#how to start a farm from scratch

[healthylifewithus]

The Only Book You Need to Become Self-Sufficient on a Quarter Acre.

With this book, you’ll probably never have to rely on anybody else in times of crisis. You’ll become truly independent from the government, grocery chains, pharmacies, water and energy companies, and even the entire grid as you’ll produce everything you need on your own land.And the truth is, you don’t need a big piece of land to do that, just a quarter of an acre or even less.The Only Book You Need to Become Self-Sufficient on a Quarter Acre .But to achieve this kind of self-sufficiency on a small plot, you need to make everything as efficient as possible and absolutely need the right kind of advice from the start. Ron Melchiore and his wife, Johanna, have been living completely off-grid for over 40 years.They are self-sufficient, and they’ve had decades to perfect the methods they will share with you inside their new book:

[darabeatha]

[laceyfaeryy]

MDNI 18+

PRETTY LITTLE SECRET

౨ৎ⠀ׄ⠀. ━ simon riley x reader

big strong farmer simon riley secretly having rendezvous with his neighbour’s wife

cw: cheating, vaginal sex, age gap, size difference, unprotected sex, not proof read

after retirement simon had settled down in the small country side town, a small house in the middle of the greenest fields with sheep and cows running around. his usual days of bloodshed missions were now replaced with small labour tasks around the farm.

simon was a man with strong morals, he was a strict man, consistently following a routine like he did back in the military.

that included having a secret little rendezvous with his neighbour’s sweet wife.

it first started off in the small dive bar, the two of you tucked away in the corner after simon noticed how anxious you were.

you told him about your troubled marriage, how your husband simply refused to show you any sign of affection. simon didn’t understand it, still to this day he hasn’t. you were gorgeous, sweet and caring as he watched you hand out your baked goods during the week to the children. a pure heart and soul, beautiful inside and out.

the conversation then shifted to physical intimacy, which clearly your marriage lacked. you complained about how lazy your husband was, only asking for head and never giving it to you in return, or how he failed to make you come.

without even thinking the words, “i’ll show yer wots it’s like.” slipped out of his mouth.

it was a mistake, well… that’s what he told himself. clearly, his body however reacted differently, his pants now suddenly a little too tight as his mind drifted off to the most lewd thoughts.

he wondered about the sounds you would make, how you would moan his name and not your husband, how you would wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer, your pathetic excuse of en engagement ring on your finger.

and that’s exactly what happened.

but it didn’t stop.

now, your husband away for a business trip out of town, you found yourself in simon’s house - more specifically, his bed.

“doin’ so well swee’heart, s’just us here, no need to be quiet.”

his large hand tugging your hair back in a pony tail as he fucked you from behind, his cock snuggly shoved into your small cunt.

despite being a man of morals, simon’s ego was clearly shown as he watched you turn into a pathetic mess, your body trembling as you dumbly moaned out his name like a mantra. he loved sending you back with your usual post sex glow, but now he had you all to himself.

“‘s a cold winters night hm? can’t have a sweet thing like yer gettin’ cold.”

he manhandled you with ease, turning you back on your back before slamming into your cunt again, your nails scratching his back as he kissed your neck, inhaling the sweet scent he loves so much. his large body caged you in, keeping you warm as he whispered the filthiest things into your ear.

it was wrong, the two of you knew it since he was balls deep inside you, a girl who was married, and a decade younger than him.

but it didn’t stop him from filling up your cunt over and over again, watching your body slowly become limp as you sank deep into the sheets.

tag list:

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[newbusinessideas]

How to Start a Small-Scale Farming Business - Step by Step Guide

Starting a small-scale farming business is an exciting and rewarding venture that holds significant potential both economically and socially. With the increasing awareness of healthy eating habits and sustainable practices, there is a rising demand for organically grown and locally sourced food. This shift presents a golden opportunity for new and small-scale farmers to tap into a lucrative…

[bowtiepasta]

kita’s sitting contentedly on the porch in sweatpants and a t-shirt with sleeves he very clearly cut himself. there’s a cup of cold tea sweating by his knee, moreso lukewarm by now, your bare feet in his lap, and a hummingbird chipping away at the fruit his grandmother spent the afternoon cutting.

the air smells like citrus rinds and fresh-cut grass. his thumb runs along the bone of your ankle, calloused from farm work but soft where it counts.

“you look real smug over there,” you say, squinting at him without lifting your head. “like you aren’t the idiot that spilled juice all over your shirt an hour ago.”

“ain’t smug,” he doesn’t look up, keeps thumbing at the arch of your right foot. “just comfortable.”

you hum. “comfortable with the idea of marryin’ me?”

that gets his attention. his eyes meet yours, adoration immediately settling in them. “that a proposal, or you just flirtin’ to get outta helpin’ with dishes?”

you smile, oh so sugary-sweet, “can’t it be both?”

the bird dips down toward the plate, pecks at a chunk of melon and flits away with it.

kita watches it for a second, then turns back to your feet in his lap. his thumb goes back to rubbing at that same little spot on your ankle — second nature.

“she said you were good luck,” he says suddenly.

you blink. “who did?”

“gran.”

your heart stutters. “she said that?”

“mm.” he shrugs like it’s nothing, but his cheeks are turning pink. “said the tomatoes grew sweeter this year, and she hasn’t yelled at that godforsaken neighbor in weeks. thinks it’s ‘cause of you.”

you snort. “i’ve been here, what, three times total?”

“apparently that’s all it took,” he says, serious now. “she likes you. really likes you.”

you raise a brow. “that surprising?”

kita sits up straighter, suddenly full of conviction. “yes. it is. you don’t get it — gran doesn’t like anyone. she’s sweet to their face, sure, but the moment they’re out the door it’s all ‘that one’s got no sense,’ or ‘he dresses like his mama never taught him how.’”

you laugh, leaning on his shoulder. “she said those things about the twins, didn’t she?”

“whispered it while ‘samu could still hear, too.” he shakes his head, sounding in awe. “but you? she lets you sit in her recliner. she makes you iced tea from scratch, not the jug mix.”

“boiled the leaves herself,” kita says, holding up a hand like he’s swearing in court. “haven’t seen her do that since my uncle’s birthday. not even for me.”

your foot slips off his lap, and he catches it again without missing a heartbeat.

“i mean it,” he murmurs, quieter now. “she loves you. and to me that’s… big. real big.”

your voice softens. “you care what she thinks?”

“course i do.” he looks a little embarrassed now, gaze not-so-subtly traveling down to your ring finger. “the woman raised me. it matters. a whole bunch.”

there’s a short pause. the cicadas kick up louder in the bushes right on cue, and the last bit of sun stretches long shadows across the porch.

“you know,” you say, voice as soft as the dying light, “you keep rubbing my foot like that and i might have to actually marry you out of obligation.”

kita huffs out a laugh, hands working at your calves now. “might?” he echoes. “actually..? even after all the things i’ve done for you today?”

“all you’ve done for me?” you push his face away with your palm, smiling ear to ear despite yourself. “i was the one who peeled the grapefruit. didn’t hear me complain when it squirted me in the eye did you?”

he grins. “my brave soldier.”

“damn straight.”

“but really,” he starts again, thumb pausing at your heel, “you ever think about it?”

“foot rubs?” you deadpan. “dream about ‘em.”

kita chuckles again, the joy you are to be around. “marriage,” he clarifies. “with me.”

“sometimes.”

he leans back onto his elbows, looking out toward the yard where the hummingbird’s darting back toward the fruit plate, stealing a melon slice.

“i think about it,” he confesses. “think about what flavor cake you’d want, if you’d wear your hair up or down. think about you in white. had a few dreams about that last one.”

you look down at your hands, gather them in your lap. “you’re too good at that.”

“too good at what?”

“sayin’ stuff that makes my heart feel all wobbly.”

he laughs, your favorite sound. “think your heart’s wobbly now — wait ‘til i get down on one knee.”

you stretch your toes against the inside of his thigh, playful. “if i was mrs. kita, you’d still be good to me if i hogged the covers, let hair go down the drain?”

“when you’re mrs. kita.” he corrects, palming your thigh now. “ain’t stopped me before.”

“those are boyfriend duties,” you say, hand over your heart. “sure you could handle wife-level chaos?”

“darlin’,” he says, nosing your cheek before he kisses it, “i’d carry your chaos around in my shirt pocket if it meant i got to call you mine.”

you groan. “enough of that, shin.”

his eyes crinkle at the corners. “hmm? of what?”

“i’m gonna start doodling hearts on my skin around your last name like we’re in middle school.”

he leans in, tucks the stray hairs from your face behind your ears. “go on and do it. looks good on you.”

“what does?”

his voice dips. “my name.”

you reach forward and tug at the hem of his cutoff, an attempt to cover up the shade of red you’ve quickly turned into within the past couple of minutes. “…can’t believe i’m fallin’ for a man who can’t cut even sleeves.”

“can’t believe you’re gonna marry him,” he teases.

you kick at him, yet you don’t bother denying it.

then you pad barefoot into cool floorboards, screen doors clattering shut behind you.

in the kitchen, the fan spins overhead. the scent of old wood and lemon cleaner clings to everything, comforting in a way you never expected a home to be.

you lean against the counter to rinse the peach-sticky plate at the sink, water running cold.

“dry towel’s hangin’ on the oven,” a voice calls.

you glance back.

his grandmother’s at the table, sorting green beans into a big metal bowl. her hands move like clockwork — snap, flick, drop — she’s done it a hundred times before. probably thousands. doesn’t look up, but the corners of her mouth twitch like she knows.

i see you. i’ve seen this before. i know exactly where it’s going.

you reach for the towel, dabbing at your arms.

“sorry, i didn’t mean to drip,” you mumble, guilty while the mess collects on the wood. “i’ll go wipe it up.”

“don’t fuss,” she clicks her tongue. “you’re fine.”

you hover there awkwardly for a second, unsure if you should offer to help or scurry back out. before you can decide, she sounds out again, hushed.

“he’s steadier with you around.”

your hand stills on the wool.

she drops another into the bowl. “always been a good boy. but you — you make him settle, not slow down. there’s a difference, there is.”

your throat goes dry. “that’s kind of you to say.”

“don’t say nothin’ unless i mean it.”

you bite your lip, eyes stinging. “i care about him.”

“i know,” she says simply.

silence settles again, thick like molasses. then she adds, so quiet you nearly miss it:

“and if he does it right, he’ll marry you on that back lawn under the dogwood tree, same as his grandpa married me.”

you swallow, unsure how to respond.

she finally looks up, meets your gaze square. “that sound alright to you, sweetheart?”

you hum, soft and teary. “sounds like a dream.”

“good,” she goes back to her beans. “now go on and tell him i ain’t pickin’ no more unless he gets his lazy behind in here and grabs the second bowl.”

“yes ma’am,” you nod, barely containing the smile.

outside, kita’s still on the porch, bent over the cups, humming under his breath — some old country tune he often falls back on when his hands are full and his heart’s even fuller. (like right now.)

the screen door thwaps shut behind you.

you bump his arm with your hip and whisper, mischievous. “you’re in trouble, shinsuke.”

“what? why?”

“she says you gotta help with the beans.”

he groans dramatically, flopping back like he’s wounded. “throw me to the wolves just like that?”

you grin, sitting next to him. “might be worth it to get in on her good side. gonna be mrs. kita, after all.”

his eyes cut to yours, boyish and in love. “might be sooner than you think. ‘m not just messin’ around when i talk about you bein’ my wife someday.”

“got a ring tucked behind them peach slices?”

“not yet,” he says. “though i do have a down payment on somethin’ shiny. if you’re patient with me.”

you smile so wide your cheeks start to hurt. “good thing your gran says i’ve got that in spades.”

kita’s fingers still on your palm, face softening.

“she’s right,” he murmurs. “always is.”

[bunnis-monsters]

The harpy farm is pretty hectic, but at least your schedule is neat and organized.

Today you are tasked with visiting the Cherry acres where the type 1 harpies live.

The type 1 harpies are the most human like, having bird feet and wings as their only inhuman features. They are rather affectionate and playful, always wanting you to stay there forever.

Currently, there are only four harpies that reside in the Cherry acres.

The first is Robin, a cheerful red headed harpy that runs to greet you, nearly tripping over his own talons.

“(Name), you’re finally here!”

His arms pull you into a hug, and his wings wrap around your body as he chirps happily. “You’ll be here all day, right?”

You nod, rubbing your cheek against his in an affectionate gesture. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be in this section all day. Where are the others?”

He huffed, his wings fluttering a bit. “They’re busy sunbathing, just stay here w-“

“Hey, stop hogging (Name)!”

Finn, a green finch harpy stepped forward, scratching the ground angrily with his talons. “Jay and Dove are sunbathing, but I knew something was off when you wanted to stay here this morning even though you always steal the warmest rocks!”

The little Robin harpy puffed up his chest, his wings fluffing out in annoyance. “Can you blame me? You guys always get all of (Name)’s attention!”

You rubbed your temple, stepping between the two before a fight could start. “Come on, there’s no need to get all fussy. Take me to the others, today’s preening day.”

The two immediately stopped, perking up at your words as their wings fluttered with excitement. “Preening day?

You nodded, holding up the bag of various supplies to clean their feathers and talons. “Mhm, now let’s get going. I’m sure you two don’t want to wait.”

They led you out towards the lake where the other two were warming their feathers in the sun.

Dove was a beautiful dove harpy, with delicate wings and long white hair. He smiled when he noticed you, calling out. “(Name), it’s nice to see you. Jay just too a dip in the lake.”

He came over, reaching out a talon to hold onto your leg. “You’re still so warm and soft, little mate.”

Dove squeezed the soft flesh of your calf lightly before pulling his leg back. “Those are the preening supplies, which means today is going to be a good one, hmm?”

You brushed the dirt from his talon off of your calf, then crouched down to get a good loom at everyone’s feet. No one seemed to be injured, but your little daredevil wasn’t there quite yet.

“(Name)!”

Jay, a Blue Jay harpy swam towards the rocks, using his talon to grip onto the textured surface and clime up. With one look, you could see his talons were all scraped up and torn again.

“Jay, sit down and I’ll tend to you first.”

The rest groaned, surrounding you as they complained. “You always preen him first!”

“Jay, you get hurt on purpose, don’t you!?”

You laughed, taking out the first aid kit. “You think Jay can think that far ahead?”

