#Like a Weed Naturally As a Matter Of Course

[mytyldotwav]

Oh, she

Flies

[lars-canyon]

GGST – 11-09-23 – Dae1Patch (Testament) vs LeonaDX [Baiken]

Like a Weed, Naturally, As a Matter of Course on "A Happy Family?"

[nostroviadrop]

Also Bloodstained Lineage is the greatest gg song of all time

[mesmerizms]

Guilty Gear player listening to a regular rock song for the first time: I'm getting a lot of Guilty Gear vibes from this.

[kbwrites]

Up In The Clouds

synopsis: you are a first-year jujutsu high student, seemed only natural that satoru and suguru would want to protect you... right?

⚝ a/n: I'M ALIVEEE. my first fanfiction in over FIVE YEARS?!

⚝ tags: sfw/suggestive satoru x reader. suguru x reader. satosugu x reader (KINDA). marijuana use!

⚝ wc: 1412

“Do you ever think the wind is trying to tell us something?”

“Shut the hell up Satoru.”

“Please. What Suguru Said.”

You were given one condition by your parents when you got into Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College, and that was to stay out of trouble. And yet there you were, with the school’s most infamous troublemakers - high as the clouds you were observing.

 Suguru approached you on your first day, his kind eyes and dulcet voice made you feel more than welcome. Him and Satoru were joined at the hip, as you soon found out. It only took a few days for you to be fully integrated into the group. So their duo (and occasionally Shoko, when she felt like dealing with their bullshit) grew to include you. They shouldered the burden of showing you around the school. Suguru educated you with the history of the school, while Satoru listed the best places to slack off. And slack off you did, the two boys were first-grade sorcerers, why the hell would they need to attend classes?

Yaga lectured you of course, “A bright girl like you has no business hanging around with those two”. And yet, they were the strongest. And you were their new obsession, fitting right into their antics.

The antics for today? Courtesy of Satoru, the lanky second year stood before Suguru and (Y/N) dangling a ziploc bag with a blunt inside.

“Are you trying to get us expelled?” Suguru sighed.

“Seriously. If Yaga catches us-”

The white haired teen sighed dramatically (you were confident that that was the only way he knew HOW to sigh)

“You guys are no fun.” A pout forms across his lips, crossing his arms.

“Who did you even get this from?”

“Does it matter? Let’s get high~” Satoru smirks, discarding the ziploc bag and holding the blunt up to his nose to take a deep inhale.

Suguru glances over at you.

“Satoru… do you really think you’re setting the best example for our underclassmen.”

You smile awkwardly, sure he was referring to you.

“She isn’t some baby doll Suguru. Right (Y/N)?” Satoru turned his attention to you. He knew that with that honeyed voice of his, he could get anything he wanted. Suguru glared back at his slightly taller friend, who grinned through his dark shades. You shift uncomfortably, the tension thickening by the second. It was pretty common that you ended up being the one breaking up fights between your two best friends. For some reason you were always caught in the middle. You sigh standing up.

“Fuck it”

And there you three were laying on the grass of the field.

You’ve gotta hand it to Satoru.

You feel pretty amazing right now.

“Do you ever think the wind is trying to tell us something?”

“Shut the hell up Satoru.”

“Please. What Suguru Said.”

“Guys… seriously-”

Bzzt bzzt.

You slowly sit up, reaching for your vibrating phone.

Shoko ^-^

Where r u guys?

(Y/N)

Practice Field.

Shoko ^-^

Huh? Those two idiots are actually doing work?

(Y/N)

Satoru brought weed~

Shoko ^-^

Ahh.

(Y/N)

You comin’?

Shoko ^-^

Doing work for Yaga :(

You close your phone, laying back down between the two teens.

Suguru takes the blunt from Satoru taking a drag before passing it to you again, your fingers grazing each other, the touch lingering. A familiar heat in your chest rising.

You’d be lying through your teeth if you said that you didn’t find your two friends attractive. Satoru was confident, he knew that when he walked into a room all eyes (girls and guys) were on him. His silken white hair, and eyelashes that when fluttered he got whatever he wanted. And of course his azure blue eyes, like pools of shimmering water too deep to ever reach the bottom of. In layman’s terms; he was hot.

And Suguru? Well, his beauty was more understated. That isn’t to say he wasn’t hot.

 He was.

With his raven-black hair that cascaded in sleek waves always neatly put up. His piercing coffee-colored eyes, the subtle curve of his lips. When he told you something was going to be okay. You could actually believe him. It was his overtly calm demeanor that probably made him seem more like Satoru’s shadow… But to you? That shadow lurked in the depths of your mind, suffocating your thoughts at the worst times. Times like this.

You take a long drag from the blunt, desperately trying to distract yourself from the thoughts that plagued your head. You hold the smoke in, before letting out an exasperated sigh. You cough quietly at the sensation in your lungs, sitting up. Suguru looks over at you in concern, sitting up with you to pat gently on your back.

“Don’t overdo it, yeah?” His voice, ever the gentle caress, only works to fluster you further. 

You turn away desperately trying to hide the blush creeping onto your face. Suguru continues patting your back, reaching for a bottle of water.

“(Y/N)? Here. drink.” Your heart flutters, you snatch the drink gulping it down.

“Thanks, Suguru..” 

Satoru turns his attention from the clouds to his two friends, his eyebrow quirking up in curiosity. But he doesn’t say a word, just snatches the blunt from you and continues the rotation.

Satoru drones on, informing you of any and every thought that comes into his head. You and Suguru stay silent, letting out a ‘hmmm’ in acknowledgment every now and then. His hand brushes against yours, his touch sending shocks of electricity through your skin as he points out funny-looking clouds. The sky turns from blue to red as the sun sets over the training grounds. The three of you wearily rise to your feet, heading back to the main dorm.

“(Y/N)! Suguru and I are g’nna play some melee. You wanna cheer me on while I kick his ass?” Satoru loops his arm around your neck smirking. You look over at Suguru, you can almost make out his body tensing ever so slightly.

“Sorry. I have to study, but I’ll see you tomorrow guys!” You wave apologetically, prying yourself from Satoru’s grasp. Suguru offers you his signature smile. Satoru offers his signature pout.

 You take your leave, strutting off to your dorm. The two boys’ eyes linger on your form as it disappears down the hall.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬✧ ▬▭▬

Suguru focuses intensely on the tv, hitting Satoru with combos. Satoru lazily sits back effortlessly dodging and blocking, ‘those eyes of his are basically cheats’ he thinks. Satoru glances over at his dark-haired friend smirking.

“So… I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s usually how it starts” Suguru sighs, still maintaining his focus, he has 2 stocks left. His damage at 99%.

“(Y/N). She’s a cutie isn’t she~” Satoru muses before hitting him with a spin kick.

It’s just slight enough to make out, but Suguru’s body tenses, and his eye twitches. 

133% damage

“What are you getting at Satoru..” he warns

“She’s totally my type, think she’s interested?”

Suguru can’t see the mischievous look behind his friends' blacked-out shades.

“No.” 

“No you don’t think she’s interested?”

“Satoru-“

“I mean seriously? She puts on that shy act in front of us~ drives me crazy thinking about how’d easy it’d be to make her blush”

Satoru knocks him off the platform.

1 stock left.

Suguru’s teeth clench, blood coming to a boil as he mashes the buttons of the controller. Satoru is loving this. He continues

“You don’t mind if I make a move Hmm?”

That was it.

 Suguru pauses just long enough for Satoru to land a fury of kicks and punches, hitting him with a special.

WINNER JIGGLYPUFF

Satoru leans back, his arms behind his head. Relishing in his umpteenth victory against Suguru, Suguru on the other hand is seething with anger. The thought of Satoru flirting with you… touching you…

“Leave her alone Satoru.”

“Huh? What do you mean-“

“(Y/N). Is off limits.”

Satoru perks up at this, lowering his shades to look at Suguru with his piercing blue eyes.

“Off limits? Says who?”

“She’s our friend”

“Yeah? All the more reason she should date me and not some rando”

Suguru tensed again. But that didn’t stop the white-haired menace.

“She wouldn’t say yes to you anyway”

Uh oh. He’d done it now, Satoru never backs down from a challenge. Nothing is too impossible for him, and you? You’ve just become his new challenge.

“I guess we’ll just have to see about that”

And with that, the real game begun.

[2tarbell]

https://www.tumblr.com/2tarbell/756490945730576384/hiiiiiiiiiiii-my-loves-talk-2-me-plzz-and-i

hiii been thinking about bfb w rafe tonight… sleepovers at sarah’s with kie (& omg bonus points if reader is in the pogue friend group i can never get enough pogue reader + rafe content) where he’s kinda perving on reader but she’s kinda into it (oh no she must’ve left her panties at sarah’s house!!! whatever is a girl to do sigh)… she’s all giggly n blushy n flirty n shit when she runs into rafe late at night while getting some water from the kitchen, making sarah and kie wonder what could possibly be taking her so long?

maybe they start texting, out of convenience obviously of course being his little sisters best friend and all, and then maybe it turns into sexting, until rafe can’t take it anymore and some sensually filthy smut happens🥰 you can decide the rest if you choose to write this but either way ty for listening to me horny ramblingxhxhjd

ೀ

SURE OF IT

warnings! best friends brother, pogue!reader, sweetheart!reader, maybe ditzy!reader, rafe is kinda chill? i guess?, mention of weed, reader and rafe are pervs, fingering, pinv smut, unprotected sex, car sex, daddy kink, dom!rafe, slapping, choking, lmk if i missed anything :)

your best friends brother is the one for you. (3.3K words, fic, © 2tarbell 2024)

“—and rafe is somewhere upstairs— i know, but we can just ignore him—”

as if.

the beating of your heart picked up at the mention of the eldest cameron.

a small, wicked part of you hoped he would make an appearance. hoped he would taunt and tease you in that deep voice that haunted every single one of your wet dreams.

sarah and kie couldn’t know that, of course.

so you made a show of pursing your lips in distaste, sharing a look with kiara that you prayed didn’t say “i actually wanna fuck him”.

it wasn’t as if you had this crush on him outta nowhere.

no, your best friends brother wanted you just as much. you were sure of it.

as you walked further into the large home with sarah and kiara, you felt a pleasant nervousness settle in your tummy.

you stood straighter as soon as the three of you turned a corner and crossed paths with the man himself. your heart flipped and stomached tighten with arousal.

rafe stood there with his hands in his pockets, obviously not expecting to see any of you.

biting back your smile was hard as you looked up at him. his eyes were narrowed, brows drawn together that mirrored the small pout on his lips.

“the fuck kinda pogue convention is this—?”

“shut up and leave us alone,” sarah was quick to cut him off, moving past him with a shove of her shoulder against his. kiara smirked and pulled you along.

following after your friends like an obedient little puppy was second nature to you. but you stopped a few steps behind, dropping kiara’s hand casually.

you smiled as you looked over your shoulder at rafe. batting your eyelashes and and biting your glossy bottom lip.

“hi, rafey,” your voice was sugary sweet.

a singular brow raised, his gaze softening just so.

“uh— yeah, hi.”

you only giggled softly at his annoyed tone before skimping off to catch up with your girls once you heard kie call for you. missing the way his eyes lingered on your form, taking in the length of your legs and where they disappeared beneath your hand-me-down babydoll dress.

he almost choked when he saw the hem of your dress inch up just enough to catch a glimpse of the bottom of your ass cheeks.

rafe raked a hand through his hair and continued his way through the house, now an uncomfortable tightness in his khakis.

and if he hurried off to a bathroom to jerk off, that was nobodies business but his own.

you couldn’t sleep, no matter what you tried.

counting sheep like jj had taught you to one time, singing a song in your head, nothing was working.

you could only blame it on the dampness in your panties. the white lace stuck to your skin and caused you to shift around on the makeshift blanket bed uncomfortably.

since briefly seeing rafe earlier, your thoughts were caught up entirely in the interaction.

you played it back constantly and found yourself smiling and squeezing your thighs together anew.

thank god you had convinced the girls to let you sleep on the floor — you bit your lip as you slid off your shorts and panties. you balled up the lacey garment and stuffed it in the pocket of your sleep shorts once you had pulled them back up your legs.

you had a plan.

you tiptoed to the door, looking back once before you were gone down the hallway and steps. you saw light from under rafe’s door, and you smiled to yourself. before long, you found yourself in the kitchen.

maybe a glass of water would calm you down enough to sleep — where did they keep the glasses again?

cabinets opened and shut as quietly as you could manage, fearing waking anyone up, but making just enough noise.

just as you were beginning to run out of faith for water and your plan, you heard someone clear their throat behind you.

you’ve never snapped your head around so quickly, it’s a surprise it didn’t just keep rolling and onto the floor.

“oh my god—!”

the squeak you let out caused rafe to smirk. he quickly gave your body a once over — heat rushing to his abdomen at the sight of your pebbled nipples peeking through the thin sleep shirt you wore.

one of your dainty hands clutched your chest, trying to will your heart to settle. a giggle bubbled up your throat.

“rafe! don’t scare me like that…”

he chuckled breathlessly. a sound that made your pulse quicken even more.

“what’re you snoopin’ around for, huh?” he mumbled, voice gravelly from being unused.

you looked cute — hair fluffed up and feet clad in stripped socks. cute in a way that made him wanna bend you over the counter and take you right there, middle of the night be damned.

