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mockerycrow · 8 months

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UNDER THE SURFACE (Ghost x GN!Reader)

ghost masterlist — ghost icon by @yumethefrostypanda concept post here!

authors note; this is not my best work tbh, i wish i could improve it somehow, but i’m hoping you guys will like it anyway. Pretty sure this is my longest singular post, too! 4.7k words :-)

[WARNINGS: angst, spiraling thoughts, near panic attack, hurt/comfort, inaccurate medical stuff, vague descriptions of physical violence, very brief mention of possible self harm.]

YOU WERE USED to Simon being gone for long periods of time; you have been his roommate for two years now, nearly three. You know he’s military, it’s part of the reason why you were able to score being his roommate in the first place. At first, it was a very awkward arrangement. Simon himself wasn’t a very awkward person, no—he’s actually quite charismatic in his own way, a way that you could get along with. One of the reasons why the arrangement was strange at first was because you weren’t exactly able to get a one on one tour of the flat before agreeing, but you were a bit more trusting of this mysterious man because a mutual friend—Kate—sent you his contact information, considering you were looking for a new place to live since your lease was up.

Simon’s flat was void of any personality, really. Yes, you could tell by the way he organized everything that he had been in the military, probably for quite a while—but there weren’t any photos. No gaming systems; you discovered he did have a bookcase of quite a few books, but it was covered in a layer of dust. Despite this, when examining the books he owned, you could tell they were worn down—definitely loved. It made you smile a bit, seeing the different variety of books. A bit of personality, you think. Besides his room, it was like a completely furnished, no personality flat. You weren’t allowed in his room, not unless he gave you explicit permission, which you honored his boundaries. Simon was kind enough to offer you a space in his home—but you know he was quite weary of you, which was understandable. He helped you move in and you could tell he was watching you and your body language. Searching you for danger—but he slowly warmed up to you.

Another thing that you discovered that Simon was quite emotionally.. constipated. Over the first few months, you could tell he didn’t sleep as much as he probably should. He was always awake before you, and you would always find him in the kitchen, sipping on a hot cup of tea. After a few weeks of this routine—Simon rising much earlier than you, you figured maybe he couldn’t break the military’s strict routines.. Until one night you woke up from the sound of his heavy footsteps walking down the hall. You tensed in your bed and you sat up because Simon was silent as a ghost all the time. You didn’t even know if it was him at first, so in your half-asleep panicked state, you felt for your phone and you texted Simon’s contact, asking a messily texted “is that you walking around?” You blink your sleepiness away and wipe your eye as your phone vibrates with a “yeah. sorry.”

That was the first time you got some notion that Simon was thrown off guard from something, after another week of awakening from his noises, you began to realize that he was experiencing night terrors every couple of nights. His nightmares were never a thing you two discussed, exactly.. It was more of an unspoken rule to not talk about it. You would occasionally find yourself in the kitchen around the time you calculated when Simon would wake up—and you were right nearly every time—and you just.. coincidentally made him a cup of tea. To Simon’s pleasant surprise, you managed to get his tea right every single time. You’ve had your fair share of night terrors, so you knew how it could be sometimes. You wanted to do something nice for him, and he seemed flustered every time.

It took you a while to get used to him being gone for long periods of time. Simon appreciated that you never questioned too deeply into his career, even the times he would come home sporting a new injury, you were always willing to play doctor for him. Simon saw the concern in your eyes and sometimes he would share small stories of what happened, or maybe to get you to stop thinking about his injuries, a small story about his teammates. You slowly learned their names over the course of a year and a half, and you learned Simon’s rank as well. He is a lieutenant, and there’s a man called Captain Price, another man named Sergeant Kyle Garrick, and one more man named Sergeant John MacTavish, who Simon referred to as “Johnny” fondly.

It wasn’t common that Simon talked about work, which is the reason why it took about a year and a half to even get the information you did out of him. Over the time you’ve lived with him, you had decorated the flat to feel more comfortable and home-y. Simon only had a few requests, which you honored, and one of them was no pictures of him with his face showing. You shot him a curious and questioning look, but as always—you didn’t question him, and he was very thankful. You had gotten a few indoor plants as well that didn’t need much caring for and you wanted to liven up the place, y’know? You were okay with Simon not sharing much about his past or his work, because he was willing to listen to your little rambles about your interests and work. You were a bit hesitant, but Simon was very emotive and he never seemed annoyed or brushed you off.

