#HOW ARE THEIR MEMORIES INTERCHANGEABLE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

burekforsatoru · 5 months ago

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just like old times

sebastian (stardew valley)/f!reader | read it on ao3 you come back to the place that holds your dearest memories to take over the farm once your grandpa died, now everything feels different. your friends feel different. five years away have done their damage, now's the time to fix it. wc: 12.5k tags: eventual smut, grief/mourning, a fuck ton of flashbacks, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), creampie, fluff, slight hurt/comfort, slight angst

you stand on the pelican town ground once again. it looks like the old times, but the feeling of dread reminds you that it isn't, and it will never be as exciting as before.

for one, the bus ride seems longer. the hills and plains interchange outside of the scratched and dirty windows as the vehicle’s stiff suspension makes sure you feel every bump in the road. second, there's no more of that excitement you felt as the bored bus driver announces pelican town when the bus lurches to a stop and the door opens with a squeak. no more carefree holidays at your grandparents’ farm, no more staying out until the sun comes up and sleeping until lunch time. now it's time to gather all that knowledge of farming collected over the years, of which there is none, and take matters into your own hands, making sure the family farm is well looked-after.

you step off of the bus with a heavy sigh and even heavier bags.

the air is cooler than usual, this might be the first time you’re witnessing pelican town spring, cherry blossom leaves filling the air with their soft pink color.

you look around, already emotional with the realization that there will be no help in the form of the old man shouting an over-excited welcome as he makes his way shuffling across the bus stop to embrace you tightly, smelling of earth and herbs. no, there will be no help from him. time has decided so.

swallowing your sadness, you pick up the heavy bags and start towards the farm.

“you’re back!” a breathless shout sounds from the direction of the town square and you see the usual sight. a tall figure with a blond mop of hair on his head, a shorter one with a tidy ginger bob, accompanied by two even smaller figures. the surprise at their company stops you wallowing in sadness, breaking you out of the already set frown on your face and instead making the corners of your lips curl up slightly.

“how did you–?” your gaze drops down to the kids following penny’s steps. the few years you haven’t been here didn’t seem that harsh, not until you notice their heights. “oh yoba’s tears, what are they feeding you two? hey guys!”

vincent sprints over and nearly knocks you over as he wraps his little arms around your waist, giving you his usual enthusiastic greeting. seeing the happiness in his action, you start feeling that growing sense of guilt for not visiting lately. jas walks over, staying closer to penny as they all approach. she shyly looks down at the ground before murmuring a hello, still as shy as ever before warming up to such a rare presence in her town.

“gotta say, it feels like summer now that you’re here, almost makes me forget about my a-a-aller–” sam sneezes, making you lean back in surprise. funny how a few years can make you forget such mundane things like how loud sam’s sneezes are. wiping his nose with a tissue, he rambles on about some shit or other, it’s difficult to understand him when he’s mumbling. penny smacks his arm, looking at you apologetically.

“i’m so sorry for your loss, truly.” her words make your smile drop again. you nod, taking a heavy breath as you thank her for the condolences.

“oh… yeah i’m so sorry. i didn’t wanna bring you down, but if you need anything…” sam awkwardly scratches the back of his head before noticing the heavy bags on the ground, the dye on handles already rubbed off from straining with the weight. “well, let me carry these at least.” he picks up the bags with a little less effort than you used, and starts walking towards the farm, vincent following after his brother with a happy bounce in his step.

penny offers a small smile as you both follow after the boys, jas trailing after penny with her smaller steps.

you arrive at the creaky gates, your heart nearly rips out of your chest once the familiar green roof peeks through the treetops. it’s worse than you expected, the steps to the porch seem like they’ve seen better days, the scarecrows are barely hanging on, threadbare and spilling hay from their bodies like gutted corpses. it’s a horrific sight, tugging on the fond memories you have of the place. of the colorful fields of fairy roses you played in when you were little, of the sunflowers you ran through with your friend until grandma chased you out of them with a stern tone but a gentle smile, making you seek a way to pass the time on the beach. the beach . you wonder if she still likes the sea and sunflowers.

shaking those memories from your mind and pushing the gate open, you follow sam’s path through the overgrown grass to the porch.

“robin already said she’d be here today to fix these steps and the door.” sam kicks a loose plank with the toe of his shoe, waiting for you to unlock the front door.

once the jingling of the keys stops, he takes your bags inside, leaving footprints through the thick dust settled on every surface inside. penny remains outside, keeping the kids from running in and touching what they shouldn’t, but sam walks into the old kitchen, testing out the tap and lights, making sure they’re functional before he can leave you to your devices.

once alone, you busy yourself with dusting the place, lifting the old shutters to let some natural light in. dust particles dance in the air around the bedroom, looking magical as they sparkle in the spring sun spilling through the open window. you sneeze once, twice, wiping your nose with a tissue before tying up your hair and deciding to save the weeping for later. there’s work to be done.

you manage to sweep the floors with an old broom and dust most of the surfaces when robin’s gentle face pokes through the front door, knocking on the old wood when she spots you sweating as you try to make the place look decent again.

“hey, cherry,” she calls you by that silly nickname that reminds you of your granny, smiling as she slowly steps inside with a toolbox in her veiny hand, “i’m just gonna fix your step, okay? sorry in advance about the noise…” voice dying as you approach her and sink into the comforting hug you took for granted so many times before.

she always gave them out so freely, showing her affections with a gentle pat on the head and a tray of freshly cut apples when you were over at sebastian’s for the day. it was a given, on the days when the summer heat made being outside impossible, that you would spend most of the time in his bedroom, lying on the floor under the ceiling fan or playing games on his computer. robin would always make sure you forgetful kids didn’t die of dehydration or hunger. she would call you up into her husband’s lab to watch him make sparks fly by mixing different liquids or laugh when he made something expand and overflow, leaving a horrible smell in the air.

you would then leave the house to sit at the edge of the lake while sebastian sneaked out a couple of cigarettes smuggled from abby’s dad’s secret stash. those first few tries were nearly the end of his rebellious attempts, but then demetrius had to comment on the smell of smoke on his clothes and how you would regret even lighting a single cigarette. that was the day when sebastian finally mastered the art of holding the smoke in his lungs and not coughing it out immediately, all he had needed was spite.

now, robin’s hug is a little tighter, like she’s trying to pull pieces of you back together and slot them into place with her hold. she lets go with a little huff and a sniffle, but you smile at her through the sadness, silently thanking her for not repeating those words everyone keeps saying. sorry for your loss, my condolences, he was a great man, what a shame… yeah, it’s true, but there are only so many thank yous and yeah he was amazing you have left in you. robin pats you on the head like she did when you were younger, turning on her heel to start on that stupid broken step.

wiping the corners of your eyes, you continue cleaning, checking every light bulb and power outlet before stepping out onto the porch again, just in time to see robin get up and wipe the sweat off her forehead.

“there we go, it should be good as new. even better than new, really.” she pats you on the shoulder before taking her stuff to leave. just as you’re about to go back inside to try unpacking, she calls out to you. “oh, cherry? i’m sure sebby would like to see you, too.”

with that, she walks off, wincing as the gate creaks and making a note of it to fix later.

alone again, you walk back inside, noticing from the corner of your eye that robin left her best hammer on the floor. cheeky woman, she knows what she’s doing. you consider for a moment if you should feign ignorance, leave the hammer there until she needs to get it back, but some part of you is buzzing with excitement at the idea of seeing sebastian again. it’s been years . the friendship is surely still there, he’s never been high-maintenance, never insisted you stay in touch after the summers, always content with hanging out for the summer and saying goodbye until the first day of the next one. he wouldn’t hold a grudge, not when that was how you functioned for more than a decade.

groaning, you bend down to grab the hammer and begin the well-known hike up into the mountains, watching the sky get warmer in tone. the muscles in your legs haven’t forgotten the path, taking over as your mind wanders to reminisce on the simpler times. starting tomorrow, you have to take matters into your own hands, clear the farm, and start planting crops – something you’ve done with grandpa countless times over the years, mouth full of questions you would list out, not letting a single moment go without a why or a how . all while your granny took care of the greenhouse, her pride and joy, walking out with a heavy basket full of ripe fruits on her hip every morning.

the cherry picking days were the best, for they meant that granny would set a big bowl of those dark red fruits next to an empty one, and the two of you would spend the afternoon removing pits from them, eating too many in the process and painting your lips, fingers, and clothes red. the sticky stains stayed until granny rubbed them off with a rough towel, making one of those mornings’ adventures result in a sweet new nickname - cherry.

hardly anyone uses your real name anymore, at least here in pelican town. it’s been cherry ever since. little cherry, like the blossoms floating through the air every spring.

seeing smoke coming out of robin’s chimney shakes the longing thoughts from your head. you check the watch, she would be closing at this time, that is if she didn’t change anything in the past five years.

a quick rap on the heavy wooden door and she is already on the other side, pulling the door open to let you in with a wide, innocent smile. unsure if she knew that you saw through her little stunt or not, you give in, walking inside to place her hammer on the counter while she apologizes profusely, her mind must’ve been all over the place to forget something so vital. with a quiet chuckle you dismiss her apologies. after all, you would’ve walked over to say hello to everyone anyway.

demetrius is murmuring as he paces the lab, writing something down on a clipboard while maru holds two seemingly identical rocks, listing off differences as she notices them. you lean on the door frame, knocking slowly on the white wood of the door to the lab. maru stops mid-sentence, nearly dropping the rocks she was holding.

“sweet sodium thiosulphate, is it monday already?” the curly girl rushes over to embrace you, squealing in excitement despite her father’s less than excited face. he doesn’t approve of her abandoning experiments and research for something as frivolous as greeting an old friend. regardless, he finishes writing down what maru said earlier and puts the clipboard down, taking off safety gloves and goggles. you smile over her shoulder, her curly hair tickles your nose as she sways left and right embracing you. “ohhhh it’s been so long, mom kept going on and on about you coming back. we were so excited!” she pulls away to look at you better.

demetrius walks over to shake your hand, as is tradition. “ah, cherry, good to have you back. terrible circumstances, certainly, we would all rather have you here of your own accord. naturally, there is no way one could stop the ruthless nature of life and d–”

“fucking hell, man, give her a moment.” like an arrow straight into your soul, that familiar bored tone breaks demetrius’ rambling. you turn your head to the side, meeting eyes with him. sebastian. with the same hair and the same crease between his eyebrows. the ring on his nostril is new, though. and so is the one on his eyebrow, his ear, yoba, he was busy since you last saw each other.

“hey.” a weak greeting leaves your lips, too busy playing spot the difference on him to even employ a single brain cell for rational thinking.

he seems to be a little taller than before, but his posture is still as bad as ever. there are traces of black on his fingernails, so he must have painted them again and picked the polish off in the meantime. you watch as he takes a pack of cigarettes from his hoodie pocket, his sleeve uncovers a little bit of his wrist, enough to see a black, now very faded, bracelet tied around it. your heart clenches at the memory, at the thought that he has kept that silly little accessory all this time. not even a bracelet, but a strap you ripped off your favorite top when it got ruined by one of maru’s experiments. it was the last time you spent your summer here, unburdened by the real life , and sebastian insisted you save at least a part of that beloved shirt. so you did the only logical thing, you ripped both straps, tied one around sebastian’s wrist and the other around yours. the one from your wrist ended up in the trash somewhere since it didn’t fit with the dress code of your stupid fancy job at joja corporate. now you regret it, seeing its pair right here in front of your eyes.

“you coming?” his murmured half-invitation sounds just like old times, bringing the last time you heard those words to mind.

you nod and wave good bye to the rest as sebastian walks out the front door, expecting you to trail behind him as always, leading you to the lake. it holds many secrets, the clear surface of the lake in the mountains with its ever clear water and rich life. it’s been witness to every late-night adventure all those summers, it holds the memories of happy times and the promises you made under the night sky. the promises you broke by not being here. sebastian stops and lights the cigarette that dangles from his lips, taking in a few drags before turning to you.

he says nothing, but it would be easier if he just shouted, you know he wants to, he has that look in his eyes. that i’m fucking pissed off but i don’t want to waste energy yelling look he so often had when he was a teenager and only just discovered rebellion against parental figures.

you say nothing, but it would be easier if you did, you really want to, your face certainly betrays the need to explain. to explain why you weren’t here, to ask if he’s mad at you, to reach out and make everything okay, make it better, make it easy like before. the silence between you is no longer light like it was years ago, it feels like a thread tugged completely taut and all it takes is one word to make it snap.

“so…” you start, trying to sort your thoughts out as you speak, trying to put all the concern and emotions into the tone of your voice. but sebastian has never been a very patient man.

“five years.”

he looks away again, still standing in that same spot that he picked for smoking all those years ago when he was still sneaking out of the house with you and abby to cough out every painful drag, making for a lot of laughs bouncing off the lake. yet another memory that the water holds.

“i know.” you sit down, take your shoes and socks off, and roll up your jeans. it’s been a while since you could rest your feet in the cold water and not feel the overwhelming hurt of missing pelican town. sebastian stands there for a few long moments before joining you, though not dipping his feet into the lake.

“five years without a word.” he’s bitter. sure, your grandpa had some news of your well-being, though not much more. that corporate job sucked out all joy from life, made taking vacations impossible, made you into a husk of who you once were, not the person who went skinny dipping with her friends almost every night in the summer right here in this lake. not the person who sneaked out of the farm house to smoke joint after joint with her best friends and make out with all of them, exploring the possibilities of human bodies. “and then you show up all smiley and try to pretend nothing’s changed.” sebastian spits the words, holding the cigarette in shaking fingers as he relights the end of it. “i didn’t think you’d show up even now that your grandpa–” “i get it.” you cut him off, stopping his angry tirade before it spirals into something else. “i get it, i wasn’t here. i feel guilty enough already, your negativity is… noted.” with a heavy breath you sigh and slide a little closer to the edge of the lake, getting the legs of your jeans damp, but it doesn’t matter. you deserve the shouting, you deserve the anger and frustration. but you’ve been putting yourself through it already, sebastian’s words only add to the burden already on your shoulders.