“hmm? oh, jus’— wanted a drink…” you hum, turning and opening the cabinet.

“oh, so y’not just being nosey?”

“and what if i am?”

“i’d say you know better, sweetheart.”

his use of the pet name made you feel faint. you set the cup down next to you on the counter.

you weren’t a stranger to being called that. or anything like it.

the pogue boys often referred to you as such, patronizing in a way. but you never thought it could sound so good. never cared for it until now.

“it’s such a maze in here…” you changed the subject, leaning back against the counter. crossing your arms in a way that you knew made your breasts bulge.

you didn’t miss the quick glance down from rafe. or the harsh swallow.

“yeah? wouldn’t expect you to know anything ‘bout a house like this.”

he was teasing you. outrightly poking fun at the main difference between you both. kook and pogue.

you cocked your head at his words, batting your eyelashes, “c’mon, don’t be mean…”

he smiled and you felt hot all over.

desire completely flushed out any rage and embarrassment. you watched with bated breath as he adjusted his stance and tongued the inside of his cheek.

“did i lie?”

“… yes.”

he scoffed and leaned back against the counter opposite you. the mere feet between you both was charged with sparks.

the way he said your name in that playful, commanding tone had shivers going down your spine. his eyes freezing you in place.

“y’too pretty to be playin’ stupid like that.”

you bit your lip and smiled, “you think ‘m pretty?”

rafe bounced around for a response, trying to seem cool and collected.

suddenly you were all too aware of the stickiness between your thighs. all too aware of sarah and kiara sleeping upstairs. all too aware of the panties you stashed in your pocket.

you smirked and pushed off the counter.

“goodnight, rafe…”

he didn’t say anything as you walked off out of the kitchen, but you heard an intake of breath when you dropped the underwear out of your pocket.

you stopped in your tracks when you heard him choke out your name.

“hmm?”

sparkling eyes and a pretty smile made rafe forget all semblance of how to act.

after all, he was a selfish man.

“nothin’, uh— night, kid.”

too easy.

you hurried back up the stairs, looking over the banister and watching as he bent down and picked up your panties.

a moan threatened to slip past your lips when he brought them up to his face and smelled them.

needless to say, neither of you got any sleep that night.

rafe was losing his mind. he had to be.

what other explanation was there for him to have fisted his cock all night with your panties? painting his hand over and over and it still not feeling like enough.

he was embarrassed, yes, but he also wanted more. he wanted you.

it felt like divine intervention when he phone buzzed and your name popped up on his screen.

—

hiii

sent at 7:48 pm

—

he had been thinking about you all day, completely in his head.

anger and arousal fighting for dominance. it seemed arousal always came out on top.

—

What do you want

sent at 7:50 pm

—

rafe knew he was fucked when he actually felt bad for being short with you.

he scrolled back up through your previous messages. they were all innocent — you simply asking him to open the front door or even begging him to get you and the girls some weed.

he doesn’t know exactly when things changed, when you changed.

bzzz!

—

can u give me a ride :C sarah said she can’t

sent at 7:51 pm

Where you at

sent at 7:51 pm

—

yeah, rafe was thoroughly fucked.

but he really didn’t care anymore as he grabbed his keys off his nightstand and and shoved his feet into some shoes.

he couldn’t stand it anymore. and as he pulled out of the driveway, he knew something had to give.

“you’re a lifesaver, rafey.”

he only hummed in response, putting his truck in reverse and driving out of your quaint little workplaces parking lot.

some dumb pogue flower shop. rafe really didn’t give a shit if he was honest.

he stole glances at you in his passenger seat, looking so perfect and pretty. like you belonged there, belonged next to him.

he could feel himself start to grow hard in his pants when you crossed one leg over the other. the plush of your thighs looking oh-so inviting.

you smiled at him, and rafe rolled his eyes, looking back at the road ahead.

“what?”

“hmm? i can’t look at you?” you teased.

the scoff he let out made you wanna laugh, so you did. a sweet sound that often drove him insane.

and looked at him you did. eyes taking in every inch of exposed bicep that was peeking out from his polo. his skin was tanned from the summer sun and you found yourself wondering what it would look like with your lipstick all over it.

he grit his teeth, setting his jaw.

“y’know i— you’re not— you’re not slick,” the words fell from his mouth in a grumble.

“what—?”

you felt a rush of adrenaline when he pulled the familiar white lace out of his pocket and threw it onto your lap.

before you could question further, rafe pulled the truck to the side of the road. it was hidden between two trees, the setting sun helping to conceal it.

“y’think this shit is funny?” his voice was rough and you were unsure if the question was rhetorical. you stared at him with wide eyes and an open mouth.

it was tense and you couldn’t move. just stared at him blankly.

“i didn’t think that—“

“nah, you didn’t think, did you?”

“i’m— i—“

you didn’t know what to say or do. the last thing you expected was to be scolded by him. confronted by your own actions. but you couldn’t suppress the wave of need that surged through you.

“you— you want me? you want this?” he mumbled, eyes flickering between yours.

the question made you flush again. never in a million years did you think it would end up like this. that you would actually have him. your answer felt obvious.

“mhm.”

“words.” his command made you melt.

“yeah, yes, please,” you breathed and watched as he unbuckled his seatbelt.

rafe grasped your jaw and pushed his thumb into your mouth, feeling the warm muscle of your tongue wet against his skin. you responded eagerly, sucking on the digit.

“a’ight. then get in the fucking back.”

you registered to click of your own seatbelt and blinked as he reached past you and pushed open the door.

his thumb left your mouth with a pop and he pushed your face away, that mean way that you had always dreamt about. you had half a mind to do anything but what he told you to.

before you knew it, you were on your back and sprawled in the backseat with rafe on top of you. his hand shoved up your skirt, knuckle tortuously rubbing up and down against your panty clad clit.

you were a mess already.

rafe spent at least ten minutes grumbling about how much of a tease you were. detailing every time he just wanted to grab you and fuck you senseless. he made fun of you, of your slickness and delicate (although cheap) panties that were damp by your arousal.

he mocked you as you whined, but let you press pink lips up his arm. the kiss marks looking just as delicious as you thought.

despite the dirty talk and his hand now around your throat, he had yet to kiss you. you watched his mouth form words but you could hardly hear anymore, desperate for more. for anything he would give you.

“hey, hey, ‘m talkin’ to you. dumb fucking girl—“

his palm lightly connected with your cheek, the slight sting bringing a dazed smile to your lips.

rafe chuckled at the already fucked out expression on your face. he’d hardly done anything yet and you were already melted beneath him.

too fucking easy.

his voiced cooed lowly, squeezing your throat tighter, “c’mon, sweetheart. focus, yeah? can you do that f’me?”

you were nodding before he even finished speaking, hips rolling up against his hand as he pushed your panties to the side.

“kiss me? need it, please— need you, rafe—“

the harsh slap against your weeping cunt makes your eyes flutter and a gasping moan is drawn from your lips. you watch with an agape mouth as rafe leans down closer, lips just inches from yours.

“s’not my name, is it?” he tuts.

no fucking way.

you’re breathing heavily against his lips. chest heaving and hands grasping at the front of his shirt.

you knew what he wanted you to say. and you wanted it just as bad.

“daddy, daddy, please—“

that soft plea was all it took for him to lean in and close the gap between you. he devoured your mouth eagerly, parting your lips with his own.

you welcomed his tongue into your mouth, feeling it twist and swirl around yours. you did your best to keep up, but his fingers had started to rub circles against your clit. you were completely gone when he slid a finger in.

“y’got such a needy little pussy, huh? sucking my finger so tight—“

the way he mumbled against your lips would haunt you. he began curling his finger inside of you, searching for that spongey patch that would cause you to see stars.

once he found it, you couldn’t focus on kissing him back anymore. you sat open mouthed, soft sighs and bucking hips spurring him on.

“there it is— gooood girl. c’mon, gimme one and i’ll fuck you like you need,” he rasped out, sliding in a second finger.

the want you felt was unlike anything else. it didn’t take long to have you writhing helplessly beneath him. a half hearted warning of your impending release only making him devilishly smile.

you were brainless by the time he removed his hand and brought glistening fingers to your lips. it was second nature to let your mouth fall open and suckle his large fingers.

the trance only ended when you heard the clinking buckle of his belt. rafe pushed your knees against your chest, not before pulling the neckline of your tank top down to let your tits spill out. (“perfect fuckin’ tits. knew they’d be so gorgeous…”)

your hands pushed up his shirt, needing to see his toned chest. rafe pulled it over his head with one hand, the action alone could’ve made you cum again.

“gonna be a good girl and take it all?”

his words were emphasized by the head of his cock slotting between your folds. the sensation of his tip bumping against your swollen clit making you flinch.

he didn’t move until you spoke, words coming out rushed and slurred from arousal, “mhm, yeah, yeah—“

feeling him push into you made you see stars. he held your gaze and you watched as his brow furrowed in concentration, his mouth dropping into a low moan. he was so unfairly attractive.

once he bottomed out, you knew he ruined your pussy for anyone else. never had you felt so full. every vein and ridge of his dick suctioned by your gummy walls.

“nnngghh— ohmygod—“ you gasped out, feeling unable to breath as he spilt you in half.

rafe was unbelievably deep. his hips pressed right up against yours. he was watching as he disappeared into you, glazed over eyes as you arched your back off the seats.

his voice was strained, “s’pretty like this. taking me so well.”

you couldn’t make coherent sentences, you felt felt him everywhere. the way he had your knees pressed against your chest allowed him to slide in and out somehow deeper each time.

“i can’t— can’t— nnnngghhh—“ the sounds you were making sounded like sobs.

“yeah— yes, you can, baby. doing so well, letting me ruin this pretty cunt…”

rafe reached a hand down and pressed on your lower stomach. the pressure allowed for more stimulation of your g-spot but also allowed him to feel his cock thrusting in and out.

he took your hand and placed it, holding it against your abdomen with his. you choked at the feeling.

“feel that? that’s me. that’s daddy fuckin’ you stupid, yeah?”

“jesus fucking christ—“

rafe breathed out a laugh at your curse. you were becoming less and less coherent as he fucked you, your eyes threatening to roll back when his thumb found your clit again.

he slapped you again, urging your eyes back on him. “nuh-uh, look at me, kid, there ya go—“

tears flooded down your cheeks as his hips slapped against yours with more fervor. it was too much, your body was aching for release.

he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. the warmth of his mouth made you start rocking your hips to meet his. rafe groaned and increased his pace, the sticky wet sounds filling the truck.

it was sloppy and messy, you were almost embarrassed at how wet you were. rafe didn’t care though, not when he was finally claiming the girl he’s wanted for so long.

“mmf— y’gonna cum on this cock? gimme that shit, c’mon—“

you didn’t need another invitation. you were creaming on his pulsing length in seconds, hot white blinding your vision and a pleasant fuzziness blocking out your senses.

the warmth of his release made you shudder as he shallowly fucked into you with low groans that curled up into whines. his own orgasm made his rhythm stutter. he collapsed onto you in a sweaty heap.

neither of you spoke for a few moments, caught up in an intimate quiet that seemed so fragile. rafe littered kisses across your neck and collarbone. his touch soft in a way you’d never expect. you scratched his scalp with your painted nails, feeling a rush of affection when he practically purred.

finally you whispered, “are you… mad at me?”

his head snapped up, questioning and lingering lust clouding his blue eyes. he brought a hand up and brushed hair away from your face.

“no, ‘m not mad. never was…” he mumbled hoarsely.

the relief was visible in your tired features. rafe felt a pang of something in his chest… guilt? longing?

“do you… i mean… what just happened?” you asked dumbly, feeling the weight of confusion settling in your bones.

he shushed you, pressing his lips to yours so tenderly, it felt unreal. a stark contrast to the heated encounter you two just shared.

“lemme… take you out?”

the question felt foreign on his lips, a soft tone he never really used.

but your smile was radiant.

rafe felt stupid for not asking sooner if it meant he got to see that reaction. you nuzzled his nose with yours gently.

he huffed, feeling himself grow mushy under your adoring gaze. you just giggled in that precious way that made him feel weak. nodding eagerly and wrapping your arms around his neck.

your best friends brother was the one for you. you were sure of it.

© 2tarbell 2024

[mixsethaddams]

Eddie and Steve were sitting on the back porch of the little two bedroom house that Owens and his merry band of government lackies gave to the Munsons in exchange for signed NDAs.

It was getting late and Steve knows he should go home, but Eddie keeps finding new conversations to strike up and it just feels too natural to keep responding. Getting up and announcing he was going home would be downright rude. The deckchair he was lounging in was confortable too, so it just made more sense to stay.

Eddie passed Steve the joint they had been nursing between them. Steve had lost track of what they were talking about a long time ago. He was too caught up in the low rumble of Eddie’s voice, quiet enough to make it feel like they were sharing secrets even if they were all alone with nothing scandalous to say. It didn’t matter what Eddie was saying. Steve was happy to just listen. The subtle fizz of the weed spread across his skin as he leaned his head back and enjoyed the light breeze that cut through the warm night.

Today was the same as every other day.

Steve woke up, showered, picked Robin up for work, and then spent eight hours rewinding tapes. He listened to her go on and on about her latest discovery of why Vickie was the perfect person, adding commentary where needed. Steve was happy for her, he was. He just wished she wasn’t so distracted. Not today.