Your words seemed to settle them down, and it took Jay a moment to register them. “H-Hey, don’t be mean, I just like to have fun!”

“Yeah, and you’ve hit your head so many times that even (Name) isn’t sure what to do with you anymore.”

Jay puffed out his cheeks, being pouty as you cleaned and bandaged his talons before filing his nails into a point. “That’s not true, Robin. Don’t be so negative, Jay is a free spirit.”

The Blue Jay harpy perked up at that, fluffing out his wings as he gave the others a cocky smirk. “See? I’m a free spirit.”

Dove sat down, rubbing and nuzzling against you as you began preening Jay’s feathers. “How are the others doing? I heard the newest harpy in the Peach acres is still rejecting you.”

You paused, your hand settling onto Jay’s wing. “Yes, his name is Raven. He isn’t like any of you, he’s a rescue.”

Finn clawed at the dirt, searching for worms. “A rescue? What happened to him?”

You continued your work, Jay whining slightly and leaning into your touch as his hand moved down his bare body and to his hardening cock.

It was normal for harpies to tend to their sexual needs in public, so none of you were surprised. “As you know, harpies like you are descended from wild birds. Humans are only permitted to buy and own domestic harpies, like parakeets and pigeons, for example.”

You moved Jay’s hand away, taking over jerking Jim off as he cooed and buried his face into your neck. The others gathered around, a bit jealous of all of the attention he was getting.

“In his case, his owner was neglectful and ended up killed by Raven. The owner didn’t truly know how dangerous wild harpies are.”

Dove pulled to closer, opening your thighs a bit so his cock could settle between them. “Ah, I guess that makes sense… h-hey, I wanna play with (Name) too!”

Robin whined and scurried over, abandoning the fishing pole he had been using. Unfortunately, you had no more hands to jerk him off with, your free one was preoccupied with Finn’s cock, so you opened your mouth and took his tip between your lips.

Between bobs of your head, you’d pull away momentarily to speak again. “You’ll be getting a new member soon as well, boys. I hope you’ll be nice.”

Dove chirped as he began to preen you back, nuzzling against your pulse point. “We’ll try, but it’s already hard enough sharing your time among the four of us when you’re here…”

You squinted, eyebrows furrowing when Robin held your head in place and fucked your throat, cumming down it while letting out a little cry.

After swallowing and wiping your mouth, you scolded the younger harpy. “Robin, I told you to be gentle. You’ve lost your mouth privileges.”

He whined and lowered himself to the ground, burying his face into your belly as he tried to appeal to your more motherly side. “(Name), it’s hard, I can’t help it… you just feel so good…”

His wings fluttered and rubbed against you, and you patted his head when he hid his face in your breast if it were his mother’s plumage. “Hey, I don’t fall for the baby bird act. You’re a fully fledged harpy, keep that up and I won’t play with you anymore.”

Robin sulked, his wings covering his body as you preened everyone. He was the youngest of the group, so you tried your best to be gentle with him, but he was also cocky due to his youth.

If you didn’t train him now, he’d end up being a cruel and dominant male that didn’t care about others feelings.

After everyone was preened and taken care of, you spent the rest of the day keeping them company, and eventually Robin cheered up enough to cuddle with you while you read them stories.

As you stored your boots and changed out of your uniform shorts and shirt, you glanced down at the schedule.

Tomorrow you’d be visiting the Peach acres… and you weren’t looking forward to meeting with Raven again.

The scar on your upper thigh came from that harpy, after all.

Note: I have a 20% discount on your first month on Patreon, code: hunni

I plan on writing about the harpy farm a lot, so please send asks and questions about these characters and ideas for future characters from the other types’

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[beepborpdoodledorp]

Alright it’s that time again, general ramblings post about Ep 5

I never thought certified silly billy Caine would ever actually scare me but I was proven wrong within the first minute. We definitely all expected him to become really unstable this episode but I can’t imagine many of us were thinking he was going to become violent. (And not in his ‘oblivious to the pain he’s causing others’ way.) Really scared for the players in the future episodes not gonna lie.

It’s not like it’s a huge shock a scene like this happened but I do find it very funny I wrote a one-shot with a nearly identical plot to this back in January

Also just…Jax and Pomni friendship!! I’ve been holding out for their love/hate frenemies bond to develop and I’m honestly surprised it’s happening this soon but I’m not complaining. I read them as having a purely platonic ‘bickering best buds’ dynamic but I’m proud of the funnybunny shippers for eating with this episode

Also where do I even start with these two. They’re just adorable. In a sea of messy emotions and messier relationships it’s so refreshing to see these two just…have a healthy friendship, support each other and enjoy each others’ company. They’re so in love I will die on this hill

I liked Kinger pulling Pomni under the desk to talk to her since he thinks better in the dark! Honestly very sweet of him. Their dynamic makes my heart happy

Was just trying to find a good screenshot of the anime segment to talk about how funny it was but then I spotted TGD Easter eggs on the bulletin board! Just thought it was neat

I do find it both kinda funny and fascinating how all of these lines up with the fanbase’s most popular headcanons. I know a lot of this could just be inferred from the previous episodes (and in Pomni’s case her being an accountant was just confirmed outright before) but the fact these all lined up nearly to a T to the most common interpretations of them just goes to show how well the fanbase knows these characters. It took wading through some content farming but Goose struck the right audience eventually

Found it interesting that Pomni didn’t vote for Jax to be put in the maid dress. They bonded pretty damn quick lol

I think all of us were expecting a scene like this at some point but I wasn’t thinking Pomni was going to be involved like this. It’s interesting how Jax and Ragatha are basically doing a tug-of-war over her, denying her of her agency and trying to project their own ideals onto her. I expected Pomni to play peacekeeper but I wasn’t expecting her to be a pawn in the middle of this argument. Honestly that’s just scratching the surface of this scene’s nuances, Jax and Ragatha are such fantastic foils to each other and I am very glad Ragatha finally got to have her crash out moment

Also I know there is a TON of analysis that could be made just off this one expression but just look at him for a moment. stupid man

I did find it very funny that Evil Pomni curses with basically the same frequency I write regular Pomni lol

This fucking mannequin dude…I was on the fence if they were actually plot relevant or just a running Easter egg and it definitely looks like the former’s the case. Can’t wait to find out what this guy’s deal is

Also how dare they call me out like this

[pitlanepeach]

Radio Silence | Chapter Forty-Four

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren’t quirks, they’re survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, questionable timeline, timeskips, fluff central, motherhood.

Notes — I love you all so much. Please cherish this chapter the way I do. It's not the 'final' one but... in a way, it is. An epilogue will follow in the next few days, but for now, thank you so much for loving Amelia and Lando.

The baby monitor gave a soft ping — a steady green light blinking in the corner of the room, signalling that Ada’s breathing hadn’t changed. Slow. Sure. Safe.

Amelia didn’t look up.

She was cross-legged on the bed, hoodie sleeves pulled down over her hands, the duvet a wrinkled mess around her knees. Her laptop glowed faintly in the dark, screen cluttered with tabs she hadn’t actually read in over an hour. Her peppermint tea sat untouched on the nightstand, long gone cold.

Lando lay beside her, one arm draped over his eyes, the other resting loosely over his chest.

She hadn’t said anything in a while, not since muttering something about WHO flight guidelines for babies and infant body heat differentials at altitude. But now, finally, her voice broke the silence — quiet and flat. “I don’t think I know how to be both.”

Lando turned his head, arm falling away to look at her properly.

“An engineer,” Amelia clarified, still staring at her screen. “And a mother. I thought I could. Not all at once, not perfectly — I never expected that. But I thought I’d at least know how to start. And I don’t.”

Lando pushed himself up onto one elbow. “Hey,” he said softly. “You don’t have to have that figured out yet.”

“I just…” She exhaled, rubbed at her eyes with the heel of one hand. “But I feel like I’m letting everyone down. The team. The strategy unit. I haven’t even opened Tom’s messages from last week. I missed Oscar’s debrief.”

Lando frowned. “Baby—”

“I know no one expects me to be there,” she rushed on. “I know I just had a baby. But it’s like the world kept moving, and I just— I stepped away for one second, and I’ve been left behind. And I feel like I’m letting Oscar down.”

She shut her laptop gently, sliding it onto the mattress beside her.

Lando shifted closer. “No,” he said, voice low but firm now. “Don’t say that. God, If Oscar heard you say that, he’d be pissed.”

That drew a weak smile from her — brief but real. “I just feel so… stranded,” she admitted. “Like I’m standing outside my own life. Stranded in the past.”

“You’re not stranded,” Lando said. “I’d never let you be stranded. If you get stuck on an island, I’m right there with you. Building shelter. Fighting off wild chickens.”

That earned him a tiny laugh, which faded quickly. She curled tighter into herself, one hand absently pressed to her chest.

“My nipples hurt,” she whispered. “Everything hurts. And sometimes she won’t latch, and I feel like I’m failing at the one thing I’m supposed to be able to do right now. I love her more than anything, and still… I feel like I’m falling short. Like I don’t know how to be in the world anymore. I just want to stay here a little longer. In this house. Just us. No paddock. No calls. No questions.”

Lando sat up fully now, folding one leg under him, facing her squarely. “Babe,” he said gently, “she’s a week old. You’re allowed to want to hide for the next five days, months, hell, years. You built a human. From scratch. You’re allowed to want to protect her. To protect yourself.”

Amelia looked down, blinking hard.

“And if you want to stay here, stay. We’ll make it work. If you want to go off-grid, I’ll build us a fence and figure out how to plant tomatoes. We’ll get a sheep. Raise Ada to be a weird little farm baby.”

“You’d hate that,” she said through a soft sniffle.

“I’d learn to love it,” he replied without hesitation. “If you’re there, if she’s there, it’s already enough. Whatever pace you need, I’ll meet it. We’ll move when you’re ready.”

She let out a long, unsteady breath, shoulders loosening as she leaned into his side, head tucked under his chin. His arm curled around her instinctively, grounding her.

Ada shifted in her sleep, a tiny sigh from the bassinet. They both froze. Waited. Relaxed when the room settled again.

“I just want more time,” Amelia whispered.

“Then take it,” Lando murmured. “Take all the time. There’s no clock on you.”

They sat in that stillness for a while — Lando’s hand tracing light, aimless shapes against her back, the kind of touch that didn’t ask anything from her except to be here.

And then, quietly, he added, “You don’t have to choose, you know. Between her and your work. You don’t have to sacrifice one love for the other.”

Amelia blinked against his chest. She was quiet for a long moment. “Yeah,” she said eventually, voice rough. “Yeah, okay. I needed to hear that.”

“You can love her with your whole heart,” he whispered. “And still love building things. Still love solving puzzles and fixing races no one else can fix. You don’t have to be either-or.”

“Okay,” she repeated, a little stronger this time. “Okay.”

—

The smell of coffee hit her first — freshly ground, dark roast, strong enough to drag her out of bed on scent alone.

Amelia stirred, blinking slowly. The morning light was thin and gentle through the curtains. The house was quiet. Too quiet.

The bassinet was empty.

She sat up fast, heart skipping—until she spotted the baby monitor still blinking green and heard a familiar hum down the hall: Lando, singing terribly under his breath. Somewhere between a lullaby and whatever was stuck in his head from TikTok.

Amelia exhaled. Stretched. Swung her legs out of bed, wincing slightly as she stood. Still sore. Still healing. But upright.

She shuffled into the hallway wearing one of Lando’s hoodies and her softest socks — and paused.

There, right outside the nursery, was the whiteboard.

The one from her office. The one she’d forced her dad to bring to her from MTC during a meltdown.

Mounted crookedly, obviously with command strips. Already covered in Lando’s handwriting.

Across the top, in thick black marker, he’d written:

THE NORRIS FAMILY MASTER PLAN

Underneath it was divided into three chaotic columns:

ADA

fed @ 5:12am (boob fed. mummy also pumped 2 bags that i put in the freezer asap)

burped and spit up only a tiny bit

changed: YES (twice since 6am)

currently napping on daddy’s chest (10/10 would recommend)

cuter than all other babies (objective fact)

AMELIA

sleep: as much as she can because she deserves it

coffee brewed and waiting

iPad fully charged in your office bby

do NOT check emails unless emotionally stable (love u)

LANDO

meeting @ MTC moved to Zoom

5k tempo run with Jon @7:50

Send Max (Verstappen) Ada pics

At the bottom, in bright red marker with two stars and a smiley face, he’d written:

Today’s Motto: Take your time. No one’s going anywhere. Love you. 💛

Amelia stared at it.

“Uh oh,” Lando called softly from inside the nursery. “We’ve been busted.”

She padded to the doorway and leaned on the frame.

Lando was in the rocking chair, Ada curled peacefully on his chest in her lemon-print onesie, her tiny fist tucked under her chin. He looked up at Amelia with a grin, his curls a mess and his hoodie covered in spit-up.

“Look who stayed up with me to review my race notes,” he said in a whisper. “She’s got some strong opinions about tyre compounds.”

Amelia laughed. “Of course she does. She’s my daughter.”

She stepped into the room, bent down to kiss his hair.

“I love you,” she murmured.

“I know.” He looked smug. “I made bullet points. Did you see them?”

“Yeah.” She kissed him on the lips that time. “I love them.”

—

Hungary came and went, and Amelia had never known a rage like it.

It should have been perfect.

Oscar’s first Grand Prix victory — a clean, commanding drive. Tactical, calm under pressure. The kind of win that would be replayed in highlight reels for years. The kind of drive that justified every ounce of faith the team had put in him.

And Amelia hadn’t been there.

Not on the pit wall. Not in the garage. Not even in the country.

She was home. Still recovering. Three weeks postpartum, her body aching in ways she didn’t have words for. Her days were measured in naps and nappies, not sector times. Ada curled against her chest, tiny and warm and completely unaware of what her Uncle Ducky had just achieved.

Amelia had done everything right. Listened to the doctors. Stayed off her feet. Trusted the team.

And they’d messed it up.

Not the race — not entirely. Oscar had won, after all. But the way it had happened. The pit strategy had been off. Lando was called in a lap early — not maliciously — just badly timed. A chain of misjudged calls. And it meant he jumped Oscar, unintentionally undercutting him. Then came the order.

Swap positions.

It hadn’t been a request.

