, stress, or her teasing. She would just know exactly what he needed.

Sebastian bent down to nip the sensitive skin of her arse, earning a moan from her. He stood up and admired the red marks as they darkened into existence, swiping a delicate thumb over them. It was like his signature on her skin. He intended to brand her with more than just lovebites, though. He had a primal urge to fill her with his seed, even if she were probably on potions that would keep it from taking. It satisfied something deep in him to leave a part of him inside of her. Anything to mark her as his. He’d brand her soul if it were possible and let her carve her name on his in return.

Gripping himself, Sebastian nudged her folds with the head of his cock. He found her hot and slick, and it made his knees weak just having contact again. He rubbed against MC, coating himself in the mixture of her arousal and his own saliva. She was soaked, and he knew he would slide in easily. He knew her walls would welcome him before gripping him tight. Gods, she was so–

“Bloody perfect,” he muttered aloud.

Sebastian lined himself up with her entrance when she began to shift her hips back toward him to entreat him inside. She moaned as he pressed in slowly. So slowly. He wanted to feel everything as her body welcomed him back. Welcomed him home. It felt overly sentimental to even think it, but it was the truth. Being with MC felt like coming home after years of wandering in an unfamiliar wilderness.

Pressing his chest down against her back, Sebastian cupped MC’s cheek as she arched back to meet him in a kiss. The word was reductive, though. It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a unification as they gave themselves over to each other, fusing into one as they joined in every possible way. MC accepted him as she accepted his tongue into her mouth with a moan. She confessed her passion and longing as she kissed him back and chased his lips as he began to right himself.

Immediately, Sebastian’s hands massaged into her round backside – pressing into the flesh he’d claimed with his teeth. They slid up to anchor on her hips as his own began to rock against her. He dragged his cock out slowly until just the tip remained nestled in her, and then thrust back inside until the front of his hips bit against the backs of hers. Until he was buried in her heat once more.

MC’s hands knotted into the sheets. A shuttering moan tore from her throat as Sebastian thrust even deeper, causing her to clench around him as he hit a spot that lit her nerves on fire. He couldn’t help but groan back at her as he aimed to hit the same spot again. She moaned again as he found it once more.

That. That was why he loved taking her from behind. There was a unique pleasure she could find when he did. A pleasure he could give her.

MC panted and whimpered as he slammed against that spot over and over. She wound the sheets tighter around her fists as he wound her body up pounding into her relentlessly. She was enraptured. She let him know how much she loved it.

“Fuck.”

“Yes!”

“Don’t stop.”

When her words failed and she could no longer keep thrusting back on him, he knew she was close. The thought of her coming with him buried inside her gave him a dangerous spike of pleasure. When her legs shook and he reached down to rub circles on her clit, her orgasm nearly triggered his own. He practically growled out the groan that erupted from him as she trembled and clenched around him. He had to still his hips and grip the mattress with the hand that hand been strumming her to force his body back from the precipice.

Sebastian usually preferred to fuck her through her high, prolonging it as much as he could. Instead, he was gritting through it so they could continue. Because once this tryst came to an end, he couldn’t be sure there would still be a “they.” She loved him, yes, but he still couldn’t shake the fear that it wouldn’t be enough. That he’d done too much for this to be a new beginning and not goodbye. Ultimately, it was the pain of that thought that allowed him to hold off.

Sebastian pulled out of MC so he could flip her onto her back, tearing her dress over her head and her bra off her chest. He scooped her up to lay her in the middle of the bed. No sooner had he set her down than he was stalking over her.

“I’m gonna pump you so full that you taste me on your tongue,” he vowed as he settled over top of her.

She smirked as she pulled him into a kiss. Her knees bracketed his hips, and her bare chest was pressed against his. With a deft tilt of his pelvis, Sebastian slid his length back into her, no longer able to tolerate their sole remaining point of separation. MC’s head fell back as he filled her, breaking their kiss, and so his lips tailed down to her neck. He brought a hand between them to massage her breast and moved to lave the other. MC’s chest pushed into his face as her back arched in pleasure. He loved it. He wanted her everywhere – wanted to be overwhelmed with her presence.

“Fuck, I love you, MC,” he said, bringing his forehead to rest against hers. He had become so caught up in her, that he’d forgotten to move entirely.

“I love you,” she replied.

That primal urge to fill her sparked up his spine and sent his muscles into action. He set a languid cadence, at first. MC met a few of his thrusts before going limp with fatigue. Her pleased moans continued, though, and so did Sebastian. He sped up his thrusts until MC’s nails were clawing down his back as she held on. Her moans had turned to whimpers, though they were still cries of pleasure.

Sebastian could feel his climax building as he fucked MC frantically. But it wasn’t just fucking. It was more for him. And he needed to know it was for her, too.