And then he ferried Mike to Dustin’s, Will to the hospital to visit Max, brought Lucas home from the hospital so he could shower and then right back over again. He was barely through the door when Eddie called and asked how his day was, insisting Steve come over to hang out when he heard it was just ‘fine, average, nothing special’.

Steve had wanted nothing more than to fall asleep on the couch with a terrible tv movie in the background. There was something about Eddie, though. Something in the way he moved, the way he said Steve’s name and dragged his teeth along his bottom lip over the V sound. The thoughts of staring at the stars with Eddie might just be the one thing that could redeem today. Even if no one else would understand.

Steve arrived thirty seconds before two large pizzas, courtesy of one of Argyle’s buddies in the business. They each had all Steve’s favourite toppings. Which was weird because Eddie definitely didn’t like olives or pineapple. Steve had a cold beer in one hand and hot slice in the other before he even said ‘hello’.

If there was any way Steve wanted to spend the final hours of today, it was with Eddie. He knew why, of course. He bit his tongue every time he got close to saying it out loud, but he knew exactly what that something was.

“And I figured hey, if it means I don’t have to sell weed to highschoolers anymore, then why not, you know?”

Steve’s brain took a second to catch up to Eddie’s train of thought about his new job. He was going to be working in a garage with Reefer Rick’s nephew.

“Totally,” said Steve, sipping the mostly empty bottle in his hand, the liquid warmed by being held so long. “I bet you’ll be great at it too,”

“Yeah well,” said Eddie, quirking his eyebrows. “I hope so,”

They fell into silence again and Steve started to think it might not be rude to leave any more. The joint was down to the nub, the beer was gone, and Eddie’s eyelids were looking heavy.

“I should, uh…” said Steve, shifting his weight on the chair to stand up.

“Why didn’t you tell them?” asked Eddie, looking up at the moon. Steve could see its reflection in his eyes.

Steve stopped.

“Tell who?” he asked. “Tell them what?”

Eddie sighed.

“It’s your birthday, man…” breathed Eddie. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Oh…” said Steve. He could feel his face heat up. “I don’t… I guess its not a big deal for me… Not for years…”

Eddie nodded solemnly.

“You’re too good for us, Harrington,” said Eddie, shaking his head. “I saw what you did for Robin’s birthday. Did she remember, at least?”

Steve didn’t say anything. He knew he’d probably get a frantic apology and a card tomorrow. It wasn’t like he was going to hold it against her.

“Pizza and beer isn’t exactly the five star treatment you deserve,” said Eddie. “Hope it’s enough to, you know, make today not suck entirely,”

Eddie waved his hand around in a circle, as if gesturing to the very day itself.

“This actually might be the best end to a birthday I’ve ever had,” admitted Steve. “So, you know, thanks. For doing this for me, I mean,”

“Thanks for eating all the olives,” joked Eddie, draining his beer bottle. “Besides, any excuse to hang out with you, I’ll take it,”

“Yeah?” asked Steve, his voice smaller than he expected.

“Yeah,” answered Eddie gently. “I like being with you,”

Steve’s stomach lurched. He followed Eddie’s gaze to the moon. She was beautiful tonight and Steve felt safe the cool glow she cast over them.

“How did you know?” asked Steve, playing with the hem of his sweater. “Or like, care?”

“Saw it on your license a whole back,” Eddie answered, lighting two cigarettes at once and handing one to Steve. “And I cared because… Because I care. I didn’t want you to be sad on your birthday,”

“Oh,” said Steve meekly. “I’m not sad. Not now. I’m happy now, so it worked,”

Steve took the offering of the cigarette and sat back in his chair, looking at his hand and the subtle hint of ‘don’t go’.

“Did you have a birthday wish?” asked Eddie, holding up the still-lit match. It was burning quickly down towards his fingertips.

“Just one…” said Steve slowly, looking through the flame at Eddie.

“A person?” asked Eddie.

Steve gulped, and nodded.

“So make it,” Eddie said. “Don’t tell me, or it won’t come true,”

Steve blew out the flame, still gazing into brown eyes, watching them turn black when the light was gone.

Eddie’s watch beeped. It was midnight.

“Didn’t come true,” said Steve sadly, his eyes still fixed on the point where Eddie had been holding the match between them.

“Give it time…” said Eddie softly.

Steve took a long drag of his cigarette and wondered if this is what every night would be like. If his wish came true and he got exactly what he wanted, would he sit out here and smoke and stare at the stars and listen to Eddie talk every night? Was he allowed to have that?

“I wished for the person that makes me happy,” said Steve, not looking over at Eddie but feeling bolstered by weed and boldened by beer.

“It won’t come true now,” teased Eddie, his voice low.

“Even if I tell them?” asked Steve, turning to look at Eddie. He looked into Eddie’s eyes again and thought of all the things he wanted to say. He felt something shift between them when Eddie didn’t look away.

“I made a wish on my birthday too,” said Eddie. “That didn’t come true either,”

“What did you wish for?” asked Steve.

Eddie’s arm flopped between their chairs, his cigarette burning steadily between his fingers.

“To make someone happy,” he said.

“Like…” whispered Steve.

Steve slowly moved his hand so it brushed against Eddie’s, the backs of their fingers rubbing together. Steve hooked Eddie’s pinkie with his own. Eddie looked at their hands and smiled gently.

“Yeah,” said Eddie quietly.

Steve hummed.

“Guess I just needed to wish for it too,” said Steve.

[tinytennisskirt]

Your 'rumours' fic was so adorable!!! I'd love to see some childhood bestfriends with Art from you, like reader just following him around like a puppy since childhood and at first he doesn't know how what to do with her but then she starts to grow on him,

UGH, what's it feel like to be loved???

-🍃

More Than Anything

Summary: ^above^ with a twist of angst and a few changed plot points. Art and his childhood best friend navigate the forces that pull them apart. Whatever he does, she does. He’s not sure what else is more natural than being her best friend. And no matter what she’s told, that will never change.

Warnings: fluff! drinking, mean Patrick, mentions of weed, mentions of sex, one mention of the risk of being roofied (nobody is roofied), a little ANGST. And a kiss.

Little Art Donaldson was having a day at the park when he met a little girl. It was you and there was much to babble about when there were so many things to do at the park and you, in a tiny voice, said you’d never been to the park before. Art took you by the little hand and you willingly followed as he showed you every single section that there was, even the swings.

Art, young, when met with lunch, he dropped his sandwich in the sand. He cried- the meat and lettuce all covered in grains and small pieces of sticks wasn’t a big issue but for a kid, it was quite upsetting to not have a lunch anymore.

You were more little, two years younger than Art, but you knew just what to do. Picnic lunch with your family nearby, stood next to him and asked if he wanted to come have some food with your family. You didn’t know you couldn’t just invite crying kids to eat with you. You were just too young, too pure.

He said yes, obviously. His dad was somewhere nearby on his phone, business call. Didn’t notice Art was sitting at your picnic bench eating fried chicken and watermelon with you and your parents.

Your mom was a sweet woman, so of course she’d never say no to a starved child. Art’s father found him no problem. He wasn’t a bad man either- not angry. In fact he sat down to eat with them and by the end of the meal they’d set up a time to come by and play another day.

From that day on, your parents befriended and you and Art became best friends. Self-proclaimed. Art didn’t know how to play anything but video games and baseball and he slowly got more into tennis, which he tried to show you. You weren’t that good at anything he did, but still, you would play together in the sandbox, run around each other’s yard. It felt like an endless summer with you two. If one of you was out and playing, so was the other. Usually more revolving around what Art did. It was simple, easy, fun. Anywhere Art would go, you were there too. It helped each other’s parents get a little peace every now and then or let them hang out as adults.

You maintained your personality, just as sweet as candy but with a boyish love for adventure, as your mom would say. That boyish side definitely came from Art. Where he was, you were, no matter what. Even if it was up a steep hill, even if it was the river nearby, even if it was the ant hill and you both got a million bug bites. Every scrape you shared, every bruise you compared in the backyard on the tire swing, every scrape from your bikes. Everything was shared.

You were a little in love with him. Even from a young age, the moment you could think boys were cute, you thought Art was the most adorable. It was platonic love, of course. The capacity to truly love wasn’t there, just pending…

And you and Art grew up together. You pursued different hobbies but still found the time, even with school. It was easy the first few years, you were only in kindergarten and then it was elementary. Apparently once you hit grade three you’re not supposed to hang out with anyone younger. Art wasn’t sure what to do, but he spent lunch recess with his friends and first and last recess with you anyway.

One thing was for sure. It was that you would follow him around like you didn’t know any other way, when he was nearby. You’d do whatever he did, even if he invited his other friends. A lot of the neighbourhood kids assumed he was your annoying sister, even when Art said you weren’t. You were just a little girl who liked to stick around.

That was how it was all elementary school until Art was in grade nine and you were still in seventh. The dynamic changed- he was still playing tennis, still seeing you, but more when your parents would see each other. Otherwise Art was with Patrick.

You knew Patrick well. He was around and so were you. Sometimes Patrick was nice, sometimes he wasn’t, but he was just a kid. You’d call Art sometimes and Patrick would pick up and just say “he’s busy!” And hang up. You had other friends but knowing someone pretty much your whole life, having a small itty bitty tiny crush your whole life, and having them turned away by a new crowd was a little hard. He still found time.

Art didn’t know what to do with you when he went to high school. It was weird you were still so young to him.

“Art,” you said. You were finally in high school and found him in the hall. “I can’t find the math classroom, I was wondering-“

“Take a left at the corner and it’s right there. Good luck, I’ll see you later, gotta go!” It sucked, but it was fine. If you had the chance, you’d tag along, still sporting the same following attitude. You went where he did.

Art was cute, yeah, but when he graduated you thought less. Sure you’d follow him wherever, but you had wanted to go to Stanford much longer than he had. Screw him and his two years on you, he was already enrolled. And he moved away.

You barely had a life when he was gone. It was all stupid. He called you every few days and of course you picked up the second your phone rang but it was still stupid. You’d call him whenever you liked which was much more often- and sometimes he’d pick up, other times he wouldn’t.

You and Art hung out a few days before college started. You walked through the city around Stanford, talking in the park. His choice of location. “It’s good to be in the same area as you again,” he said. You smiled as the wind blew your hair around your face, warm. “I don’t have to call now.”

“You didn’t like the phone calls?” You asked.

“No, I loved them, don’t get me wrong, they’re effective. You have no idea how good it was to hear your voice when I missed home.”

Your smile turned into a grin, he matched it. “Now what do we do when we both miss home?” You asked. He laughed and bumped against your shoulder.

“I’ll just call your mom,” he said. You both laughed at his immature humour. It was good to be back with him, he was right.

“Uh huh and I’ll call your dad, no hesitation,” you teased. He shoved you a little so you stumbled a few steps off the path. “I’m sure he’d love to hear all about you and your adventures with marijuana.” You poked him in the ribs as you regained your position on the path. He grinned his crooked grin, the one you knew so well.

“I’d just have to tell your mom that you actually have had your first kiss and you aren’t her perfect little princess anymore.” He said.

“She’d never believe you,” you pretended to judge him, eyes narrowed. “She’d die, she’s so Catholic, Art, she’s sooo Catholic.” You fake groaned and he laughed. It was good to know that even though the distance made things feel odd, the dynamic somewhat returned when you were together again.

“She is so Catholic, but I’m sure she’d be fine with it, come on…” He ruffled your hair up and you gasped.

“Art- my hair took like an hour to braid- and she would die, I’m sure of it. On the spot. Unless you want her to die, I suggest you keep that secret.”

“And you keep your secret about the weed?”

“Deal.”

“Deal.” He repeated, pulling you into a quick hug, smile on his face. He’d missed you. He let you go. But his phone buzzed, it was Patrick, who he said he’d meet. He lost track of time with you. “Shit, Y/N. I made plans to play pool with a friend. I have to run, but I’ll see you soon, okay?” He was already stepping back. You were going to ask where he played pool, you were going to ask who with, just curious, but he was already on the run. It was fine.

Your first day at Stanford, 18 years old, you found yourself in his exact residency building, just on the girls end. It was convenient. Your parents had just left. You had your hair up in a claw clip as you set all your pictures up in the room, covered and made the bed. Your roommate was really nice already, sharing a bag of chips and telling you she brought a mini fridge you could both use. You had a feeling you’d love it there. Stanford was the dream.

You were bringing another box in when Art passed you. “Art!” you said, dropping your box. Art turned, confused.

“Y/N?” He said. He knew you were here just not in his building. He pulled you into a quick hug. “You got a room in this residence? You didn’t even tell me.” He let go.

“I didn’t know which you were in, I didn’t even think it might be the same,” you giggled. He smiled. You looked at the box you dropped. Art kept walking down the hallway, you left all your things to follow. “How are you?” You asked, walking just a bit behind him.

“I’m good! I just was out for lunch,” He said. “Uh- come, I’ll show you my room.” He didn’t expect you to follow him the way you did, but it was always okay. “It’s great you’re here. I would hang out but there’s a party tonight, the frat throws one every year for newcomers.”

You weren’t a party person. “Are you going?”