Lando had obeyed, eventually. But anyone watching closely could see it: the tension in his posture, the tightness in his jaw, the way he barely glanced sideways on the podium. It was a team win — but the celebration had a limp to it.

Amelia hadn’t seen it live. She was still catching up. Replays on her phone. Data reports trickling in. Fragments of a race she hadn’t been part of — and yet, was still tangled in.

It hurt.

She was proud of Oscar. Fiercely so. But part of her wanted to scream. At the pit wall. At the timing. At herself, for not being there to catch it as it slipped.

Instead, she paced the kitchen with Ada strapped to her chest, whispering, “You’re going to have to be really cute when Daddy gets home, okay? Extra, extra cute.”

In the early hours of the next morning, Lando came home quiet. Kissed her forehead. Pressed a hand to Ada’s back like it was the only thing anchoring him. He didn’t say much. Just curled up beside them on the bed and held on.

Later, when Ada was asleep in her bassinet and the room was soft with the hum of the baby monitor, Amelia looked over at him and murmured, “Tell him to come here.”

Lando blinked. “Now?”

“Yeah.” Her voice was tired, but gentle. “I know you’re upset at the team. At the way it happened. But Oscar probably feels bad too. I want to see him. I want to tell him I’m proud of him.”

Lando nodded. “Okay, baby.” He whispered.

—

Oscar arrived two days later, sun-flushed, eyes a little wary as he stepped into their living room. He carried a stuffed kangaroo for Ada, which was ridiculous and perfect, and when Amelia took it, her hands trembled a little.

“Hi, ducky,” she said softly.

Oscar smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Hey.”

She opened her arms and he folded into a hug without hesitation. He smelled like airport and roasted peanuts and nerves.

“You did it,” she whispered.

“Yeah.” He pulled back, eyes flickering down to Ada. “Can I—“

She carefully unwrapped the baby and handed her to Oscar.

“Careful. She’s very picky about how she’s held,” Amelia said quietly.

That got a huff of laughter from him, but then a quiet settled between them.

After a moment, he said, “It didn’t feel right.”

Amelia tilted her head.

“The win,” Oscar clarified. “It felt… tainted. Because of the swap.”

“It wasn’t,” Lando said from the doorway, arms crossed loosely over his chest. “It was your win. I’m sorry, mate. It should’ve been a clean swap; but I was possed at the team. Didn't think about how that'd make you feel. Sorry for being an asshole about it.”

Oscar shook his head. “No. They shouldn’t have pitted you first. That’s where it went wrong. You were right to be pissed. I would’ve been, too.”

Amelia let out a slow breath, glancing between them. “You’re both right,” she said. “And none of it was your fault.”

Oscar swallowed, looking down at the little bundle in her arms. “You missed it. That’s what I hated the most.”

“I know,” she said quietly. “But don't let that win feel less than it is,” she told him.

Oscar blinked a few times too fast. Lando nudged his shoulder with a knuckle. “Next time,” he said, “we do it properly. 1–2. No drama. No pit wall fumbles.”

“No swaps,” Oscar added.

“No swaps,” Lando agreed.

“Unless…” Oscar started.

“We discuss it beforehand. Agree on it ourselves. Consult our boss lady.” Lando agreed.

Amelia smiled at them.

—

The weeks after Hungary unfold slowly — warm, drowsy, domestic. Amelia settles into motherhood with quiet intensity. Her days are structured around Ada’s rhythms: feeds, naps, stroller walks through the quiet lanes near their house, tiny onesies drying on the line.

She leans into it, fully, unapologetically. No guilt. No rush. Just her and her daughter.

But in the hours between — when Ada is sleeping against her chest in the sling, or curled in the bassinet beside her desk — Amelia begins to find a rhythm for something else too.

The 2025 car.

She doesn’t force it. She doesn’t try to be the same version of herself she was before. But she does open her laptop again. Starts responding to notes. Dialling into development calls. Reviewing aero updates during cluster feeds. Her whiteboard goes back up in the kitchen. The good markers. The post-its. New magnets are delivered by the Amazon delivery driver who knows her by name.

She's not back on the pit wall, not yet, but her fingerprints are all over the future. Steering concepts. Energy recovery models. Brake migration overlays. She sends long, annotated voice memos at 2AM with Ada fussing softly in the background.

And no one dares to tell her to stop.

—

The first time she goes back to the MTC, it feels surreal.

She wears Ada in a wrap and keeps her pressed tight against her chest, and when she walks through the doors of Mission Control, everything stills.

Not out of judgment — just awe.

The team has Ada’s name on the sign-in sheet. Someone from aero has knitted her a tiny beanie in papaya and black. Oscar has a onesie made with "Wind Tunnel Supervisor" printed on the back. Lando insists on giving her the grand tour like it’s her first time and not the place she helped build the car they’re still racing.

Amelia moves through it all with quiet, grateful command.

She doesn’t stay long. Just a few hours. But she plugs in, hands over feedback, draws up a few revised proposals for suspension stability in corner exit, and her dad comes to kiss his granddaughters head before they leave.

—

As the season continues, Amelia’s world becomes something new.

She’s still mostly at home. Still a mum first, always.

But she spends mornings on the phone with suppliers while Ada gums a teether in her lap. Sketches suspension mapping on the hood of the pram while they walk. Takes conference calls while pacing the garden with the baby monitor clipped to her hoodie.

She laughs more.

Cries sometimes, too. On the days Ada won’t sleep, or she misses Lando too much on a race weekend. But then Oscar texts her from the paddock — “Ran your numbers. Braking delta’s holding. You’re a genius, etc.” — and it buoys her.

She’s found a strange, miraculous equilibrium.

Not full throttle. Not idle.

Just… steady.

—

Amelia’s not officially “back.” There’s no date marked on the calendar. No press release.

But the 2025 car knows her touch.

And so does her daughter.

And for now, that’s enough.

—

Amelia was sitting in the rocking chair by the nursery window, the late afternoon light casting warm golden streaks across the room. Ada was nestled against her chest, eyes fluttering as if trying to stay awake. Amelia’s heart felt like it might burst.

“Hey, baby,” she whispered, tracing tiny circles on Ada’s soft cheek. “Look at you, waking up on me.”

Suddenly, Ada’s lips curled—just a hint at first, barely there.

Amelia froze.

She leaned in closer, breath catching.

Ada’s eyes locked with hers, and the smile widened, pure and bright.

“Wow,” Amelia whispered. “Look at you, smart girl. What a pretty smile.”

—

Lando shuffled down the hallway, a warm bottle in hand, careful not to wake Amelia. Ada had been restless all evening, and now she was stirring again.

He slipped into the nursery, sat on the rocking chair, and gently lifted her from her bassinet. She wiggled, a tiny fist reaching for his face.

“Hey, sweet pea,” he murmured, brushing a finger across her cheek. “Time to eat. Say ‘thank you mummy’.”

Ada latched on to the bottle, her eyelids drooped halfway, a little coo escaping.

Lando smiled, heart full.

“You’re a little nightmare,” he whispered. “But you’re cute, so you’re forgiven.”

—

The crisp autumn air filled Amelia’s lungs as she pushed Ada’s stroller down the quiet path near their home. Ada was bundled up, bundled tighter than necessary, but Amelia wasn’t taking chances. The sound of leaves crunching underfoot was a gentle backdrop.

Ada’s eyes were wide and curious, tracking every movement, the soft rustle of the wind, the distant chirping of birds.

Amelia smiled to herself. “Is that a birdie?”

Ada let out a tiny giggle, more a breath than a laugh, but to Amelia, it was the sweetest sound she’d ever heard.

—

The nursery was quiet. Ada lay sleeping in her crib, her little chest rising and falling steadily. Amelia’s heart ached as she kissed her forehead one last time before stepping out.

“I’ll be back soon,” she whispered, voice trembling. “Just a quick meeting. You’re safe, baby. I promise.”

In the kitchen, Lando was waiting with a reassuring smile.

“You’ve got this,” he said softly.

Amelia nodded, inhaling deeply, trying to quell the swirl of nerves and guilt.

“It’s just the first time,” she reminded herself. “It’s okay.”

And with that, she stepped out — a tiny step back into the world she’d missed, but one she was determined to balance with the one she’d found at home.

—

The late November afternoon was cool, but the garden behind Amelia and Lando’s house was alive with laughter and the hum of friendly voices. Fairy lights twinkled above, strung between the trees, casting a soft glow as the sun dipped low.

Amelia moved gracefully through the crowd, baby Ada snug in her arms, wrapped in a soft knitted blanket. At five months old, Ada’s immune system was strong enough for her first proper gathering — and today was all about celebrating Lando’s birthday and introducing their daughter to their friends.

Max stole Ada gently, whispering something to her in a low, playful tone that made the baby giggle.

Amelia smiled as she watched them.

Oscar, standing close by, was beaming too — in full uncle mode, happily showing her a little toy car, which Ada seemed to regard with wide-eyed curiosity.

A ripple of excitement moved through the group when Lewis arrived, a rare softness in his usually intense gaze. “So, this is the famous Ada,” Lewis said, kneeling slightly to get closer, careful not to overwhelm her. “She’s gorgeous.”

Amelia smiled. “Five months. Growing fast.”

Lewis reached out gently, letting Ada’s tiny hand wrap around his finger. “Hey there, little one,” he murmured. Ada’s eyes locked onto his face, and she gave a tentative coo.

Fernando was next. He approached slowly, cautious.

Oscar glanced at Amelia for approval before handing Ada over to him.

Fernando cradled Ada carefully, the baby turning her head toward him. Then, much to everyone’s surprise, she broke into a toothless smile.

“Look at her,” Amelia said, nudging Lando, who was watching nearby with a proud grin. “She’s more sociable than me already.”

Fernando’s laugh was soft. “Hello, tiny Nina. What a beautiful girl you are.”

—

The house was quiet now, the party’s laughter and music a distant echo behind closed doors. In the softly lit nursery, Ada lay asleep in her crib, her chest rising and falling in gentle rhythm. The faint scent of lavender lingered in the air.

Amelia and Lando slipped quietly into the living room, hands entwined, eyes searching for each other in the warm, dim light. No words were needed; the day had been full, full of joy and new memories, and now all that mattered was the space between them.

Lando brushed a loose strand of hair from Amelia’s face, his touch tender, reverent. She leaned into his palm, her breath catching in that familiar way — the way she’d come to love, even in the whirlwind of new motherhood.

Their kisses were slow, deliberate, the kind that spoke of comfort and deep connection. No hurry. No expectations beyond the simple closeness of being together.

Amelia’s fingers traced the line of Lando’s jaw, memorising the curve, the warmth, the promise in his gaze.

“This,” Lando murmured against her lips, “this is home.”

She smiled, her heart swelling with a love that felt endless. “Yeah.”

They moved together gently, the world outside fading until there was nothing but the quiet harmony of their shared breath, the softness of skin against skin, and the peaceful presence of their sleeping daughter nearby.

Later, wrapped in each other’s arms, Amelia rested her head on Lando’s chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“Perfect,” she whispered.

“Like you,” he replied.

—

Amelia triple-checked the list.

Then checked it again.

The suitcase bag was full to bursting. Sterilised bottles lined one side, alongside pre-portioned formula packets just in case. Four dummies carefully tucked in. Fifteen muslins folded and stacked. Eight sleep-suits laid out with precision. Noise-cancelling baby headphones rested on top, alongside two packs of sensitive skin wipes. The giraffe toy Ada had recently started to favour was nestled between a small bottle of lavender oil and the emergency bottle warmer. A digital thermometer peeked from a side pocket, and ten labelled, frozen breastmilk storage bags were packed in a cooler — backup, in case her supply dipped mid-flight or Ada reacted badly to the travel and refused to latch.

Amelia exhaled sharply, brushing a hand through her hair, feeling the familiar flutter of nerves. The stakes felt so much bigger this time.

Her mum stood calmly by the front door, suitcase already packed, reading glasses perched on her head. “Love, she’s a baby, not an international diplomat. You’ve done brilliantly.”

“I know, I know.” Amelia didn’t stop pacing. “I just— It’s a pressurised cabin. What if her ears hurt on takeoff? Or she gets overstimulated? Or the recycled air triggers something?”

Her mum smiled knowingly. “Then you feed her on takeoff. It helps with the pressure.”

“I’ve pumped, too,” Amelia said quickly, nodding toward the cooler bag. “Enough for the whole flight. And spares. And formula, in case everything goes wrong.”

“You are, without question, the most prepared mother I’ve ever met,” her mum said, smiling.

From upstairs, Ada let out a soft, sleepy grunt.

Lando appeared a moment later, cradling her carefully, still dressed in her footed onesie with the tiny embroidered rocket ships. “She’s out,” he whispered, stepping into the room softly.

He crossed over, handing Ada to Amelia like something sacred.

“Okay,” Amelia murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to her daughter’s soft head. “We’re doing this.”

Lando ran a hand over her back. “You’ve got this. And your mum’s with us. Literal nanny power.”

Her mum grinned. “Nanny and pack mule, apparently.”

Amelia hummed but didn’t argue. Her arms tightened around Ada, and she inhaled the lavender-sweet scent. “I’m going to cry a few times, I think,” she warned them both.

“Okay,” Lando said, looping the baby’s wrap over Amelia’s shoulder with practiced ease. “You’ll be alright.”

“And if anything goes wrong—”

“It won’t.”

She nodded once. “Right. Okay.”

At that moment, Oscar stepped into the hallway, dressed in casual clothes. He looked at Ada sleeping peacefully in Amelia’s arms and smiled softly. “Ready for the big finale?”

Amelia looked up, her nerves settling just a little. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

As they stepped outside, the night air was crisp but calm. Max’s jet was waiting on the tarmac an hour away, gleaming under the runway lights.

Amelia’s heart fluttered with nerves and excitement.

They were going to clinch the constructors championship.

And she wasn’t going to miss it for the world.

—

The roar of engines had barely faded before the crowd erupted into cheers. Lando’s helmet lifted from the cockpit, his face breaking into the widest grin — a victorious, exhausted smile that had been years in the making.

Amelia stood on the edge of the McLaren hospitality, arms wrapped tightly around Ada. The baby’s wide eyes scanned the world around her, curious and calm amid the chaos.

A large screen nearby switched from the race replay to live shots of the celebrations. The broadcast caught sight of Amelia standing there, bathed in the golden Abu Dhabi sunset, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she held her daughter.