“why weren’t you?” he asks a question you pose to yourself every day. why didn’t i quit and come here? why didn’t i help grandpa after granny died? why didn’t i take a chance on a better life? you don’t know, it felt easier to follow some expected path. desk job, awful manager, boring dress code, decent pay, but declining motivation. in the end, you would’ve ended up completely dead inside, a shell of the girl you used to be, the girl who used to pack her bags as soon as school ended so she could be on the first bus to pelican town to spend her days helping out on the farm and the nights hand in hand with her favorite people in the world.

that girl would daydream every day about her friends, about the loud laughter and water splashing around her. purple hair swaying as abby ran to get the ball from the other end of the beach, alex throwing his gridball a little too close to pierre’s shop and running away together to avoid the punishment, haley’s annoyed voice when you messed up yet another carefully directed candid photo by laughing at just the wrong moment. emily draping you in silly fabrics to play dress-up when it was too hot to spend time outside, penny’s look of utter horror when you would crack the spine of your own book, running to maru’s secret lab to avoid her father’s chores when she couldn’t be bothered to do them. late-night bonfires with sam’s guitar as his mellow voice chased away the silence, sebastian’s eyes peeking over the top of his comic book as you sat across from each other on his bed and read together in peace.

now those eyes almost avoid yours, instead focusing on the tree in the middle of the lake. yet another piece of your summer lore, the memory of swinging from that tree to throw yourselves into the lake screaming and laughing. you wonder if sebastian thinks about those times as well, or if he’s so bitter that he can’t push past the abandonment.

“why wasn’t i here? i had a job , sebastian, i couldn’t just up and leave for the summer like i used to.” pushing the guilt away, you narrow your eyes, ready to put him in his place.

he doesn’t know what it feels like, being a slave to a big company, chained to your desk in an uncomfortable chair and a perpetually cold office. he’ll never be a part of that life, he said so himself, all those years ago as he decided to chase his own dreams, even if it meant struggling. you agreed with him then, promising to be an outcast with him, another promise this lake witnessed, now broken.

the comment stings, practically throwing your old agreement in his face, but you can’t care about that right now. it’s not easy, living in the city. he’s romanticized it all his life, always saying how lucky you are that you live somewhere so interesting, but it’s hardly that glamorous. it’s too busy, loud, demanding. there’s none of the energy you filled up on in those summers.

even the unbearable heat was somehow made less so when you were running from shade to shade, playing hide-and-seek with penny and sam before being called back to the farm to help granny in the greenhouse. gone were your favorite days, seeing drops of sweat on sam’s shoulders as he practiced his skateboard tricks in front of his house. abby and you sat on the step with ice cream melting down your hands, making everything sticky with liquid sugary vanilla in between your fingers. sometimes jodi would bring out freshly squeezed lemonade in a pitcher full of the cold beverage with huge ice cubes. you’d down the drink before sucking on the ice cubes until they also disappeared. it was easy, it was comfortable.

those memories kept you sane in the summer weeks in the office. the air conditioning didn’t work as it should and the company was too cheap to replace it, so the only solution was to fan yourself with thick notebooks that had photos of your friends stuck to the covers. photos taken with haley’s old polaroid camera, a little scuffed on the edges from being shoved into an old diary during packing. photos starring those sweet smiles that came to your friends’ lips so easily whenever you were around, smiles that lit up your nights and chased even the darkest nightmares away.

“oh okay so you became little miss very important and immediately forgot about the rest of us? you couldn’t have come to see us once ?” sebastian’s words hurt, but nobody can put you down quite like you yourself. you’ve been doing it for over twenty years, the experience is irreplaceable.

“that’s not fair, you could’ve called. the phone works both ways,” you reply, furrowing your brows further, “and besides, you think it was my idea to not have any fucking time off when i could actually come here?”

sebastian scoffs. of course he doesn’t think that, but it’s easier being angry with you than accepting the fact that he felt rejected, abandoned…

confused, especially after that last summer five years ago.

granny had passed away early that spring so you were needed on the farm then more than ever. grandpa’s hands didn’t work as well as they used to, his fingers were weaker and shakier, his knees gave out more often, and his back never truly straightened anymore. he worked harder than ever attempting to escape the overwhelming loneliness with the love of his life gone without any warning. your parents never got into the whole farming business. they came over for the funeral and kept asking if he would move with them to the city so they could keep an eye on him . he would’ve rather died alone in the middle of his parsnip field, he said. you had to admire the stubborn old man, the unwavering sense of loyalty to his land was something else. so he wiped his tears and kissed the framed photo of granny smiling with a large sunflower on her head every morning before he left the house to work. you focused on the farm more, finally having reached the age when he could trust you with more tasks, and you loved every second of it.

it was therapeutic, the cold earth between your fingers helped you become more connected with the land, and the animals seemed to look forward to your entering the barn and coop every morning. it was a life you thought you could get used to, even if it brought tears to your eyes whenever the greenhouse demanded attention. it was hers . it had granny’s heart and soul embedded in the glass panes and the fruit trees and those precious flowers. once you finally got over the anxiety of entering the warm structure, you could hardly leave again. sebastian found you in there often, remembering it as a place you were most likely to get stuck in if you hadn't shown up to the lake or to his house.

it was his gentle hands that picked you up off the ground and walked out with you to greet the moon and the stars. it was him who helped you talk about her and how much you missed her. it was him who kissed your cherry flavored lips when he saw them quiver. and it was you who leaned into the kisses every time, who lay down to feel his body on yours and his hands ridding you of your clothes. it was you who sought it out almost every day that summer, it didn’t matter when or where.

you had him in his bed, against the wall of his bedroom, on the beach, and behind a tree in the secret woods. he had you by the tide pools, on his desk, and in the lake by his house, making it another secret that the water kept.

both of you did your best to keep those bite marks hidden, not being able to keep your teeth to yourselves when the sex felt so good.

that summer could have very well been dubbed the best summer of your lives. if only it didn’t end with that cursed job offer.

“i know it wasn’t your idea, dumbass, but you could’ve let m– us know that we won’t see you again.”

“i’m here now.” it’s a piss poor response to his words full of hurt. he puts the cigarette out into the ground and doesn’t reach for another, instead turning to face you again, making you look into his eyes and see the state that he got himself into, spending five years wondering…

“yeah but are you? is it you or is it some… piece of shit corporate pawn that you swore you’d never be!” his hands shoot out to gesture as he raises his voice, finally showing the repressed emotions that have been bubbling up inside his chest for years, pushed down because he didn’t want to show that he cared, that he was hurt, that he felt discarded. was i really only good for that? good to fuck the grief out of you and have years of our friendship erased? he wondered that at night when he tried to sleep but all he could do was think about your body moving on top of his, he could still feel the dips in the mattress where your knees were when you threw your head back and moaned out his name. you looked like a goddess then, under the dimmed lights of his bedroom as his cock disappeared into you and elicited cute little curses from your red lips. “i thought we were on the same page.”

“i hardly had a choice, you know? a job is a job, and the money was good. i didn’t have the option to stay with my parents forever–”

“oh yeah, ‘cause i’m so thrilled with staying in my mom’s basement at this point!”

“you know what i mean and don’t put words in my mouth!” you sigh, it wasn’t supposed to turn into a fight.

all you wanted to do when you got to the lake was ask him how he’s been, not have a shouting match out in the open. he keeps quiet for a while, deciding to slide off his shoes and socks to cool off in the water. he doesn’t stop there, for the rest of his clothes also find themselves on the ground and he pushes himself into the lake. you can hardly believe what’s happening, it’s been so long since you saw his body only in boxers. sebastian swims away, not caring that he’s leaving the conversation or that there are words still stick in your throat.

exasperated, devastated that this is how your first meeting after five years is going, you lie on your back in the grass, keeping your feet in the water. fuck . of course it has to be terrible. of course, your expectation of sebastian always being such a low-maintenance friend should’ve ended the minute you let him go down on you the first time. but how were you supposed to know he really meant it? that it wasn’t just a thing friends did with each other when they got to the point of being too horny to function. you were so tired that summer, so worn out with sadness and exhaustion from taking on more farm work, it was easy deciding to cross a line with him. you’d thought about it extensively years prior, imagining what it would be like, but never really assumed it would happen outside of your head. and now you’ve fucked it up. destroyed nearly everything you’ve built since the first time you came to the farm.

“cherry…” sebastian’s voice startles you, making you flinch and immediately sit up. he swims closer, nearly to your knees with his hair swooping up as he pushes it back with one hand. he wipes his face with it, looking up with those familiar eyes. he’s missed you, despite being furious and crushed by your abandonment, he’s missed you more. “why didn’t you call?” his voice is nearly pleading, but you know he knows why. he knew what you were like, he’s spent many of your crises helping you breathe, rubbing your back, and whispering sweet hopeful words into your ear.

“i…” you swallow your tears and anguish, the guilt that devours you from the inside. “i couldn’t handle it anymore. i love it here but i was too fucking sad.” biting your lip for a second, trying not to burst into tears, you shake your head. this is not the time to lose your composure. so with another deep breath you continue. “i was so fucking sad because I felt that my life didn't lead anywhere if I didn't make something of myself in the city. stupid, I know. but once i was successfully made a cog in the machine I just got tired . I couldn't get away for long enough to recover, it was draining everything that made me me. and you would've hated me.” the tied strap around his wrist catches your eye again, sebastian places his palms on the edge where you sit, on either side of you as he looks up from the lake, wet hair pushed up and water droplets glistening on his pale face.

okay, so he hasn't changed that much, despite the images that your anxiety put into your head during those years away. he still has those deep eyes and unfairly thick eyelashes. he has a few healing scratches, most likely from the mines, on his cheek, the one that usually gets covered with his long fringe.

“how could I hate you, cherry?” his voice is still pleading, for a moment almost making you forget that he has every right to be angry. “sure, I was pissed off, I wanted to hate you. but you know the deepest parts of my heart, I could never feel that way about anyone else. even when you’re acting like a dick…” his hand reaches for yours, bringing it to his chest, right where his heart beats, “even when you're an insufferable, selfish, annoying brat that pushes all my buttons… even then I cannot hate you.” there is a hint of a smile on his cheeky lips, but you know you owe him more than what you gave.

“i’m really sorry. i missed you every day i was away.” you confess, eyes meeting his in an intense stare. his hand tightens around yours, like your apology is the last piece of the puzzle he has been trying to solve for years. “i missed everyone here, but I thought about you most of all.” you swallow, feeling your throat become drier than ever.

it's the most open you've been with someone since grandpa died, having responded to everyone's condolences with a sad smile and a weak thank you . but with sebastian it was never like that, you never felt like you had to hide what you were feeling, even if it was pain. both of you have been there for each other, and a bond like that doesn't snap so easily.

“missed me the most, huh?” his face shifts into a mischievous smile as he holds your hand against his heart.

the grip of his fingers tightens for a second, reminding you of all those times you ran with sebastian to escape the mayor’s stern look when you were sneaking around town, planting rotten vegetables under his door mat to piss him off after he shouted at sam for skateboarding in town. sebastian took your hand then, much like now, and he ran, dragging you after him to his house where you could finally stop and catch your breath.

you want to say more, reveal the depth of your feelings and how he infiltrated your poor heart, how you cried your heart out nearly every night since you got that job, how you became what you had promised him you never would, thinking he would hate you, call you a sell-out, see you for the weak conformist that you sold yourself to be. you want to tell him he has the central role in your dreams. that he matters most, and you need him now more than ever, already having felt his care and support when granny died.

everyone tiptoed around you and avoided mentioning her name that summer, but sebastian made sure to keep her memory alive by getting you to talk about her, joining you in the greenhouse to pick cherries with you, eating more than you'd put in the large basket. his fingertips were as red as yours, and you chased each other around the flowerbeds trying to wipe the fruit stains on one another’s face and clothes.

and now his cheeky smile reminds you of the one he wore then, hell-bent on keeping you, making sure you're not closing off from him and disappearing into your thoughts. it means trouble.

it distracts you long enough so you don't realise he's tugging you by that hand into the lake. with a quick, cut off yelp, you end up underwater. clothes and all. luckily, you have nothing in your pockets, your shoes have already been off, and all that's ruined in any way is the tiny sliver of dignity you had left. gasping for air you come up above the surface, hair stuck to your face, sebastian’s laughter in your ear. he holds your hand still, keeping you oriented as you cough out some water that entered your nose.

“you dick!” you cough out more, holding onto his chest and wiping your eyes with the other hand “oh i hate you so much!” a few more awful sounding coughs and you are fine, glaring at sebastian as he nearly drowns himself laughing at your angry face.

“no you don't, you can't !” he wraps one arm around your waist, using the other to swim and bring you both closer to the edge of the lake, letting you hold onto the firm ground as you push the hair out of your face.

“I could !” you protest, reaching out only to attempt to punch him in the chest, the water making your attempt laughable.

you both know it's a damn filthy lie. as you keep moving your feet to stay afloat, sebastian pulls you closer, turning you to face him. there is no escaping his attention now.

“don't disappear on me again,” his tone is serious, a contrast with his earlier laughter and mischief, “or i’ll have no choice but to glue myself to you. got it?”

“okay. promise.”

he nods, quickly pushing himself up and out of the water, offering you a hand to help you out. you can do it yourself, with only a little bit of wiggling before bringing a knee up to push yourself up as well and sit next to him, completely drenched as your clothes stick to your body.

“you look like a wet rat.” sebastian comments, nearly starting laughing again, but your glare in his direction stops him.

“i’m gonna get you back for this,” you promise, but you can’t stay angry for long, something about his wet body next to yours mellows you out and requires attention of your eyes on the pale glow of his skin and the way droplets race down his lean frame to reach the ground. memories of that same body flood your mind, how good it looked when he moved on top of you on this very grass, how well it fit against yours when you were pushed up against the shed door at the farm.

“gonna have to stick around for that, you know?” it’s like he’s testing out what you said earlier, trying to figure out if you really meant it, that you’re not going to disappear.

“i’m staying, g-gonna restore the farm. i owe it to them.” your hands gather all the wet strands of your hair and wring it out, you’re already on your feet and picking up your socks and shoes by the time that sebastian makes a move to gather his clothes and starts walking towards his house.

“you’re doing what ?” his tone is surprised like he didn’t even think that something could be done about the once-thriving farm that’s now overgrown and abandoned.

he must’ve ventured there occasionally, checking in on the state of it while it was occupied only by a weakening old man that enjoyed sebastian’s visits because he’d get to talk about his granddaughter. the man would tell him how proud he was of her success even if he wished she would make decisions that would bring her more happiness. they both knew she was happier in pelican town than anywhere else.

you shiver with the cold that attaches itself to your wet clothes, seeping into your bones quicker than you expect. sebastian notices and pulls you closer with an arm thrown over your shoulders. despite the fact that he is also wet, not providing much warmth at all, you’re grateful for the gesture. it reminds you of all the times you went skinny dipping with sam and abby. shy at first, but within what felt like only minutes, you stopped giving a shit about nudity, instead just having the time of your life with the best friends you could’ve asked for. if anything, it made all of you develop more appreciation for each other, seeing what you looked like under shimmering moonlight as water droplets reflected it off your skin.

“restoring it. i n-n-need to, grandpa l-l-left it t-to me– f-f-fuck i’m too c-cold.” your teeth chatter and it makes sebastian shift into gear, dragging you along to rush you into the house. robin’s barely covering a snicker while maru looks at you two with a raised eyebrow.