“I think so yeah, me and a few of my friends. You remember Patrick.” You were glad you hadn’t seen Patrick in a few years, honestly. “He’s over right now in my room, actually. You can say hi.”

“Perfect,” you said, following him up the steps and through the boys-side lounge. “Can I go with you?”

He nodded, swallowing. He knew you didn’t go to parties, he was planning on seeing you tomorrow night. “Uh… yeah. Yes. I don’t see why not, you’ve been to parties right?” He pretended like he didn’t know.

“No,” you replied.

“Okay, well you’ve been drunk at least.”

“No,” you answered. You might have if you’d been around while Art started his late-highschool-early-college drinking era. “Is that bad? Should I have?”

“Not necessarily,” Art chuckled. You were exactly the sweet girl he knew. “Means it’ll happen faster. I have drinks you can have if you want them. This is my room-“ he opened the door to the dorm room and it wasn’t much. Pretty normal, some tennis posters, some video game stuff lying around and Patrick in a spinning computer chair with headphones on. “Patrick.” Art said, hitting his friend in the back of the head.

You looked around, eyes everywhere, then on Patrick as he spun around. His eyes widened and he looked at Art, then you. Art spoke up as Patrick took his headphones off, “You remember Y/N.”

It had been a while since you and Patrick had seen each other. As annoying as he used to be, he was much taller. More hair, more muscle, taller. He wasn’t bad looking, you noted. You didn’t know Patrick was noting the same, just a little more male-oriented in his ways of thinking. “Holy shit, hi.” Patrick said.

“Hey,” you replied, smiling. You could let bygones be bygones. Everyone here was an adult now. “How are you?”

“I’m good, how are you?” Patrick asked.

You were surprised he seemed civil. “I’m good, thank you.” Your smile turned into a grin. “It’s good to see you both.”

“You’ll be back here at seven, hm?” Art squeezed your upper arm gently. He turned to Patrick, “She’s coming with us tonight.”

Patrick narrowed his eyes at you. “Is she even eighteen?” He spoke like you weren’t there- that was the Patrick you remembered.

“Yes, she’s eighteen. And she’s with us, so she’s fine.” He turned back to you. “You go get settled in, we’ll see you later.” He dismissed you- you would have stayed if he didn’t say so.

You waved and said goodbye and the hours passed. You unpacked and got ready, putting on something cute. Your roommate was going too, said she would see you there. At ten past seven, you knocked on Art’s dorm room door.

Patrick opened the door, “It’s her,” he called to Art, looking you dead in the eyes. “You look terrifying with eyeliner.” He remarked with a smile.

You laughed. “Thanks.”

Art rushed out of the bathroom, buttoning up his open shirt. “No, you look great.” He rushed past, then turned a bit to look again. “You look really nice actually. Wow.“

You smiled and shrugged. He finished the buttons and grabbed a can from a case under his bed. “Drink this, you’ll like it.” He cracked it open for you and everything.

“Thank you- what’s the rush?”

Patrick shook his head, sipping from his own can. “No rush, he’s just fast.”

You took a sip, it wasn’t great but it was bearable. You scrunched your nose. Art walked by you again, putting his socks and shoes on. “Rules, Y/N.” He said. “Just in case, okay?”

You nodded. “Rules?”

“Rules,” he repeated. “Don’t drink anything anyone offers you, no matter what it looks like. Don’t take any pills or drugs. Don’t leave with anyone without telling me first.” He said. It was a lot more serious than the rules he’d made up for his own version of tag when you were kids. Time was an odd thing…

“Okay,” you agreed. Art stopped in front of you and stole a sip from your drink before raising his eyebrows and grinning.

“You could just put her on a leash,” Patrick chimed in. You cocked your head to the side and shook it slowly at Patrick. Patrick spun in the chair, “Or if she’s anything like she used to be, you won’t need to.”

What was that supposed to mean?

Things progressed and you went to meet some of Art’s friends to drink more before heading over and you enjoyed tagging along. Art let you choose the music in his car and his friends approved of it enough. Some guys, two girls, you. Art.

Two low percentage drinks made you fuzzy. You weren’t even there yet. You weren’t sure what was expected, but it was odd. You clung to Art’s side the whole time, not physically, but you were near.

Eventually you got to the party and it was loud and crowded and easy to lose people in the hoards. Art slipped away somewhere and you didn’t know what to do, so you finished a third can and you were feeling it for sure. It was weird, strange, loopy, almost. You sat on the stairs, just people-watching. Playing it safe instead of mingling. It was fine.

A while passed, though it didn’t feel like it. Patrick was the one to find you, “Have you been here the whole time?” He asked over the music.

“Yeah,” you replied.

“Maybe Art should have put you on a leash,” he chuckled.

You were drunk enough to ask, “What does that even mean?” You stole his drink and he let you, taking a swig and handing it back like drinking was normal, casual. It was not.

“You know how when you used to follow him around all the time? Like a lost puppy?” He laughed like it was something you’d known, like it was obvious. “Everywhere we would go, you were just trailing behind. As kids we couldn’t even go outside without you following us. I knew you were really you when you came here because now you’re gorgeous- which I hate- but you’re still you, following us to this party.”

Part of that was meant to be nice. You could tell Patrick was drunk as well the way he told the truth so easily. But what he said had the ability to sink in and hurt, burning into you like acid. That’s how Patrick, the practical extension of Art- viewed you? Just some sad girl who followed Art around forever?

It stung to hear. “What?” You asked again. As if you didn’t hear. As if your eyes didn’t gloss over. You had no idea. Did you just not pick up on the fact you weren’t wanted there?

“You’re still you. I should have known when you were still calling him all the time from home. Calling and calling and calling. You still follow Art around like you have that schoolgirl crush on him or something, fuck you’re even here at Stanford, he just cannot get rid of you. I never got why you liked him so much, but yeah, you practically invited yourself here with us. It’s not bad to see you, but you know, it’s college. Be your own person.”

It stung, it dug deeper. You blinked back tears, but you knew Patrick didn’t notice at all whatsoever. You looked at your hangs, feeling the embarrassment and shame in your fingertips. “I’m sorry.” You said. You wished you were saying it to Art.

“Hm?” Patrick didn’t hear you. But you stood up and nodded, repeating yourself to him.

“I’m sorry,” you said more firmly. He heard you for sure, his head turned as you walked by, pushing past people and disappearing into the crowd again. You walked out the door and went back to your dorm. There was no point in staying. You’d be your own person, you weren’t one for parties.

You thought about it the whole way. Had you invited yourself and not noticed? You remembered asking. Patrick wasn’t even there when you asked, for fucks sake. You knew Patrick was drunk, but drunk words = sober thoughts, you’d heard. Patrick was mean, that was for sure. You wondered if it even phased him.

You fought tears, rethinking your childhood with Art. How much of it did he want? How much of it was your parents? You took off your party clothes and slipped into the most comfortable t-shirt and shorts and took off your makeup. You sat in your new bed, knees to your chest and just thought, endlessly, over everything.

You knew you and Art wouldn’t be super close forever, obviously you weren’t naive, but he was always the most familiar thing. New places were always explored with him, new things were always tried with him, anything new was always perceived from Art’s side. Even without him there for a while, it was still something you valued. You didn’t realize maybe you’d been clinging. Had you been clinging? Or was he just a close friend? What was the difference?

You let some of your tears fall down your face. You were in school now, it was new, it was supposed to be fun. And you would be your own person this time, you guessed. You fell asleep with the lights on.

The next day you rolled over and looked at six missed calls from Art. He probably wondered if you got home fine or if you broke one of his rules. You didn’t read anything he sent, you just typed out

‘I got home safe’.

And left it at that. It was easiest. You rolled over and out of bed, into an outfit and asked your roommate if she wanted to get coffee with you. She was easily and instantly a great friend. Coffee turned into going to the thrift stores and talking and talking and talking. You knew each other’s life stories by the end of the day.

You had another missed call from Art around 3pm. You’d call him tomorrow, you thought, before Patrick’s voice chimed back into your head. You decided against it. Classes started tomorrow anyway.

The next day, classes were amazing. You had made tons of friends and assembled what felt like the beginnings of a friend group. After class everyone hit the cafeteria for super salty chicken tenders. Everything Patrick said still hurt, but it was good to have the distraction. Other friends. Ones who you were sure wanted you around regardless, even if it meant staying close by.

“Someone came by here for you,” Your roommate told you when you got home. “Said his name was Art?”

“A friend of mine,” you said. How sure were you of that? “Did he say anything?”

“No, just swung by and asked if you were here. I told him you were out and that I didn’t know when you’d be back.” She said. You eyed the dual schedules of yours and hers hanging up above her desk and the both of you smiled. “Just in case.”

You talked the night away again. She was a great listening ear as you confessed the whole thing to her. She was very sweet about it and gave you one of her ice cream sandwiches.

The next day you were laughing and leaving class and Art found you. You didn’t run, hide, you just looked at him. “Hey,” he started. “You haven’t been answering my calls or texts I thought maybe you’d died.” He shrugged sheepishly.

“I’ve just been busy,” you said. It was somewhat true- you’d busied yourself to be a different person, your own person. “Why, what’s up?”

“Nothing, I just-“ Art stopped himself. “You left early and you didn’t tell me.”

“The party?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Patrick said he saw you. Where were you?”

“I was on the stairs before I left. And then I went straight home and right to bed.” You told him honestly. “I’m sorry.” At least now you got to tell him you were sorry. “Look, I have another class in ten across campus, I have to go.”

“I’ll walk you,” he said.

You had to take a deep breath. All you saw in his offer was pity. Obligations. “My friends are waiting on me, I’m sorry. Thanks though.” You dismissed him.

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” he said. He wasn’t used to whatever version of you this was. You were sweet, you were kind, you were always willing to stick around if he needed you. You would always hang back if he was tying his shoelaces, but you wouldn’t even walk with him. “See you around.”

“Bye, Art!” You called from ahead. Part of you felt terrible. It wasn’t normal to do what you just did, but it was essential. How would you be someone uninfluenced if you couldn’t break the habit?

A few more days passed. Art would call every now and then. You would never pick up. You were busy. It was the least contact you’d had with him in your entire life- by choice, at least. Camping and vacations never counted. Your roommate said he’d been by twice more.

Another party came up. A Friday night- you, your roommate, your class friends all wanted to go. It still wasn’t your thing but why couldn’t it be? Reinvention.

No pregaming, just one drink in hand at the party you were talking with your friends in the corner, laughing, having fun. There was a guy in your new friend group that had been showing interest, or at least that’s what your friend said, backed up by your roommate. He was cute but he was your height, not taller. He was nice but said a few things that had made you cringe. You were trying to get into the college era vibe by flirting back but it was all empty.

You had no idea how to flirt with someone who wasn’t picking up on simple hints, but you stood with him, talking to him against the wall, closer than your other friends were.

You felt a hand on your lower back, turning to face Art. His hand raised itself to your upper arm, “Thought you didn’t like parties?” He said. No hello, no hi, no greeting.

“I’m giving it another chance,” you replied. “The first one wasn’t great.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Can we talk?” He asked. Your roommate stepped in and removed Art’s hand from your arm. It fell to his side. He looked at you, eyes meeting yours in the flashing lights of the party. You’d put off your friendship enough to allow maybe a conversation. He wanted to talk, he’d been wanting to talk, not sure about what but you nodded. “Somewhere quieter?” He suggested, gesturing for you to follow him. You stepped a few steps in the direction you started before realizing you were following him. You tapped his arm.

“This way,” you said. And you changed direction and headed up the stairs. Every room was occupied. You had no idea where you were going, so you turned to two doors in the hall and found yourself on the frat balcony. Greek letters hung just above your head height. Art closed the door behind you both, muting the inside noise. And he just looked at you, hands in his pockets, eyes soft, summer breeze in the air.

You blinked off his gaze, feeling judged, but he knew you were sober aside from a sip or two. Unaffected. “You’ve been busy,” he started. “I called again a few times, was wondering if you wanted to come with me and Patrick to see a showing of Back To The Future in the campus park this weekend.”

You smiled a little to yourself. Back to The Future was a shared favourite between you and Art. Your expression softened. “I’m not too busy…” you said. “But you’re inviting me?”

“Of course I’m inviting you, I haven’t seen you in a week and a half.” He said it like it was the biggest drop of common sense. “I want you to come with us.”

You shook your head, looking at your feet. You didn’t speak. Art spoke instead, “What happened at the first party? I know something happened, I can assume something happened. I lost you and I never found you and the next day you’re different. You’re not you.”

You weren’t you because you weren’t trailing after him on an invisible leash? You sighed heavily, “I don’t know.”

“You do know. I know you. You know. And we tell each other everything, but you’ve gone radio silent.”

You looked over the balcony, at the trees and the way their leaves rustled in the light wind. You folded your arms over your chest, unknowing of how to answer. He spoke again in your silence, “I’ve missed you.” He said.

You looked at him, “Missed me?”

He shrugged, “Yeah, why wouldn’t I? When I missed you before I could just call and you’d answer and now I can’t see you when you’re in the same building as me. I’m used to you being around. It’s different when you’re not.”

Your lip quivered like you wanted to cry and you felt burning behind your eyes, but no tears surfaced, just remembering how you felt when Patrick said what he said. You couldn’t let that go. “I just wasn’t at your heels,” you said.