Then the caption appeared on screen, simple but profound.

Amelia Norris — engineer, mother, wife of Lando Norris.

The words lingered on the screen, echoing everything she’d fought for. The late nights in the factory, the endless zoom calls between feeds and naps, the quiet moments of doubt, and the fierce determination that never wavered.

She glanced down at Ada, whose tiny hand curled around one of her fingers, and felt a swell of something fierce and whole inside her chest.

Lando caught her eye, his smile softening when he saw the way she looked — not just as the mother holding their child, but as the woman who had carved her place alongside him in this whirlwind world.

Together, they’d made it. Not just to this moment, but to everything it represented.

As the cheers around them rose again, Amelia allowed herself a small, steady breath.

This was just the beginning.

—

The entire team gathered together, smiles bright and energy buzzing after a hard-fought victory. Cameras flashed as they lined up for the official photo — engineers, mechanics, strategists, and drivers, all shoulder to shoulder.

At the centre stood Lando, cradling Ada like a precious trophy. The baby, nestled safely in his arms, gazed up with wide eyes at the sea of familiar faces around her. She was the smallest member of the team and yet she looked like she’d quickly become the heart of it all.

Amelia approached with a grin, her steps quickening as the countdown to the champagne pop began.

“Okay, sweet pea,” she said softly, slipping her hands under Ada. “Let’s get you out of the splash zone.”

Lando handed Ada over, the baby wrapped in her blanket as Amelia lifted her effortlessly away from the front row.

The bottle popped. Foam exploded into the air, sparkling like tiny fireworks in the sunlight.

Laughter erupted, the spray glittering across helmets and overalls. Champagne arced in golden loops through the air, soaking suits and sneakers, the scent of victory clinging to everything.

Amelia stood just beyond the splash zone, Ada bundled securely against her chest. The baby blinked sleepily, her noise-cancelling headphones firmly in place, one hand curled into Amelia’s shirt.

She watched her boys — Lando and Oscar — grin at each other, knock shoulders, ruffle each other’s hair with the casual affection that came only from seasons of shared pressure and quiet loyalty. Teammates. Friends. Brothers in every way that mattered.

Next year, Amelia thought, they’d have the best car on the grid.

Next year, they’d be fighting for not only the Constructors’ Championship again, but the Drivers’ as well.

And she would be there — to support them both. Her husband. Her Ducky.

Because she believed in both of them with every scrap of her soul.

Ada would be there too. Five months old now and already stamped into the heart of the team. Next year, she’d travel more than most people did in their entire lives. Planes and paddocks. Hotel bassinets. Garage naps wrapped in team-issued ear defenders. The scent of rubber and champagne and jet fuel quietly imprinting itself onto her earliest memories.

It wouldn’t be easy.

But it would be theirs.

They’d make it work. They always had.

And when the cameras snapped another picture — the final team photo of the season, confetti still clinging to Lando’s curls — Amelia caught his eye across the crowd and smiled.

“Home?” He mouthed.

Monaco. England.

It didn’t matter.

“Home.”  She agreed. 

[notjustjavierpena]

Needy

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: LONG AGO, @yxtkiwiyxt tagged me in a post about Pedro in a black tee and jeans that reminded her of her hubby. Then this happened. I hope you can forgive the wait.

Summary: Pregnancy comes with horniness.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: Pregnancy and hormones, touch-starved, hot sweaty javi, so many pet names in spanish, praise kink, pregnancy sex, light dom/sub dynamics, dirty talk, couch sex, slow and intense riding, piv sex, pussy eating, face-sitting, finger-fucking, multiple orgasms, squirting, handjob, pillow talk

Word count: 4.2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62563027

Needy

A few months ago, a friend from work had asked you how far along you were in your pregnancy over lunch and snickered knowingly when you said that your second trimester would be ending around now. She had leaned close and whispered in a voice only meant for you that she’d not been able to keep her hands off her husband when she’d entered her third trimester. 

You had scoffed with heated cheeks, embarrassed by talking about your sex life with a coworker, and had not been sure what to say to such a statement. However, at 29 weeks pregnant where only sweatpants and dresses feel comfortable, you find yourself grateful that someone took the opportunity to warn you. Why? Because it’s like an itch that you cannot scratch. 

You want Javier Peña all the goddamn time, not caring whether you will be the cause of rug burn to his poor manhood. You are a caged animal, stalking around restlessly in your enclosure because the confinement makes you stressed out and horny. There’s no time for decorum, no time to keep it together because it’s so torturous to have hormones raging through you that you have two options: Either you get down and dirty, getting fucked by him, or have a hissy fit that results in sobbing after flinging yourself onto the bed (a thing that often results in Javier doing his duty and pulling up the skirt of your dress with polite surrender).

Thankfully, not all days are that bad. Some days, the prickle of your skin and the ache between your thighs are nothing more than a dull sensation in the very back of your mind, a simmer that has a manageable warmth. It means you can take on the day without being on the verge of tears, suffering greatly if you aren’t touched.  

Today, however, is not such a day. 

Javier has been out of the house since sunrise, having kissed you goodbye in the morning in a way that has left you wanting more. His reason for leaving you to yourself all day hasn’t been unreasonable, spending his time as an unpaid ranch hand at his father’s farm. 

Meanwhile, you have been listening to the tick of the clock on the wall, waiting like a damsel in distress for him to come home and save you from the curse your body has you under. You have tried everything to satisfy the devil in you and you’ve gone as far as to keep your phone locked up in your bedroom so you wouldn’t text him to come back early. After all, Chucho has had a rough time during spring, and this summer has called for an extra field hand, a thing he cannot afford to pay for in his retirement. The way Javier is committed to his family is actually one of the things you love most about him, and also why you had convinced yourself that it was fine to have a day to yourself this morning. However, as the sun dips lower on the horizon, it becomes more evident that Javier can never leave this long again. 

Finally, as the evening drags on slowly and the sun starts painting the living room in yellows and oranges, you hear the sound of your husband’s truck pulling into the driveway. Your body responds immediately, your pulse spiking in the anticipation of the moment he walks in the door but there’s impatience in you unlike anything you have experienced before. 

You rush to the window to peer out at him and spot him just in time to see him stepping out onto the stone driveway and slamming the old door shut behind him. A thrill goes through you, a longing to be in his arms immediately and it is so profound that you feel your throat tightening with relieved tears at having him here. 

You cannot wait the minute it takes for him to walk inside, you decide, and so you rush to the front door and pull it open. You rush outside to greet him, your dress swooshing along your knees as you take quick steps. 

The second he sees you, you can feel yourself ready to melt into a puddle. He looks dusty and tired yet still smiles softly as his eyes meet yours. He is just about to greet you when you give him no chance to speak, wrapping your arms around his neck and catching his mouth in a deep, fervent kiss. He rests his hands on your hips and you think you might die if he doesn’t have you right here. 

“I missed you so bad,” you confess in a whine and find yourself unable to stop kissing him. You obscenely nip at his bottom lip, brush your tongue against the seam of his mouth, all the while murmuring in a desperate plea, “Don’t you ever leave your horny wife that long again.” 

When in need of catching your breath, you make the mistake of burying your face in the crook of his neck. You pant already from how worked up you are, your mouth feeling sensitive and swollen already from your make-out session. His scent is of the outdoors mixed with the sweat from hard labor, and as you pull back slightly to gaze upon your man, you see the damp patch on his black t-shirt around his neck, a testament to how gorgeous he has looked as he worked under the sun all day. 

Finally, as he is allowed to take a breath, a low chuckle falls from his mouth. There’s a tinge of desire in his voice as he speaks, “Let’s get you back inside the house, mi amor (my love). I fear what you might do out here.”

“Promise me you’ll fuck me,” you groan against his shoulder, at the mercy of your body and therefore not strong enough to play coy, to tease and make him chase you. You’re all his because his touch is the only remedy for your relentless yearning. 

“Te prometo, mamacita (I promise, mamacita),” he promises. He locks up the car, smiling to himself as he sees you fidgeting out of the corner of his eye. When he has pulled the handle a few times to make sure the truck is locked, he urges you to go back into the house.

When you start walking, you feel his broad hand rest on the small of your back and the car keys jingling from his thumb. You have to catch a feeble noise in your throat, your palms laying on your swollen belly to keep them busy. 

Once inside, Javier throws the car keys into a bowl on the side table next to the door. He marches across the room, boots heavy on the floorboards, and then lets himself fall down into the couch with an exhausted grunt. He reaches up to rub his eyes with the heels of his hands, sighing deeply from the satisfaction. 

You follow him around like a puppy would follow its owner, and when he doesn’t make any moves to fulfill your every desire this instant, you take matters into your own hands and show him that you are not playing around when you display your desperation. 

You waste no time straddling him, hiking up your dress enough for the only fabric between him and your core to be the cotton of your panties. It’s visible, the way his mouth goes dry, the way your beautiful pregnant body turns him on in a ridiculously short time. When his left hand touches your hip again and his right rests on your belly, rubbing soothingly, he silences every voice in your head. 

“Mi niña (my girl),” he coos when he has regained his composure and your whole body buzzes. He has a coy smile on his face, “You’re so beautiful up there.”

“How beautiful?” You ask, reaching between your bodies to undo the zipper on his usual jeans to get his cock out. He doesn’t protest, simply lets you take what you need from him until the edge has been taken off. He knows better than to dismiss your urgency when you have been deprived of his dick for an inhumanely long time. Instead, he reaches to slip a finger into the front of your panties and moves them to the side.

“More beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen in all my years on this Earth.” he charms with immediate success because you drag his jeans and underwear down just enough to be able to sink down on his bare cock and with no concern for his gnawing zipper. 

He groans while you gasp, your mouth falling open and your eyes blinking closed at the immediate relief of being stretched out by his generous size. He fits inside of you, large and pulsing against your fluttering walls and you find yourself already moving on top of him. 

“Fuck, you’re drenching me,” he murmurs gruffly beneath you, and yes, you are. Your pussy is soaked for him, squelching obscenely each time it takes him to the brim, “Is this all because of how I left you alone all day? How cruel of me. I made this pussy all wet.”

Usually, you would reply with something but you have been so desperate during the last few hours that you find yourself completely fucked out already. You move faster, greedy for release, and Javier says your name to no avail. 

Suddenly, his hand slides up your forearm and over your shoulder. It settles right at the base of your skull and it holds onto you firmly until you come back to him. He tilts your head so he can lock eyes with you. 

You whimper when his other hand stops your movements on his cock altogether, and it borders on embarrassing when your desperation causes you to tear up, “Please, Javi.”

“You’ve got such a greedy pussy today, mi amor (my love),” he tuts disapprovingly and holds you still. He seems almost like he would be content with just having your warm heat wrapped around him, squeezing him occasionally when you think about what he could be doing.

“I just want you so much, papí,” you moan pathetically and wiggle slightly in his lap. He nods while dragging his nails down your spine, testing you to see if you will behave in the seconds it takes to place his palms on your sides. 

“I know,” he says gently while cupping your waist, “Listen to me.”

You are wide-eyed and at your wit’s end. You’ll do anything to have him make you come. 

“I’m going to make you come on it,” he says and fucks up into you once, nearly making you fall off his lap from the surprise. He steadies you with his hands sliding across your skin to firmly hold onto your lower back, urging you to start rolling your hips back and forth instead of up and down, “And then I am going to make you sit on my face until you come on that too.” 

You swallow thickly, tiny mewls and moans escaping your mouth as you ride him slowly. You thoroughly love it when he directs you, takes care of you, and since getting pregnant, he knows how much you need him to make decisions before you throw a tantrum in your horniness. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He taunts without any meanness behind his words, clutching your body in his grip to keep you from falling into another vigorous pace, “To make your pussy feel good, hm? She happy now?”

“Mhm… Very happy,” you nod with a tiny smile, moving slowly in his lap because he isn’t allowing you anything more. He fills you repeatedly with each movement of your hips over his, the head of his cock threatening each time to slip out of you before he guides you to take him all the way again. It feels like heaven, your orgasm building slowly but steadily instead of rapidly. He knows you so well, knows how disappointing it would have been if it was over too soon. 

“You’re all I thought about today too,” he murmurs against your mouth when you dip down to kiss him, cupping his face and letting your thumbs caress his cheeks before you go further up to tug at his hair. Your hands are made to slide between the soft tufts, just like your body is made to melt into his arms. 

“Te quiero, te quiero, te quiero (I love you, I love you, I love you),” you repeat breathlessly, a little firmer in your pace. His cockhead catches at something just right inside of you and it makes you nearly double over into him. 

“Don’t rush it, mamí,” he tells you gently and maneuvers you to tilt your hips ever so slightly, “It’ll come. You’re so close. Fuck, I love you so much.”

You come so intensely from that slight change of angle that your vision blurs. It is deep and overwhelming, everything below your navel pulling at you before going off into squeezes of pure, indescribable ecstasy. Your voice cracks, your moans pitch, and you can hear Javier’s name tumble from your lips while you repeat just how much you’re there.

“I’m coming, fuck, I’m coming,” you groan with furrowed brows, pulling his face into your chest and feeling him kiss on top of the fabric of your dress. 

“I know, baby, I know,” he moans while you ride it out, “Fuck, I know you are. You’re taking it so fucking well.”

It takes a few long seconds for your climax to start fading. You rock in his lap until you cannot do it anymore, and then you come to a halt with him still settled deep inside you. He rubs your thighs to soothe and draws back a little to look at you while you pant from exertion. 

“Eres perfecta (You’re perfect),” he mumbles with awe, “Did that help, huh?”

You nod with a blissed-out expression, suddenly very aware of how much you were actually in distress because there’s a lightness to your very core. Your cheeks are warm, your heartbeat slowing after having pounded in your chest. 

“Let’s take this off,” he coos, helping you out of your dress completely. You haven’t worn a bra today since your breasts are sore and firm with milk, and so he has you in nearly all your glory while you are warming the length of his still-hard dick too. 

“That better?” He asks again, kissing the bare skin of your upper chest where you feel like you are burning up from not having undressed earlier. Eagerness comes with a price.

“Sí (Yes),” you mumble and inhale his scent while resting your cheek on top of his head. You swirl your hips to make him growl beneath you, “Your turn.”