Despite Simon’s reluctance to share anything of his own, he always heard you out if you needed to vent about something. He made sure you knew you could talk to him, even on days where you felt like you had no one to go to. You spent an entire night with him, just talking about anything and everything. It was the first real conversation you felt like you have had with anyone in such a long time. It was also the first night Simon really saw you. He watched as your eyebrows furrowed from uncomfortableness, the vulnerability being nearly too much to handle; something he could relate to on a personal level. So when you started showing these signs, he knew exactly when to change the subject. Simon quickly realized how to read you, and he somehow knew what you needed at different moments.

Simon flies into the airport late at night with a small duffel bag, tagged as a military bag. He sends you a quick “be home soon.” text. Simon doesn’t expect you to answer due to it being around 3 in the morning, and you indeed don’t answer him. He catches a taxi to your shared flat. Simon collects his things from the taxi before paying the driver and sending them off, and Simon lets out a slow breath as he takes in the achingly familiar sight of the place he lives in. He tugs the hood that remains sitting over his head closer to his face, which is covered by a black surgical mask. His hand tightens on the straps of the duffel bag before he approaches the flat building, taking out his keys as he approaches the elevator. Once Simon reaches the third floor, he wastes no time getting to the front door, and he isn’t sure why, but his heart is pounding inside of his chest.

Simon unlocks both the top lock and the doorknob to enter the flat—something he had taught you to do every single time. He pockets his keys as he enters and Simon pauses for a moment because he can’t put his finger on it, but something feels off the second he glanced inside. His eyes trail the living room which is clean, not one thing out of place. Simon takes a deep breath and he doesn’t brush off the weird feeling, because even when there’s no evidence something happened—he’s usually right. The blanket on the couch is perfectly folded and laid over the back cushions, the mini bookcase by the TV is dusted as always, your shoes.. Are not by the front door, but a different pair are..? These either are not your shoes, or they are new. You always warned Simon about bringing people over, and you definitely would’ve told him this time. The lamp is on in the living room, but it seems the lights are out everywhere else. Simon silently goes through his routine when he gets back late at night—taking his jacket off and hanging it up, he leaves his boots by the door, and he drops his keys into the dish.

Next step to his routine is to step into the kitchen and get a cup of actually good quality tea, unlike the shit the military provides him. He fills up the electric kettle and sets a timer on it, grabbing his favorite mug and the box of his favorite tea from the cabinets. Simon glances down the dark hall—he’s seeking for a sign of life from you because you’re usually getting up around this time to greet him. No matter what, you always seem to know when he returns—yet you aren’t leaving your room. There’s no light emitting from the hall nor underneath the doors, and fuck, it’s eating at him. Something is wrong—and what the fuck is it? Simon stands there for a moment, turning his head to watch the blue light blinking on the electric kettle. He watches it blink slowly as he tries to rack his brain for what could be wrong—maybe those shoes are someone else’s, but he could just have a stern conversation with you about it later. Maybe you came back from drinking with friends—no, if that was the case, he knows for a fact your belongings would be everywhere, maybe even a spilled glass of water in the kitchen. He’s had to clean that up a couple of times.

He raises his wrist and pulls up his sleeve a bit to look at his digital watch; it’s nearly 0400 now. Simon puts his hands on the counter, leaning his body weight against it. Did something happen at work, maybe that’s why it feels off? You’ve always had a commanding presence like he has, so maybe— “Fuck.” Simon hisses quietly, hooking a finger into the strap of his black face mask and he rips it off, tossing it without care onto the counter. He leans forward and checks the kettles timer for a second, and then he’s walking towards the hall. Simon passes by his room and he walks up to yours, and he tries to turn the doorknob to peak in to check on you, but—it’s locked? Simon lets out a harsh breath before trying the door again, and yeah, it’s locked. Simon swears under his breath and he knocks on the door, his stomach twisting and turning. Something is wrong, very very wrong, very fucking wrong—

You unlock the door and you open it just enough for you to peak out, and you use your phone flashlight to shine it in Simon’s face. He squints and puts his hand up, his voice rumbling in his chest. “Hey—you locked your door.” He points out quietly, and you’re just staring at him, your eyes wide and alert. Simon’s anxiety lessens, but your reaction doesn’t make it go away. “Y’alright?” Simon drawls out, his hand on the wood panel of the door. You let out a harsh breath and you let go of your phone, letting out a quiet, “Simon..” before you suddenly pull your door completely open, and you wrap your arms around his thick torso into a hug. Simon swears his heart jumps into his throat and then into his stomach, bouncing back into his chest because you hugged him. You two were never particularly touchy like that, maybe a fleeting touch here or two, usual drunken affection from you—but you barely ever hugged him like this, even when he returned from deployments. Your touch burns hot through his clothes, and he knows you wouldn’t touch him without asking, so when you do? He wraps an arm around you, his free arm resting on your shoulder. “Hey..” Simon breathes out, lost for words.