“Tell me…tell me there’s no one else,” he demanded breathlessly. “No one who fucks you like this.”

“Gods, no! No one,” she swore followed by a loud moan as he pounded harder into her. “Fuck, Sebastian.”

Just him. No one else. Not the poncy blond who marked her neck or fucking Anton groping her ass. Only him. Just like it was only her.

“This…cunt…is mine!” he growled between panting breaths. “No one else gets to have you!”

“Just you,” MC vowed. “Gods, I missed you. Please, Sebastian. Please!”

He bit into the curve where her neck met her shoulder as his hips sped up even more. She was keening as he released inside her with a groan. From being so close earlier, there was a blinding pressure behind his eyes as he finally climaxed.

Sebastian couldn’t help but think if he came with enough force, or depth, or volume, maybe it would overcome that contraceptive potion. And then she would keep being his, while they took care of someone who was theirs. It was horrible, he knew, but the hope was there as his hips kept pumping his seed deeper into her.

He just couldn’t bear the thought of the end with her. Sebastian recaptured her lips, and he was desperate and sloppy as their mouths melded together. MC’s hands tangled in his hair, and she seemed as unwilling as he was to let the kiss end.

Maybe she dreaded them ending, too, he thought. Maybe she also wanted forever.

When they broke apart, they were both panting wildly. Sebastian smiled down at MC, drinking in the affection in her eyes as she looked up at him. He pressed a quick kiss to her lips before rolling off of her to let her breathe. He lay on his side and pulled her so they were chest-to-chest again. He wrapped his arms protectively around her waist but was careful to keep them loose enough not to impede her still-heaving lungs.

Sebastian closed his eyes as he pressed a lingering kiss to the top of MC’s head.

“Fuck,” she breathed out, sounding spent. A small, satisfied smile played on her lips.

“Yeah,” Sebastian replied fondly as he looked down at her. He could stare at her for hours, even as knackered as he was.

“I forgot how horrendously persistent you are,” she teased.

Sebastian laughed. “I was going to make you ride my face before I took you, but then you displayed your arse so perfectly for me. I could hardly resist.”

MC rolled her eyes, but her smile grew. “Fucking course you were.”

Sebastian kissed her, not hesitating to slide his tongue into her mouth. “You love it,” he asserted.

But behind the banter was a question: Do you love me like you used to? Equally important: Will you let me love you?

She glared at him, but there was no malice in her eyes.

He laughed again, because even though it wasn’t an answer, it felt like old times. For the moment, that was enough. “You’re so bleeding stubborn,” he chided light-heartedly.

“And you’re a bloody menace,” she replied tartly.

“But I’m your menace,” he retorted.

MC smiled at that, and it made his heart sing. He felt some of the tension leave his body. She was there with him. She wanted to be with him. Wanted him to be hers.

“All right. Time for some sleep, love,” Sebastian said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “We’ve got a big rematch in the morning. I mean the duel, of course, although…”

He gave her a cheeky smile.

“No,” MC said firmly. “Knowing you, we’d end up missing the whole morning of training.”

“Yeah, fair enough,” he replied with a chuckle.

He summoned his wand and then conjured some blankets over them so they didn’t have to move. With another swish of his wand, he turned the lights out.

“Good night, MC,” he said as he gathered her back to his chest.

“Good night,” she replied, settling in against him.

Sebastian awoke to MC stirring. She’d turned over – or maybe she’d done that during the night – and her back was to him now. He snuggled against her, his arms tightening around her middle and his face burying in her neck. “Morning, love,” he mumbled happily.

“Morning,” MC replied stiltedly.

He chuckled at her pinched voice. “Don’t worry. I’m not trying to start anything,” he promised, shifting his hips back so his morning wood wasn’t pressing so aggressively into her backside. “I’m just happy to see you.”

MC laughed as she turned in his arms. “Good. I’m going to need weeks to recover from last night.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes and grinned at her. “I give it two days.”

“Unfortunately for you, I’ll be back in England by then,” MC teased back.

Sebastian’s teeth worried his lip as he mustered up his courage.

“About that,” he said nervously, looking down at her arm as he traced shapes onto it with the tips of his fingers. “I was going to ask if you’d stay for the weekend. I mean, I know you have to go back to work on Monday, but I thought maybe you could stay until Sunday.”

He looked up at her hopefully once he’d gotten the words out.

“Oh,” MC said, clearly surprised. “Well, my portkey is scheduled for this evening…”

“You could put in a request for a time change. I could fill out the form for you,” he offered, hoping he was being helpful and not demanding. He didn’t want her to feel forced into staying, but he wanted to make it as easy for her as possible. “But you don’t have to decide right now. The transport office is right next to Aurori Headquarters. I could pop by at lunch.”