“You think I’m done with you?” His voice is smug as he stills you on top of him again before his hand rubs along the curve of your pregnant belly, “You think I’d break my promise and let this pussy be all touch-starved? She needs more.” 

“But Javi,” you say with your brain still fuzzy, mind a jungle from how well he touches you. 

“Shut your brain down and take off your panties. I want to take care of my pregnant wife,” he orders with a peck to your slightly parted lips. He groans when you drag yourself off his cock, leaving a wet shine on the smooth skin. It slaps against his belly and forms a dark stain on his black t-shirt. 

You stand, albeit a little wobbly, in front of the couch and shimmy out of your underwear in the most elegant way possible with a pregnant belly. Then you watch him tug his jeans down his thighs and kick them off. He follows it up by ridding himself of his t-shirt too before rearranging himself on the sofa to make it easy for you both. He chooses to lie flat on his back, stretching his body, overworked from today’s farmwork, with a satisfied grunt while he waits for you to climb onto him. 

“Come here, mamacita,” he says when you straddle him carefully. He coaxes you to crawl forward by pushing gently on the back of your thighs. You always worry about smothering him like this, especially when pregnant, but he doesn’t ever complain, actually gets more enthusiastic about it than you. 

“¿Así? (Like this?)” You ask shakily when you hover just above his ravenous mouth. His breath ghosts over your cunt, cooling the slick slightly and driving you crazy. 

“Así, yes, just like that,” he replies. He reaches up and runs his index finger across your clit before spreading you open for his tongue, your body responding with a sharp intake of air, “You want me to touch you here, baby?” 

“Yeah, so badly,” you swallow around nothing and close your eyes, waiting patiently for him to stop his teasing. He is so good at this that the wait is awful.

“Yeah,” he repeats without mocking you, “My gorgeous wife is insatiable.”

Luckily, he doesn’t keep you waiting. His nose nudges you first then his mouth. He kisses your sensitive clit a few times before tensing up his tongue, it feeling silky smooth where you need it the most.

One of his strong hands rests on your swollen belly while the other scratches along the length of your thigh, creating nail marks that he soothes with his rough palm afterward. Simultaneously, his touch makes you relax further and settle more onto his face. 

“Use me, honey. I deserve to be used for how cruel I have been,” he hums below you before he stretches his neck and dives in to practically devour your cunt, You rock yourself back and forth with tiny gasps at the heat already tightening in your belly, his nose catching on your clit with every other grind of your hips to build another orgasm steadily. 

But despite how much he’d claim that he’s not aching to come, you wouldn’t believe it for a second. With a stretched-out arm behind you and your palm on his thigh to steady you, you lean back slightly so your other hand can reach for his still hard and ready cock. You wrap your fingers around him to earn a gasp against your core, the work of his tongue faltering for just a second.

You stroke him with the same hunger that he is showing you, working him to the edge while both of your moans bounce off the walls even if he is muffled by how enthusiastically he eats your pussy at the same time. 

He comes with his lips wrapped around your swollen clit, his body tensing up for a second until it releases with a groan. The sound is so hot that you grind a little harder on his skilled tongue, feeling how he pulses in your hand and coats it in thick stripes of his seed. 

He responds almost gratefully. Both hands settle on the small of your back to pull you forward onto your hands and knees. You try not to get come onto the couch, giggling in surprise through a moan of his name. But the laughter dies in your throat when he holds you firmly in place and slips one hand between your thighs again. 

He pushes two fingers into you while suckling expertly on your clit. You see stars begin to form on your eyelids, almost wail when he makes a come-hither motion towards your belly. 

It’s too much. It’s not enough. 

“I think… Javi, I’m gonna— Stop, I’ll—“ you cry when your thighs start to shake. He doesn’t relent, apparently knows exactly what he wants and he isn’t shy about it like you are. His fingers work fast, enough for your cunt to drool into his palm. 

And with that, you come one more time and the pressure it releases inside of you is so good that it makes you gush all over his chin. Your voice breaks into a high-pitched cry and he holds his fingers against that perfect spot inside of you, keeps them there while your orgasm peaks and you can’t help but apologize for how much you’re wetting his face.

When you think it is over, he drags the digits out slowly and shoves them back in. The pads of his fingers have you hunching over and gasping his name, another gush forcing its way past his fingers. He drinks your come as if he were a man in the desert, desperate and starved. 

You take it like a champ, trying not to squash him with how your thighs tighten around his head during the last few shocks of pleasure that he brings out of you, and eventually, you sag enough for him to help you back down into his lap. 

You are horrified by the sight of him at first, red-faced and bathed in your slick and come. However then you see the glint in his eyes, the lopsided grin that he gives you as he props himself up on an elbow. He is pussydrunk out of his mind. 

“How are you feeling now, mi vida (my life)?” He asks while reaching for his t-shirt with his free hand. He wipes his face with it, his eyes still glazed over with bliss and pride; the combination that only exists in a man who has just made his wife orgasm let alone gush all over him. 

“Forget about me,” you laugh breathlessly and use the t-shirt for your messy hand too, “How are you feeling?”

“Good. Very good,” he sits up to face you and lets you take the t-shirt out of his hands. He looks completely at your mercy, “You’re so fucking hot.”

“I bet,” you find a clean side of the garment to wipe at a spot he has missed then playfully swipe at his nose, “And thank you.”

“You’re welcome, mi amor (my love),” he whispers as he comes closer. He takes your wrist in his hand until you drop the t-shirt and then leans in for a long, drawn-out kiss that has your whole body weak. He guides your hand to his face and mirrors it with his own on your cheek. The look he gives you causes you to chew on your bottom lip, “Lo siento por hoy (I’m sorry about today).”

“You don’t have to apologize for your wife being a little crazy because of hormones,” you brush it off - after all, the aftermath always makes you look back on it and feel silly - but he just rests his forehead against yours and nods. 

“I know but I should have cleared it with you and with the baby, or at least have taken you with me,” he kisses your forehead and you feel how tired you are now, the sweet gesture grounding you even more than sex ever could. 

“As if we could have done anything about my little problem at your dad’s,” you try once again to let it slide. You rest your face in the crook of his neck, content with your naked vulnerability in his presence. 

“I would’ve found a way,” he jokes and earns a slap to his chest but then his tone grows serious. He buries his nose in your hair, “Eres todo para mi. Eres mi vida, mi esposa hermosa, la madre de mi hijo (You’re everything to me. You’re my life, my beautiful wife, the mother of my child).”

“Javi,” you look up at him shyly from where your head rests. He smiles down at you but mirrors your tone to tease and says your name. 

“Hablo en serio (I’m serious). I would do anything for you, mamá,” he adds, “And for our bebé.”

“Even fetch me - I mean us - a snack?” You grin, glowing with fondness for him but feeling nearly overwhelmed by his words in your state of bliss. He knows how much you love him though, knows it especially by how you look at him right now. 

“Especially fetch you a snack,” he wraps his arms around you to hug you tightly, your belly bumping against his, “What does the queen of this household want?”

“A strawberry milkshake?” You suggest hesitantly as if to make the request optional, “If it isn’t too much trouble.”

“A strawberry milkshake!” He repeats enthusiastically and makes you laugh, making the way he detangles himself from you easier even if you want him to never leave your side again.

“Who knew that growing a baby came with having a househusband,” you say while he gets up from the couch and helps you to lie down comfortably. He puts a pillow under your knees and one behind your back. The couch’s mess will have to wait. 

“It’s the full Javier Peña experience,” he leans down over you for one last kiss before he pushes himself to stand up straight once more. He doesn’t look at you as he continues, has already turned his back. You watch the way his muscles flex as he heads for the kitchen, shirtless and only in his boxers, “And I plan on doing it forever, mi reina (my queen).”

.

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If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[moonselune]

I've been playing alot of harvest moon/stardew recently and was wondering how the companions would react to a tav or durge prefering to settle down for the farming life post game. I know Shadowheart would love it anyway but Astarion would be the type to groan about the summer heat at times.

Btw love your work ❤️

Awh thank you! I freaking love stardew valley, I actually got to the point where I would see things in real life and be like oh i need that for my bundle...

Minthara:

Minthara had agreed to come with you back to your little patch of dirt. That was the first miracle.

She stood at the edge of the field, arms crossed, eyes narrowed at the rows of squash you'd lovingly planted weeks ago. Her elegant armor had been swapped—begrudgingly—for leather trousers and a dark green blouse with the sleeves rolled up. She claimed she only wore it because it “blended well with the shadows.”

In reality, she looked dangerously attractive, and you told her so often enough that it stopped earning you eye rolls.

“I still don’t see the appeal,” she muttered one morning, kneeling beside you in the loamy soil as you both weeded a row of carrots. “Endless dirt. Scratching at the ground like a deep gnome grub. You truly believe this is more fulfilling than conquering the Underdark?”

You grinned, pushing your hair back and letting the sun warm your face. “The carrots don’t scream when I pull them out of the ground.”

Minthara snorted—an actual laugh, short and sharp. She caught herself, frowning like she hadn’t meant to let it slip.

“I could grow mushrooms,” she said after a pause. “Real mushrooms. Not these surface-dwelling imitations.”

You perked up. “You want to farm?”

“I do not want to farm,” she snapped, yanking a weed a little too aggressively. “I simply think someone must bring standards to this pitiful excuse for agriculture.”

That night, you caught her carefully organizing mushroom spores in neat rows in the shaded part of the garden, whispering Drow words of encouragement under her breath.

And every evening, she helped you without complaint. She said it was only because you were “hopeless on your own,” but there was a softness in her touch when she handed you tools, when she brushed dirt from your face. Once, she found a fat, horned beetle in the lettuce patch and spent nearly an hour observing it before letting it crawl onto her hand and releasing it at the edge of the forest.

“I could get used to this,” she murmured that night, curled beside you on the porch. The stars glittered above like Underdark crystal formations, distant and sharp.

“You already have,” you whispered back.

She didn’t argue.

Karlach:

Karlach loved it from the very first moment she stepped onto the farm.

“This place is sick!” she bellowed, boots thudding across the dirt as she chased one of the goats around the field. “Look at this little beastie—oh, she’s got attitude! Just like me!”

You could barely keep up with her enthusiasm.

Where you had slowly learned the rhythm of the fields, Karlach plunged headfirst into it—planting, harvesting, repairing fences with her bare hands. She named every single animal and gave them nicknames too. Your prize ram? “Sir Headbutt.” The hen with the limp? “Motherclucker”

You’d wake some mornings to find her sitting in the barn, curled up with your herd of goats, one snoring against her shoulder as she scratched behind its ears.

You stood in the doorway, arms folded. “I’m starting to think you love the goats more than me.”

Karlach looked up, grinning that wild, warm grin. “Babe. You don’t chew cud and you hog the blankets. These little sweeties are pure, no complaints.”

You made a show of gasping in betrayal, and she laughed so hard she nearly toppled into the hay.

She was clumsy with gardening, planting seeds so deep they never saw the light of day, but she didn’t care.

“I’m all about the brawn of the operation, baby!” she said, hoisting a broken fence post like a weapon of war. “You’re the one with the gentle hands. You’re the heart. I’m just the muscle.”

You couldn’t count how many times you found her fixing things, adding improvements. She built a rainwater system for the fields, oiled the hinges of every barn door, and even made a small, hand-carved sign with all the names of the animals.

She hung it crooked on purpose.

And on summer days, when the sun burned and the sweat clung to your back, she'd scoop water straight from the well and splash it over both of you, laughing as you sputtered.

“You look good with dirt on your nose,” she’d say, brushing it off with her calloused thumb.

And you’d smile, because she was the kind of fire that didn’t burn—it warmed. And here, among the goats and gardens and peace, her flame could finally just... flicker, without fear.

Lae'zel:

No one had expected Lae’zel to take well to the slow life of a farm. She had always been all sharp angles, roaring fire, and a blade ready at a moment’s notice. But then again—no one had expected her to stay, either. And she did. With you.

What none of you accounted for was how seriously she’d take the training of the livestock.

"These creatures lack discipline!" she declared one morning, standing in the field, arms crossed and unimpressed as a trio of goats casually ignored her barking orders and continued to gnaw on the same patch of fence they’d been told—repeatedly—not to chew.

She turned to you, eyes narrowed. “Do they understand Common?”

"They understand,” you said, trying not to laugh as a particularly rebellious chicken pecked at her boot. “They just don’t care.”

You would have offered to help, but you were too busy melting at the sight of Xan, the tiny Githyanki infant wrapped securely to her chest in a sling you had made together. Lae’zel had first insisted that she didn’t need it—that she could carry her hatchling in her arms at all times like a proper warrior—but even she couldn’t argue with the convenience of two free hands. Especially for chicken combat.

You’d find her some mornings standing in the pasture, her face serious as she recited commands to the goats and hens like they were soldiers on a battlefield. "Form ranks! Maintain spacing! No, Clucker, no! That is not your perch—”

And all the while, little Xan would nap contentedly against her, a bundle of soft green skin and big yellow eyes, utterly unmoved by the chaos of the yard. Occasionally he’d gurgle and tug at her leathers with one hand. Every time you saw the two of them, your heart swelled nearly to bursting.

You leaned against the fence one afternoon, watching as a pig stubbornly refused to move out of Lae'zel's designated “training circle.”

“You know,” you said, grinning as she glared at it with more intensity than she had ever shown a goblin, “maybe farming isn’t about commanding obedience.”

“It should be,” she replied sharply. “They would be more efficient.”

Still, you saw her lips twitch when a goat headbutted her in protest. And she didn’t stop them from clambering all over her later when you both sat in the grass and let Xan play in the sun.

Shadowheart:

The house was small, sun-dappled, and always smelled like hay and something baking. Scratch lay sprawled across the front steps most days, belly-up, completely spoiled. The owlbear—too big for the barn, too curious to be penned—had taken to nesting in the orchard, gently knocking apples from the trees like it was performing some kind of divine rite.

Shadowheart had fallen in love with it all faster than even she expected.

You found her in the mornings tending to the goats with a quiet, practiced grace, her long hair tied up messily, a smear of dirt across one cheek that she never noticed. Her cleric’s robes had been replaced with linen tunics and earth-toned skirts—though her armor still hung by the door, just in case.

“What happened to the chicken pen?” you asked once, only to be met with a long sigh and her pointing silently toward Scratch—muddy, feather-covered, and absolutely unrepentant.