You don’t hold on long enough for the uncomfortable worry to creep up his spine just yet. You rip yourself away from him like he burned you, his hands falling to his sides. You offer a tight, weak smile—one that you could easily play off as a sign of fatigue. Simon’s breath stutters as he watches your hands linger near your chest in a subconscious defensive gesture, your fingers closing into a fist for a moment; as if you’re uncomfortable, almost overstimulated. Simon feels the way for the light switch and he flips it on, and your room looks normal—but you look.. off. You look a bit clammy, almost like you’re sick or bouncing off the walls with anxiety. His eyes flick to your fingers and the skin besides your thumbnail and your middle finger are picked to all hell, and you just.. don’t seem right. All of these.. signs, you’re showing are actually very subtle—he just notices everything about you. Simon knows what food you favor, what your favorite color is, what social situations what you tick, what makes you mad—he knows it all. “Three months went by slow,” You murmur, trying to start a conversation. Simon’s eyes narrow at you for a moment as he watches you back up to your bed; no, you don’t turn around, you back up. You don’t turn your back to Simon at all. Fuck. He watches you lift your mattress, causing him to lift an eyebrow. “They did,” Simon confirms. “What happened while I was gone?”

This wasn’t an unusual question for Simon to ask; but it had a completely different meaning to you this time. You feel your muscles tense as you grab something from under your mattress, and you put it back down. It glints from the overhead light in your bedroom—a.. pocket knife of some sort, a switchblade perhaps. Simon’s eyes narrow at how you pocket it oh so quickly into your pocket. “Nothing much,” You reply quickly, smoothing out your shirt. “Same old same old, work has been fine, uh..” You trail off for a moment, clearing your throat. “Look, let me take a shower—I’m sure you’re itching for something to eat, huh?” Simon watches you open your drawers and pick out some pants and a shirt. The knife comes to mind—why are you taking it with you? “I can make it myself.” Simon responds, his feet planted firmly where he had been standing the whole time. You shake your head and close the drawers once you collect your clothes.

“It’s tradition, Simon. I gotta.” You offer a stronger smile as you make your way towards the door, still avoiding showing your back towards him. Simon watches as you glance at your bedroom window before exiting your room, muttering a quiet “close the door when you leave”, which Simon obeys. He shuts the door with a click, and he watches you quickly scurry down the hall towards the bathroom. “Just let me shower first.” And with that, you step into the bathroom, close the door and you lock it before Simon can interject. He stands there for a moment, stunned. His chest tightens for a moment because you just felt so far away. You’ve created such unwanted distance—even as you’re not very touchy with him, you still bother him for every detail he’s willing to give up when he returns. You are constantly making jokes, inviting him into the kitchen when you’re about to make a welcome home meal—but this time? You were hiding in your room, locking your door, bringing a knife with you—in front of him. Did you think that could slip past him? Did something happen whilst he was gone, to cause you to bring it with you? Is it for self defense against something or someone?— Is it to use on yourself?

Simon feels his stomach turn at his thoughts. He shakes his head and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He walks past the bathroom, his footsteps stuttering for a moment in front of the door before he presses his lips into a thin line, returning to the kitchen to make himself some tea, the electric kettle had beeped long ago.

The next late morning, not much was different. Simon only slept a few hours, three or four—as per usual, he still woke up before you. He threw on a pair of sweatpants, and a black hoodie. He made his tea, made you a cup of what you prefer to drink in the morning, and he made a light breakfast for you both. Despite being in the military for a while and relying on cooks as well as MRE’s to get through his days, Simon is a decent cook. He made himself some sausage and fried eggs, and he made a plate or a bowl of what you prefer to eat in the morning. Simon sighs for a moment as he glances at the time—around 1100, and you still haven’t emerged from your room which is odd, especially now that Simon just came back home. He takes a moment to look at his food, and he decides then and there he will drag you out if he has to. Simon scoops up his plate as well as your food, and he heads down the hall towards your room. With his hands full, Simon balances for a second as he gently kicks the door as a way to knock, and then he stands on both of his feet again. “Oi, wake up!” Simon shouts, leaning close to the door to listen for your movement.

It takes a good minute and when Simon is about to knock again; he hears your doorknob unlock and you peak out the door, your eyes wide and alert again, although it’s obvious you had just woken up. You seem to relax when your tired mind’s gears turn and you realize it’s just Simon. You open your door wider and you rub your eye, and he spots the knife in your hand, partially obscured by the door. “Mm, sorry. I overslept.” You say, your voice heavy with sleep, vibrating in your chest. Simon makes a noncommittal noise before holding out your food, which you stare at for a moment you take it, your lips twitching into a weak smile. “Thanks, Simon.” He waits a few seconds, and you nearly shut your door on him.

