riding caleb was hard. rewarding but difficult, you knew that. he knew that. he always put in 90% of the work when you rode him, but today he wouldn’t stop teasing you about it; and you ended up bickering about if for nearly half an hour before you told him you didn’t need his help-- you only let him help because you knew he’d get in his feelings if you didn’t let him.

“oh, is that so?” he laughed, and there he was laughing at you again. and here he is laughing at you now, underneath you as you struggled to ride him. his hands were folded behind his back, purple eyes glimmering with fond glee. you knew he wouldn’t hold it against you if you tapped out, and asked for help, but you decided to do your best anyway. 

soon enough you find a movement thats most comfortable to you, your hands behind you, resting on his strong thighs as you rolled your hips. his dick was fully sheathed in you, thick, long and deep. you’ve learned to love how his tip felt against your cervix as you were about to successfully pull an orgasm out of yourself. 

caleb caleb caleb

your hips spoke for you, rolling to the letters of his name, your anchor. this pace was slower than usual, but it was worth it for how intense the tug at the pit of your stomach felt. it’d be one of those orgasms, a right there, just like that orgasm; an orgasm caleb would usually fulfill for you. but not tonight. a sob threatens to rip from your throat as your movements become stuttered and sloppy. he wasn’t giving you an inch and the tug was only intensifying. fuck. 

no, you were not about to mess up this orgasm, you needed it forced out of you, pride be damned.

“p-please… nng.. caleb”, you beg, tears welling in your eyes as you met his gaze. his face is flushed, skin glistening with sweat, he looks so good. and the way he was looking at you-- goosebumps arose on your skin. how could someone undress you with their eyes when you were already undressed? 

he doesn’t budge. 

this time, you sob for real, “please... i need you, p-please.” and it’s like a switch flickers on, you wonder if he even processed it the first time you asked. his hands drag up from your thighs to your hips, one hand firmly against your hip, as his fingers dug into the meat of your ass cheek, and the other higher on your waist. he doesn't say a word, and a distant part of you wonders if he will get the pace right, but it’s caleb we're talking about. he knew exactly what to do. 

caleb caleb caleb

you gasp, squeezing his torso with your knees as a jolt of pleasure knocks through you, your orgasm hits you like a storm; you aren’t even sure if your moaning; all you hear is white noise, until-- “that’s it, baby… take it from me…” his praise rackets around your brain like a rogue pingpong ball. his hands still guide you, his hips grinding inside of you, rolling with your hips as you shake above him.

 caleb caleb caleb

they’ve fought, bitten, drawn blood, and still can’t find a way to make the parts of them that just want to belong to each other meet in the middle. but here they are anyway, broken hearts entwined in a mess of lips on scarred skin. cheeks wet and eyelashes clinging. a bone-deep guilt sinks in while ellie mourns in dutiful, almost urgent strokes of her fingers. they can’t be real, but how can they not be when it’s this good? it’s stupid how much she still wants it. she convinces herself the “it” she means abby’s release and that alone. abby lets herself get lost in the feeling of fingers tugging at her hair if it means she can entertain denial for an hour longer. ignores the bitter ache in her arm and coos filth to hopefully rid herself of the lump in her throat.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1QThYTwqiKh_mTsIuUaVRvbVgja_GhjNLTmFH4AIueQU/edit?usp=drivesdk

AmiTaka commission from a friend based on my own fic!

Because it’s easier to ask your friends and not a stranger to illustrate your own bs ...

Summary:  Despite reaching home, the only thing that Anne can seem to think of is Marcy Wu.

Notes: True Colors absolutely destroyed me and I had to write something to pour my emotions into. Besides, I wanted to explore Anne's reaction to this fully. She saw one of her best friends who she’s secretly in love with being STABBED right in front of her eyes. Like, how the hell is she meant to process that? Regardless of her being home or not, that has to have an IMPACT.

AO3

When Anne used to picture returning home, she’d always assume that the first thing she’d do was run straight into her parents’ arms, engulf them in a hug, whisper in between tears how much she missed them, how sorry she was for disappearing like that and with the gentle reassurance that everything was going to be fine.

But nothing was fine.

She was back home. Finally, back home. She’d been picturing this perfect moment for months now. She’d been expecting this wild rush of euphoric frantic emotions when she came back. She’d been expecting to scream out loud in joy and cherish everything around her.

But what she wasn’t expecting was this.

What she wasn’t expecting was this lone feeling of pain that throbbed within her.

What she wasn’t expecting was this disastrous entrance. She knew nothing was close to perfect. But this was even worse than she could’ve ever imagined.