“what happened to you ?” maru chuckles, covering her mouth with one hand while the other holds a clipboard with way too many sheets of paper attached.

“decided to jump into the lake. she’s so silly, isn’t she?” sebastian quickly lies, dragging you down the stairs to the basement before you can tell him off and snitch on him.

“y-you little…” his laugh stops you from cursing him, it's a sound you've been dreaming of for five years. as he helps you out of your soaked clothes, not minding the puddle of lake water appearing around both of you while his bare feet left marks on the floor, you recall the first time you heard him laugh.

you must have been five at that point, and the memory is still clear as day in your mind. he'd always been suspicious of new people, so when you first saw him on the beach - him accompanied by robin and a very tiny maru in demetrius’ arms, you by your granny - he squinted at you as if to warn you not to come closer to his sand castle. you'd never made one yourself before, so the very idea of creating something so fun out of the thing you walk on was interesting. he waited for you to approach, and as soon as you did he told you he'd push you into the water if you ruined it. it was a simple, small construction, and you crouched to take a closer look, careful not to provoke the boy’s already present disdain. sebastian gave you a few moments to observe with wide eyes until he started explaining the purpose of each of the towers. this is where the prisoners are and the knights sleep in this one. this tall one is the wizard's tower. he can turn people into furniture. have you met the wizard? my mom says he doesn't like people that much. but he doesn't turn them into tables. I didn't ask about the frogs. do you think he turns people into frogs? his questions were neverending. he finally found a person who didn't seem to get annoyed with him for asking, who didn't look down at him for his fantasies of knights and wizards and castles. he made up adventures, led by groups of valiant warriors, fierce mages, and comforting healers, and laid them out so vividly, painting the world before you while all you could do was sit in your damp bathing suit on the wet sand and adoringly listen to him talk and gesture and raise his voice as the story came to an end.

in the end, with his little smile showing off a few missing teeth, he looked at you like he finally found his match. both sporting ice cream smudges on your faces, you spent the entire day talking over the sandcastle until your respective guardians decided it was dinner time and you were dragged away to get cleaned up before the meal. sebastian turned around and giggled over his shoulder why do you have red on your shirt? you hadn't even noticed it before, so looking down you remembered that granny asked you to remove cherry pits with her on the porch. it's from cherries! robin put her son's beach towel in a bag while her husband carried the baby, everyone waved goodbye but sebastian still took a few moments to look at you one last time that day, laughing again before waving with his small hand. okay, bye cherry! granny kept chuckling to herself as she wiped your cheeks clean of any ice cream you had smudged on yourself and she brought you a clean shirt. such a sweet boy, she chuckled at the nickname he had given you, don't usually hear sebastian talk to people much. she kept humming an old tune as she took your hand and walked back to the farm, the two of you catching the last orange rays of sun before the moon came out. she started calling you cherry that evening, and the idea spread throughout the town. sebastian. you repeated in your head. I wanna know more about the wizards.

twenty years later that same boy walks back into his bedroom only wearing his soaked boxers, but holding two large towels, passing one to you as he wraps the other around his waist and slides off his boxers from under it. you are still shivering like a leaf, peeling off your underwear to wrap yourself in the soft towel, leaving the clothes on the floor of his room before sitting on the edge of his bed.

“you okay?” his voice is as low as it usually was in this room, it’s his sanctuary, free from any loud noises that could ruin his peace.

“just thinking.” you offer a smile, this room brought back so many memories, including the ones of your first ever exchanged words and ideas.

“oh, careful, don’t want you to hurt yours– ouch!” he laughs when you punch his shoulder, holding onto the towel with one hand as the other withdraws from him.

you’re slowly getting back into the usual routine, the usual state of things that has always been so natural between you. with a sigh of relief you look around the room. it hasn’t changed much. almost at all, actually, though the keyboard on his desk is different and there are a few more books and comics on his shelves.

other than that, it’s how you remember it – posters covering most of the walls, along with a few photos stuck to the brick with messily torn tape. photos of his friends, of beach shenanigans, of sam’s birthday trips to zuzu city, and sleepovers in this very room. they coax a smile from your heart, tugging on the corners of your lips until sebastian notices and reaches out to poke your cheek gently.

“are you staying?” his voice is hopeful, so different now from the way he spoke to you when you just showed up at the door.

shaking your head, you force yourself to stand up. the movement reluctantly kicks him into gear, he nods and turns to his wardrobe to pull out a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. you stop him bending down to grab a pair of soft boxers from the drawer.

“there’s no need, i’ll just put mine on when i get back.”

“right. you still got a big ass that barely fits into my boxers, eh?” his slight disappointment at your not staying over is masked by a cheeky teasing line.

“you little shit, that was one time! ” you try to swat at him again, but he laughs and throws the hoodie and sweatpants your way, making you reach out and catch them, dropping your towel onto the floor in the process.

it distracts him, the clear view of your damp body. the few seconds he has to catalogue every glowing inch of you soon end and he clears his throat, awkwardly unwrapping his own towel and turning to put on a dry pair of underwear.

“the one pair i will never be able to wear again, all because of your ass.” he chuckles and throws the comment over his shoulder, facing you again as he grabs the towel off the floor and starts drying his dark hair. you pull the string of the sweatpants tight, securing them around your waist, and cover the waistband with the hoodie.

“you keep complaining, but…” your cheeks heat up, visibly flustered you chuckle, “you and i both know you like it just the way it is.”

sebastian laughs, taken by surprise as you bring it up. yeah, he’s smacked it many times, grabbed it in his hands, kneaded it with those long fingers countless times. he’s left bite marks after bite marks on it, enjoyed the feeling of the soft flesh under his teeth.

“alright, alright. fine.” once he’s dressed and you’ve put your shoes back on, he throws one arm around your shoulder again, slipping back into the familiar flow of walking by your side. “let’s get you home then.”

it’s already dark by the time you’re out of the house, making the air a little colder as you walk down the path off the mountains. sebastian doesn’t ask you much, and you’re thankful for it. his hand is warm on your arm, holding you close to him like the old times. he always walked you home, no matter where you hung out, no matter how tired or stoned he was. it was the thing he never missed out on, waiting at the farm entrance until you’re inside, safe and sound.

he'd message you once he was home as well, partly because he didn't want you to worry, and partly because he wasn't ready to end the day.

and you loved those texts, pressing a pillow over your face so you don't wake up your grandparents with giggles as the sun came up. this time there is nobody to wake up as you two walk up the now-fixed steps of the porch and reach the hardwood door to the house.

your gaze settles on the bench by the door where granny used to sit. in an attempt to stop yourself getting emotional, you walk over to the railing and lean against it, postponing the inevitable moment when sebastian will have to leave you. the moment when you’ll be left alone in the farm house for the first night in your life. sebastian follows, his elbows rest on the smooth wood while he looks at the land ahead… and then at you. your skin tickles under the weight of his gaze, but you don’t sink under it. you return it. there’s that tension again, crackling in the air, electrifying the distance between your lips. if only you could…

“you can ask me to stay, you know?” sebastian’s voice is low, you can barely hear him as your eyes flit between his lips and his eyes.

“stay… here?”

“yeah, you don’t have to be alone. at least tonight.” his offer sounds like a plea, like it’s for his benefit just as much as it is for yours.

“just say you want to stay then,” you challenge him, feeling a smirk curl your lips, “say it and i’ll give in.”

you remember how he always had a way to make you agree to things, he always knew when you were just holding back for whatever stupid reason. it was always a stupid reason, and when you gave in you were glad you did. nights were infinitely better when sebastian was involved.

he rolls his lips together, hesitating only for a moment before leaning in and pressing a tender kiss to your temple. it’s the kind of softness you haven’t felt in a while, there was no time while you worked for joja corp. left to your own devices, you rarely ventured out to find a vent for the pent up frustration. and even when you did, it was never as good as it could’ve been, never as good as when it was with him .

“i want to stay.” sebastian murmurs, the shapes of the words traced on your cheek before he presses a kiss there. and another, slowly inching closer to your lips, challenging you to stop him. but he knows you won’t. you know it, too. all it takes is one move to end this tumultuous day with a bang. you tilt your head to the side, speeding up his lazy kisses until they reach the corner of your lips and stop. it takes enormous effort not to huff like a brat, not to furrow your brows and stomp your foot, crossing your arms just like when you were little and granny wouldn’t let you eat ice cream before lunch.

“cherry, don’t be like that…” sebastian shifts and pushes off the railing, moving to stand behind you and press himself against your back. those familiar palms of his glide up your arms, chasing away the slight bite of cold in the night air. “can’t go from not seeing you in five years to giving you everything right away.”

he drags his hands up to your shoulders and then down your torso, gripping and grabbing along the way, reacquainting himself with every part of you. fingers trailing your skin under his hoodie, yoba he loved seeing you wear his clothes , lips dragging along the nape of your neck, sebastian is indulging in all the fantasies he has had for years. your mind is racing, recalling every instance when you’d lie in bed struggling to sleep and resort to getting yourself off to an old memory of sebastian’s head between your thighs. it never felt the same, his tongue just knew your body too well, it felt better gripping his soft hair than closing your fists around cold sheets of your uncomfortable bed back in zuzu.

a little sigh escapes you once his lips reach your ear. with a gentle tug of his teeth on your lobe he drags a startled moan out of you. you can feel his self-satisfied giggle better than you can hear it as he trails those smirking lips down to the corner of your mouth once again, before capturing it in a devouring kiss.

head tilted to the side, your lips move together like a well-oiled machine, familiar in the way they taste, of coffee and a little bit of smoke. his one hand rests on the softness of your stomach while the other kneads your breast gently. the hoodie rides up and the cold air sends shivers through you, but sebastian keeps rolling his hips against you, grinding against your ass. despite how long it’s been, his hands seem to still know your body, despite how many people he’s been with since – a thought you don’t want to dwell on – his touch on your skin feels like home.

sebastian sounds more and more desperate, the little groans as your tongues glide together betray him. as you open your eyes, he keeps moving, pulling away from the kiss to hungrily suck on the skin of your neck, all the while his hands quickly tug the waistband of his sweatpants you’re wearing down, once again baring your plump ass to his eyes. one bruise blooming on your neck, another is already in the making as he thanks yoba you didn’t take his boxers when you changed in his room. it’s a quick exchange, a breathy do you wanna answered with an instant yes please ‘cause you have always been polite, even when bratty.

the usual, grabby, movements of his hands knead and savor the flesh of your body, as if mapping it out to make sure it’s still the same body that left him five years ago. it’s a little different, but so was his, you have a little more meat on your bones, something that sebastian cannot seem to get enough of. with a fluid movement he tugs his own sweatpants down, freeing his erection as it springs out and immediately ends up pressed against you again.

“sweet yoba on a treetop, cherry… i missed you more than you know.” breath glides from his mouth along your neck, it’s warmer than the memories it brings up.

you murmur something sappy back at him, making him chuckle through the heavy breathing as he slides the sweatpants lower on your legs, letting them pool around your feet. your movements are almost as smooth as that last summer you were here, only a little rusty as you lift one leg up, stepping out of the sweatpants and resting the knee on the railing and leaning forward. immediately it’s a familiar feeling, the tip of his already leaking cock pressing so gently against your soft cunt, almost being sucked in with how much you’ve missed him. even when you found the time and will to go out, none of the encounters felt good like this, none of them left you feeling anything other than disappointment and regret. you try not to think about them, or about him fucking anyone other than you, and those creeping thoughts are swiftly chased away by the intense feeling of him fitting his entire length inside you. sebastian groans, shifting his hips to feel the softness of your ass against him, to feel your wetness gather at the base of his cock while he adjusts to the feeling of being inside you once again.

“five years…” he shakily breathes out, repeating the same words he said at the lake, but in a tone of relief, his anticipation finally coming to an end. “i’ve imagined it a lot, but nothing comes close to the real you.”

and so it starts. with a gentle groan against your skin, with a slow moan slipping from your lips, he pulls away only to thrust back into you. this is it , you think, what i’ve been chasing . this intimate feeling even though you’re outside, not the riskiest thing you two have done, but enough to check the adventurous box on your shared checklist. with a tilt of your head to the side you catch his blissed out face, his soft lip caught between his teeth and eyes closed as he thrusts again, colliding his hip bones with your flesh, his balls gently smacking against your clit. it’s difficult trying to keep your eyes open, but the expression on his face is too beautiful to miss out on. your juicy lips part, letting out sweet honeyed moans that you almost try to stop, instincts telling you to be quiet around the farm house. instead, you grip the handrail as hard as you can, feeling it dig into you with every lurch forward.

sebastian holds you by the hips, digging his fingertips into your supple skin to hold you steady while fucking into you, fitting his cock head against all your sweet spots, hitting right where you need him to, where you’ve needed him for years. hearing those raspy moans coming from his throat brings up so much warmth in your belly, already building up the orgasm even though you have just started, and you suspect it’s the same for him. maybe it’s because of the fact that you haven’t had sex in a while, maybe it’s the roller-coaster of emotions you’ve gone through in the past twenty-four hours, or maybe it’s a secret third thing, but you can already feel your orgasm approaching as you near the brink. sebastian’s hand creeping around your body to rub your clit in circles doesn’t help hold it off either.

“i’m n-not gonna last–” you stutter out, still keeping your eyes on his perfect, blushing face.

“me neither, c-come on cherry…” he groans, circling your sensitive clit with gentle fingers, always working perfectly with what your body needs.

the pace of his hips changes as soon as your warm cunt tightens around him, squeezing him and keeping him in while your legs shake, threatening to give out. he stutters in those slow movements, speeding up to carry you over, and leans down to press tender kisses to your bruised neck, whimpering as he pulls you by the hips a little harder, moving you against him until he gasps and spills all he has inside you, sticky white liquid covering your soft walls. sebastian slowly comes to a stop, taking a few long moments to kiss you, holding your head turned towards him as he pulls out with a sigh. now soft, he groans at the sight of his release starting to drip out of you and onto the deck. it’s almost enough to make him take you again, but he’s spent, having finally experienced you again, pure pleasure that was just out of reach until today, perfection incarnate.

“think it’s dripping on your sweats,” you chuckle, finally catching your breath, “sorry.”

sebastian shakes his head, pulling up his boxers and sweatpants before helping you lower your leg and picking up the crumpled (and stained) sweats off the floor. one day you’ll stop apologizing for things that aren’t really your fault, but today is not that day. jiggling the doorknob you stumble inside, carried by wobbly legs as sebastian trails after you.

it’s odd going through your usual nightly routine in a nearly empty house. the radio is off, and so are most of the lights. the bathroom light takes a few seconds to turn on, you make a mental note to fix it in the morning, but for the time being it’s enough just to exist in this space, familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. it feels different when it’s only yours, when it will be only yours for a long while. despite the heaviness of that realization, sebastian’s footsteps ease the pain, his satisfied humming disperses the bad thoughts looming in the corners of your mind, silencing them as he comes up behind you while you brush your teeth.

his arms wrap around your waist, your shoulder is the perfect spot for his chin to rest on while he presses little kisses to the bruises he sucked into your neck earlier.