Thanks, Simon. That’s all??

“Can I eat in your room wit’you?” Simon gruffs out, feeling sudden determination from this weird act you have going on. You blink for a moment and then you nod. “Just give me a sec.” You murmur. You shut the door in his face and he hears you shuffling about, moving something—sounds like your mattress. Are you putting your knife away??—and then you open your door, gesturing for Simon to walk into your room. Surely you don’t think you can hide this type of thing from him of all people, right? Why are you hiding it from him?

Simon enters your room, and you close the door behind him. You never used to do that—“What happened?” Simon stares at you for an answer, watching your face contort in a bit of confusion. You don’t say anything at first, and when you were about to open your mouth, Simon speaks. “I mean this in the nicest way possible—do ya take me f’a wanker?” Your jaw drops for a moment, your eyebrows furrowing. “What? No, of course not, Simon. Nothing happened, I’m not sure why—“

“Don’t,” Simon interrupts, putting his plate of food on your dresser. “Something has happened, and you’re lyin’ to me. You’re jumpy, you’re carryin’ a blood knife around, lovie—don’t think you can get that past me—and you won’t turn your back on me.” His lips press into a line as he watches your shoulder hunch up a bit, in an all too familiar defensive, tense position. The pit in Simon’s stomach begins to grow as you avert your eyes from, too. “You are barely talkin’ when you bloody damn near talk my ear off when I come home—you said, ‘Thanks, Simon.’ Not an over the top reaction about me doing something for th’both of’us, not a invite in, and last night—you’ve been locking your door.” You put your food down near yourself, and Simon catches the way your fingers are trembling. “I.. I’m allowed to lock my door, Simon. You don’t need to question me.” You say, attempting to hold a steady voice which barely works, your voice nearly cracking on the last word. Your heart is racing out of your chest and all you want to do is bolt at the door; which Simon catches on to. You watch him as he slowly begins to step in front of the door. “You tell me everything—even how your damn showers go. Why won’t you tell me this?” He demands, and his heart is pounding against his ribcage, too.

He watches your face contort into several different emotions and feelings; panic, sadness, anger, relief—the whole nine yards. Simon walks towards you when you begin to sob, and you sit down on your bed to avoid collapsing. His chest tightens as he murmurs name, wondering if he went too far. You reach your hands for him and not for one second does Simon hesitate this time. He wraps his arms around you, sitting right next to you on your mattress, your thighs touching together. He reaches up and rubs the nape of your neck as you openly sob and shutter into the crook of his neck and in his arms. His skin burns from your heat seeping into his clothes, a lively warmth that burns so hot but he welcomes so much more than he remembers that he used to. Your tears are hot, burning his skin with every drop that slides onto his neck, but he welcomes the sensation. “It’s alright, lovie. Let it out.” Simon murmurs, one of his arms tugging your body closer to his. He holds you in almost protective stance, like someone is threatening to drag you away from his grasp. You grab at the back of his hoodie, your chest beginning to heave. “Mm, no, c’mere; look at me, yeah?” Simon beckons you, his voice smooth and soft—which is extremely rare. Simon cups your cheek and lifts your head from where it rests in the crook of his neck, his hand instantly getting covered in the wetness of your tears that are streaming down your cheeks. You inhale sharply as you try to look at Simon, your eyes unfocused and you try so hard to focus on his pretty brown eyes, but you can’t seem to get ahold of yourself. You let out a panicked sob as your hand now tug on the front of his hoodie, and his voice is so far away, but his hand is molding to the curve of your jaw, like it belongs there.

You shut your eyes for a moment and you let Simon move you around as he wants, which he ends up guiding your head to his chest, and his grip loosens some so you don’t feel trapped. It takes you a moment to catch your breath, to catch your bearings; you can hear a faint ringing sound that you didn’t notice before, but you do note it’s slowly fading away, and in fades is Simon’s voice. He’s murmuring praises—and oh, he’s laying against the headboard of your bed frame now, with you laying on his chest. You feel yourself trembling against him, and embarrassment hits you hard. You’re tense—you don’t want to talk about any of it at all, but you know Simon. He will push you until you snap, even if it’s in your best interest to tell him. You reach up and play with a hoodie string of his, listening to his soft breathing. You hesitate for a moment before your lips part. “It was a week after you left.” Simon’s heart skips a beat, which you hear—you vaguely find it amusing, but he’s silent to allow you to continue. One of his hands is on your back, his thumb moving back and forth. “I..” You swallow spit so you don’t croak, as you’re convinced you might sound pathetic. As if Simon would ever think of you that way. “I was walking home from the pub, y’know, the one only just a few blocks away? It was late at night, I think the police said it was around 2 am. I stayed until closing, I was with some of my friends, uh..” You trail off for a moment, trying to recall everything that happened. Your hand pauses, and Simon senses your state. He begins to rub your back full on, murmuring, “It’s alright. Go on, then.”