You were never alone. Not really. The animals had adopted you both. Scratch followed you everywhere. The owlbear guarded the house like it was the holiest temple. You even had a few stray cats that Shadowheart swore she didn’t feed, but you caught her slipping them treats more often than not.

Still, there was one part of the land she hadn’t explored yet—because you were keeping it a secret.

You worked on it in the evenings, tucked away behind the western slope of the hill. A dozen rows of posts were driven deep into the soil, with the first few vines already climbing, green tendrils reaching for the sky. You’d been studying grape varieties, borrowing books from Gale, and mapping sun paths like your life depended on it.

And finally, one golden evening, you took her hand and said, “There’s something I want to show you.”

She followed without question, her fingers warm in yours, and when you rounded the hill, her breath caught.

“You—” she started. “You planted a vineyard?”

“For us,” you said simply. “I know you love wine. I thought… one day, you could make your own.”

She stared in stunned silence, eyes glossy in the light.

“This is…” Her voice trembled, and she smiled so wide you saw the dimples that only showed when she was truly, deeply happy. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it.”

“I do.” She launched herself at you, arms thrown around your neck, kissing you with such fervor that you stumbled backward into the half-dug earth. “You sappy, wonderful thing. I don’t deserve you.”

“You absolutely do,” you whispered, burying your face in her hair.

And from the other side of the hill, the owlbear let out a low hoot of approval—promptly followed by Scratch barking and barreling toward the two of you like a freight train.

“You know,” Shadowheart said as you braced for impact, “we might have too many animals.”

“I regret nothing.”

Jaheira:

Jaheira had said no at first.

She’d crossed her arms, brow furrowed in that eternally war-hardened way, and declared she was not the “settling down type.” A Harper, a druid, a warrior—too much duty still ran in her blood, and she wasn’t one to lie to herself.

And yet, you often found her on the porch in the morning, sleeves rolled up, tending to the basil or trimming back the ivy that tried to swallow the trellis. Her hands were calloused, steady, already shaped by years of coaxing life from the soil—and the moment she touched the earth here, she remembered. Not war. Not rebellion.

Peace.

She fit into the rhythm of the farm as if she’d always belonged. Milking the goats, harvesting herbs, reorganizing the tool shed within an inch of its life.

“A sharpened blade is less likely to betray you than a dull one,” she’d say when she caught you leaving shears in the dirt. You tried—gently—to get her to stop sometimes.

“Jaheira,” you’d say, handing her a mug of tea in the shade, “you’re supposed to relax. Remember that? The whole ‘breathing’ thing?”

She’d huff, but her smile would betray her.

“I’ll rest when the tomatoes stop growing unevenly,” she’d mutter, before adding with quiet fondness, “Besides… this is good work. Healing work.”

And the best days—the very best days—were when her children visited.

The younger ones would come tumbling down the trail with satchels and stories, running up to greet their mother, who stood like a pillar of strength at the garden gate. The number of times Jaheira had to pry Fig from a scarecrow as she was practising her 'wrestling moves' was one too many. You’d watch her soften visibly, smile lines crinkling, arms open as they piled into her.

They helped with the animals, with mixed results. One of them always ended up covered in chicken feathers, another face-first in a flowerbed, and Jaheira would roll her eyes while secretly delighting in every second of it.

It was domestic. Soft. Loud and messy and full of warmth.

Every now and then, you’d catch her staring out over the fields as the sun set, a quiet melancholy in her eyes. You knew she felt the pull of Harper duty—that someday, she’d have to return to that life. But she never pulled away from this one.

And you never stopped reminding her: “This moment is yours. Don’t let it slip away.”

Gale:

Gale loved farm life. Maybe a bit too much.

He delighted in every step of the process—from sowing seeds to baking fresh bread in the stone oven. He was the first to rise (with magically summoned coffee, of course), and the last to go to bed, always muttering about “optimal composting cycles” and “rotational planting enchantments.”

You never had to worry about the crops failing. Not when Gale enchanted the soil to stay perfectly moist and fertile. Not when your scarecrow occasionally waved to you and politely asked for new clothes.

And that might’ve been fine.

Until he started taking the produce to Blackstaff Academy.

"Look at this carrot!" he’d proclaim with the glee of a proud parent, holding up a perfectly orange, absolutely normal vegetable.

Then he’d bring it back.

And it would be the size of a horse’s leg, glowing faintly, humming with a magical pulse, and—for reasons unknown—smelling like cinnamon.

"Gale!" you’d exclaim. "It’s a carrot. It does not need to be arcane-tuned!"

“But imagine the nutritional value!” he’d insist, delighted. “It now increases constitution by two points for an hour! Also, I added a small glamour charm—look, it sparkles in the moonlight!”

You buried your face in your hands. “It was for stew. Now it looks like it is for a health potion with a beard.”

The tomatoes came back one week with eyes and a faint sense of existential dread. The potatoes exploded on contact with fire. A single cucumber once tried to recite Elminister.

You instituted a new rule: No magical alterations unless specifically requested.

Gale apologized with his signature dramatic charm, bowing deeply and presenting you with a bouquet of roses (grown in your garden, made of light, that sang quietly when touched). You forgave him. Eventually.

You did catch him sneaking a pumpkin to his satchel the next week. You pretended not to see it.

After all, the man who once swallowed a Netherese orb deserved a little whimsy.

But gods help him if your wine starts talking.

Astarion:

The summer sun blazed above your little stretch of farmland, turning the sky into a wide, cloudless expanse of light and heat. Cicadas sang from the trees. The golden fields shimmered. You were sweating through your shirt, but you'd gotten used to it by now. Not everyone had, though.

“I am wilting,” Astarion declared from the shade of a fig tree, fanning himself with a piece of parchment and looking like the most glamorous corpse in Faerûn.

You were knee-deep in the garden bed, dirt up to your elbows, pulling weeds with the satisfied sort of grunt that only came from knowing your tomatoes were going to thrill the next farmer’s market.

“You know, you are wearing a magical ring that lets you walk in the sun,” you reminded him, not even glancing back.

“Yes, and I am grateful,” he said in a tone that was both long-suffering and exasperated. “But that doesn’t mean I must enjoy it. Honestly, do farms not understand the concept of ‘shade’? Or a cool breeze? Or a bloody parasol?”

You chuckled and wiped sweat from your brow. “I can take the ring back, you know. Could always go back to lurking in crypts and brooding in velvet.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then: “How dare you.”

You turned just in time to see him stalk toward you, predator grace still intact despite his muttering.

“That was a threat, wasn’t it?” he said, tone mock-scandalized. “You’d condemn me to a shadowed existence just to win this argument?”

Before you could get a word out, Astarion planted both hands on your chest and shoved. You stumbled backward with a yelp, landing with a mighty splash in the nearby pond, water closing over your head with a slap. When you surfaced, spitting water and pushing your hair out of your face, he was at the edge of the pond, arms folded, grinning.

“Next time you threaten to take away my precious accessories,” he said smugly, “perhaps you’ll remember who you’re dealing with.”

“Oh, I remember,” you said, swimming toward him with a grin of your own. “I also remember that you’re a terrible swimmer.”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t you—!”

You grabbed his ankle and yanked. Astarion screeched like an offended seagull as he tumbled in after you, limbs flailing in the most elegant way a vampire can flail. The water swallowed him with a splash, and when he resurfaced, gasping, you were already laughing.

“Well,” you said, treading water beside him. “You’re cool now.”

His curls were plastered to his forehead, pale skin gleaming with pond water, clothes clinging in all the right places.

“I loathe you,” he hissed, completely unconvincing as he waded toward you.

“You love me,” you replied, and when he tried to dunk you under, you laughed even harder. He did try to drown you (with affection), and the pond echoed with splashes and laughter long into the afternoon.

Wyll:

Wyll loved the farm. Really, truly loved it. He dove into farm life with the same unshakable optimism he brought to battle: sleeves rolled up, a bright smile on his face, and an absolutely terrible sense of crop rotation.

“Look!” he said, beaming, holding up a vaguely wilted carrot. “That’s my fifth one! It only took me six tries!”

The carrot was... lopsided. And slightly blue.

You peered at it. “Wyll... did you plant it next to Gale’s ‘experimental vegetables’ again?”

He gave you a sheepish grin. “Maybe?”

Despite his noble upbringing, Wyll took to labor like it was second nature. He loved feeding the chickens (even if they pecked at his boots), singing as he milked the goats (who responded by trying to eat his shirt), and tending the soil (even if he constantly mixed up which plants needed full sun or partial shade).

But he tried. Gods, did he try.

He’d wake up before sunrise to help gather eggs and bring you wildflowers with muddy fingers and a bashful smile. He gave names to every single pumpkin, saluted the cows like old comrades, and taught the pigs how to sit. (One of them sort of learned. You suspected it was coincidence.)

The vegetables he harvested often ended up a little too bruised, or crooked, or tiny—but he presented them with the proud air of someone who had just defeated a demon lord.

“This one’s for you,” he’d say, placing a funny little beet in your hand like it was a diamond.

And honestly? It was perfect. Because Wyll’s joy was infectious. His laughter echoed over the fields. His presence made every sunrise feel warmer, every day brighter. Even if his corn always grew sideways.

“I might not be the best farmer,” he’d admit, rubbing the back of his neck, “but I’m exactly where I want to be.”

And when you kissed him, fingers brushing dirt from his cheek, you couldn’t help but agree.

Halsin:

If anyone was born to thrive on a farm, it was Halsin.

Where others groaned about early mornings and sore backs, Halsin greeted the day with that warm, deep voice and a calm certainty that made the roosters crow more enthusiastically. Shirtless more often than not, with the morning light catching on his golden skin and broad shoulders, he looked like a god of the harvest incarnate—muscles flexing as he hefted hay bales like they were pillows.

You tried not to gawk every time he wiped the sweat from his brow with the hem of his tunic.

(You failed often.)

“I thought you were a druid,” you teased one day, leaning on a fencepost, watching him load the cart with fresh hay. “Shouldn’t you be turning into a bear and napping under trees or something?”

Halsin smiled, the kind of smile that settled in your bones like warmth. “Being one with nature doesn’t mean shying away from hard work. Besides, the goats get nervous when I shift. And they like it when I talk to them.”

He said this while gently stroking the head of a particularly moody billy goat, who stared up at him like he hung the moon.

You raised a brow. “Are you telling them secrets?”

“I’m telling them not to eat your herb garden,” he said. “Again.”

It wasn’t just his strength or his ease with the animals—it was the way Halsin belonged here. The land responded to him. Trees leaned in closer. The soil felt richer. Even the bees seemed to hover around him longer than they should’ve. And when the chores were done and you sat together beneath the old oak with your hands dirty and your hearts full, it felt like everything was in balance.

He never rushed you, never questioned your need for this life. He only helped shape it into something stronger, steadier. More alive.

And when he pressed a kiss to your temple after a long day, murmuring about stew for dinner and the chickens needing checking, and building some new play equipment for the goats -and the orphans, you couldn't help but smile.

Because your druid? He wasn’t just a bear in the forest. He was the heart of this little farm.

OMG how freaking wholesome was this, I did it more as a drabble style as I kinda had rambling thoughts about this, but I hope you guys enjoyed this! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[sturniolosangel]

save a horse ride a?

warnings: best friend dynamic, innocent bambi!reader, experienced!matt, flirting, kissing, thigh riding, corruption in a way, not proof read as always

a/n: first day of kinktober baby! i really hope you guys enjoy the whole month of fics! this is just a small of what big things are coming all puns intended. as always i🤍u

summary: reader is starting to obsessed over the farm life especially cowboys. what happens when matt takes her to the country and dresses the part?

i sat happy in front of matt as he showed me an air bnb he rented for the two of us on the country side. “matt i didn’t think you would actually book the trip” i spoke softly. “of course anything for you but go pack your bags we leave tomorrow morning” he replied back. i sat up almost skipping to my bedroom to pack up my stuff.

once i was done grabbing all of my things it was around 8pm and matt said he had ordered food so i walked downstairs to meet him. “love hurry the foods gonna get cold” he slightly raised his voice. “i’m here calm down” i giggled. i sat with him as i put on a show while matt go the food ready.

as soon as we were done eating i was wiped out an ready for bed. “matt come onn im tired” i grabbed his hand dragging him up the steps.

the next morning..

me and matt are sitting in the car his hand on my thigh as he drove. “we’re here i’ll help you get your stuff just go unlock the door the code is 5555” matt spoke lightly as he got up. “on it” i smiled as i got up to the door.

all of our stuff was now unpacked and matt had planned horse riding for us so i started to get ready. i chose a red and white plaid dress and some brown cowgirl boots. “love! are you almost ready we have to leave soon” matt yelled from down the steps. “yeah i’m about to be done” i yelled back.

i walked down the steps to meet a very hot matt with a red and black plaid button up with a black cowboy hat. i felt a werid feeling in my body as a wet patch started to grow in my underwear. “so how do i look?” matt ask softy. “really good you know i gotta thing for cowboys” i whispered back. matt smirked as he grabbed his keys and waved his hand to follow him outside.

we arrived to farm as i saw all the pretty horses. “i want that one” i said as i pointed to white one. “i want this one” matt replied to the black one ironically standing next to the white one. i giggled as the instructor helped us get each of the horses.

i already knew how to ride a horse but seeing matt struggle was the best part. as the horse picked up the saddle rubbed in the right spot as i gasped out. matt came next to me on his horse “you okay” he asked “yeah just fine” i replied as i blushed.

matt was now infront of me and god did he look good. this unfamiliar feeling rose in my body again and i felt like i had an itch that i couldn’t scratch. when we were done i make sure to get a picture of matt and us with the horses.

as we got back to the air bnb i had to ask matt about what i was feeling was bothering me so bad i felt like i was gonna burst. “matt.. can you please come here” i called out from the bedroom. i could hear footsteps getting closer. “yeah what’s wrong love?” he said coming into the room.

“i feel something very weird and i think i might need help” i spoke softly. “what’s it that you’re feeling” he questioned. “it’s like an urge down there and i have no idea what to do like it almost hurts” i said embarrassed. matt seem to understand and wasn’t confused at all “come here baby” he patted his thigh.

i got up and sat up on his thigh and wrapped my hands around his neck. “can you help me?” i questioned desperately. “i got you, just be patient” he whispered. he grabbed my waist as he slowly rocked my hip back and forth on his jeans. i threw my head back as i felt some relief.