What she wasn’t expecting was this feeling to crash back into Amphibia. And it was for all the wrong reasons. The things she dreaded the most.

What she didn’t expect was sobbing amidst the familiar signs of shops and streets. Things she couldn’t cherish. Things that just hit her with even more nostalgia. Even more grief.

The Plantars held her in their arms steadily, a gesture of comfort, she appreciated it. But it couldn’t heal her pain. And onlookers stared with their phones, snapping pictures at her pain, under the assumption it was all part of a façade, that it was all just an act. A silly little acting gig. With the frogs as people in costumes. And the tears of the girl in pain just being a raw talent for charades.

No. No. It wasn’t a façade. It was all real. God, she wished it were a façade. She wished that all she’d been through was just a terrible nightmare. But she couldn’t refuse to face reality. Refuse to face the truth. And invent her own silly adventure inside her head.

Unlike the girl who’s name she was screaming. Clear in her ears.

“Marcy!” She yelped one more time. She felt Hop Pop squeeze her tighter into the embrace each time she yelled the name. “Marcy!”

Her sobs grew louder and so did the commotion of the onlookers. More and more came to watch, dropping coins, she’d just about had it. And it appeared that Hop Pop could see that.

“Alright! Alright! Gig’s over!” He turned to the onlookers and gathered the money they had thrown into his hands, stuffing them into the pockets of his oversized trench coat. After being blasted onto the car of a nice family, they had given him that coat under the tangle of many excuses they believed.

After the applause and tossing of coins, the crowd began to subside, Hop Pop wrapped the coat around her, it was warm, nice, consoling in a way. It also shielded her agony from pedestrians on the street.

“Do you want to take this somewhere else?” Hop Pop gently whispered into Anne’s ears.

Anne contemplated for a moment, before staring blankly at the ground, the place vivid in her head: quiet, small, and full of nostalgia.

“Yes.”

---

“It’s still strange that you humans don’t eat bugs.” Hop Pop commented as he took bites into his strawberry ice cream with much discomfort.

“Their digestive system is too sensitive.” Polly muttered, pushing her own chocolate ice cream aside in protest.

“Meh.” She blandly replied, taking another long bite into her mint chocolate chip ice cream, lounging her head onto the surface of the table.

Any other time, she’d have complained at Polly’s comment, or cracked a joke about how the roles had been reversed. But she didn’t really feel like it. At all.  

“This was Marcy’s favourite flavour.” She simply stated.

The Plantars froze in dead silence.  

“She wouldn’t eat any other flavour. I mean, she would talk about trying something different each time. Act all indecisive, analysing which choice would be the best.” She chuckled half-heartedly and felt that painful pang in her heart. “But she would always pick this one. Always.”

She gazed fondly at the ice-cream, the overwhelming grief rose to the surface again, and her eyes building up with tears again.

With a slight stifle, she turned to glance at the walls of the ice-cream parlour. Butterfly-patterned walls. Oh no.

“Sh-she loved b-butterflies.” She said shakily, tears rolling down her face. “Th-that’s why I d-designed her a butterfly costume for the battle of the bands…b-because sh-she l-loved them.”

A loud sob escaped her mouth, and she buried her face in her arm.

Hop Pop’s comforting hand once again landed on her head, brushing her hair in an assuring manner.

“Anne.” His voice drooped as he merely said her name. Nothing following it. Neither a ‘it’s all going to be alright’ nor a ‘we can fix this’.

Because it wasn’t alright. They couldn’t fix it.

How the hell could they fix Marcy getting stabbed like that?

Right in front of their eyes. Right in front of her eyes.

“I c-could’ve s-saved her. I COULD’VE SAVED HER.” Anne’s voice went from a frail sense of longing to a shriek in pure anger. Her breaths and sobs grew heavy, she felt herself shivering as Polly and Sprig rushed over to hug her again.

“Anne, please. Don’t put this on yourself. You’ll regret it.” Hop Pop warned.

“No! Hop-Pop! It’s the truth. I couldn’t help her! I had to watch Andrias pierce that sword through her chest without being able to anything! The strength of the portal held me in place. I couldn’t move!” Anne’s voice grew louder. There weren’t any customers at the parlour on a Tuesday morning, and no staff was at the counter as they were having lunch. They were on their own. Alone with their agony. “She knew it! Okay! I saw it in her face! She knew she was a total goner! Yet…y-yet…the o-only words she managed to say in th-that m-moment w-were…I’m sorry for everything…before…b-before…dropping dead to the ground.”

A harsh silence hung thick in the air.