“i put the sheets on your bed, that okay?” his gentle voice fills your chest with relief. you didn’t tell him that you wanted to sleep in your own bed, not yet ready to take over the main bedroom as your own. he just knew. you nod before leaning over the sink to spit out the foam and rinse your mouth. kissing him feels like the safest way to say thank you, not triggering the tears again.

the two of you drag yourselves to your old room, undressing slowly until you’re naked before reaching into your suitcase to put on a pair of panties. deciding to forgo a pyjama top, you slip under the fresh sheets smelling of sebastian’s fabric softener – robin must have taken them for a wash before you got here. pulling the string on the bedside table lamp immerses the room into darkness once more. dark and silent, it would be enough to push you into a pit of despair were it not for sebastian’s warm arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you so close that you entwine your legs with his. nearly face to face now, you close your eyes to inhale his scent, thanking the universe for giving him enough initiative to stay with you tonight. gently, he hums, presses a few delicate kisses to your forehead, and starts rubbing gentle circles on your lower back.

“thank you,” you murmur against the base of his neck, feeling your minty breath against your lips, “i wouldn’t have made it to bed if you weren’t here.”

“hmmm,” pursing his lips before pressing another kiss to your forehead, he sighs, “but thank fuck one of us has common sense, huh?”

a gentle chuckle shakes his chest, words leaving his mouth causing you to attempt a smack on his shoulder, but you give up, instead giggling along. you fall asleep to the sound of his voice, slipping into the sweetest sleep you’ve had in a while as he tells you about all the random things that have happened in the valley since you left, now with no bitterness in his voice.

waking up to the chirping of birds was the norm in the summer, but the sound wasn’t quite right this time. it is an owl, the low hoot snaps you out of your peaceful dream making you lift your head to get you bearings, take a moment to remember where you are and why you can smell sebastian’s presence.

it’s okay, we’re okay, you comfort yourself, once again settling into his embrace, smiling as his arms instinctively tighten around you.

then he moves, taking a deeper breath and shifting to roll over on top of you. only once you feel his lips trail along your neck do you realize he is also awake, alert, and not interested in simply falling back to sleep.

it starts with gentle kisses, lips savoring the taste of your skin, along with some light touches, his hands roaming your sides and settling on your hips. his lips connecting with your skin are the only source of noise in the room, finally being joined by moving bodies against the sheets once you arch your body into sebastian and let his hands travel around your back, squeezing every piece of flesh he can reach. he doesn’t start grinding against you immediately, instead he kisses down to your chest, taking a nipple between his lips while one of his hands sacrifices its warm place on your hip to hold the other breast, kneading it to make some tasty moans spill from your lips.

like he’s getting drunk off the sounds from your mouth, he gently presses his teeth against your nipple, tugging on it how he remembers you liking it. moving downwards, he lifts his gaze up to see you jutting your chin up, pressing the back of your head on the pillow as your hips lift, seeking for more, for what only he can give you. warm kisses make a winding path down your bare stomach, peppered with gentle bites of his impatient teeth as your thighs spread, letting him slot himself in between them like the good old times.

sebastian’s clever fingers hook under your panties, but he doesn’t remove them, the cheeky fuck. instead, he presses them tighter against your soft pussy, slowly getting wetter with his attention and creating a sweet little damp patch on the fabric. he cannot help but press a delicate kiss to it. the tiniest whimper leaves you, spurring him on to press another kiss, and then another, making your underwear wet with his saliva as well as your arousal. his voice vibrates over your sensitive clit as he hums, praising you quietly as he slides his wet tongue along the material of your panties, pushing it in between your squishy folds before he finally slides them off, once he’s had enough of teasing you. once more he kisses your bare pussy, showing his affection through murmured praises and compliments. look how pretty, sebastian hooks his arms under your knees, bringing your legs over his shoulders before he dives in. so sweet f’ me , your breath gets shorter quickly, his tongue glides around your clit slowly, pretty and wet how i like her, he parts you with practiced ease, making you remember how it felt back then. how it felt when he was just starting, getting better with each night that he spent between your pretty thighs, i’ve missed it so much, making you scream out into his pillow and thanking yoba his walls were thick enough for his whole family not to hear you. could do this all fucking night, gentle slurping noises mixed with the hums coming from his mouth fill the air, coaxing moan after moan from you. it’s the first time you’re doing anything like this in the farm house, a christening in a way.

very soon, your moans get higher in pitch, they give way to whines as your hands find purchase in sebastian’s hair, tugging it only a little closer, cum for me, cherry, come on baby. and then your toes curl. shuddering, you cry out a desperate plea, lifting your hips up once more for sebastian to feel your slick cover his lips and chin. feasting on you, he licks his lips, not letting a single drop of you go to waste. he’d rather drown in you, rather give you his all than give up a molecule of your release, because it’s his. it’s all for him and it’s all because of him. he slowly helps you ride it out, licking gently between those slick folds as you relax, as your breath gets slower, and your legs stop shaking. one last kiss, he tells himself, pressing a single tender kiss to your clit as he pulls away slowly, wiping his face with his hand and licking it off, almost moaning and savoring the taste of you.

finally you open your eyes, the fuzziness around the edges of your vision persists, but the goal has never been clearer. sebastian leans in for a kiss on your lips and you snake your arms around his neck, bringing him in to wrap your legs around him, a move you would always pull in an attempt to wordlessly say thank you for treating you so well, for giving you what you needed without asking for anything in return. but you always gave him something in return, always made time for him, especially that summer. much like then, but with a little more desperation and need, he rubs his clothed cock against you, making you wince as it teases your overstimulated clit.

“shit i’m sorry.” he starts apologizing, stuttering over his words. you’re quick to shut him up, kissing him and poking at his tongue with yours, moaning as you taste your release on his lips. it’s the sexiest thing, the undeniable proof of his devotion to you. and when he pulls away for a moment to slide his boxers off, you use it to look over his body, sighing with satisfaction at seeing him in the sliver of moonlight dripping through the window of your room, bouncing off his lean torso and the lines of his beautiful face. your breath hitches in the second before he leans back down, this time grinding against your pussy with no barriers, no cursed clothes between you. leaning on his elbow, he reaches down with the other hand to lift your leg up, hooking it around his hips as he gently prods your entrance, hissing once his tip pokes into you.

“ h-aah please, seb… need you again.” your syrupy plea has him groaning as he dips his head to bury it into your neck, trying to hold on and keep his breath steady.

“cherry… fuck i’ve missed you, missed you so damn much i couldn’t breathe…” sebastian’s raspy voice glides over your skin as he sucks on your neck once more.

“i- i missed you too, so much, so much.” you gasp when he pushes his tip into you again, settling nicely inside as he keeps pushing, keeps making you take him again, “ so fucking much .” he hears you whine, ears perking up once he’s fully in. feeling your wetness on the base of his cock, feeling you contract around him, it’s almost enough to make him give up on the niceties and use you like a fuck toy, like his own hand that was getting the sticky end of things for five long years.

“whine for me again, p-please, cherry.” he swallows hard, staying buried in you until you gather your thoughts, take a few short breaths, and whine like your throat was begging for it.

only once you let it out does he pull back and thrust into you again, setting a slow pace to make you feel every vein on his aching cock, every inch that was waiting for you while you were away. and he gives them to you, so readily he feeds your cunt all his passion and all his love, stuffing it full of him as he speeds up a little, aiming to hear more of those saccharine moans you willingly let out of your throat. they fuel him, make him snap his hips harder, reminding you what’s been waiting for you all this time, what you can have with him. almost like feeling you for the first time, like you didn't fuck on the porch mere hours ago, he ruts into you desperately, needily pulling noises from your throat and his own.

heavy breaths roll off his tongue, groans and whimpers and curses mixed with your name. your eyes teeter between opening and closing, catching glimpses of his parted lips, his focused eyes, even looking down to see that old strap of your shirt tied securely around his wrist. you sniffle, taking a moment between lewd moans to take in the fact that he really waited for you, that he’s been sure of your connection and you never left his mind. you didn’t just belong to the summers, salt drying on your bodies as the sun burned memories into your skin. you belonged to eternity.

when you cry out his name, coated in that pretty, desperate tone, you know he feels you getting close. his thrusts speed up, bringing you both to the edge of an orgasm while your breaths quicken, mixing together until he hungrily dives in to kiss you again, to steal the whimper from your lips. grabbing for him, gripping his back with one hand and his arm with the other, you hold yourself steady, moaning into his mouth until you break. colors spark behind your eyes, electricity zips from your fingertips to your toes. you finish with a whine that sebastian immediately takes for himself, stuttering in his movements once your tight cunt contracts and squeezes him, keeping his cock inside while he spills his release inside you, slowing down to moan and breathe against your plush lips. the whole world stops when you’re done, sebastian’s weight covering you like a blanket of solace, his breath dancing on your cheek as he gathers strength to pull out and slump onto the mattress.

once again you find yourself in a comfortable position, sebastian’s arms wrapped around you, your face buried in his chest, legs entwined together under the warm covers. he’s softly talking into your hair, peppering you in gentle kisses in between sentences while you both try to drift off to sleep.

“and after coffee we can take a shower, we can drag out the morning, you’ll see, nothing important happens on spring mornings. then i’ll help you unpack,” his voice slows down, and so does your mind, “and… then we can… we can clear the farm together and…” he yawns, a small sigh escapes you as you snuggle a little closer, completely spend and happy. “and then we’ll get to work on th… the land and–”

you don’t get to hear the end of his train of thought, already dozing off, already dreaming again, tired and safe in his embrace.

♡ if you enjoyed this, consider leaving a like, reblog, or a comment. interaction helps keep your writers motivated! also if you don't agree with any aspect of this that's okay, this is just my opinion and it's hella self-indulgent!

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inafieldofstarflowers · 1 month ago

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Obviously the first chapter of The Foxhole Court lays the groundwork/provides background for a lot of parts of the series (Exy, the Foxes, who Andrew is, hints at Neil’s past, etc.), but I think one of the most important (& honestly masterful) things Nora does in it is establish the relationship between Neil, Exy, and Kevin.

When we meet Neil, he’s literally on the bleachers in pain from watching the Exy court be turned back into a soccer field, because that’s basically a crime to him. While yes, this is a funny comment because it’s so deeply dramatic, the following explanation that it’s the one thing Neil has never been able to let go of through all of the identities he’s held makes it clear that Exy is something more to Neil than just a game; rather, it’s a symbol of his lost childhood, of the way things might have been if he and his mother hadn’t run. Still, Neil is torn about the idea of pursuing Exy, because his love for it is warring with his mom’s instructions not to play again in order to remain safe and under the radar.

Enter David Wymack with a contract—or, really, Kevin Day with a contract.

Even Wymack says that Kevin is the one signing Neil. Kevin, who Neil met once as a child, when they played a game of Exy together. Kevin, who has spent the years Neil has been on the run building his skills to become a star Exy player. Kevin, who has a career it is obvious Neil has followed closely.

At this point, Neil reaches two important conclusions:

He would be in danger of losing everything if Kevin remembered him, but he doesn’t seem to

The offer of a contract doesn’t matter, because Neil Josten isn’t real—no matter “how much he liked being Neil Josten”

And this is where (in my opinion) things get very interesting: as Neil thinks about the offer to play for the Foxes—& therefore with Kevin—he thinks that he doesn’t want to give up Exy because “It was the only thing that made him feel real,” and then follows this up with the thought that “[His] past was locked in Kevin’s memories. It was proof he existed, same as this game they both played. Kevin was proof Neil was real.”

Since Kevin was first mentioned, it has been in relation to his Exy career—his partnership with Riko, the broken hand that halted his career briefly, signing to the Foxes, the speculation about Andrew’s impact on that choice—because that is the thing about him that matters to Neil—or, perhaps more accurately, it’s the only thing Neil really knows about him. Neil’s concerns about Kevin remembering him are so loud that they can make it easy to overlook the fact that Kevin and Neil aren’t reunited childhood friends, they’re just people who essentially had a really fucked up playdate once.

The thing is, that day is the one with the biggest what-ifs for Neil, and as a result, Kevin is wrapped up in those what-ifs: for Neil, it’s become a question of if I had stayed, would I have reached stardom like Kevin has? Exy and Kevin, while not fully interchangeable, are certainly inextricably linked in Neil’s mind, and they are also both tied up in Neil’s dreams and regrets.

Why does this matter? Two main reasons: first, having this background shows us why Kevin is so important to Neil: no matter how much Neil doesn’t want to be Nathaniel anymore, Nathaniel was the one who was real. The only things at the start of the series that give Neil Josten that same feeling are playing Exy and Kevin Day.

Second, we are immediately shown that Neil’s perception of Kevin is not entirely trustworthy, because its foundation is one traumatic childhood event followed by a years-long parasocial relationship. And, while Neil certainly gets to know Kevin better as the series goes on and they actually start spending time together, there are many moments where Neil views Kevin through a lens that is too close to being “Kevin=star Exy player,” which results in him misinterpreting Kevin’s meaning (ie after Kevin learns who he is and Neil thinks he’s just concerned about their season even though Kevin’s telling him to run) or simply brushing over other parts of his personality (ie when he buys into the “Kevin only cares about Exy” idea some of the others have said). By making us aware of this early, Nora is preparing us to examine what Neil’s saying for bias by showing that he isn’t an entirely reliable narrator, and it’s done so well in just a few pages.

#aftg #all for the game #kevin day #neil josten #aftg meta #meta

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catboy-beckett · 25 days ago

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Someone on the Tokyo Debunker subreddit brought up ships for MC (as in, not just the characters players like/are attracted to, but ones we actually think would go well with the protagonist) and I haven't stopped thinking about it. I find it an interesting question, because my preferences for myself are pretty noticeably different from who I think she would like! So here are my compatibility assessments!

Disclaimer: I have only played through most episodes once, so my memory of TDB lore may be lacking in certain areas. I also have not completed all affinity stories and have not spoiled myself on them. Also note I will be using "you"/"me"/"us"/"I"/etc. to refer to MC interchangeably with "MC"/"her" because that's just how I'm used to talking about video game protagonists. Spoilers avoided for newest episode but only newest episode.