“feels really good matt” he took my face in his palm an connected our lips. i groaned into his mouth as my hips started to move on their own. he disconnected our lips to lift me up to my feet to reach his hands under my dress to slide off my panties.

“sit back down baby” he spoke a little more demanding. i sat back down on his thigh as i felt a new type of feeling. he pushed on my waist to add pressure as i rocked my now bare pussy against him. “fuck..” i moaned out.

matt took his flannel off and threw it on the floor leaving him with a black tank on. his lips started to leave kisses along my neck and his hands started to kneed my boobs through my dress. my hips bucked onto his thigh not knowing how this could feel so good. “matt i need to feel your touch.. please” i whined out.

“like this baby” his thumb started to rub my clit as my eyes rolled back and my back arched. “yes! fuck that feels amazing” i almost screamed out.

i felt the pressure build up in my stomach as i put my head in his neck as my hand slide up to his cowboy head and gripped my fingers around it. “that’s it love keep going you’re doing so good” matt spoke into my ear.

i picked up my paste as i felt the wetness spread onto his pants. “matt i think im gonna!…” before i could finished i was cumming all over matt’s leg as i gripped on his shirt and my legs started to shake. “good girl you feel better now?” matt said rubbing my back.

“so much better matt but i’m so tired” i spoke cuddling my head into his neck. “it’s okay baby we’ll go get a bath” he picked me up and took me to the bathroom as he sat me on the counter and started the bath. he started to take my clothes off and his and he picked me up once again and sitting us in the bathtub.

“if you ever have the feeling when you’re with me tell me you know i’ll always help my baby” he whispered. i rolled my head back onto his chest. “of course who else would i be so comfortable with asking” i said slowly closing my eyes to relax.

liked by matthew.sturniolo, christophersturniolo, madisonbeer and 1,275,529 others.

yn.yln: how does it go.. save a horse ride a? @/ matthew.sturniolo

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liked by yn.yln, christophersturniolo, nicolassturniolo, and 1,100.637 others.

mathewsturniolo: maybe the farm life isn’t that bad @/ yn.yln

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a/n: i’m sorry this took me forever to get out today but trust everything will be posted everyday just takes time. i hope you enjoyed the little insta post at the end as well trying some new things! also some tags aren’t working so bare with me! i🤍u

taglist! @mattsbitchh @st7rnioioss @sweetlikesug4rvenom @ivysturnss @lormyaaa @slut4m4tt @sarahlovesyoualot @ilovemattsturniolo35 @melspam @daisy011 @matts-myloverboy @tsturniolo4 @mattsturnswife

[n0rmal-cat]

Farmer yan x reader- naming and claiming

[ok it gets kinda NSFW near the end]

It had been a long day, farmer come stumbling up the stairs to the bedrooms.

His shirt dirty and stained from work in the field, blisters and cuts mark his hands.

Once he got into the bedroom he started to undress. He took a deep breath flopped backwards onto the bed.

It had been one of the worst days he ever had, he consistently kept getting splinters from using his tool even with his gloves. His animals seeming wanted him to suffer as they kept pushing him in the mud.

"Rough day?” Reader sat on the bed next to him kitten in their lap.

Reader runs their hand through his hair

“I can’t tell if that’s sweat or your just turning into goo” they said jokingly

Farmer groaned and rolled over to look up at reader. “Ugh don’t remind me doll, I can already feel the mud drying” His eyes tired.

Farmer sat up quickly and narrowed his eyes at them “And why don’t you have mud all over you? Come to think of it, I didn't see you outside all day” he complained.

“Well…someone needed to look after them” they gestured to the kitten in their lap

“Why couldn’t I be the one to take care of them…” he muttered

“Because unlike you I’ve dealt with cats before” they raised her up to farmers face “but she’s glad that her dad is finally home” they smile.

The word ‘dad’ did not go unnoticed to him.

He grumbles a bit, before he can complain any more the kitten rubs its face against his.

Farmer sighs a little but his eyes also softened, it was true he knew a lot about animals, but mainly farm variety…

He gently held the kitten in his hands. “Have you named her yet?”

“I’ve come up with a few, but I didn’t want to name her without you being here” they explained

“Like what?” He asks looking back at them while he gently scratches the kitten's chin.

“Well there’s ’October’ for one, I’ve also come up with peekaboo on the count of her one eye, or hey farmer jr works to”

He chuckled “well aren’t you ridiculous one”

“October” he said thoughtfully “I like that one…”

He then picked up the kitten again and held her up in front of them “What do you think, little one? You like that name?”

It licked his with her rough tongue, “haha I knew that one would be your favourite, mostly because you know what October was and not ‘peekaboo’…” they trailed off

“I like the months of the year, October is a good harvest” he glared “if I could I would change your name, reader doesn’t make sense? Your name should be September”

He played with the cat in his lap, dangling his finger as she swatted them.

“Oh so I’m the weird one?” They as almost sounded offended “You eat people for every meal and I’m the weird one really?”

He gently set the kitten on the bed before wrapping his hands around readers' hips pulling them closer to him. “And if my memory serves me correctly, you like that I do” His face darkened as more eyes opened across his face

“I could rip and tear through that flesh of yours, would you like that dear” he guided their face in his direction.

Reader face immediately became hot as a stove top “shut up asshole!”

He chuckled, pulling them even closer so that they were almost sitting on his lap.

“Such a filthy mouth you have darling, and yet you’re so heated right now. I wonder what you’re thinking about hm?” He squinted his eyes playfully.

“A filthy mouth and a naughty mind no doubt, and in front of our daughter” he gasped “how vile”

Reader was speechless, “oh dear, looks like our poor little reader has lost their voice” he said sarcastically “Oh no~ that won’t do at all”

He leaned his face closer to theirs, their breath hitting each other’s lips. “I wonder if I can get those pretty sounds out of you another way~” he held list in his eyes

Reader could do nothing but stutter out a few words “w-what’s gotten into you today?!”

He smirked before biting their bottom lip. “Well let’s see, I don’t think I’ve gotten my daily dose of my little pest have I? Not my fault you decide to stay indoors all day”

He pressed his face into their neck, leaving light kisses then licking across it. “Plus I’ve had such an awful day today, won’t you help me make it better?”

He had never been so forward with them before, they kinda…liked this? “F-fine whatever…”

“Oh good.” He grabbed them and threw them down onto the bed he leaned over them, keeping them pinned in between their arms.

“I’m glad you’re so compliant today, you’re usually so mouthy sometimes, always running that pretty mouth of yours. “ he said before kissing their head gently.

“But before anything…” reader waited in anticipation “I need to get October out of the room and into her playpen, can’t let her see us can we?” He got off of them with a laugh.

Reader laid on the bed fist clenched, body stiff, face so hot you could see steam as they waited for farmer to come back into the room.

They knew it was probably going to be a long…eventful night.

[olivethewriter]

The Theory of Clark Kent

You were the new girl in Smallville.

You’d just moved into your cousin Chloe’s townhouse to finish high school, and as much as you didn’t exactly dream of a town where cows outnumber people, you tried to stay positive. You kept your head down, focused on school, and did your own thing—varsity sports, a 4.0 GPA, and a part-time job at The Talon.

But no matter how much you tried to do your own thing, Chloe’s friend group kind of swallowed you whole. Which would’ve been fine… if it weren’t for him.

Clark Kent.

Chloe’s annoying, snarky, do-gooder best friend. You couldn’t stand him, as a matter of fact you despised him. And you were pretty sure the feeling was mutual. It wasn’t just the fake boy-next-door act either. It was how he always had to compete with you.

You were used to being the best. The smartest. The fastest. The one teachers praised and students envied. But then came Clark, all tall and humble with his stupid blue eyes and casual perfection. If you got the highest grade in the class on a math test? Clark beat your score—in another period. You crushed the fitness exam in P.E.? Clark doubled your reps and didn't even break a sweat.

“Sorry I beat your score, superstar,” he’d say, looking down at you like the universe itself handed him the win. “Someone’s gotta keep things interesting.”

“Oh, buzz off, farm boy,” you’d snap, rolling your eyes and stomping away.

Your rivalry only got worse from there. You started studying more. You even baked your (evil) history teacher muffins. But the worst part? You couldn’t explain why Clark Kent got under your skin the way he did. Maybe it was because he was too perfect—athletic, smart, kind. Suspiciously kind.

Then everything shifted.

It happened late one night when you were closing at The Talon. You were taking the trash out when, out of the corner of your eye, you saw someone messing with Chloe’s car—the one you’d borrowed.

“Hey! Back off!” you called. But if the guy heard you he didnt let it show. So you approached. Stupid, in hindsight, but it wasn’t like you were going to just let him steal it. You were inches away when he turned and shoved you against a brick wall.

You kicked, punched, flailed, screamed. You were sure you were doomed when suddenly, the pressure lifted. The weight disappeared. And instead, there were those familiar blue eyes, lit up in the dark like some kind of divine intervention.

Clark.

Without thinking, you threw your arms around him, clinging to him like he was the last solid thing on Earth. But once the adrenaline wore off, you jumped back like he was a live wire. Your brain was filled with questions.

“How did you get here so fast?” you blurted. “What were you doing out here?”

He scratched the back of his neck, looking guilty as hell. “I was… getting coffee?”

“Here? At 10 p.m.?” you raised your eyebrows

He offered to drive you home, and you let him—mostly because your legs were shaking, and your eyes were still welling with tears.

But after that night, you couldn’t unsee it. The weirdness. The speed. The perfectly timed rescues. The way he caught you that one time before you tripped, like he knew before you did.

You paid attention. Watched. Waited. And when the pieces started coming together, you set a trap…

You invited Clark to the old grain mill. Climbing to the top level, you looked out over the edge, feeling the height in your bones. Clark stood a few feet behind you, confused but curious.

“Listen, Clark,” you began, voice steady. “You’re super fast. Strong. You lift things like they weigh nothing. And you’re always there. Always. Just before something happens.”

His smile dropped. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you’re different.”

“I’m not,” he said quickly. “I’m just like everyone else.”

You could tell he was lying. The way his jaw clenched. The rehearsed tone. He’d said this before—to someone else, maybe even to himself.

“So Clark, you’re telling me if I jumped off this building right now, I’d just fall? Die? And I wouldn’t find you at the bottom waiting to catch me?” You raised your brows, fighting a smirk. You knew you had won. 

“Y/N, please don’t,” he said, voice suddenly panicked. “I won’t be there. Just come down and I’ll explain, okay? I promise.”

“Okay,I'll come down” you said—and jumped.

The wind roared past you, but you barely felt it. A second later, you were weightless in warm, steady arms. When you opened your eyes, you saw his—blue, wide, terrified.

“OH MY GOD, why would you do that?!” he practically shouted, setting you down.

“I didn’t die,” you said, brushing dust off your shoulders. “And… I proved my theory.”

Clark looked—pissed. Like, actually mad, you couldn't help but think this was the first time you had seen him angry. “You did all that… for a theory?”

You crossed your arms. “Yes. It’s not like I could’ve just asked you. Because news flash—I tried.”

His jaw clenched. Then his eyes softened.

“I wasn’t trying to lie. I just didn’t want you to think I was some kind of freak.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Clark, you literally have superpowers. ‘Freak’ isn’t the word that comes to mind.”

“Really? Then what is?”

You shrugged. “Special, maybe. Or different. Or just… heroic.”

He let out a breath of a laugh. “I’m no hero.”

“Are you sure?” you asked. “Because you’re always trying to save people. That sounds pretty heroic to me. I mean, you have saved me twice now, most guys would’ve just asked me out by now—but you’re out here catching me mid-fall.”

You smiled at him, soft and teasing. He blushed.

“Clark?”

“Mmhmm?”

“When are you going to kiss me?”

You didn’t have to wait long.

His hands cupped your face gently, thumbs brushing your cheeks as he leaned in. His lips met yours in a way that was soft and warm and just a little unsure, like he wasn’t totally convinced this was real.

But it was real.

One of his hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer as his mouth moved against yours. Your hands found his hair, fingers curling through the soft strands as your heart thudded hard in your chest. When he deepened the kiss, his tongue brushed yours, slow and curious, and you didn’t pull away—you leaned in, kissing him like you’d been waiting all year for this exact moment.

You both pulled back slowly, a little breathless. His forehead rested against yours, and you caught the tiny, smug smile tugging at his lips.

“Who’s keeping things interesting now, farm boy?” you whispered.

You grabbed his hand and started toward your car.

And for once, Clark Kent didn’t race you.

[swarvey]

how they react to you getting hurt | sdv x g/n reader (part two)

part one

paper rings - harvey x reader

a/n: part two with the rest of the bachelors ! let me know if you guys want to see the bachelorettes <3

—

alex

this big softie starts to blame himself when he sees you with scratches and bruises

insists on following you on your adventures from that day forward

pretty much acts as a personal bodyguard for a week

you wince as you rub a disinfectant pad on the large scratch on the side of your arm, thankful your husband isn't due to be home for another couple of hours. he worries enough about you as is — the last thing he needs is something to feed his paranoia, as cute as it is. just as you're about to apply some ointment on your arm, you hear the front door open, alex's familiar voice ringing through the house.

"baby, i'm home!" he calls out, voice as bright as ever. you hear your pet pattering over to greet him. "aw, hey buddy! where's y/n, huh? have you seen 'em?" you swear under your breath as your pet betrays you, leading alex straight towards the bedroom. "are you in there, honey? grams didn't need as much help as i thought—"

you hear him suck in a sharp breath at the sight of you and the first aid kit spread out across the bed.

"i'm fine," you assure. he ignores you, eyes glued to your injured arm as he makes his way to the bed. "seriously, it's not even that bad."

"here, let me do it," he says, and you swear you've never heard him speak so softly. blinking in shock, you hand the bottle of ointment over to him, watching as he gently begins to apply it.

"alex, you're scaring me a bit," you half-joke. he's never been one to be so silent. "it's okay—"

"it's not, though!" your eyes widen as alex looks at you with gleamy eyes. "see, i knew you'd get hurt one day, and i still let you go off and do all these things alone. i should've been there to help you." his head bows in shame, and your heart breaks. "i'm sorry. i'll be by your side next time, i promise."

shaking your head, you wrap your unhurt arm around his neck and pull him into a hug. he gladly hides his face in your shoulder, his arms holding onto your midsection tightly.