“Hm?” Art stepped forward.

“Like a lost puppy,” you continued. “I’ve been trying to be my own person. Do things without you, without being on your tail at all times.”

He looked like that hurt him. How would that have hurt him? “What?” He asked it like you said something wild and crazy.

“I didn’t want to be some sad girl who follows you around anymore. I know you have priorities, I know you have friends here that you’ve known and connected with and I think you should be allowed your space… from me.” You said. Part of that was gushing and for the first time you realized that staying away from him had only partially been for you. It was an act of sentiment toward him to allow him to enjoy himself without you as a ball and chain.

Art looked like someone punched him in the stomach for a moment as he processed what you said. He changed expressions to concern, then to disbelief and then he just looked sad. “How did you come to that conclusion? Y/N… What? Space? From you? Like I didn’t go through two years of it already, seeing you only at Christmas and Easter?”

“You have great friends here and you see them all the time and you go out and you go to parties and I just tagged along that night, didn’t I? You were going to the party with your friends and I asked to go with you and you-“

“I said yes!” He said, voice a little louder. Trying to get it across. “I said yes. I didn’t think you would even want to go.”

“I want to be where you are. Or I wanted to be where you were, I missed you. I didn’t mean to invite myself. You could have said no.”

“I wanted you there!” He replied.

“Are you sure? You lost me pretty fast.”

“I spent the rest of the night looking for you! I haven’t spoken to three people from that night because I disregarded their existence looking for you, ruined their nights. I wondered if maybe you got roofied or you were fucking some guy in a bathroom- I-“ He ran his hands through his curls. “You didn’t message me until the next morning, I was still out there looking for you when you messaged me.”

Your lips parted and your mouth suddenly felt very dry. A little breath slipped out, a hush. You looked at him and he looked at you, his eyes soft and kind and sweet and just like the ones of the boy who dropped his sandwich in the sandbox. Art shook his head, stepping closer to you, stepping back and standing his ground closer to you. He looked up at the sky, “I love you and I care about you and I do fucking miss you.” He said. “More than anything. I’ve been losing my mind the past week.”

“I didn’t know,” you said.

“I called and came by your dorm,” he replied. “So this is the part where you tell me what the fuck I did to make you think you were someone I didn’t want around.” He was firm, but you could see the pain in his expression.

You swallowed hard, wondering what he would think. “Patrick, um…” you started but talking about it made you want to cry. You tried to get rid of the lump in your throat. “He found me and he said a few things about me being the same little girl who followed you around everywhere when I wasn’t wanted.” Your voice almost broke but you saved yourself, though you couldn’t stop your eyes from starting to tear up.

“Patrick said that?”

“He’s the one who made the lost puppy comparison. I’m not mad at him or anything, he was drunk, but he talked about me calling you all the time, how it all adds up to the same schoolgirl crush and how you can’t get rid of me and you’re the reason I’m here at Stanford and…” you trailed off because it choked you out. “It’s okay, it just made me rethink a lot of things. He said I need to be my own person.”

“You are your own person, what the fuck? Made you think that you needed to give me space? He was able to make you believe that I wanted to get rid of you? After being friends with you for seventeen years of my life?” He questioned it but you knew he wasn’t actually questioning you. It was rhetorical, you knew the answers. “I swear to god, I’ve never given so much as a notion that I don’t want you around other than I couldn’t want you around because you were either too far or just not invited. If I had it my way you’d be invited to everything, I would never not want you around.”

He grabbed you by both of your shoulders, squeezing but resting gentle. You sighed, “But I have followed you around like a lost puppy.” You said, blinking back threateningly hot tears.

“You’re not a lost puppy. Do you think I don’t feel like I’m dragging you around sometimes?”

“You’ve never dragged me anywhere,” you said. You smiled just a little and he couldn’t help but do the same. “I like being around you.”

“I like having you around. I’ve never thought of you as any sort of dog at my heels or whatever the fuck it is you or Patrick said.” He squeezed your arms again, sliding his hands up to the back of your neck, under your hair, bracing you. “You are everything to me, I don’t care where you are, if you’re behind me or in front of me, beside me, just with or around me, it’s the safest, most familiar thing I know. You can go anywhere you want but you chose to stick around me when you were only three and it was the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He confessed. You sighed, this time, just out of the peace his words brought.

“I mean at first I didn’t know what to do with a little girl who was depending on me to teach her how to make stick forts and weird knots and how to climb hills but we’ve figured everything out together. And I don’t want that to stop. Fuck Patrick, honestly. You over him, you over anyone, anything, any day of the week, I’m sorry. I’m not that sorry”

You didn’t know what else to do or how to reply. Every word he said kicked Patrick’s take on you to the curb. Everything Patrick had thought about you was disproven, thrown, ripped to shreds. Your heart beat fast, heavily, thudding against the inside of your ribs. You breathed out hard, hoping that maybe it would expel some of the emotion that was overloading. Art’s hands had moved slowly up the back of your neck, unnoticed as he confessed everything and now they rested just at your jaw, thumbs by your ears. This moment of yours before the breath only lasted seconds but felt like eternity. You could have cried, sobbed, even, with the amount of emotion that instantly overcame your body but you didn’t cry or scream it out, there was nothing more fitting than how Art closed the gap between the two of you with a kiss.

His hands at your jaw, yours grabbed onto his sides like it was natural. Like you’d done it a million times. As he kissed you with slightly chapped lips pressed firmly to your own, you found that there was some release, some weight gone. Some ghost butterfly danced around your stomach and your head and the kiss was not long, but not short either, but it was needed and the kiss itself was telling of that. All of your emotion washed out like the tide and came back slowly, regular, calm, known.

You pulled away at the same time, mutually. “I love you too.” You said quietly. He grinned that crooked grin you knew too well and suddenly you were laughing about it. About something, about everything. He kissed you again, of course, harder, laughing through it, his hands around your waist and your arms around his neck and this second kiss turned itself into a hug. An embrace, tighter than the usual ones. He buried his face in your neck as you expressed everything you’d needed to in all of your seventeen years as best friends. He apologized for any distance, any fault in the way he prioritized you, and any time he may have taken you for granted. Being without you was harder than he could have imagined.

And nothing ever changed how either of you felt about each other again. Though… Art started following you around a bit more from that point on, but who wouldn’t want that?

A/N: Thank you for the request! I hope this is somewhat to your liking, though I followed your prompt a bit loosely with the pacing. Always feel free to request! That goes for everyone

[marwolaeth-76]

Veneer x Famale Reader. First experience of smoking weed

TW drug use

!!all characters are adults!!

tags: fluff and nothing more

“Are you sure Velvet won’t find us here?” - Veneer asks with a slight nervous laugh, his eyes running along the corridor while you lead him by the hand to the door to the entrance to the dressing room. You have recently become the twins' new assistant after Crimp was ordered to find a replacement for herself. Anyway, this washcloth did the job. Having not tiny sizes, and the same appearance as the singers themselves, you were able to find a common language with the two of them. In any case, for the most part, to Veneer. Velvet's arrogant tone and permissive nature still sends slight shivers down your spine. Be that as it may, now you are taking one of your “bosses” to the dressing room, all in order to smoke one joint for two. Who would have thought that Veneer could suddenly become interested in the fact that sometimes you relax after work in the company of well-rolled paper, marijuana. The singer, of course, is nervous, this is his first time in such matters, he certainly cannot say that Velvet did not do this, but he definitely did not.

"Um haha, you know we could find a better place than the dressing room..." -The pop diva says a little incredulously, he cracks a wry smile when you turn around to look him in the face.

"Don't worry, it's evening, Vel has no reason to appear here at such a late time, she's probably busy with her routine affairs, and besides, for some reason you decided to put windows in the dressing room..so we found a use for it."

Your voice sounds cheerful and relaxed, finally you both enter the room, locking it with a key from the inside.

"You know, I'm still not completely su.." - Before he can finish him sentence, you roll your eyes, take out of your pocket an iron box with neatly folded joints, and taking one out, set it on fire.

"After you, princess" -You answer with a slight teasing note in your voice, handing Venir the already lit joint.

the guy just rolls his eyes at your stupid impudence, a slight, slightly stupid grin plays on his lips, as if he has finally adopted your relaxed mood. Bringing the roll of marijuana to his lips, he takes a puff for no more than 2 seconds, leaving a green lipstick mark on the paper. Immediately after inhaling, Veneer coughs a little, putting his hand to his throat and making a face in disgust.

“S-smoke, it went straight into my throat, it’s just disgusting, and it hurts too!”

Veneer looks unhappy, he frowns and feels a lot of saliva accumulating in his mouth. Looking at this, you can't help but laugh at him, although you try.

“Well, of course you didn’t like it, actually, you don’t have to cough when smoking,” you say ironically, shaking your head and taking the joint from his hands. Taking a puff of 5 seconds, which seemed like an eternity for the guy, you hold the smoke in your lungs, and then release it back.

"See? There's nothing complicated"

Veneer looks surprised, to be honest he has never seen you smoke before, you pass the joint into his hands again for a second try. This time, taking a puff in less than 2 seconds, the green-haired handsome man was able to hold out without coughing, exhaling smoke, reproachfully saying, “Still, this is disgusting.”

After about half an hour of such shenanigans, you and your trusty drinking buddy were well stoned, a stupid stoned expression on both of your faces. “okay, I take my words back, this...isn’t as bad as I said the first time, lol, but still, you won’t lure me here again without weed” - There was clearly something...sarcasm in Veneer’s words? Yes, most likely. Sitting on a chair side by side, your shoulders touching his, you had already finished smoking an unfortunate joint 10 minutes ago, not even noticing that all this time you had been sitting in silence, breathing the smoke you made, intertwining your hands together, lying on his hip, in in a gentle manner.

The cheek on which you were lying, leaning on his bony shoulder, was already well numb, but either from the high you don’t care about it, or maybe you don’t want to waste this moment? Lazily turning his gaze to the pop star’s face before saying anything, he notices this and abruptly leaves a light kiss on your forehead, leaving a barely noticeable trace of the almost erased green lipstick.

"Still, I think you can lure me here again, even without the weed.."

___________________________________

this is my first post of this kind, and I hope you like it. I'm not a native eng speaker, so I apologize in advance if any mistakes were made😞

[cutielando]

baby headcannons | j.m.

synopsis: in which you and JJ are teen parents

my masterlist

it was unplanned, of course. neither of you were ready for a baby

you were very sexually active and forgot to use protection on one too many occasions

when you told your mother, she was surprisingly supportive of you, having been a teen mother herself

JJ's father didn't take it very well, as expected

JJ told you he wanted to go and talk to his father alone because he didn't want to risk Luke hurting you in a fit of rage

when he finally came back, he had some cuts on his face and a bruise forming on his jaw, but he didn't seem as scarred as usual

JJ moved into your house with you, wanting to be there every step of the way

your mother helped you through every crisis you had, she always gave you tips and shared experiences with you to put you at ease

the Pogues were over the moon at the idea of a baby coming into this world

John B was skeptical at first because he knew of JJ's weed and beer habits, but he soon got over them when he saw how much JJ had changed since you found out you were pregnant

Kie was probably the most excited out of everyone at the idea of being an aunt. She was always talking about how many clothes she would buy the baby and how spoiled it was going to be

Pope didn't know how to feel, he was just kind of...there. He was happy for you, obviously, but that was about it

about six months into the pregnancy, you noticed a big change in JJ's attitude. He stopped smoking weed, he drank beer on very few occasions, he went with you to every doctor's appointment, he worked day in and day out to make sure he would be able to provide for your little growing family

he was also the most supportive father-to-be ever. He massaged your back and feet when he saw how uncomfortable you were, he always went out to get you food when a pregnancy craving would wake you up no matter the hour, he set up the nursery without a single complaint, he was taking his role very seriously

of course, there were some people who judged you for being pregnant when you were only 18, especially Kooks, but JJ took care of them every time

when it came down to labor, he was probably more stressed than you were

your water broke in the middle of the night, taking both of you by surprise

he took care of your hospital bag while you went and woke up your mom

the drive to the hospital was fairly quick, but to JJ it felt like an eternity

you were in labor for about 4 hours before you were told you could start pushing, which sent JJ into a fit. He had been told it would be at least 10 hours before you had to push, why was everything moving so quickly?

when it was time to push, he was right there with you. He gave you his hand to hold, not complaining the tiniest bit about you crushing his bones and stopping his blood circulation

he knew how much pain you were in birthing his child, which is why he didn't dare say anything

after 30 minutes, your beautiful baby daughter was born

you felt so much relief when she was finally out, throwing your head on the hospital bed while breathing heavily

hearing her cry was probably the best thing you had ever heard, knowing your daughter was here and healthy

JJ leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, whispering praising words into your ear

"I can't believe how strong you are. You did so good, baby, I'm so proud of you. I love you so fucking much"

when the nurses cleaned her and wrapped her up in her pink blanket, they passed her over to you for her first feeding

JJ was in awe as he watched you feed your daughter, so naturally that it seemed like you had been doing it for years

the baby opened her eyes and outstretched her little hand towards JJ while eating from the bottle you were holding

JJ reached over and put his pointer into the little girl's hand, who immediately grasped it and held it in a tight grip

she had JJ's blue eyes and blonde hair while she had your nose and mouth

she was the cutest thing in the world in your eyes

neither of you have ever felt a love like this for a human so tiny. she was the center of your universe, the product of your love

despite every prejudice people had of you, you were going to rock the parenting thing

as long as you had each other, you were going to be okay

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[kamjkaze]

Some Andre HCs cause I feel like I understand my baby the most.. TW: eating disorders

I think Andre struggles with anorexia as a means of having control over his life. If pried about it you���ll learn he genuinely does not believe he has disordered eating. He will fast for days on end to simply feel like he has a grip on his own reality.