JABBERWOCK

HARU: I honestly think he is MC's favourite! He's the one she's most often happy to see, and in return he is always grateful for her help. MC seems to volunteer at Jabberwock reasonably often and with little prompting; this isn't necessarily because she's infatuated with Haru, but rather I think it shows they have similar priorities.

REN: He's giving a whole lot of nothing. A lot of the opportunities given to him in-story to bond with her, he outright rejects. He doesn't seem interested in getting into a relationship, or even forming a friendship that could lead to a relationship. I'm all for "enemies to lovers" but you've gotta show the attraction from the beginning! Otherwise it just feels like a shoehorned-in plot twist.

TOWA: Very romantic. Very mysterious. Compelling, and they clearly like each other. My biggest complaint here is that Towa is someone who needs more screentime for an arc. He's not a simple character. I also think MC would be a little afraid of him if it ever really clicks for her what he's capable of. (Both power-level-wise and morals-wise.) I know fans love Towa's yandere tendencies but MC shows no enthusiasm for that type of man.

SINOSTRA

TAIGA: My favourite man! Terrible for MC. She is pretty much trembling in her boots whenever he's around. I can't see a romantic future for them. Taiga's ideal wife is Romeo, and MC just doesn't have the backbone to be Romeo. That said, I think MC having an inconvenient physical attraction to Taiga would be narratively interesting (and fuckin' hot), as who doesn't love the tension between a dangerous violent freak and a shivering field mouse? There are a couple of other points in Taiga's favour too: the fact that he's the ghoul who seems to react to MC's personality the most (he's always noticing how timid she is and seems to find that cute/attractive) and the fact that he eats anomalies (😳) set him apart from most other love interests. Taiga is down to fuck but he's not really a viable option to date.

ROMEO: This might be controversial but I think Romeo is one of those ghouls who has his own love interest, and it isn't you. I'm not even sure he likes women. I've never once felt like Romeo had an interest in my character and the only time he flirted with us was to make Kaito jealous. Honestly that felt more like ship teasing between him and Kaito if anything. As for how MC feels about him, I think she's about as intimidated by him as she is by Taiga, though it's slightly easier to get Romeo to Not Murder You than it is Taiga. Romeo can at least be reasoned with.

RITSU: Never shows an ounce of attraction or even warmth. Even when he smiles at someone, it feels more like professional courtesy than a reflection of his feelings. How would someone like Ritsu fall in love? It's a fascinating question, but the game is not yet interested in giving us an answer. He tends to bully MC into doing what he wants just like Romeo does. He uses social pressure rather than violence, which I think she finds preferable to Romeo's method, but not pleasant. There's also the fact that Ritsu is dedicated to becoming Taiga's lawyer, and I honestly think he would continue trying to defend him if MC ever wanted to press charges for, say, the time he shot her, or the time he tried to throw her out of a train. Taiga's romance potential is already shot because of these things; what can we say of someone who would take Taiga's side?

FROSTHEIM

JIN: Oh boy. Okay, this is the "canon" ship. Jin gets all the tropes, all the sparkly panels of heroically rescuing MC, all the jealous NPCs treating MC like she's already his girlfriend, the works. They could not be pushing this any more clearly. And... it's serviceable. It feels a little out of place in a game like this, and maybe that's why I'm not fully on board, but it works when it works. I just think Jin doesn't have enough screentime to really make the "canon bae" thing stick. Does he KNOW how close we've been getting with 20 other ghouls while he's been absent for several chapters in a row? Does he know he's on a 1-year timer for his slow burn bullshit? I like Jin, and he's one of the most shippable-with-MC characters for sure, but I just think it could be better. It should also be noted that MC is scared of Jin in a similar way that she's scared of Taiga or Romeo. I think honestly she would pick one of the men who hasn't threatened her life yet.

TOHMA: Like Romeo, I judge him one of the "does he even like women?"/"I think he's just using me to get to his husband" type ghouls. He has a flirty manner, but he uses it with everyone, so it means nothing to me when he talks to MC with that same expression. That said, he's more of a simp than Romeo, so while I think Romeo wouldn't care if you fucked his husband, I think Tohma wants you to. I think Tohma is into MC in the way that a stalker might be into a pair of dirty socks once worn by their crush. (And, on a less perverted note, he wants MC to pull Jin out of his depression since he realizes he can't do it by himself--especially now that they're fighting.) I don't think Tohma/MC works as a ship unless it's a complicated situationship with Jin.

KAITO: I don't think MC likes Kaito. She might just be very oblivious (very very VERY oblivious), but she's had many opportunities to respond to his advances and she just kind of no-sells them every time. To me, that kills off any possibility of romance. If MC were more of a self-insert avatar for the player, this wouldn't be an issue, as it would be up to the players to decide whether they liked Kaito or not; but TDB MC has her own thoughts and feelings, and we see them frequently during the episode where she meets Kaito, and the lack of reciprocation is deafening. Another, more possibly controversial point: I don't think Kaito likes MC. I think Kaito wants a girlfriend, and he has gotten it in his head that MC Is Girl, Therefore Perfect For Be Girlfriend. He treats her in a way that he's heard you are "supposed to" treat girls. He doesn't even NOTICE her suspicious behaviour when they meet because he's too busy metagaming the situation; he even gets it into his head that she's "nice" while she's lying to him. He never updates this perception of her. There is nothing about the character, or the way that players play the character, that Kaito actually LIKES. He just wants a girl. Any girl. Bad ship.

LUCAS: Another character who never really expresses attraction to the player character or anyone else. MC has a better relationship with him than she does with Kaito; Lucas doesn't freak out or get jealous or play 4D chess trying to get MC to fall in love with him, so MC can speak to him more honestly. That said, I believe Lucas isn't the sort of person to hide his feelings from MC (or even be able to), so I can't help but read his complete lack of flirtation as a lack of interest. I could believe MC has a one-sided crush on Lucas (which would also make for a really funny group dynamic), but that's about a best-case scenario.

HOTARUBI

HAKU: He really is just "the nice, chill guy" of the roster. Normally those don't compel me at all but Haku is really enjoyable. He's also, at unpredictable points, one of the more horny/flirty characters. Definitely has an attraction to MC, which is a big plus. MC never really gets the chance to respond to his advances, which in this type of game is the closest we get to a canonical attraction from her. (Because of course, they don't want to force players into a romance they might not want.) Good ship! Hard to write about or anything considering Haku is such a mysterious character, but I believe the attraction is real and not part of a dastardly plan, at the very least. Haku definitely puts MC at ease and I think she needs that in a partner.

SUBARU: Another "not sure if he even likes women" situation. Subaru doesn't even come close to the way he acts around Sho, when he's around MC. Subaru is a very cute-and-flustered-around-crushes type, and I think if he were into MC at all, we would see it. I think MC likes Subaru okay as a person but that's it.

ZENJI: This is going to be my most subjective one yet, I think. Zenji is very in his own head. What do I mean by that? I think he would compose seven love ballads for MC and none of them would really be for her. I think he's more attached to the artistic value of love than the feelings themselves. This harms his compatibility with anyone, MC included. As for MC, she actually seems to like Zenji more than the average person does! Or at least more than Haku does. Haku seems to mostly tolerate Zenji, while MC shows enthusiasm for his art in campus stories. Note: this ship becomes untenable in the event that Jiro demonstrates feelings for MC, as I don't think Zenji would compete with him.

MORTKRANKEN JIRO: Does not demonstrate feelings for MC. There are crumbs there, but you have to squint and squeeze to make a ship out of them. I could see MC being attracted to tall, gentle, reliable men, especially ones who made her feel secure during a difficult time in her life... but all we know for sure is that she didn't want to watch him undress for the bath.

YURI: I can see this guy as being the #1 strangest relationship she has with any of the ghouls. At times, he bullies and belittles her, like Ritsu or Romeo or Jin do. Other times, he is working tirelessly to cure her condition and taking the curse more seriously than she's seen anyone else do. He is a very confusingly-supportive love interest. I do not think MC would realistically find romance with him; tsundere that he is, she would need to be more active to really get through to him, and she's a pretty passive person. For Yuri's part, he is embarrassingly infatuated with MC. The man goes beet red when she grabs his hand, for fuck's sake. This is very funny as a one-sided ship and would be equally funny if Yuri decided to actually try confessing, but he is not the best match for MC.

VAGASTROM

ALAN: What do you get when you cross two shy people? Nothing whatsoever, that's what! Alan likes MC but has trouble expressing it and worries about hurting her. MC has a tendency to make herself small and placate people. I'm not sure their relationship can get off the ground in the first place, but if it does, I expect them to have communication issues right away. Mutual conflict-avoidance is not a great foundation for a relationship.

LEO: A great ship for MC if you hate her. Leo is toxic for anyone, but he openly hates MC and wants to get rid of her. If they get into a relationship, it will be one of those dastardly plans I warned of in the ancient scrolls (Haku's paragraph). Has the potential to be really hot though. I don't think MC hates Leo, but I think she avoids him because he seems to hate her. She could be easily manipulated if Leo is so inclined.

SHO: Viable! Sho has never been anything but nice to MC, and it shows in the way she greets him without hesitation. Sho in turn seems to actually like MC, in contrast to Leo. I can't say whether there's any attraction, but there's mutual trust.

OBSCUARY

RUI: Easily one of the most viable ships! There's the romanticism of their mutual curses (as is immediately pointed out by Rui), Rui's open flirtation with MC, the convenient excuse for why they can never hook up (because as stated before, when the excuse is botched it just makes it look like one or both characters isn't interested), and in addition to all that, Rui is one of the nicest and friendliest characters, which is something MC responds well to.

EDWARD: Definitely also a viable ship. MC isn't as intimidated by Ed as she is by characters like Taiga or Jin or even Yuri. The fact that he can overwrite her curse by making her a vampire adds to the intrigue. Ed is both openly horny for MC and expresses interest in being with her forever. The only potential speedbump here is that MC doesn't seem to consider Ed's offer a significant option; her default fear is still "I'm going to die/become a kyklos" rather than "I will have to become a vampire".

LYCA: Has a little potential, but once again the attraction is lacking. I could see Lyca growing to have feelings for MC over time, but it doesn't seem to be the case yet. MC seems to trust Lyca even if he is capable of violence.

In summary BEST SHIPS FOR MC: Haru, Rui, Ed MOST INTERESTING SHIPS: Yuri, Leo WORST SHIPS FOR MC: Taiga, Romeo

#tokyo debunker #text only #tkdb #tdb #shipping #tokyo debunker mc

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munnmolads · 1 month ago

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Was Rafayel actually captured by Ever? - Theory and Analysis

Especially after Death & Rebirth, a lot of fans are speculating if Rafayel was actually captured and experimented on by Ever. What does the game lore say about it? Spoilers for all of game's lore up to end of Death & Rebirth, including Rafayel's Anecdotes and World Underneath stories as well as some of this memories.

A quick note: I have to be honest, if it would be true in the game that Rafayel was captured by Ever, I might not like that for his story. I want to make it clear that even though this theory is getting popularity, my bias might be affecting how I'm reading lore for this theory and I'm trying to actively keep an open mind to every aspect. I don't mean to be a debbie-downer for anyone who enjoys this theory and wants it to be true! It's a fascinating theory and I can see why people believe it and for a while, I did too.

Lemurians are being hunted for experiments

We know from Siren's Song Anecdote and Micro Universe World Underneath story that Lemurians are actively being used as a experiments and their blood and scales are being harvested by Gaia Research Center.

I have theorized earlier that Raymond from Chapter 2 of Under Deepspace was using these Lemurian cells to extend his lifespan. It's not that hidden lore, but if you're curious about seeing those experiments hinted at in the game.

There's no doubt about Gaia Research Center being involved in these experiments, but was Rafayel captured at some point?

Now - I have to put us in MC's shoes now. The main story so far hasn't acknowledged the experiments that Lemurians have gone through. It is all information we as the players have got from the anecdotes and World Underneath stories, the MC has not got this information canonically yet atleast. It is completely reasonable for her to assume that Rafayel might have been in Gaia Research Center.

I'm also going to use Ever / Gaia Research Center kind of interchangeably, even though they aren't the exact same thing. I'm assuming that everything that Gaia Research Center has done, has been for Ever's iniative and purposes, and have been funded by Ever.

What supports Rafayel being captured by Ever / Gaia Research Center?

In addition to what I already mentioned about Lemurians being captured, there's nothing much concrete about Rafayel being one of the people who were captured.

In Addictive Pain anecdote, he shows paranoia about her being a bait for him and being captured:

Granted, his fear might come from actually being captured earlier in his life. It could also be backed up with him being a really good at getting untied when he wants to, as in being an escape artist as I have mentioned in a previous post:

[Thanks to Frappe for their video in Tipsy Invitation on Youtube!]

He himself also uses quite bit of language about getting trapped or MC laying a trap for him. This has been something I am quite interested in, so I might do a separate post on this if we don't get a direct answer soon to it what it might be about:

Adressing Your Fragrance

I wanted to make a separate point for Your Fragrance since I have seen it being used as one of the references to this theory. A lot of memories in this game have layers upon layers, so I wouldn't be surprised if Your Fragrance would be in that category. But I do want to point out that quite often it's quoted without context, and sometimes feels like some people might have even completely forgot what this memory is about outside of it's kindled.

When we look at it with the context that MC did come to his home to tie his hands and drag him to the perfume exhibition while wearing an enticing perfume, his nonsensical ramblings seem more rational. He fell for MC's perfomance of her leaving and catching his hands with his tie. "Them" is most likely referring Thomas and the people in the exhibition, and he's claiming that MC is trying to get him lowering his guard and 'lure' him to the exhibition.

But as I have mentioned, it's not the first time the memories would have more layers than one, so I'm really curious to see if this is one of the earlier signs of him alluding being trapped by Ever / Gaia Research Center. I didn't want to claim YF "proves" the theory because the lines have logical reasoning behind them with context, but it doesn't disprove it either.

Why I don't believe Rafayel was captured by Ever / Gaia Research Center

One real give away for me is that we don't have any solid proof about him being captured in the story. At this point, we have had pretty good foundation for others why they are being sought out by Ever, what Ever want from them and the impact that Ever has had on them. Xavier is having his evol supressed by his collar, Zayne is being pressured to join in the Fountain of Atei since he's the creator of the X-heart, Sylus for being the leader of Onychinus and Caleb having his arm replaced and microchip inserted in him, losing his memories and personality.

My point is that if he was captured, there should be more established interactions and story would have mentioned and be affected by his capture. This would be a huge turn of events in his story, and I just don't feel like the current content in the story would be adequade to support such big revelation. Rafayel's experiences and call backs to any lingering trauma about the captures seem to be more about his people rather than himself. He feels extremely strong sense of duty to his people and Lemuria.