"alex, there's nothing to be sorry for," you reassure, rubbing his back to provide some comfort. "this is part of my job, it's what i signed up for." he pulls away suddenly to look at you with serious eyes.

"then quit!" he exclaims. "i'll do it all, you can teach me."

you laugh. "as much as i love you, you are not taking over my grandfather's farm."

"well, i'll just do everything with you, then." alex nods to himself, grabbing the roll of bandages from the kit and beginning to wrap your arm. his eyes widen when he notices the bruises on your legs. "how did this even happen?"

"oh, i was gathering hardwood and some slimes snuck up on me. i fell, but i was able to fight them off." no response. "alex?" a dark look comes over your husband's face.

"get me a sword."

"what?!"

sebastian

seb is one of the bachelors i see respecting your strength the most, always subtly bragging about your fighting skills and the work you do on the farm (sam and abigail are thoroughly impressed)

that being said, he is all the more startled when he sees you limping home from the clinic after nearly passing out from exhaustion

tries to keep his cool, as he always does, but it's hard for him to see the person he cares about the most in pain

"wear the brace for a week, then stop by for another appointment with me so we can see how you're doing," harvey instructs, clasping the brace around your ankle. "drink plenty of water and eat something when you get back. and be mindful while you're working on the farm, i don't want this to be a regular occurrence," he chides.

the doctor had practically dragged you into his office after running into you in front of pierre's, half-conscious as you claimed you just needed some coffee.

"i will," you sigh, using his arm for support as you stand. "thanks, harvey. i owe you."

"no need to worry about that, just get some rest at home. i'm sure sebastian is wondering where you are."

shit. you chew your lip as you slowly make your way back to the farm, trying to find the right words to say to your husband. it's not like you to overwork yourself like this on the farm, but after waking up a bit too late in the morning, you'd found yourself rushing to get everything done. seb had been sound asleep as you worked, but with the sun beginning to set in the sky, you knew he had to be up and waiting for you at home.

sure enough, as you walk towards your front door, you see him already sitting on the front steps, a book in hand. his head quickly turns at the sound of your footsteps.

"you're back! did you have errands to run?" seb asks, setting his book down. "i thought you had a lot to do this morning?"

you hesitate, nodding slowly as you avoid his gaze. "i did," you answer, swallowing. "i was, ah, at the clinic."

"what? why—?" only then does he notice the bags under your eyes and the brace wrapped around your ankle. "hey, what happened?" he walks over to your side, slowly guiding you to the steps and helping you sit down.

"i'm alright," you say, though you unsuccessfully hide your discomfort as you stretch your hurt ankle out. "i twisted my ankle, is all."

"right." you know sebastian well enough to tell when he's worrying; his brow is furrowed, his eyes glued to the ground.

"come on, seb, don't be so dramatic," you joke, shoving him lightly with your shoulder. "it's not like i'm dying." he looks at you suddenly with squinted eyes, as if he's trying to decode your words. "what?"

"people tend to say that when things are worse than they are," he says, looking you up and down. "what really happened?"

"what are you talking about?"

"maybe i'll go talk to harvey." he begins to stand, but you grab his wrist and drag him back down.

"okay, okay!" the last thing you want is for him to take the doctor's words too seriously and put you on a house lockdown. "i just overworked myself in the heat, alright? seriously! harvey said i should be fine with some rest."

"really? that's all?"

"yes."

"all you hurt was your ankle?"

"yes."

"did you set up another appointment with him?"

"yes, seb, i'm fine!" you grab his arm and pull him closer, looking straight into his worried eyes. "look, see? i'm in one piece."

sebastian sighs, grabbing your hand and holding it tightly. "i know, you've always been strong," he says, smiling lightly. "just . . . don't overdo it, okay? i'm here to help you, too."

you smile back at him. "i know." you pause. "you know, harvey said i need to lay off the rest of my work today."

"yeah?" seb grins, helping you stand. "what are you thinking?"

you pretend to ponder for a moment. "maybe some dinner and TV? we still have that show we need to catch up on."

he laughs, wrapping an arm around you as the two of you head inside.

"whatever you want, dear."

sam

he thinks you're invincible.

completely freaks out when he sees you actually hurt for the first time

makes you spend the rest of the day in bed and brings you some of his mom's food

(claims it has healing powers)

the sun is still high in the sky when you leave the mines. your plan had been to spend the whole day gathering resources, but after a rough tousle with some monsters, you don't have the energy to keep going. your head is throbbing, and you're mildly aware of the cut on your forehead that finally stopped bleeding.

you make your way across the farm and toward your house, and you can hear sam practicing on his skateboard. you hope you can avoid him, at least until you're able to clean up your injury.

as you open the front door, though, a loud creak fills the air, and you freeze. the sound of the skateboard stops.

"baby, is that you?" sam calls out, walking around to the front porch. you keep your back turned. "did you forget something?"

"uh, no! no, the mines were just a bit empty today, so . . ." you trail off. you turn your head away from him as sam tries to look at your face, but sigh in defeat when he cups your cheek and makes you face him.

immediately, his eyes widen. "you're hurt!"

"i'm fine—"

without another word, sam grabs your hand and drags you inside, bringing you into the bathroom. he spends the next few minutes tenderly cleaning the cut on your forehead, apologizing every time you flinch in pain. then, he brings you to your shared bedroom, covering you in the sheets and bringing you a mug of your favorite drink.

"stay here," he instructs, "i'll be right back." he turns to your pet, tail wagging as it sits at your bedside. "you're in charge while i'm gone, alright? make sure they stay put!" you laugh lightly as sam hurriedly leaves the house, hearing the sound of his skateboard rolling away. you let out a sigh, closing your eyes as you begin to fall asleep.

"baby, wake up."

your eyes open to the sound of your husband beside you once again, holding a bowl of steaming soup.

"i stopped by mom's to get some of her soup. you know i'm not the best cook," he admits, "but you need to eat something with lots of nutrients to get better."

you laugh lightly, gladly letting him feed you the first bite. the warmth of the soup makes you feel already a bit better.

"thank you, sam," you say, looking at him gratefully. "i don't know what i'd do without you."

"hey, shouldn't i be saying that?" he jokes, planting a kiss on your cheek. "here, eat up. you need all the strength you can get!"

after you finish eating, you begin to sit up, stretching your arms.

"hey, what are you doing?" sam questions, setting the bowl on your nightstand.

"i need to check on the animals one more time," you sigh, ignoring the ache in your arms. he scoffs, grabbing your arms and sitting you back down in bed.

"right, and just what kind of husband would i be if i let you do that?" he straightens his back and crosses his arms, smiling confidently. "leave it to me!"

"sam."

"yes, dear?"

"do you even know what you'd be checking for?"

he pauses, arms dropping. "right," he says, sighing. "i guess i don't." you laugh, standing back up but grabbing his hand.

"come on, you can be my assistant for tonight."

"yes!"

[burekforsatoru]

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!

[vanteguccir]

mom! reader (of preferably twin boys) x chris (or matt) based on the indoor zoo video ?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤINDOOR ZOO * CHRIS STURNIOLO * BLURB

SUMMARY　::　where Chris's and Y/N's twins make an appearance on the 'we turned our house into a barn' video

FEATURING　dad!Chris Sturniolo x mom!reader

WARNINGS　::　none

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error

The Sturniolo house was in an adorable state of controlled chaos. Matt and Chris had planned everything down to the last hay bale, receiving help from Y/N in transforming their living room into a cozy indoor petting zoo.

Little Eudora, with her chestnut curls bouncing, was giggling as she raced around the room with a small white duck waddling after her. Calum, the spitting image of his father, clutched a surprisingly calm porcupine in his lap, his face lit with pure fascination as he gently patted its back.

In front of the full-body mirror, Matt was crouched beside a midsized goat, Buster, giving it gentle scratches on the back, while a curious little black pig kept nudging him with its nose, vying for attention.

Chris and Y/N stood side by side, standing in the middle of the living room with arms crossed, taking it all in with warm smiles. Y/N’s hand found Chris’s, and he gave it a little squeeze, chuckling softly as he watched Calum carefully cradle the porcupine with awe.

"Be careful with him, buddy." Chris's voice echoed, breaking the momentarily silence while moving to a cluster of hay bales, grinning as he adjusted the banner that read "Welcome Home, Uncle Nicky!" surrounded by multicolored prints of small hands.

Their cameraman, who was used to the lively energy in the Sturniolo home, was getting every adorable moment on tape, his own laughter blending in with the kids’ squeals of delight as he recorded.

Then, suddenly, they heard the unmistakable sound of keys rattling at the front door. Y/N and Chris exchanged amused glances, and Matt looked up from the goat, a gleeful grin spreading across his face with the twin's reactions.

The kids froze, looking at the adults, and Chris quickly raised a finger to his lips, signaling for quiet. Eudora's right hand flew to her mouth, her big blue doe eyes dancing with excitement as she bounced on her heels, her white dress flowing around her small body with her movements. Calum clutched the porcupine close to him, glancing over at Matt with eyes wide, receiving a wink from his uncle.

Chris leaned forward and called out.

"Hey, Nick! How's it going?"

A muffled "Hey" came from Nick, who had just closed the door behind him. He started heading up the stairs from the entryway to the living room, clearly oblivious to the surprise that awaited him.

Just as he reached the top of the stairs, Y/N called out.

"Careful with the thing blocking the door!"

Nick stopped abruptly, his brows knitting in confusion.

"What thing-?" He began to ask, then froze as he noticed a turtle calmly stationed right by the passage.

His eyes lifted to the rest of the room, widening comically as he took in the scene beyond: animals everywhere, little straw bales scattered, and his entire family - together with an unknown woman dressed in a zoo uniform and their cameraman - caught mid-laughter in a rustic, farm-like setup right in their living room. His mouth dropped open, completely dumbfounded.

"Wha-what the..." Nick started, his words catching as he tried to process what was happening. Before he could continue, the twins finally sprang up, squealing in excitement.

"Uncle Nick!" They yelled in unison, darting over to him, the small porcupine bouncing in Calum's hands.

Nick barely managed to drop his bags with a thud before crouching to his knees, throwing his arms open wide as Calum and Eudora barreled into him. His gaze roamed the room as he held his niece and nephew close, enjoying the warm heat emanating from their bodies while taking in the fluffy chickens clucking happily nearby and the small pig nibbling at a strand of hay.

"What the fu-freak is going on?" Nick stammered, catching himself just in time, though the sheer astonishment was clear on his face. His arms kept wrapped around the twins tightly, and with a breathy laugh, he shook his head. "I’m never leaving the house again."

Eudora beamed, wrapping her small arms around his neck as she squealed excitedly in his ear.

"We made this surprise for you, Uncle Nicky! Did you like it?"

Nick looked down at her, his eyes softening drastically as he took in her excitement, then looked over to Chris and Y/N, still stunned.

"Like it?" He repeated, almost at a loss for words. "I love it! This is insane!"

Just then, Calum piped up, holding up the porcupine he’d been cradling like a prized possession.

"Look, Uncle Nick!" He said eagerly. "It’s a porcupine! Do you wanna hold it?"

"Baby, be careful not to hurt your uncle with its prickles." Y/N was quick in warning the little boy, watching his movements carefully.

Nick’s eyes widened even further as he realized what Calum was holding too close to his face. He quickly glanced over at Y/N, and then at Chris, the fear evident in his expression.

"Uh... Chris?" He stammered, his voice high-pitched with barely concealed alarm.

Chris stifled a laugh and quickly stepped forward, taking the porcupine from Calum’s hands, ignoring the big pout forming on his son's lips.

"I got it, I got it." He said, giving Nick a playful grin. "Only the safest surprises for you, bro."

Y/N chuckled softly, her hand covering her mouth as she watched Nick’s face go through an entire range of emotions. Matt joined in, shaking his head as he pet the goat one last time before walking closer to the others, clearly reveling in his brother’s shock.

Nick took a deep breath, rubbing a hand over his face, then looked down at his niece and nephew nestled snugly in his arms. His expression softened into a disbelieving grin as he pulled them even closer, wrapping them in a hug filled with all the warmth he’d bottled up during his time away.

"You two..." He murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to each of their heads. "This might be the best surprise I’ve ever had."

Calum and Eudora beamed up at him, their matching blue eyes alight with pride.

"Even better than the band, Uncle Nick?" Calum asked, his small hands curling around Nick’s tattooed arm, eyes wide with hope.

Nick let out a heartfelt laugh, nodding as he glanced down at his nephew.

"Even better than the band, buddy. Was this all your idea?" He asked, focusing warmly on Calum but keeping one arm wrapped around Eudora, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on her back.

Calum’s face lit up even brighter, grinning from ear to ear before looking over at his dad and Uncle Matt, seeking their approval.

"Well..." Calum started, only to have Matt jump in, flashing a teasing grin.

"You know how it is, Nick." Matt said, leaning in with a conspiratorial tone. "We missed you, and these two couldn’t stop talking about going to the zoo all week, so..."

Nick’s eyes narrowed playfully as he turned to Chris.

"And you let him pick the porcupine?"

Chris chuckled, throwing up his hands in defense.

"Actually, the porcupine was my idea, but..." He gestured at Calum with a shrug. "He’s been attached ever since."

"Like father, like son." Y/N's voice echoed full of amusement, her plump lips forming a wide smile. "Do you want some water, Nick?" She asked gently, moving towards the kitchen, receiving a positive answer from the oldest triplet.

For a few more minutes, Nick just sat on the floor, surrounded by warmth and joy as the twins excitedly recounted every little detail from the week - even though they’d already shared those stories over FaceTime, feeling too excited to tell him all over again in person. Nick listened, hanging on every word, giving all of his attention to them.

A soft nudge against his side caught his attention, and he looked down to see the little goat butting his arm. Smiling, Nick gave it a gentle scratch behind the ears, chuckling under his breath at the delightful absurdity of it all. His gaze drifted up, finding Y/N’s across the room. Her eyes were warm, crinkling at the corners as she watched him with a look that needed no words, patting the small bunny in her hands.

He mouthed a "thank you", his expression soft, clearly moved by their thoughtfulness.

Chris’s arm snaked around Y/N’s waist, pulling her close as they shared a quiet, knowing smile, content to watch Nick settle back into the chaotic embrace of the family they’d created.

© vanteguccir