I think his brain still thinks I’m german and when he’s only around his family for awhile he fumbles a little when translating his thoughts into English. Cal, naturally makes fun of him for this.

When he’s very sleepy and keeping himself awake his brain defaults to German and Cal usually just goes along with whatever Andre is saying.

Cal and Andre are super different in how they go to sleep. Andre can force himself to be awake for hours even if he’s barely lucid. But Cal, once he’s out, he’s out.

Andre is a mega computer nerd and begged his parents for that little computer for a full calendar year before he received it. He loves to tinker with it and I think once when he was younger his tinkering went too far and he broke something inside it. His dad got suuupppeer pissed and threatened to throw the whole thing out if Andre was so comfortable with breaking the things he bought him. , thankfully Andre fixed it with a bit of reading and stressing

Andre is a terrible skin picker. He has acne as it is but he will poke and prod and squeeze and scratch at all the little bumps on his face. The fact he has dirty man hands all up in his open ass acne is not doing the problem any favors

Andre still struggles with his own religious identity and never fully dropped the idea of Judaism from his mind, even on zero day.

I think he actually enjoys working with his dad, I think he’s a daddy’s boy as it is but being able to be out of the house and actually social with his father most nights is really good for him. Many of his doubts for zero day occurred while he was at work with his father.

I think Andre is very sensitive to weed and cannot handle himself very well with getting high because the Goldilocks zone of “this ain’t shit” to “throwing up and greening out” is so small for Andre. As opposed to Cal who hasn’t taken a tolerance break in the four years he’s been smoking.

This is the opposite for drinking. Andre can smash as much alcohol as he wants in a night whereas Cal is a total lightweight who can’t handle his vodka

Andre sleeps completely naked no matter the season. Andre is also naked most of the time in his bedroom or when left alone in the house. It’s a small quirk about him that he doesn’t really know where it came from. “I guess I was just meant to be a nudist. I mean, it’s how we’re all born”

Andre is not the type to admit his jealousy but it is one of the few things he’s able to laugh about just because I think he understands that he is a very jealous person and has more or less come to terms with it (unless of course pushed too hard about it, Andre would get mad about anything if pushed too hard about it)

When andre was a small boy his favorite book was The Runaway Bunny

Andre Kriegman is my life and joy PLLEAASSEEE share your Andre Hcs with me I beg of you

[lars-canyon]

GGST – 09-01-23 – GlitchyCat (Testament) vs Twenty-Seven [Millia]

Like a Weed, Naturally, As a Matter of Course on the Lap of the Kami

[strawb3rrystar]

Confessions with wild flowers.

Pairing: Teen! Scott Summers x Teen! Fem! Xavier's daughter! Reader

Summary: Falling in love with your best friend under the shade of an oak tree.

Warnings: Mentions underage smoking, not proofread

Word count: 2.2k

✰Masterlist

Scott sat under one of the big oak trees on the school grounds, trying to find peace despite the prominent pounding of a headache taking a toll on him. He dealt with them frequently, popping a few pills back and waiting until they kicked in. So, here he sat, picking at the wild flowers that grew from the ground. Some would call them weeds, others would say it's part of the world's natural beauty. He twirled the stem of the flower idly in his hand, so caught up in his own world that he didn't hear your footsteps approach him.

"Don’t." He immediately says once he notices you, maybe a bit harsher than he actually means. His posture relaxes a bit, but he’s too in his own head to apologize. His fingers tighten around the unfortunate dandelion he had picked, and he looks like he’s about to blast a hole through the ground with how hard he’s glaring at it. "Your headaches are back, aren't they?" it didn't take a genius to know when something was wrong with Scott. When a guy who is usually so friendly and outgoing towards the other students turns sour, you can tell he has a problem.

"How did you know?" Scott replied, a bit defensive. The question caught him off guard, and he immediately stiffened again. He hadn’t even been able to turn around yet to see you, and he hadn’t even told you about his headache. Granted, they happened so often, that it wasn’t unlikely that you just knew. "Because you're usually never alone like this," you answer, and he was silent for a few beats then let out an exasperated sigh. Scott was a bit embarrassed that you saw right through him. He had chosen a more isolated spot, but of course, you had noticed. You were too observant for your own good, and was always somehow always able to see right through him. No matter how hard he tried to hide.

"Can’t get anything past you, huh?" He asked, rhetorically. But as dense as you were, you shrugged out a response "I am the professor's daughter after all." Scott snorts, because yeah, he supposed you were right. You were Xavier's daughter, and the two of you were so similar. He turns back to you, a bit of a smirk playing at the corner on his mouth, which is rare for him at a time like this. "You saying you somehow got all of your Dad's mind-reading powers, too?" He teases you. "No. I didn't get any mind-reading powers," you reply, stepping closer to him.

Scott's shoulders relax a bit as you step closer to him. Despite his tense mood, he can't help but be at least somewhat comforted by your presence. He even moves over slightly, making a spot for you beside him. "Good. I don’t think the world would survive if you got mind-reading powers, too," he jokes. You sit down beside him, sinking into the soft grass below "I just got his wicked smarts and wittiness."

"Smarts and wittiness is a pretty powerful combination," Scott points out, with a shrug. He’s still crushing the wildflowers between his fingers, though he’s relaxed more the longer he’s been sitting with you. "Could probably take over the world pretty quickly if you wanted." He teases, because there’s no doubt in his mind that you could take over the world if you wanted to. "Yeah, right." You roll your eyes playfully, not taking him seriously one bit. "I’m serious. Nobody would be able to stop you. You’d get away with everything. You could commit a multitude of crimes. Murder. Robbery. Maybe even arson. Hell, you could probably even kidnap." He replies, even though he knows that you're much more honorable than that.

"Jeez. You're making me sound like Pietro now," You scoff, shaking your head. "That’s an insult, honestly. You’ve got a far better moral compass than that guy, and you’re much less annoying." He retorts, a chuckle leaving his lips. "True, but at least the guys got a good stash of weed." You smile, gazing off at the other students playing tag in the open land. Scott rolls his eyes, because of course the guy is selling weed. "So that’s how you know him." Scott says dryly "Does your dad know you’re stealing weed from Pietro?"

"My dad can read minds, of course he does." you respond, as if it was the most obvious thing ever. "He just told me to be safe," you shrug "I think he was doing way crazier shit in his teens than we are." Scott snorts because he had no doubt in his mind that Charles had done some wild stuff in his young adult life. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Charles had once been a young man, with interests and hobbies and vices like anyone else. "Oh god, please don’t do anything that the professor did in his youth."

"I won't, I won't." you raise your hand in defense. "Good." Scott says firmly, but the smile is back on his face.The two of them sit in silence for a few moments. And Scott can feel his mood and his headache starting to slightly ease, just a bit, now that you're here. He lets out a long breath, and he’s not crushing the remains of the flower as hard anymore. "I guess it's good you can’t read my mind." Scott says finally, half-teasing. "Hm? Why?" you question, quirking a brow at him.

"You’d get annoyed by how often my mind changes." Scott half-jokes. But it’s not really a joke. Scott changes his mind and overthinks things so often that it would get annoying pretty quickly, judging from the few times he’s accidentally projected his thoughts to Charles. "You’re probably better off not knowing what’s going on in my brain. It gets pretty dark in there."

He lets out another breath, and he stops crushing the flower in his fingers entirely. Then he turns to look back at her directly. "You…you said something after our last mission. Remember?" You hum in response, nodding along. Scott takes a moment as he tries to formulate his next words, and he’s suddenly hyper-aware of how close you two are sitting. He glances down at the inches of distance between your legs. "Do you remember what you said?" Scott asks finally, glancing back up at her, almost hesitantly. "No, I don't." you answer.

Scott thinks for a second, silently cursing at himself. You probably either a) doesn’t remember it at all, since it meant nothing to you, or b) do remember it, and is trying to save him from the humiliation of remembering. Scott wasn’t sure which would be worse. He almost just decides to drop it and let the conversation pass on, but a moment of courage overtakes him, and he just bites the bullet and says it anyway. "You…you told me that I deserved better. Do you remember that?" Your response was to press your lips together and look away from him "Yeah.. I do.."

There’s a part of him, a voice in the back of his head, that tells him to stop this conversation now before he humiliates himself. But that bit of courage he’d grabbed ahold of is still there, and Scott pushes it aside for the time being. "Why did you say that then?" He asks, keeping his voice as neutral as possible. "Because.. You don't deserve the burden that your eyes cause." You explain, unable to make eye contact with him. Scott’s brain scrambles for a moment, and he suddenly feels butterflies stirring in his stomach. No, no, he just had to be misreading this. That’s all. There was no way that you actually meant that. He swallows, and the words that come out of his mouth are a bit awkward and forced, and he knows you will be able to tell. "That’s…that’s not the only thing you said."

"What else did I say?" you ask. Scott’s heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest, and he feels like he’s going to be sick, but he swallows down his anxiety. He can’t afford to chicken out now. "You…you said that I deserved someone who could make me laugh." Scott responds, looking straight at you. "Oh, right.." you mumble, he swallows again, because suddenly his throat feels like the Sahara Desert. He forces himself to keep his voice even, and he finally says the words that have been on his mind for so, so long. "And then you said…you said I deserved someone who could love me, despite it."

"Yeah, you do." Scott’s heart beats faster, because you said it so easily. So matter-of-fact, like it’s such an easy concept for you. Like it’s just been there, the whole time. "Do you actually…" Scott mumbles, his head feels fuzzy as you turn your head to look at him. He swallows, throat still feeling like sandpaper, heart beating out of his chest. "Can I.. uhm.. ask you a question?" you nod your head. He takes a deep breath, and this is it. This is the moment. This is where he either jumps off the cliff, and falls, or doesn’t. "When you said all those things…about me deserving better and being happy with someone…did you mean…you?"

"Maybe," you answer, biting your lip "Unless you like someone else.." Scott pauses for a moment, because he wasn’t expecting you to be so direct. He was expecting some half-answer, for you to give him a hint maybe. But you're as blunt as your father. He shakes his head, because he definitely does not like anyone else, and he’s been completely obsessed over you for a long, long time. "No. No, I don’t." He says firmly, causing you to blink in surprise. You didn't expect him to be so honest.

Scott suddenly has the insane idea to reach out and grab your hand, so he does. He reaches over, and his fingers brush against yours, and he gently picks up one of your hands up with his own. "It’s only you," he says, his voice barely a whisper. Your eyes widen slightly "Really?" He gently brushes his thumb over your knuckles, hesitantly he laces his fingers through yours. Then he nods, and he’s looking at you almost shyly. "Only you," He confirms. His heart is still beating faster than his brain can process, and Scott doesn’t think he’s ever felt this nervous in his entire life.

You lean a little closer to him and in a moment of bravery, he dares to bring his other hand up to rest on your cheek. He turns to face you fully, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you are. your hair smells good, he notices; it’s sweet smelling, but not in a completely feminine way. More like a summer rain and spring flowers smell. And soon he can’t think of anything but how much he wants to kiss you right now. "Scott," you whisper, grabbing his attention. He exhales, very much so out of his comfort zone. For once he can’t plan and strategize his next move. He just has to go for it. But, he doesn’t really care about that anymore. "Can I…" His voice is soft "Can I kiss you?"

"Please do." You answer, your words send a wave of relief over him. And as if he was about to go into battle, he suddenly gains a rush of confidence. With the hand that’s still holding your face, he gently tilts it up towards him, and he leans down, his face so close to yours. "Please, tell me if I’m a shitty kisser." He mutters against your lips before closing the distance between them. You kiss him back, placing your hand on his chest. Scott immediately feels like this is what he’s missing for his entire life. His whole body feels like it’s on fire, but in a good way, and all the noise in his mind goes quiet. For the first time in he can’t even think, he just feels like he’s home. Your eyes squeeze shut as you lose yourself in the moment.

Scott deepens the kiss, his thumb brushing over your cheek. He presses his body against yours, he can feel you grab onto his shirt and he’s suddenly addicted. You pull away a second later, gasping for air. Scott actually lets out a huff of a laugh, because he isn’t used to feeling this breathless, like he’s just run a hundred miles nonstop. "See? I told you I was a shitty kisser." He grins and teases, in a slightly shaky voice. "The worst." you reply, chuckling a little. "Shut up," He mutters, pressing a kiss to the skin just under your jaw.

You ruffle his hair a bit "You know.. I got a blunt in my room." Scott laughs again, because you guys could not be two more contrasting people. "Of course you do. Why am I not surprised?" He shakes his head playfully. "Come on," you say "Let's get high and makeout for a while." He has a million reasons as to why it’s a bad idea. He should be in his room, going over the training regimen for tomorrow, catching up on paperwork, looking for any news or threats Xavier should know about. But he doesn’t care about any of that. He’s suddenly feeling reckless. He stands up and offers his hand down to you "Sounds like a plan to me."