“Yeah, I’ll let you know,” she said resolutely.

Sebastian smiled. “Good. And I could come visit you over the long weekend next week. We can figure it out from there.”

He hoped he didn’t sound presumptuous inviting himself over for Christmas, but he thought it would be worse not to suggest spending it with her. That, and he really, really wanted to be with her for the holidays. All of them, really. But especially Christmas. They’d spent it in Feldcroft together sixth and seventh years, and they were some of the happiest memories of his life.

“Yeah, that sounds great,” MC said to Sebastian’s relief.

They got up, Sebastian dressed, and he made breakfast while MC showered. They ate together, and he couldn’t stop staring at her. He was in disbelief that things had taken such a turn for the better. Really, he shouldn’t have believed it. He should’ve known it was too good to be true. But he wanted it so badly that he ignored the cracks in her smile and the distance in her stare. He didn’t even realise something was wrong when he beat her in their duel. He didn’t even notice the tension in her voice when she told him on the way to lunch that she’d delayed her portkey. So, he believed her. Like he shouldn’t have.

It wasn’t until too late that reality struck him. They went out for drinks with the group after training, and everything was fine – until it wasn’t. He kept his arm around the back of MC’s chair, and she leaned into him like she wanted to be there. She giggled when he whispered in her ear as if she liked it. It was an innocuous question that finally broke her.

“Do you want to go out to dinner tonight, or shall I order takeaway?” he asked.

He would offer to cook, but he wanted to be able to focus on her. He had lots of plans for after dinner. Not those sorts of plans – he always gave her time to recover after particularly…strenuous sessions. If they hadn’t needed to be up so early, he would’ve done more to help her recover yesterday. As it was, he was set on getting her in a hot bath that night. As she soaked, he’d heal any bruises he’d left the night before – or during the duel. He’d massage her hands, relaxing the muscles that’d been stressed as she grabbed onto his hair and his sheets for hours. He’d give her tender kisses and gentle touches and maybe still caress her breasts a bit, since – all in all – he hadn’t given them much attention the night before.

“I…Um…” MC stammered, suddenly looking nervous.

Sebastian’s brow furrowed in concern as she trailed off and her eyes darted away.

“I can’t do this,” she blurted out, a bereft look on her face.

“What?” Sebastia asked, taken aback. Panic seized his chest as she pushed out her chair.

MC shot to her feet. “I need to go.”

Sebastian rushed to stand up, as well. “Okay. I’ll take you back.”

Was she feeling ill? An asinine thought about morning sickness flitted through his mind before he regained sense. Things didn’t work that fast, and he refused to entertain the idea of anyone else siring her children. It was probably the cafeteria food or fatigue from training.

“No!” MC said quickly. Then, in a milder tone, she added, “I…I’m going home. I can’t do this–” She gestured between them. “–with you. Not again.”

Sebastian was left dumbfounded as MC grabbed her cloak and sprinted out of the pub. It took him several seconds to process her words. Then, without so much as a glance back at the audience currently gaping at them, he took off after her. He burst through the pub’s door to find MC rummaging in her cloak pockets.

She pulled out a stubby pencil with a sort of triumph, and Sebastian knew what it was without needing to ask. Her face fell as she looked at him.

Time almost felt suspended as she stood on the snowy pavement, just staring at him. But fresh snow was falling, collecting in her hair and on her shoulders. Her breath curled in the air in front of her rosy face. It’d be quite a pretty picture – a quintessential holiday scene – if it didn’t make Sebastian’s stomach drop as his veins filled with the chill of the snow around them.

He fixed his gaze on the pencil. The portkey.

“It doesn’t leave until Sunday,” he stated, as if saying the words could make them true.

She almost looked apologetic as she said, “I never changed it.”

But he had already known it. Too late, admittedly, but still before she’d gotten the words out. He couldn’t blame her for not wanting to give him another chance. He’d already had more than was fair. But why pretend she was going to? Why let him hope and dream and make plans? Why sleep with him in the first place? Why give him a taste of everything he wanted to rip it away again? Just–

“Why?” Sebastian asked, his voice cracking – unable to manage the single word.

Her bottom lip quivered as her face twisted with grief. “I’m sorry. I…I just–”

And then she was gone. Her breath faded from the air. The puff of snow that had kicked up as the portkey whisked her away settled back to the ground. Only footprints remained, and even those were slowly being filled in by the falling snow.

The pub door opened, and Sebastian didn’t even turn until he heard Sofia’s voice ask, “Where did she go?”

He blinked back tears and swallowed thickly before replying, “Home.”

Next chapter.

[metfell]

cranboo is an old and worm stuffed animal i drag around on a shoe lace string across the recess yard