All of them froze at the reminder of the moment. She watched the devastation dawn over the Plantars’ faces, before pulling away from their grasp, straightening up. Her vision blurred with tears as she stared at the melting mint chocolate chip ice-cream.

“Sh-she didn’t deserve th-that.” Sprig meekly said as he blindly fell back into his own chair. “Sh-she was nice, smart, sweet and despite what she did…she was good to you, Anne.”

“I-I know.” Her voice cracked in response.

“She let me into super cool facts and information. That you guys would think I was too young to understand! I liked how she didn’t think like that. When I asked her why she’d tell me all this, she said young was the best age to gather knowledge.” Polly murmured as she squeezed against Hop Pop firmly.

“She w-was very open-minded. Liked a lot of stuff and had an incredible nature to persevere ahead.” Hop Pop added. “She absolutely didn’t deserve that…but…Anne…don’t put it on yourself.”

“I-I s-still c-could’ve s-saved her though.”

“I could’ve saved Sprig and Polly’s parents too!” Hop Pop burst out and the tense cloud in the room grew thicker at the mention of their parents.

“Hop Pop- “Anne began meekly.

“Don’t! Don’t! Anne, we keep tying the grief we face on ourselves, try to go back and see how we could’ve stopped it, but the truth is…w-we d-don’t know what else to do. We don’t know how to get through this. Or how we could’ve.”

Hop Pop’s words broke something out of her chest that she didn’t even know was there, leading her to wail once more.

“I-I d-don’t know what to do, Hop Pop. Things were never meant to be like this. Marcy and Sasha were meant to be with me here today. We were supposed to celebrate our homecoming together. Or at least that’s what I thought we all wanted! But none of us got what we wanted. I’m back without them. Sasha…she’s never going to get back the way things used to be. And Marcy, M-marcy…she won’t get anything back.” Anne acknowledged woefully. The dreadful thoughts in her brain pouring out. “All I know is that I can’t stay here forever. I have to find a way to get back to Amphibia and do something, Hop Pop. I can’t leave things like this. I don’t know what I’m going to tell my parents when we meet them. Or Sasha’s. Or Marcy’s. I don’t know. But I’m not leaving things like this. We need to get back to Amphibia…somehow…”

“I know.” Hop Pop replied. “We do need to get back to Amphibia. We won’t leave things like this.”

“We have your back, Anne. Always.” Sprig added. “The Plantars stick together.”

“We lost Frobo. We lost Marcy. We lost a lot. But we’re not losing anything again. This time, Andrias will be the one who loses.” Polly finished indignantly.

“Thank you, guys.” She wrapped them into a hug, which they greatly reciprocated.

She was going to find Sasha.

Regardless of all complications, she was going to find her.

She was going to find Marcy.

Regardless of whether she was dead or alive, she was going to find her.

And she was going to find King Andrias.

Hoo boy, this one is almost proper fic length! Sugar and I collabed on this one, so it’s going in both our tags! We have a somewhat difficult time writing for Mammon due to lack of experience (even if I love him), but here you go!

[TW: Bullying, mild description of wounds]

“If you think I look bad, you should see the other guy,” you said, puffing up your chest as Mammon looked you over, first aid kit in hand. 

You had a few scrapes and scratches along with the multiple violet bruises that mottled your skin, and since the band-aids had already been used, he had to swipe some of Levi’s limited edition TSL bandages.

He’d be mad later, but Mammon would pay him back... maybe.

“Still! What were ya thinkin’, getting into a fight with a demon?! If I hadn’t gotten there, he could’ve killed you, or eaten you, or--”

“Well, he didn’t!” you huffed, crossing your arms and then wincing as you accidentally pressed a nasty bruise, “So there!”

Mammon sighed, stooping to your level as you sat on your bed, nursing your bruised legs.

“Lemme see what I can do.”

Shivers rattle her bones, which feel like ice framed by her skin; she burrows down deeper into the blankets, sheets, and furs around her but other smothers the cold. Clenching her teeth to quash their chattering, she closes her eyes and waits for the relief she knows must eventually come. Jesse said she would feel better soon, now that they were indoors, with a fire, a bed, and...

The door opens suddenly, and she opens her eyes to see Jesse slip inside. He nudges the door closed quickly; the inn is not heated, and he wants none of the cold air in the corridor to get into the room. His gaze turns to her as soon as the door is shut.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks quietly, moving closer. As she does, she spots the two thermoses in his arms.

“Better,” she says, her voice trembling in time with her body’s shivers, “but still cold.”

“Well, I’ve got somethin’ here that’ll warm you right up,” Jesse replies with a smile.