Star's notes -> Should I make a part 2 where they get high (and have sex)?? Anyways, on my third day of school as of posting this and I am very tired already

(Requests are open!)

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[theemporium]

hii!! saw u asking for requests and i haven’t been able to get this idea out of my head! poly!marauders with a s/o that’s like really good looking so wherever they go people look at her and they get all pouty and whiny until barty, evan and reg all come up to her and kiss her cheek and are like “we still on for tonight?” AND THE MARAUDERS AFE LIKE ???? WYM🤨🤨😤😤 and she’s like “oh! we’re having a sleepover!” and they’re like, “well now we’re joining” but she says no so they sneak into the slytherin dorms to see her and the skittles smoking weed and just laying around and they basically just hang out with them even though they’re jealous 😭🤭🤣

thank you for requesting!🖤

.

It was comically ironic how bad your boys were at sharing. 

Not with each other, of course. They had no problem sharing with each other, whether it meant alternating whose bed you slept in or who chose the date night for the week. Funnily enough, the topic of sharing and the odd nature of your relationship was never something the boys ever struggled with. In a sense, their friendship was only brought close together through it all. 

But sharing you with others? That was a whole different story. 

Despite as much as it displeased them, you were a social butterfly. You liked to reach out and make friends. The house or class status never mattered to you—people were people and that’s how you treated them. 

It didn’t help that your smile was warm and comforting, or the fact that the majority of the school student body had heart eyes for you. It was never an issue before because the boys knew you were theirs, they knew they snatched you when nobody else could. 

That security in the relationship quickly spiralled out of control with your growing, buddying friendship with the Slytherin boys. 

It started off as sitting next to Barty during one of your classes. A harmless seating plan that sat you next to the boy who seemed a bit grouchy—no pun intended towards his name. A friendship blossomed, which extended towards the small group Barty kept close to him and before you knew it, you found yourself having a little membership too. 

The boys weren’t amused. Not at all. You had dealt with their fits of jealousy here and there, but this was beyond that—this reached levels of pettiness you had never witnessed before. 

“This is ridiculous,” you stated, biting back your giggles as you watched your three boys shuffle into the room without a bother in the world. 

“I can’t imagine what you’d call ridiculous,” Sirius dismissed as he settled on the bed behind you, leaning over the edge to press a kiss to the top of your head. “We just wanted to hang out with our girl.” 

You leaned your head back, shooting the boy a look. “I told you I was having a sleepover tonight.”

“You didn’t tell us who,” Sirius countered. 

“Does it matter?” you asked. 

“I believe my brother is jealous,” Regulus commented, sitting across from you with a joint between his fingers that had been passed around the group before the boys arrived. 

“You are jealous?” you asked, your eyes filtering over each of the boys. 

“It’s hardly jealousy,” Sirius scoffed. 

“We just missed you,” James stated. 

“You saw me less than two hours ago,” you retorted. 

Remus shrugged. “I don’t see why we can’t join.”

You shook your head, though your amusement was clear. “You lot are a pain in my ass.” 

“We love you too, baby,” Sirius grinned as he leaned down, this time pressing a kiss to your lips. You could feel his smile grow when his brother let out a disgusted noise. 

“You’re going to scare away my friends,” you murmured with a playful pout. 

“Good,” James said as he shuffled over to you, happily laying his head down on your lap and grinning up at you. “Means we get to keep you to ourselves.” 

“Jealous bastards,” you huffed out a laugh. 

“Your jealous bastards, sweetheart,” Remus murmured with a hint of a smirk, unashamed in his words. 

Regulus blanched. “You guys can’t stay if you’re gonna try snogging her the whole night.” 

Sirius only grinned. “Shut up, Reggie, or we will try shagging her instead.”

.

[miabebe]

The Legend of The Sea: Epilogue

"You're crying? You must be turning human, the MerFolk don't cry."

"Of course we do. Why do you think the Sea is nothing but salt?"

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol × reader Genre: Heavy Angst, Romance, Implied smut Word Count: 4K A/n: It's finally here! I felt the angst level in the original fic was too high I wanted to give some closure but also maintain the bittersweet nature of their story so I tried my best, I hope its a satisfactory to you guys! Read the fic here first!

3 months later.

Seungcheol stared at his reflection in the water.

Dark hair toussled messily in the wind, dark circles stark under his eyes. He hadn't slept in days....he couldn't.

Every time he closed his eyes he would go back to that night in his room.

You taking a step back and then another.

Your hair fluttering in the wind of the sea.

Your eyes, when you looked at him for the last time.

He just couldn't get it out of his head. The scene would play over and over and over in his head, as nightfall would turn to daybreak, forcing him out of the confines of his room, forcing him into court, forcing him into his role as King.

That was the unfortunate thing about being one - Seungcheol didn't have the time or the luxury to wallow in his own sorrows. He had a kingdom to look after and people to protect. That meant everyday, he had to be a leader, he had to be the bravest man in the nation. It was only in the darkness of his room, standing before the window, taking in your lingering scent and the echoes of your words that he was his true self - a broken, broken man.

If there was any place that could offer him even a sliver of solitude, it was here, at the seacave. Seungcheol didn't know why he found himself here so often. Even though it was the waters that so cruelly took you from him, perhaps being close to the ocean made him feel close to you. Or perhaps because sometimes, the sea would take pity and wash up little somethings from your life onto the shore - your favourite sea weed, or the rare sea flowers you loved to talk about or those pretty pearls in the oysters.

Over the days, Seungcheol had been collecting those little tidbits, filling the cave with signs and memories of you. He had moved your favourite dresses, your favourite books, everything precious to you that was left in his possession out here. This was his haven, his sanctuary - his last reminder of you. His castle and the men in his court were unfortunately not gracious enough to entertain Seungcheol's misery - they needed him to leave you behind, needed him to find a queen, a political alliance that could strengthen the kingdom. Yet another reason Seungcheol often found himself in the presence of the ocean - even though it was taunting, it was where you belonged and where he freely belonged to you.

Today too the ocean is mocking him not so subtly, as Seungcheol's eyes fell on a little something that washed up on the shore, something he was actually quite familiar with - your seashell necklace.

Many months ago, right here, around the time day blended into night, you met him, speaking urgently. You rambled about some mission, something you had to do, something he had to help you with. Handing him this very necklace, you told him one day you'll come to Land like a blank slate and asked him to return it to you when you felt most lost - you said that it would remind you of what you needed to do when the time came. Seungcheol did not understand at all. It didn't matter though, all he had to do was just help you however he could. Your mission was his mission.

Bending down, he picked up the necklace, wondering how exactly it aided you. He had been noticing changes in you for a while by the time he returned it to you. You were asking more questions about the ocean, you were more quiet, lost in thoughts, lost in a battle with yourself. Seungcheol knew he had to let you figure things out, that's what you told him and that's what he did. By the time he came from war, the way you held onto him when he finally recovered told him something had drastically changed. Before he could even attempt to fathom what it was things had escalated - his father died, you were jailed for an assassination attempt and Seungcheol was forced to become king to free you.

Maybe if he hadn't let you go, you'd still be there, not beside him but at least he'd have the knowledge and the surety that you were okay. But Seungcheol couldn't bind you like that, he couldn't strip you of the one thing you valued the most about being in the ocean - your freedom. He had to let you go, but he didn't think you'd have gone this far away from him.

"She always manages to find a way doesn't she?"

Seungcheol stumbled back at the sound of a voice, completely taken aback. Before him was a woman who was definitely old but didn't seem it - she had a staff in one hand, and had donned clothes that made her look like she was in the waters though she was clearly floating above it. It was an apparition......this was magic - that meant she was a woman of the sea.

"The Sea Witch." She corrected his thought, pointing. "And the owner of that."

Seungcheol glanced at the necklace in his hand. "This is Y/n's."

The old lady let out a laugh, shaking her head. "I told you, she's a smart one that one. Always a step ahead, even of me." As she floated closer to him, Seungcheol did not take a worried step back. "Your lovely Y/n, she was an apprentice in my practice, all members of the Royal family are bound to work under me to understand sea magic-"

"Royal family?" Seungcheol blinked hard and fast. "Y/n.... she's....royalty?"

"Strange isn't it? Neither did you know you were in love with the youngest princess of the Sea, neither did she know she was in love with the only Prince of the land. Things would have been so different had you both known....."

"I don't understand." Seungcheol rubbed his head. "What do you mean?"

"Do you know why Y/n came to land King Choi?"

"I figured it was to kill my father-"

"The king." She corrected. "Y/n's mission was to kill the king. Did you ever wonder why?"

"I pondered about it day and night. The only explanation I could think of was...." Seungcheol recalled that fateful day. "It has something to do with my father setting sail."

"Indeed." She confirmed, making Seungcheol's heart sink in his chest. He knew that was a bad idea, he had voted against it. And with each word of the story that the Sea witch proceeded to tell him, it only made it worse.

"So...." He tried to process everything that had happened. It all made sense and also didn't at the same time. "Y/n had to kill my father or me to get back her kingdom. How did you or anyone think she could have done that without her memories? How could you expect that-"

"Was she not nearly successful King Choi?" The Sea Witch smiled knowingly. "Did you think the Hwangs would set her up to a mission that she could easily fulfill? Their plan was to tie her ancient sea magic, to ensure that she would fail in all ways possible, but your woman..... she's a warrior. She's one of the finest battle strategist the sea has ever seen and she had cleverly planned everything in her favour. That necklace...." She chuckled looking at his hands. "That is one of my most prized possessions, something she knew I would help her in exchange for and so she planted it with you and used it when the time came. She always finds a way King Choi, you see how its reached you again? How she sent me to you?"

Seungcheol stared at the seashell pendant. He had just thought of it as a pretty reminder of where you were from. He didn't know it was your secret weapon. That there was so much to this.

"And what do you want in exchange for it?" The Sea Witch stepped ahead, mistaking his wandering into the past as hesitance. "What is it that you want?"

Seungcheol let out a sad chuckle. There was only one thing he ever wanted.

"You can't give it to me." He held out his hand, returning the necklace to its rightful owner. "You can't bring her back."

"But I can."

The crashing waves were not louder than the racing of Seungcheol's heart against his chest.

"Only the dead can't be brought back King Choi. The living just need to be moved around."

The living.

"That's not possible." Seungcheol shook his head. "I know how Sea magic works, she's told me before, you just told me! I saw the sea foam myself....." He wrapped his hand around shell, its sharp edge bleeding him over a wound that never healed. "How is it possible?"

"Because of that." She pointed at the crimson of his hand dripping into the golden sand. "The Sea works in mysterious ways King Choi; magic works in mysterious ways too. When Y/n fell into the Sea that day, so did the dagger, with your blood on it. Blood for blood. I believe the sea magic was satisfied."

Seungcheol felt a ragged breath leave him. "She's.... alive?"

"Barely."

The Sea Witch waved her staff in the air, making the waters rise like a screen, the evening light behind it projecting an image. It was you, sitting down somewhere on the floor, hugging your legs, softly rocking back and forth. Your arms looked a lot thinner than usual, cheeks sunken in, eyes tired and fluttered shut.

"The Sea might have spared her but the Hwangs didn't. The mission was to kill the king. Your father died a natural death and if it had ended at that, there was nothing to argue but unfatefully, before the completion of 100 days, there was another king." Seungcheol felt his insides turn. "She failed to kill you and so she wasn't deemed worthy of the crown. When Hwangs took over, their first order was to imprison her to avoid any rebellion from her side against the new kingdom."

The Sea Witch tilted her head at him, smiling sadly. "Strange isn't it? What you did to save her was what ended up being her downfall. Fate too works in mysterious ways." 

Seungcheol swore if fate appeared before him right now, he would crush it with his bare hands.

"I'll get her back." Never before did he feel the kind of determination coursing through his veins. The image of you slowly disappeared as the sea witch lowered her staff looking amused. "I'll save her no matter what it takes."

"Y/n doesn't need your saving King Choi. She went to prison willingly." Seungcheol’s lips parted in shock. "Taking into consideration that you became King only the night before a 100 days completed, the Council of the Sea offered her one more chance to go to Land and kill you. She refused. She said she would prove her worth for the throne in the Sea itself. Sure she's benevolent, loves her people and is loyal to her kingdom, but the fact is that she was simply not trained for administration - she was no match for the Hwangs and so the Council declined her claim to the throne."

You refused to kill him. Again. Even if meant saving yourself and everything you cared about. Seungcheol was determined to do whatever it took to get you back. Unite heaven and earth if it came to it. Bring hell from underground, whatever it took.

"Then I'll get her throne back. If that's what it takes to free, I'll do it. Even if it means war. I have been working on science that would allow us to breath in water - we'll set sail, we'll fight, we'll free her, I can do it."

The Sea Witch stared at him, at his pacing agitated self, his mind going mad with just one goal.

"Do you know how magic really came to the sea King Choi?"

Seungcheol blinked, taken aback by the irrelevant question but didn't show it. "The Kangs escaped into it with the spectre of magic....." His eyes focused on the staff in her hand, words faltering as he recognised it from the faint drawings in his old books.