So far we haven't heard any of his point of view being captured, and considering a lot of Rafayel's and MC's interactions like MC tying him down several times would go differently if she would trigger that trauma in Rafayel. Would he be really that fine with it if he had such strong trauma with being captured? This is why I think his trap / capture and this kind of master play is more about their relationship dynamic rather than an actual event that has happened to Rafayel previously.

Considering his strong sense of duty when it comes to Lemuria and how important Lemuria is to him, I feel his paranoia of getting captured stems from trauma that he has seen himself happening to his people. He actively seeks out revenge on people who have wronged Lemurians, so it's also fair for him to assume he's being hunted for it as well. He knows how important he is to Lemurians, and his actions alone can determine their future if they can return home or not - he has a really great responsibility to ensure he can do that. He also might have extreme guilt over not being able to protect his people, regardless if he would have been able to do anything about it.

This is more of a personal opinion(/rant), so please feel free to skip and jump to next headline if you aren't interested: In addition to the existing content not possibly being able to support it, his story so far is really interesting as it is. It doesn't need anything extra, and I'm worried it would actually diminish his story rather than enhance it. Does it really add anything to his story that he was captured himself? What would be the point of that? He already has clear motivations enough to work against Ever as his responsibility to Lemuria and hatred of what they have done to his people. I just can't yet see a benefit for this kind of revelation, when the flip side is that existing content might not support it well enough to have the desired impact. I don't want a revelation for the sake of getting it, I want it to have meaning for him, the relationship, the story and his overall character. I'll keep an open mind anyway and hope that story-wise it would be well excuted revelation so I can eat my words. I would rather be wrong and admit it being good, than right about it not fitting to the story.

What might happen in Rafayel's next story chapters?

Since Death & Resurrection so far has involved Sylus and Zayne, I'm curious to see if we will get new chapters for Rafayel and Xavier soon. We are clearly going more in the direction of investigating Ever and the guys' personal interests to Ever. I think we will learn more about these experiments that are being done to Lemurians, and as well if this theory is true or not.

Since there is also a clear indication from the story being closer to revealing more about the childhood memories from MC, it could be we get to know more about MC's and Rafayel's first meeting. We already have had a taste of that in Land of Secret Flames, but it's still quite shrouded in mystery what happened around that time and when it was. I'm going to do a separate post about that theme next.

Also, this theory is interesting in the sense that I would love to see him being captured in the future. The key difference to this is the timing - with MC being with him in present, it's much more impactful for their relationship and could develop his character differently, rather than trying to fit it in with his current content.

I think that would have interesting turns for the story, interactions in the future and enhance MC's and Rafayel's relationship in a fascinating way. It has been teased in Abyssal Chaos and in some other parts of the game that Rafayel might disappear... Oh the angst 😭

#love and deepspace #lads rafayel #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel #lnds rafayel #lads theories #lads lore #love and deepspace theories #lads

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vanilleandclove · 7 days ago

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galapogos; michael berzatto x f!reader

your therapist deters you into describing how you came to fall in love with mikey. slowly but surely breaking your shell into understanding how you feel in the aftermath by retelling your life with the enigma that was michael berzatto. your mutual shared love for the smashing pumpkins and dad rock brings you closer than you’d like to admit.

warnings: the bar exam is offered during the last tuesday of february in chicago FOR CONTINUITY PURPOSES: it has changed to beginning of february, reader is midwestern (i'll forgive you), im mexican not italian so butchered italian-american terms of endearment, they have sex to radiohead (sorry), protected sex via birth control!!, grief— a whole lot of it. the interchanging of "michael" and "mikey" is very much intentional, posting this at 5 am!! word count: 4.6k notes: listen to galapogos by the smashing pumpkins because this is very much how i would perceive mikey & the reader — even though it’s a breakup song. the metaphorical usage of archipelagos (galapagos islands) as isolation is perfect, but it also is the connection between our familial connections & childhood being conflated to our ways of romance. it’s about evolution and adapting.

prev - next

“Let’s start from the beginning” your therapist breathed out, sitting comfortably in their armchair.

“The beginning?” you quirked a brow, “When we met or started dating?”.

“Whichever you prefer. Personally, I celebrate meeting my spouse as an anniversary rather than us starting the relationship, it varies”.

“Well we met Superbowl 2014” you told them, looking into their eyes as you smiled slightly from the extremely distant memory.

“Yo! Richie and I placing bets, y’wanna join in?” you heard an obnoxious voice next to you as you sat nursing an extremely expensive glass of scotch. “You okay sweetheart?” you heard the voice ask, in your peripheral you saw the man’s body shift towards you.

Sammy had a quaint, hole-in-the-wall, pub in southeast Chicago, he was an old friend of your father’s therefore, he protected you fiercely.

“Aye! I don’t want either of you around angioletta, let her be, sweetie just took the Bar” Sammy scolded, pointing at the mystery guy next to you and someone behind him with his dishrag.

“Which is?”.

“You serious? Y/n over here is gonna be a big shot lawyer dumbass, THE BAR!” Sammy emphasized both dumbfounded and proud. “Again neither of you, be damned if she ends up with a fucking Berzatto. Now Carmy is sweet, be more like Carm, Mikey”.

“Carmy is a kid for one” the man joked, making a mockery with his voice, “Two, you her father or something?”.

“No. He’s friends with mine” you interjected, looking towards Sammy to wave him off as he looked at the TV screen, it was the first quarter and the Seahawks were leading 8 to 0. “Who do you think is going to win?”.

“You always speak like that?”.

“Like what?”.

“Like you’re a teacher sweetie” he batted his eyelashes to mock you, “Loosen up you’re not taking ‘the Bar’ now— What’d you even score on that thing anyway?” he shrugged with his beer in hand, taking a swig before you.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged back.

“Whadda’ mean?” he furrowed his brows, missing a tackle shot that led his friend to yelp out in excitement and curse about how someone named Jimmy owes him money.

“Illinois takes around two months to release scores, pretty big test a lot of people wanna be attorneys in Chicago in general” you educated him, “I’m not worried, I maxed out on my LSAT, and my practice exam scores were all— Fuck, I sound like a dickhead” you groaned, proceeding to down the scotch in front of him. The alcohol burned your throat before going down smoothly, this was the most you’ve drank in months; only due to a promise you made to your family as to not cloud your brain before the Bar. “So what’re you betting on with me?”.

“Denver wins 48-27” he spoke up without hesitation, “I’ll put fifty on it”.

“Hm. I raise you, Seahawks win 40-7” you betted, “I’ll put fifty-five”.

“You’re on sweetheart” he winked, his eyes telling the story of being interested in you, “I’ve never seen you around here, y’from Chicago?”.

“Yeah, born and raised” you cleared your throat as you both remained fixated on the TV, “I went to school in California for my undergrad, then UChicago for law school— you?”.

“You’re a smart woman” he stated in awe, “Didn’t go to college, went straight to work”.

“You’re a resourceful man” you quipped, “If my parents didn’t pay for my college I would be severely down in the dumps”.

The night continued on, one dirty martini followed by an espresso martini and then simplified lastly by a Dos Equis beer, Michael got you talking on and on about public policy and Bruno Mars. Pridefully giving you the fifty-five dollars and accepting his fate as a sore loser, he walked you home in the middle of the night— strongly reiterating to Sammy that he’d just make sure you got home safe.

“Y’know, normally, I never let men walk me home— ever, it’s a safety hazard” you spoke up in the cold air, keeping close to Michael and his body warmth.

“If it’s any consolation, my phone has location pinging” he breathed out, easing tension with humor, “I don’t think you’re a dickhead” he told you, the title flying past your head.

“Thanks?”.

“Earlier, when you were talking about your TSAT-“.

“LSAT… sorry” you corrected before feeling like you shot yourself in the foot.

“Anyways, earlier. I’m no defense attorney- law expert- whatever the fuck but it sounds fucking hard” he continued, “I know food, not juris-prejudice”.

“Jurisprudence” you corrected yet again before, a smile crossing over your face as you made it to your apartment, “Wanna go up?”.

He looked you dead in the eye, his glassy irises telling you more than what his lips did, “Nah, another day”.

“Another day?” you bobbed your head, smile growing bigger, “Quite presumptuous Berzatto”.

“You don’t think we’d see each other another day?”.

“Chicago’s a big city” you shrugged.

“Leave it in fate's hands then” he smiled, waving you off as he walked towards the pub, with both a smile and a way with his eyes, it’d be hard to miss him in public.

Then you met again, in April after getting your Bar score, a shining 310. Therefore scotch was needed to celebrate with your dad as the Red and White Sox game 2 played on Sammy’s TV, the pub noticeably more crowded.

“Ay Sammy who’s this fucker in the Red Sox jersey!” your dad seeming insulted, “We’re in Chicago, leave that pansy ass shit in New England”.

“You don’t even like the White Sox’s dad” you rolled your eyes as your dad almost picked a fight.

“They’re from Chicago, anyone from Chicago, is a brother of mine”.

“Who’s winning?” you asked, back to the TV.

“Whites 2-0”.

The night raged on more and more, only for your dad to realize the Red Sox dude was Mister Berzatto’s eldest son, Michael. So when a Cubs fan inserted himself into the mix, tried to square up on Mikey, your dad was quick to defend him.

“It’s just a game boys, leave it” your dad put space in between the two, “You are two of one, you from Chicago and you from Chicago, stop being a dickhead and fight for real reasons”.

“Sweetie, you want water? That’s your fifth glass of Scotch” Sammy spoke up as the Cubs fan and your father began to increasingly argue.

You nodded to Sammy as you heard the argument get even more aggravating behind you, hearing Michael shout a string of curses and a loud smack, the body of your father colliding with your back. The act led you to whip your head around quickly in anger, the Cubs dickrider having clocked your father’s jaw unannounced, only for Michael to immediately fight back and beat him down to the ground.

The man’s whole face was covered in blood as Michael threw punch after punch- blow after blow, only for his friend, whom you’ve come to acknowledge as Richie, to have to pull him off, knuckles bloody and jaw tight with anger.

“Jesus fucking Christ, are you okay?” you cursed out, making sure your father took a seat to balance himself before attending to Michael, the blood that laid on his body was not his, therefore he did not care.

“Sonny, get this asshole outta here” Sammy told the de facto bouncer, setting aside ice for Michael, “Nice one kid but Jesus, we have cameras”.

That is when you fell in love with Michael, bloodied knuckles, prickly stubble and a buzz-cut adjacent set of hair. He wouldn’t fall in love with you until a month later, well, at least acknowledge his feelings for you.

“You listen to The Smashing Pumpkins?” you queried after seeing the band tee Mikey donned, worn and faded— noticeably loved and used.

“Yeah” Mikey quickly answered, watching the Red Sox game that he had to beg Sammy to put on. It was Monday night and Chicago was tiring out, preparing for summer to reach the city. He groaned as a player was struck out, “You?” he asked several minutes later.

“They’re one of my favorites- yeah” you nodded.

You had volunteered to help out with Sammy over the summer break you had specifically forced yourself to take as a way of having some alone time before work. Four years of undergrad, followed by three years of law school and one year for the Bar exam, you needed a break. Luckily the District Attorney’s office does rolling applications and you were confident enough to know it was a guaranteed spot as being an UChicago alumni. So Sammy seemed like the logical choice, free booze and the occasional Mikey and Richie.

“What else do you listen to?” Mikey immediately asked afterward, removing his attention from the TV screen and back to you.

“I'm a huge Radiohead fan, Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, Alice in Chains—“.

“You had me at Radiohead” he chuckled, “Richie and I plus some of our cousins go to shows every now and then, y’should join one day”.

“Bunch of Italian-American men at a rock concert?” you quirked your brows, “Sounds pretty intrusive but tempting”.

When Michael realized he included you into his familial life, talked your ear off with his relationship with food, loved to brag about Natalie and Carmen, spoke about his father to you, he knew. He knew you were special, not just special but a pivotal structure he yearned for— home was rough, life was rough, seemingly crumbling. You weren’t. You were structure, strength, and integrity, a promise for a better life than what he was afforded.

“We started dating that summer” you smiled from the memory, “I had just gotten back from my cousin’s wedding upstate, he had been waiting on my porch for a couple hours with a bouquet of poinsettias, he knew I loved them when they were in season”.

It was the one day out of the summer where it rained down, the peak of July, yet pouring rain. Despite the near three sideswipes you almost got into, you made it to your apartment safely. Whilst swiftly grabbing your overnight bags and almost ripping your nail completely clean off from the trunk of your car, nearly slipping in a puddle that formed just shy of the gutter and drainage, you spotted Mikey.

You squinted, wondering if you were just imagining things from the lack of sleep, “Hey” you simply spoke up, quite dumbfounded by his presence on the steps leading to your apartment.

“I uh—“ Mikey tried to begin to speak, words catching his tongue as he stuck out the bouquet, “Went to three different farmer’s markets and had to beg a florist to try— they’re fake but-“.

“You got me poinsettias?” you cut off, caught off guard by the intimacy of him trying.

“Fake poinset- yes, I got you poinsettias”.

You bit your lip as a way to try and hide your smile that instinctively grew on your face, “I don’t know Berzatto… I might just think you like me” you joked, taking the bouquet from his hands. “I’m sorry I’ve been dry, it's just the wedding, work, and-“.

“Let me make you dinner,” he proposed, breathing unevenly and shaking simultaneously. You were making Michael Berzattto nervous. The notion made you smile, biting your lip yet again to hide it.

“Gnocchi” you replied, “We could make it together… at my place… Friday night”.

“Friday night?”.

“Friday night”.

“Do you find yourself nostalgic about these memories often? Relying on them or avoiding them?”.

“Avoiding” you nodded, looking down at your feet, “I haven’t been able to talk to people who knew him like I did”.

“Do you know the reason or is it a bodily response?”.

“Carmy has his smile— when he gets extremely excited, lets his teeth show, he has the smile that Mikey got from his dad. I can’t be around Nat and Pete because I miss that. I miss being with him in public and in private, with friends, with family. He is so heavily ingrained in my life”.

“Let’s do an exercise, I do this with most patients who've lost someone they were rather intimate with” they cross their legs and fix their posture, “Where would you see your relationship in 5 to 10 years from now if this never happened?”.

“Married, maybe a kid or two, sober and somewhere on the East Coast because he wanted to move there while taking care of the Beef during the summer” you instantly told them, “Two Boston Terriers and one Pitbull, all girls because Mikey said they’re more protective”.

“Do you think the circumstances you had while in the relationship, that would be achievable?”.

“He tried, he kept trying even when it got ugly, when it got worse” you furrowed your brows, “He never stopped trying”.

“You reiterated Michael had never left drugs at your home and self-medicated, where would he seek solace for his addiction?”.

“The Beef,” you confessed, sighing lightly, “He’d keep them in his desk, he said since they were out of sight it made him stop from using as much”.