"Escaped?" She laughed without humour. "That's hardly the word King Choi - it was an act of love." Seungcheol frowned in confusion as she continued. "Though both families were neck deep in war, of all the people in the world, the Prince of the Choi kingdom was deeply in love with the Kang Princess. It was his love that brought the spectre of magic to the Kangs, allowing them to hide from battle. It was his love that stopped the war, separated both worlds and ensured peace and it was her love that ensured her people survived. Its her love that still keeps them alive even after so many years."

Seungcheol felt like something stabbed him in his chest as he looked at the Sea witch, grip tight over her staff, looking older than time and in her eyes he recognised the look he always saw in his own - a pining, a fruitless longing for the ones they loved. It was her, she was the Kang Princess. "Their love saved the world, you cannot allow yours to end it King Choi. You cannot declare war between two worlds over a mere desire."

Every bit of hope that had risen in Seungcheol crumbled miserably. "Is there nothing I can do? How am I supposed to just sit still knowing she's not alright?"

"Forget her Seungcheol."

" I can't-"

"Listen to me," She urged urgently. "If you don't bring war to Sea, the Hwangs will eventually bring it to Land. There's a reason the people of the Sea do not want them on the throne - they don't care for anything before power. The only strength the Sea had over Land was magic, but now with people here slowly discovering it, with people like you letting your inquisitiveness take over, the Hwangs feel threatened. So I have a solution if you're willing to listen."

Seungcheol nodded.

"Relinquish your knowledge of the Sea and as King, give me permission to take the same away from your people. I will make a deal with the Hwangs - your memories in exchange for Y/n's freedom."

Seungcheol looked at her with hope. "Do you think that would work?"

"Do you think you can do it? Forgetting about the sea would mean, forgetting about her too. You won't remember anything about her, it will be like she never even existed." She looked af him sadly. "But she will be free and she will be home."

Not having even a memory of you? All Seungcheol ever knew was his love for you, if he forgot that, what would he be but a shell of a man? But if it meant you'd be free, that you'd be safe, what else could possibly matter to him?

Seungcheol didn't remember much of what happened after he nodded. He rememebered thick black smoke rising above the forest right from the castle, prompting him to immediately get on his horse and ride towards the fire. It was his library. He watched the guards pour buckets of water to douse the flames but unfortunately it only stopped after every single inch was reduced to ashes. As Seungcheol walked in the aftermath, he racked his brains to remember what exactly was in here and if it truly was valuable or not. Considering he could barely recollect what was here, he figured it must not have been too important and sent orders for the place to be cleaned and the room to be redone. After all, the new queen would need a space of her own.

8 years later

It all began again the day you woke up on the beach.

The air was cool, the sand was hot; the seagulls were flying across the blue sky, the sound of the waves was like a beautiful melody – it was like a perfectly painted picture. It felt serene and pleasant and like home, like nothing could make this moment feel better.

Then you heard the laughter. A familiar, beautiful laughter and so this time, you didn’t hide.

Adjusting your red dress, you pulled yourself up to your feet, leaning against the big boulder and there you saw them, Seungcheol laughing at Kkuma as the little ball of fluff rolled about in the sand. The tightness that did not leave your chest the last eight years slowly began to unravel. There was so much happiness in his laughter, so much life in the way he chased his dog in the sand. It was like he had none of the pain that you were carrying for almost a decade.

Of course, he didn’t. The Sea Witch told you what happened, that he had given up all his memories of the Sea to save you. That he had given up all his memories of you. You knew that meant he didn’t pine for you the way you did for him all these years, but you didn’t think you’d see him so carefree. Something about the way your existence didn’t seem to even affect him sent a strange sadness rippling through you. Maybe coming here was a mistake. What if he had moved on? What if he got married and had a family? What if you returning made no difference to him? You could understand Seungcheol not remembering you but the thought of you not mattering to him anymore? You don’t think you could handle that; you should have never come here.

You took a step back and then another, pulling yourself away from there, pulling yourself away from him when you felt yourself knock into something that let out a small cry. You turned around to see a small boy rubbing his head vigorously, looking at you full of accusation. He looked young, like he was five or six, dressed in the finest of clothes, his hair windswept to the side. You got on your knees, meeting him at eye level to apologise when you felt yourself being knocked over into the sand by a familiar ball of white. Kkuma barked excitedly, covering your in wet licks, making you laugh, the pain in your heart slightly ebbing. Maybe not everyone had forgotten you.

“Kkuma never plays with strangers.” The young boy narrowed his eyes at you. “Who are you?”

You looked at him at a loss of words, when a shadow fell over you making you look up to see a silhouette against the sun. It's only when he crouched beside you that you could see all his features clearly - he's gotten a little old over the years but he still looks like Seungcheol. Your Seungcheol.

“You’re not supposed to be here. The beach is off limits.” He stated and you looked at him pointedly. Somehow, he understood the question in your eyes. “I’m not supposed to be here either but…. Something about the Sea keeps pulling me to it and I am the King so…”

You politely bowed, as one would to a King.

“I’ve not seen you around. Are you from out of town?”

You nodded. You didn't know what else to say to him. How could you explain the events of the last 8 years? Before you were taken away to prison the one thing you managed to do was get a hold of the Sea Witch's shell necklace and guided it to reach him with the little magic you knew. You knew it would bring her to him like it did to you, that it would offer him and explanation and a closure but the result of that ended up so much different than you had expected - you'd lost him in ways you didn't imagine.

After you were released from prison there was only one thing to do - get the Hwangs out of power. So you spent years assembling an army, figuring out the best way to crumble this empire when you received news that your sister was not in fact missing but hidden away by the Hwangs in an attempt to take over the throne. After you had successfully plotted and managed to break her free, even though the Sea Council deemed she was the best fit for the throne, the Hwangs did not surrender. Days and nights you battled, the sea was plagued with storms and horrifying events until finally one day, the hwangs fell from power, returning peace to the waters. It was only after you put your sister on the throne, made sure that the Sea was in safe hands that the Sea witch confided in you - once you gained the ability to breath on Land, you'd always have it - you could go back to Seungcheol.

And here you were, with him right before you, with nothing stopping the two of you from being together yet in his eyes, you were nothing but a mere stranger. You wondered if this was how he felt when he found you so many years ago, when you didn't look at him with an ounce of recognition. It must've hurt, like the way it was hurting now but it did not stop him from looking after you, guiding you, making you fall in love with him all over again.

"So you don't have a place to stay?"

You shook your head.

"Can you not speak?" The little boy quipped, earning a glare from the older man. It made you smile as you nodded. Things had not changed on Land.

Seungcheol eyes though wandered over you like he was trying to see through you, figure you out. They stopped at the shell necklace resting on your neck, one last gift from the sea witch before you left the ocean for good. On it engraved were the words,

"Till death do us part." Seungcheol read and you nodded, echoing his words. "Till death do us part."

He met your eyes and you wondered if be could see how much you longed for him, how much you missed him. His lips parted like he wanted to say something but was interrupted by the little boy standing in between, holding the pendant in his hand.

"Is this from the sea?" You nodded, making his eyes shine in excitement. "My father loves the sea, he thinks there's life under it! He keeps researching and studying about it everyday. Do you know? Have you seen life under the sea-"

Seungcheol pulled the child away from you, mumbling, asking him to play with kkuma who just refused to leave your side. You nearly smiled thinking about how Seungcheol somehow gravitated back to the waters but couldn't bring yourself to when the boy's words ring in your head.

"Father?" You looked at Seungcheol hoping he couldn't see how broken your heart was. Of course he'd moved on.

"I adopted him when he was really young. He was found abandoned at the steps of a church. He needed a parent and the kingdom needed an heir, so....." Seungcheol wasn't quite sure why he was explaining so much to you, a stranger. Something about the questions in your eyes just compelled him to.

"And the Queen?" Your fingers played with the sand, trying not to sound too hopeful.

"I don't have one." Seungcheol confessed. "I could just not bring myself to have one, I don't know why....."

His words trailed odd as he looked at you and that little smile dancing on your lips. God you were so beautiful, why did you make his heart clench like that? He cleared his throat, shaking his head.

"If you don't have a place to stay, you may stay in the Palace till you can arrange for you accommodation. I shall personally look after the necessities, is that okay?"

You nodded slowly as Seungcheol stood up, but this time when he held his hand to help you, you took it, with an unsaid promise to yourself and him, never to let go again.

You were going to make this man fall in love with you all over again. Just like he did.

[literaila]

Besides stealing a car (😭) are there any other shenanigans reader and satoru get involved with at tech?

mostly just the typical ruining of all of the vibes with their constant bantering. like… if suguru and satoru are a bad (chaotic) combination—satoru and you???

it doesn’t matter where either of you are. satoru will inevitably find a way to get you involved, and you will put a hex on him for it.

he finds a flower (weed) in the courtyard? it’s basically a bouquet he’s going to shove in your face during the middle of sparing. you intentionally choose the opposite end of the couch in haibara’s room? satoru is throwing a temper tantrum and you’re both being kicked out.

you’ll stand outside the door, arms already crossed.

defensiveness is your most natural state. around satoru, at least. “you’re going to get us alienated from all of our friends.”

“human words, please.”

you scoff, kicking his leg, and then moving a foot away when he stands next to you. “i can’t believe you got me kicked out of another movie night.”

“you’re the one who was talking.”

“because you kept poking me in the side with your foot!”

“sorry some of us aren’t two inches tall.”

“you’re a giant. you need to learn to respect other people’s space, gojo. isn’t that like your whole thing?”

satoru only moves closer again, infinity be damned.

your first interaction was filled with the eons of space between the two of you, the invisible barrier that separated satoru from everyone else.

but after that? it was only atoms apart.

satoru seems inclined to break psychics, as long as he can irritate you by standing so close.

how do you know this? because he’s still wearing that devilish smile that brings you incapable of movement.

“i like being close to you,” he’ll whisper, and what’s the point of arguing any more?

so you stand there right next to him. movie night sucks anyway.

and eventually it gets to the point where all of their friends are constantly ignoring every interaction you have.

except for poor nanami, who doesn’t understand why he has to deal with idiots all of the time. like, seriously. what did he do to deserve it?

as the (self proclaimed) mature one, nanami is in constant dismay over the lack of emotional intelligence and communication between the two of you.

(even at twenty. when you and him reconnect after his defection, nanami is fully expecting to have missed the wedding. he’s going to pay the price for running away, after all.

what he’s not expecting is truckloads of denial and the fact that the two of you are living together, raising children together, and still feigning friendship.

as if the two of you know the first thing about being a worthwhile friend.

it’s a good thing shoko can hold her liquor—because nanami kento has worked too goddamn hard to deal with it alone).

there’s sneaking out late at night, being the errand runners for everyone else, staying in each others rooms even when you’re not allowed.

yaga has aged several years during the first six months that you’re at jujutsu high. and he thought satoru alone was bad enough.

but by far the most annoying thing that occurs when you’re together is satoru’s version of a game.

he learned early on just how jumpy you were. satoru accidentally leans in a little bit too close? you’re flinching until you’re an arms length away. suguru simply walks into a room—with his quiet, catlike movements—you’re gasping when you hear this voice.

but the most amusing part to gojo, of course, is what happens that only he can see.

everyone else assumes that you’re simply startled. and you are, but to a certain degree no one would guess unless they were standing too close.

your cursed technique is inherently defensive, and after a childhood of cowering away from mere specks of dust, it’s not your fault that you instinctively protect yourself from disguised threats.

and it’s not your fault that when someone accidentally scares you, there’s an immediate wall between you and the rest of the world.

a wall that no one, except for one person, can see.

until you meet satoru that is.

and once he realizes what it is, what the cause is—oh boy, he’s running with it.

you’re walking next to shoko? satoru is tiptoeing to your side, and he only whispers a soft “boo,” in your ear.

but it’s enough that when you take a step forward, shoko is running into something that wasn’t there a moment ago.

she groans, and you look around—confused and concerned—and satoru runs away before either of you can manage to catch him.

it’s definitely funnier when he does it and nanami is standing too close to you, though.

it’s a mere game, a little entertainment for the honored one.

and then it turns into something more.

satoru is wrapping an arm around your waist in public—to get a cute little jump out of you, sure—but also so that no one can walk too close to you. no one but him, because infinity cancels out your technique, and satoru never lets you get far.

you’re sitting next to him during a movie night you haven’t been exiled from, and when the dumb horror movie someone (haibara) put on manages to scare you, satoru is blinking at the almost translucent guard your mind puts up.

you can’t relax after that, but he sure as hell can. satoru wraps an arm around you, pulling you even closer—and you can’t even argue (because you’re not standing outside with him again).

and maybe it takes a minute, but your technique is relinquished within eighty seconds of him moving over.

satoru basks in it.

he’s always loved being special—but he loves it even more when it’s applied to you. there’s a exponential growth to the pride he takes in soothing you.

but that’s not important. it means nothing, really.

and don’t worry, because it doesn’t end when both you and satoru have graduated.

sure, nanami and shoko and suguru aren’t there to witness (groan) at your bantering, your scheming, your constant running around each other—a stupid little game of cat and mouse.

but they’ve got some welcome replacements.

after a month megumi would rather die than listen to gojo try and be nice to you while you scowl at him. after a year, megumi is trying to get in the middle of it—mostly because he likes how freaky gojo looks when he’s annoyed.

tsumiki thinks it’s cute, though. for the first two years, that is.