“What happened to them?”.

“Richie threw all of it out,” you told her.

“Tell me about the Michael no one else knew, not the addict or someone’s best friend— him as an intimate partner”.

Michael was a pleaser when it came to you. Cooked you dinner without fail, when he was sick, when he was stressed, even the night he passed. Combed through your hair after you showered, would shampoo and condition it when you took showers together. He’d massage your lower abdomen when you were cramping, made soup when you were sick, kissed your forehead before going to sleep no matter the day or time. He was a pleaser, in all forms of the word.

“I just don’t think that changes anything— mom is still going to be mom” it was Christmas, 2019, the Christmas that Donna accepted you as a constant in Mikey’s nonlinear life. “Where’s Y/n?”.

“She got swamped at work, got stuck interviewing” Mikey breathed out to his sister as they stood inside, “Where’s Carm?”.

“He went out to run some errands for mom— last minute Christmas presents probably” Natalie theorized, “Must suck, you’d think lawyers would have the day off”.

“Mikey, is Sarah coming?” Donna asked, red wine attached to her hand.

Michael could only sigh and walk back into the house, “It’s Y/n ma, I haven’t dated Sarah since high school”.

“Beats me, I loved Sarah”.

“Yeah you’ve loved anyone but Y/n”.

“Can you blame her? She makes more money than you” Lee put in his two cents.

“I’m sorry? Was anyone fucking talking to you?” Mikey got annoyed, Lee and Donna were fighting again— already on the verge of their fifth break up.

As if the universe had spoken, you had emerged, knocking on the front door, seemingly freezing from the snow. The knit red sweater dress hugged your body in ways that Mikey could only gulp as his mouth went dry upon seeing you, your coat being held into your arms as your hands carried the box of pastries you had picked up before heading over.

Instinctively, Mikey opened the door, immediately walking out to seek some alone time with you, even with the cold air biting your skin, making your nose slightly leak from the frost.

“Hey— Sorry I’m late, there was way too much traffic downtown” you breathed, smiling from seeing the man in front of you, “You would not believe the day I had, six fucking cocaine charges from teenagers! Why can’t people just do weed like normal people?”.

“Thank god you’re here” Mikey sighed of relief, the worry and stress lines seemingly diminishing from his face, he could breathe again.

“C’mon it couldn’t be that bad” you eased, opening the box of pastries, “A bunch of chocolate puff pastries for my man… chocolate tart for Carmy, eclairs for Nat, a couple of crepes for Lee and your mother”.

“You really know how to make me want to fu—“.

“Carmy, I got you chocolate tarts” you interrupted, looking over at the boy as he parked his mom’s car.

“Lee and mom are fighting by the way, just— let mom deal with it, please? I don’t wanna have to talk to the fucker about respect today”.

“Ight, when’s Richie coming?” Carmy shrugged, grocery bags in hand.

“In two hours probably, why?” Mikey answered, his arm instinctively wrapping your lower waist.

“So you don’t have to tell the fucker about respect” Carmy quipped before going into the house.

Hearing the door shut behind him, Mikey wasted no time to give your lips a kiss laced in fervidity. His hand found a light purchase on your neck, not pressing down, but holding your head in a position to not leave, sending waves of electricity throughout your nerves.

“We have to go inside” you whispered as you pulled your lips painfully from his. Small pecks followed as you both tore yourselves apart from ravaging each other in the front yard. Mikey’s lips found themself on the pulse point of your neck, lightly suckling just before your hand pushed him off smoothly, “It’s Christmas baby, family time”.

“Whatever” he groaned, kissing the base of your forehead before leading the way inside.

“Ah, your escort’s here!” Lee joked, catching the attention of Michelle, Donna’s sisters and their kids she invited over, Carmen and Natalie— the loud Italian home now rang quiet.

Your blood began to boil, just as much as you figured Mikey’s was, his jaw tense and teeth beginning to grind against each other. Lee has made his fair few jokes catered as a dig to Michael, which Michael would undoubtedly have the sense to shrug off, but you? The woman who showed and gave him nothing but respect despite it all, that let him talk more words than the Berzatto’s would allow, the woman that is standing in front of him with pastries in hand on Christmas.

“You motherfucking son of a bi-“ Michael began, his grip on your immediately leaving once the words lingered in the air.

“Lee, can I have a word with you— outside?” you smiled, your head tilting with curiosity as your eyes bore holes into his soul, he was on complete display, “Baby take the desserts to your mom please, I’ll be right back” you handed the box to Mikey who was glad he wasn’t on the receiving end of your stare.

Back outside, you met with the likeness— dislikeness— of Lee. “I just saved you from getting your brain caved into your skull, a thank you would be appreciated” you joked, basking in the silence that ensued after. “You know, with being with Michael and all, I know he cares about what his family thinks. Even if they don’t dictate his life, I know Donna’s opinion holds more weight than I could even put money on” you let the cold air and wind occupy space in the silence you let him think in, “I also know Michael’s opinions of you are not great— neither are Carmy’s or Nat’s. But that shit you just pulled? Demeaning me in front of a family that at most tolerates you because Donna cares for you meanwhile you’re just some good-for-nothing prick with a superiority complex? You have balls so far up your ass I can’t even begin to describe how much that must make your ass sore” you joked, humiliating the man. Scoffing before turning on your heels and leaving him in the cold.

“He’s gonna drag you out of his life like he does the rest of them” Lee spoke up, voice stern and stagnant.

You could only scoff again, your breath shaky from the cold, “You think you know him when you don’t. You don’t know jack shit about him, or Carmy- or Nat” you objected, “Merry Christmas, you fucking asshole”.

“I’m telling you this now, your relationship is not gonna end where you’re walking down the aisle in a white dress— hell he might even baby trap you before you make it to engagement” he snarky added, “Tell Donna she can call me tomorrow”.

You made your way inside, beelining straight to the kitchen where Michael stood there tense as Donna cooked, his foot tapping rabidly just before you eased his worried with caressing his flexed arms.

“Where’d Lee go?” Donna exasperated as she wiped the beads of sweat off her forehead.

“Fucking pri-“.

“He said you can call him tomorrow, h’just left” you told her, gripping Mikey’s bicep in order to shut him up.

“Fucking asshole” Donna breathed out, “Y/n you’re drinking with me tonight” she declared, that is when you knew Donna accepted you as part of the family.

Michael was a pleaser, on all accounts.

“Baby, can we please change the song?” you tight lippedly moaned as Mikey found himself holding you down by your thighs as his tongue circled your clit. Your clit vehemently ignored your pleas of changing the song to something more sensual at least.

All I Need by Radiohead was the song that got you through breakups and filled you with dread and oddly, a newfound sense of excitement as the piano riff played, but now you’re on the brink of an orgasm to it.

The strings of curses leaving your mouth upon instinct as Mikey didn’t let up, his arms holding you down as your eyes and head lulled back, your hands clenching and unclenching from the sheer ecstasy the man gave you. Your stomach rolled, Mikey’s fingers finding the way to toyed with the bud as he held you down and controlled your bottom half.

“Baby stop” you regretfully moaned as you almost cummed, to your surprise in the middle of the piano riff of the song. Mikey’s arms loosened and he stood there sitting as your pussy pulsed, red, and throbbing— you stood up as well, sitting tilted up as your nether regions decided to make you a villain as you stopped the pure magic Mikey was performing with his tongue. “I just—“ your voice faltered and hitched, you were crying?

“Hey baby girl?” he soothed his voice, immediately wrapping his arms around you, “What’s wrong?”, he kissed the top of your head.

“Cum in me” you whispered, smacking yourself in your head as you wondered if the pleasure is what was making you emotional, “I wanna feel it”.

“Baby that’s risky” you knew the risks, you also knew you were always on time for your pill every single day and even made a habit to carry with you everywhere you went, “Are you sure?”.

“Please baby?” you pleaded, sniffling lightly.

Michael was a giver, a pleaser, by all accounts, he could never deny you. Need it be your nails digging in his back as he groaned, the way your legs recoiled each thrust- he had his own selfish reasons- but the look you gave him whilst pleasing you, that was the biggest one of all. The twinkle in your eye as they welled with tears from the way the man made sex feel like an art form— the way you knew he was all yours. His cum seeping out of you nevertheless he still picked you up and showered you alongside him, despite the sensitive nature of you, you wanted more, and more.

As the night winded down, Michael stood holding you securely, watching Criminal Minds as it played on the TV, your feet caressing his calves as his hands caressed the curvature of your hips— sensually but not teetering upon the guise of going another round.

“So no sex to Radiohead?” Mikey posed the question, both as a joke and genuine curiosity.

“As much as I loved that— fuck no” you giggled lightly, moving your head to face him and kiss his lips, “R&B is a very popular genre you know” you proposed.

He smiled before kissing your lips once more, “Whatever you want baby”.

“I miss him” you breathed, the inhale rattling in your chest, “I miss him. People keep asking if they can talk about him to me like he’s some taboo subject— I want to remember all I can of him” your chest ached, “One day I’m going to wake up and forget his scent— I read somewhere that you forget specifics first. Then it’s the sayings and-“ your breath hitched as your body began to give up, it felt like jolts of anguish. “Personality and sayings stick”.

“What are you most afraid of forgetting?”.

“His voice” you began to sob, coughing out months of pain and resentment towards him leaving, “There are days that I can’t even— all I have is a fucking voicemail!” you wailed, “Why did he have to go? Why would he just leave huh? To the fucking bridge— I could’ve stopped him!” your voice rang and bounced off the sterile walls, throat hurting and feeling constricted.

“Y/n, you said it yourself— he was sick, he never got help—“.

“I was there!” you broke down, “How could I not know? We shared a bed together, I kissed him every morning and night- every chance I got. I lived and breathed him… how could I let him—“.

“You will not blame yourself over something you lacked control over” a stern voice came through your therapist, “People suffer silent battles internally for years and ages, not everyone can have or be willing to have a second sense to acknowledge it. You were his lover— a near wife of his, not a healthcare provider or therapist,”.

Your bottom lip quivered as a shiver ran down your spine. Whenever you were stressed you swore you could feel him. Feel his fingers tantalizing cascade down your spine, easing your worries. You could imagine him sitting next to you, trying to hold you together and to prevent you from shattering. Your jaw tensed and it felt like your teeth were going to crack against each other.

“Why?”.

Why did he stay true to his promise and not write you a goodbye, an explanation? Did he feel you were not owed one? That you’d be okay? Returning back to the apartment that didn’t have a soul, didn’t have him, you could only drop to your knees against the floorboards. The guttural and wrathful sobs and screams that left your body almost made your neighbors want to call for a welfare check. Mustering up enough strength to grab your phone from your pocket. “Can you come over, please?” you spoke against your phone.

dividers by @cafekitsune

#vanilleandclove #michael berzatto #mikey the bear #mikey berzatto x reader #michael berzatto x reader #the bear #michael berzatto angst #angst #carmy berzatto #x reader #jon bernthal #jon bernthal x reader

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cinnamonest · 1 year ago

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//slutshaming

Thinking a boy with a horrid case of retroactive jealousy, especially with a slut!darling… this obsessive boy who can’t stand the thought of knowing you’ve been with other men, let alone many.

Really, most men just don't think about those things, they know it's better they don't know. But he’s neurotic about it. He can’t just push the thought away. He has to know. Know exactly how many boyfriends you’ve had, how many hookups you had, every act you’ve done. It’s horrifically embarrassing, having to recall, having to talk about it, the words you have to use.

You’ve been in this man’s captivity long enough that your instinct is to placate him, to avoid upsetting him… yet in this situation, there’s no good way out. If you’re honest… well, you don’t want to think about that. You know you’ve been around the block, so to speak. But you know you can’t lie to him — he’s been through your phone, he saw the outfits you paraded yourself around in back when he watched you from a distance (it’s what caught his attention in the first place), he knows it’s got to be a lot.

You try and placate him with avoidance, tell him it doesn’t matter right? You’re with him now, you try to sputter out, and you’ve forgotten about it all anyway and the past doesn't change—

—and then he puts his hand around your throat before you can finish.

Tell me.

He asks too many questions. You try and say as little as possible, but he presses you until you say everything, keeping your eyes to the floor the whole time. You have to recall a chronological series of events of your life, every encounter, every guy, every act you’ve done.

Did you ever sleep with a guy within twenty-four hours of knowing him? Taken it in your throat, your ass, between your tits? Let some guy cum inside you? Been choked? He’s really focused on those details. Have you ever done this, or that, or done it in this position or that, or done it this way or that. Which, for his beloved darling, the answer is usually yes.

It irritates him that he can’t be the first of anything. You just had to go be a whore when he was eventually destined to come along and love you. How could you do this to him? You had to know you’d have a real lover eventually. Didn’t you consider his feelings at all?

The only thing that can make him feel better — what you owe him, for what you’ve done — is to have him override all those memories with himself.

He has to replicate everything.

You’re not sure what the logic is exactly, but it’s cathartic for him, and you know that the wise move is to comply, not wanting to further upset this crazed man that keeps you trapped in his home. You have to prove that you love him, is what he says.

So he treats it like a checklist. Every position and every act, barring the circumstantial pieces he'd have to take you outside the home for. And you know what, you're probably still not telling him everything — dumb little slut — so he'll just have to do every single thing he can think of, over and over and over. Each and every day.

You'll get a lot of variance in your sex life, at least. Bent over every surface, in every position he can think of. Treating you like a little ragdoll to play with and contort into any position. Treating your ass and throat as interchangeable with your pussy on command (you love him don't you? Then you won't mind), squeezing your body so tightly you can't breathe. Keeping his cock inside you at every opportunity for as long as he can even after he cums.

If he can't be the first, he'll just have to be the most. Do it more than you've ever done with anyone, harder than you've ever had it, deeper, faster, more brutally, more degrading and humiliating, carving his significance into you in the only way left available — the only way you left available to him.

Yes, it's your fault. He wouldn't have to be so rough if he was the only one. He only has to make it hurt because of you. This is the only way that he can be certain that he matters more than anyone, be sure that he occupies your every thought and that you can't think of any kind of sex without thinking of him first — and if you really love him like you say you do, surely you'll understand. Maybe even apologize for not taking him into consideration. That would be nice.

But of course, those guys wronged him too. That's why, if you love him, you'll tell him their names.

What? Why, you ask? That shouldn't matter. You don't still care about him, do you…? You're not such a little whore that you’re thinking about someone else that way, are you? No? Then you won't care why, you'll answer and be happy you have someone to care about you so much.

#need to make more slut!darling content...#the feminine urge to project myself onto an ultra-promiscuous party girl... hhhnng #yan.txt

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lowkeyerror · 1 year ago

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The Family Business Ch.1

WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Ch Notes: Minor character death, Near death experience, Parental Neglect/Abuse, Graphic descriptions of violence

Summary: The passing of your older brother forever changed your relationship with your parents. After a particularly brutal incident with your mother, the Maximoffs welcome you into their home.

An: It's been a minute, but I said I was coming back with a vengeance. I've already got multiple chapters of this drafted so be ready for weekly releases. Thanks for sticking around and I hope you enjoy this series!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Often the word delicate is used interchangeably with fragile. The only main difference is an obvious and inherent beauty that comes with something delicate. Something fragile on the other hand is viewed as predominantly breakable. Glass is fragile while a flower is delicate. Some items have a duality to them like a vase or feelings.

You were fragile.

Not entirely frail, there was some strength to your bones. It was more so from your unwillingness to be perceived as weak than anything else that kept you semi-strong. You were aware that life could be unkind, but also knew that it took pity on no one. There would be no exceptions made for you, no matter how much your mind craved it.

You were young when you learned the cruelty of life. The memory lives in your mind as clearly as the day it happened. It was summer, the sun was high in the sky, beaming down ferociously on your hometown. It was well over 90 degrees, the perfect weather for swimming. Your parents suggested that you and your brother get in the pool to cool off.

Lucas was wearing blue trunks while you had on a black and white one piece. He was 12 and you were 8, merely children. Left unsupervised, you played in water as you always had with each other. You couldn’t swim so you always stayed on the shallow side of the pool.

After spending the majority of the day in the pool, you wanted to get out. You hoisted yourself out of the pool by the side, instead of going to the steps. You were successful in getting out of the pool. It was walking along the side of the pool that made you slip. Your head hit the cement and you felt your body hit the water.

You couldn’t recall much from there. The rest had been recounted to you more times than you could remember. You sank 12 feet to the bottom of the pool. Lucas hadn’t noticed immediately but once he did, he sprang into action.

He could swim, but he wasn’t a strong swimmer. Regardless he swam to the bottom of the pool to retrieve you. He found you there unconscious blood surrounding the water by your head. On the darkest days you speculated about the moment he knew that he was losing air.

He was only 12, but he used his strength to get you out of the water. You had laid on the cement unconscious, while your brother passed out in the pool water. By the time your parents decided to check on you, your head was resting in a puddle of its own blood on the concrete and your brother was face down in the pool.

They called 911 and by some miracle, you had survived. Lucas didn’t make it. You could never forget the look on your parents’ face when they told you. The pity in your father’s eyes and the hatred in your mother’s.

You could recall nearly every time your mother said you killed your brother. It was her favorite thing to throw in your face. She said it so much that it was hard not to believe it.

Your father would argue with her for talking to you this way. It never led to anything other than a screaming match between the two. It only took a few months for divorce papers to be filed. With the divorce papers came a nasty custody battle. The courts decided on 50/50 as your mother became the actress of the century claiming that she couldn't stand to lose another child.

Handling her cruelty forced you to toughen up. The words she spoke to you were nothing compared to the violence she inflicted against you. The bruises were endless with her. Even when you grew taller and stronger than her, she'd taken to throwing things at you.

When you were with your father things were calmer, but he worried a lot. So, you spent a lot of time alone when you stayed with him. It was better than your mother's and you were always grateful for that even though you wished he was more present.

The only thing that helped soften your reality was your friend Pietro. You met him in high school. He knew about everything. He was your only friend, the only person who had taken a liking to your semi-stoic personality. You were by no means an open book, but Pietro showed that he could be trusted. So, you found yourself telling him about your life.

He hated the way you lived. Any time he could, he’d invite you to his place to remove you from your situation. You gladly took his house as a safe haven. His family was affluent. He lived in a home with too many rooms to count. It was a stark difference from either of your parents homes. His family was also the most caring group of people you had ever known. It was evident after the first few visits that they had taken quite a liking to you.

It took you a long time to understand just how much the Maximoff’s cared for you. There was one instance that solidified how much you meant to them.

“Y/n, come over later tonight. Mama misses you, she said she'd make your favorite,” the then 16-year-old Pietro commented as you exited school grounds.

“I’ll try, but this is my mom’s week.”

Pietro frowned, “That just means you should come over earlier.”

You gave him a sad smile, “You know I want to, it’s just- you know how she is.”

His jaw clenched, “Abusive.”

Your gaze lingered on the floor. You heard him sigh loudly before you felt his arms wrapped securely around you. His chin rested on top of your head as he hugged you like you were going to disappear. You fight the urge to say that you were sorry, he hated when you apologized for no reason.

“I’m sorry, you know I just don't want you getting hurt,” he mumbles into your hair.

“I know,” your voice was smaller than you liked it to be. Pietro always found a way to show your more vulnerable side.

He released the hug and looked at you with soft eyes, “Be safe, Y/n.”

You nodded curtly, “I will.”

The walk home was as anxiety provoking as it always was. Dread filled your body as you approached the run-down apartment complex. You tried to be quiet as you entered your mother’s apartment.

“Well, where have you been all day?” You knew that tone indicated that your mother was already drunk.

“School,” you answered shortly, attempting to continue to your room.

“Don’t walk away when I'm talking to you,” her words made you freeze in your tracks.

There was venom in her glare as she looked at you, “Lucas would've been in his second year of college this year, if you weren't so fucking careless.”

You inhaled slowly, knowing there was nothing you could respond to her with.

“Probably would've been top of his class. He would've had friends and a girlfriend, but because of you he's been rotting in the ground for 8 years because of you.”

You balled up your hands into fists, digging your nails into the skin of your palm. You needed something to ground you, to keep you from crying as your mother continued to speak.

“If he could see you now, he would regret saving your life. You’re stupid, you’re ugly, and you’re disgusting. Still dressing like a little boy at your age, like the sinner I know you are.”

You couldn’t hold your tongue, “He wouldn't even recognize you, you drunk piece of shit.”

She slapped you, “Don’t you dare speak to me like that.”

Your cheek stung and your gaze hit the floor.

“You should've died instead. You’re hardly even a girl, we could've had another daughter.”

You couldn't take it anymore. Walking away from her, you went to your room. She followed you, but that didn't deter you from throwing all of your things into a duffle bag.

“Where do you think you're going?”

You ignored her and continued to grab the things you cared for. She screamed more as you packed but you didn't give her an answer. Once you were done, she was stood in your doorway with a wild look in her eyes.

“Leaving,” is all you said as you roughly pushed past her.

“Did you just put your hands on me?”

Her tone was hysterical. You kept moving through the apartment calmly. It wasn’t until she threw a glass bottle at the wall near you that you flinched. It shattered right by your head. Glass shards flew towards your face, and you felt one slice through your cheek.

You weren’t stunned by her actions. She had done this before in her drunken rage. The glass shattering was just what she needed to get within arms reach of you. Her bony fingers wrapped around your wrist tightly. You hissed at the feeling, knowing there would be bruising.

“You aren’t going anywhere,” she attempted to pull you back, but you were stronger than her.

You pried her fingers off of your wrist. The freedom didn’t last for long as she grabbed a fistful of your hair, using it to slam you backwards onto the ground. While you were on the ground, she kept one hand wrapped in your hair as she started to stomp and kick you.

The pain was immense. You struggled against her, trying to find her hand that was holding your hair. When you found it, you grabbed her arm similarly to how she had grabbed yours. You squeezed as hard as you could, and you heard her shriek. Her grip on your hair dropped and as soon as it did you pushed the woman away from you.

“No one wants you; no one cares about you. You don’t even have anywhere to go, you worthless fucking murderer,” your mother stood still where you pushed her to. She tried to bluff you and you knew it.

“Anywhere is better than here,” you rushed for the door.

She threw one more bottle near the exit and you felt a sharp pain in your side, but you kept moving. Your entire body was burning, but you didn’t stop moving.

You let your feet carry you until you realized you were standing in front of the Maximoff’s house. Usually, you'd text Pietro and he'd get the door for you, but instead you rapidly knocked on the door before ringing the bell.

You didn't wait too long before the door swung open, revealing Pietro’s older sister, Wanda. She looked happy to see you until she noticed your state. She gasped silently before gently pulling you into the house. You could hear the light family chatter happening in the dining room.

Wanda took your bag from you and led you to the rest of the family. Fear coursed through your veins as your heart started to pick up speed. You didn’t want them to see you like this. Wanda sensed this shift in you and spoke.

“We’re going to help, I promise,” her words were few but there was a conviction in them.

You took a deep breath and let her take you into the room with the others. When they saw you, the chatter stopped. Your eyes locked on to Pietro’s. There was a fire in his eyes as he looked at you.

His voice was shaky as he spoke, “She did this to you?”

That’s all it took for you to burst into tears. You collapsed into Wanda’s arms, and she held you upright.

“Wanda, Flora, take her upstairs get her cleaned up and prep a room for her. Pietro, come with me,” Dragos softly ordered his wife and kids.

Without much effort Wanda picked you up and carried you to the upstairs bathroom, her mother trailed behind her. Wanda sat you on the bathroom counter before rummaging through a few cabinets.

“Mama, I can patch her up while you get the room ready,” Wanda said, already prepping to help you.

Flora left the room, leaving just you and Wanda. You were hardly there; your eyes were cloudy as Wanda looked into them. She could tell you were far away.

“Y/n, I need to know where you’re hurt. I see you’ve got a cut on your face and some bruising on your arm, anything else sweetheart?”

You were hesitant and Wanda saw you fiddling with the end of your shirt. Her hands were delicate as they rested on top of yours, “You’re hurt under there?”

You nodded slightly.

“Can I take a look?” Her eyes looked into yours begging for permission.

You lifted the shirt up not only to reveal a bruise forming but a shard of glass sticking out of your side. It was like seeing the glass triggered something in you as more tears began flooding down your face.

“I’m going to fix it ok, sweetheart. You can trust me. It might hurt a little, but you’ll feel loads better after.”

The most painful part was Wanda removing the glass. Your hands gripped the counter until your knuckles were turning white. The red head talked you through everything she was doing, which gave you a little comfort. She also praised you for being as still as possible as she knew how much this was hurting. Though she imagined it wasn’t worse than the wounds being inflicted.

Once she was done, you felt a lot better. You could tell that she wanted to ask you something by the way her eyes wouldn’t leave your figure.

“Y/n?”

Your eyes locked on to her eyes. They were a soft green tone; they held a certain warmth to them. It was easy to get lost in them.

You hummed in response to her.

“Can I ask, what happened?”

Your thumb tapped the pads of your fingers and you focused on them as you answered Wanda, “My mom got mad at me because I wanted to leave. “

You saw Wanda’s jaw clench and it was almost identical to Pietro’s from earlier in the day, “She’s never going to lay a finger on you again. We’re going to protect you.”

Leaning forward slightly you rested your head on her shoulder. She smelled good and it calmed your nerves. She let you stay in that position until there was a knock on the door.

“I brought some pajamas and towels for a shower. Do you think you'll need help or can I steal this one for a moment,” Mrs.Maximoff peaks through the door.

Wanda looked at you for an answer, “I can do it myself.”

The older woman sent you a small smile, “Very good dear. Just holler if you need anything.”

Wanda paused before she exited the bathroom, “After your shower I'm going to bandage your torso, ok? Be gentle around the tender areas.”

“Thank you, Wanda,” she smiled at your words and left at that.

When you were finally alone with your thoughts, your tears began to fall again. You let the hot water of the shower cascade down your back. The stinging sensation felt good on your skin. The words your mom said were echoing through your head. You knew they wouldn't be going away any time soon.

While you showered Pietro gave his family some insight into your life. He had told them your brother died in an accident and your mother blamed you. He spoke briefly about your father’s busy working schedule but went into details about your mother’s abuse.

Even the short version of events was heartbreaking to the family.

Flora met her husband’s eyes, “She can’t go back there Dragos.”

He nodded his head in agreement, “She’s not.”

There was a dangerous look in Wanda’s gaze, “What’re we going to do about that bitch?”

Dragos looked at his daughter with a slight smile on his lips, “We’re going to take care of her. She’s not going to bother Y/n, ever again, unless she's got a death wish.”

“If she’s going to stay here, she needs to know the truth,” Pietro said looking down at the table.

“What good would that do her? She’s already had enough,” Wanda defended.

Pietro’s glare matched Wanda’s, “She’s my best friend and we all know there’s a danger that comes with being in this household. If she’s at risk to be hurt, then she deserves to know, and I will tell her.”

“We can keep her safe without her knowing,” Wanda argued back.

“I am not lying to her,” Pietro said with finality.

Wanda scoffs, “You have for all this time, what’s the difference?”

Pietro slammed his fist down on the table, “I would’ve told her from the start if it was an option. She has barred her soul to me, entrusted me with her deepest fears and secrets, you don’t know her like I do.”

“I know she came here barely able to talk, a piece of glass lodged in her side, a cut under her eye, her entire midsection is a bruise. “

“That doesn't mean she doesn’t deserve to know the truth.”

Neither of them was backing down.

“The truth about what?”

The family shifted their attention to you. Pietro crossed his arms over his chest while looking at his family expectantly. Wanda turned her attention to her father to see what he would do.

It was actually Flora who spoke, “Y/n if you’re going to be staying with us there is something we must tell you dear.”

Pietro started, “Remember when you saw my house for the first time and asked what my parents did?”

Wanda rolled her eyes at Pietro’s prolonging of the situation, “Y/n we’re a part of a crime syndicate.”

Dragos quickly corrected Wanda, “We aren’t just a part of it. I’m in charge of it. We aren't so bad either, we do a lot for the community.”

You wanted to laugh, but they looked so serious. They were waiting for your reaction, but you were still processing. This clearly wasn't a joke.

“Ok,” was all that you could muster up.

“Do you get what we’re saying dear?”

You nodded slowly. “You’re criminals,” your eyes cut over to your best friend, “All of you?”

Pietro tore his eyes away from you.

Wanda saw the hurt in her brother’s eyes and tried to take over, “Beyond criminals, Y/n we’re the same Maximoff family that you know. We care about you and your safety. We would never let any harm come to you.”

“Do I have to be involved with that stuff?” You questioned.

The family all eyed Dragos, seemingly searching for an answer of their own. His eyes met yours, “I will never make you do anything you don't want to do. However, if this is something you're interested in all you have to do is ask.”

You took in a deep breath, before exhaling, “Thank you for letting me stay.”

Flora shook her head, “You’re family Y/n.”

For once that night you held back the tears. You let Wanda redress your wounds and then went to bed. Sleep came easier than it should’ve, you believed the Maximoff's when they said you were safe. That was the first time in your life where you felt delicate and not fragile. However, things change consistently, and life moves fast, even faster when you’re entangled with the biggest crime family in New York City.

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