You let out a shaky breath before continuing. “I was absolutely wasted, and there was this guy—grabbed me and I tried to get out of his hold, but he ended up fucking stabbing me. Robbed me of my shit.” Your voice cracks and the silence is deafening. Simon feels his heart drop into his stomach. You got stabbed? “Fuckin’ hell.. Why didn’t you call me? Or at least let me know?” Simon’s voice treats carefully, knowing that you’re still freaking out by the way you’re incredibly tense against him. “I know how important your focus is when you’re gone,” You respond, your voice staying quiet as well. You don’t look at Simon’s face because you know that you’ll break once again. You pick at the fabric of his hoodie, seeking comfort in his warmth, despite how you usually aren’t like this with him. “I didn’t want to take your focus because I know you, Simon. You would’ve backed out of whatever you were trying to do to come and help me.” Simon presses his lips into a thin line, staying quiet because you both know that you’re correct. Simon would drop everything to come home to you, to help you. “The guy nicked my lung, was in the hospital for a while.” Simon’s hand stutters for a moment, the smooth pattern of his palm rubbing your back being interrupted from shock. “Jesus—“ Simon hisses, and he can’t help but tug you closer. “You should’ve told me anyway, lovie.”

You sniffle and you rub your face into his hoodie, a muffled noncommittal noise coming from the back of your throat. He doesn’t say anything further, nor do you. Simon lays there with you on top of him, one of his hands caressing your back, the other wrapped around your body, sometimes coming up to rub the back of your neck. You don’t mention the way he doesn’t seem to tell you to move, and he doesn’t mention how touchy you’re being. Simon doesn’t want this moment to end—one where you’re vulnerable and trusting with him, one where you’re alive and well. He can’t help but wonder if he ever made you feel like you couldn’t tell him something? Simon feels simmering, muffled anger in his stomach because you didn’t want to interrupt his work for being stabbed, nicking a vital organ no less—he makes a mental note to sit you down and make you promise to call him if an issue or an injury like that ever arises again. He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to push away what would happen if you didn’t do that—if that guy were to come back to try to finish the job and Simon wasn’t here, would you call him? Would you pick up your phone and dial his number? Would you text him? What if you got hurt again—would you call him?—Or would the hospital? He always imagined you’d be getting the call of his death, and not the other way around. Simon swears under his breath for a moment and opens his eyes; he doesn’t want to think about that anymore. He wants to stay in this moment with you—both himself and you alive. He glances down, your tear stained cheeks slowly drying, your eyelids closed. His fingers slide from the nape of your neck to the side, and he presses his fingers against your pulse.

Being here with you—he wants you to trust him, too; like he trusts you. That’s all he wants.

tag: @zzzennin

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wonbriiize · 5 months

Note

Hi could u write something about wonbin secretly dating the reader who is another idol !! reader is kind of an airhead in her group (who is under SM too!!!) and she’s a really good dancer and she has many fans !! one day she’s invited with 2 of her members to a tv show (like running man, knowing brothers etc) and there is also wonbin and riize members too !!! anyway one MC could make a joke about crushing or wanting to date the reader and wonbin would feel jealous, he then would make sneaky remarks about how he and the reader could make a great couple (so the fans could ship them hahaha) thank youuu

note; this was sm fun to write (and challenging bc i don’t really watch knowing brothers or running man so idk if i did well with writing about it), thank u anon for this request !! i changed it a little tho; instead of wonbin x reader already dating, i wanted to show how wonbin is secretly crushing on reader and gets jealous.. i hope you still like it !! <3 (it’s a bit long i’m sorry ㅜㅜ)

pairing; park wonbin x idol reader

warnings; a little bit of cursing

dancing together

your heart is heart shaking and your hands are sweating when you walk to the set of ‘knowing brothers’. it was your first time ever attending a variety show like this and you were nervous, you want to do your best but you don’t know if you’re variety show potential or not.

it hasn’t been long since your group debuted so you feel even more thankful that ‘knowing brothers’ invited you along with two of your other group members for their next episode.

some people think that they only invited you because you’re SM’s new girlgroup, they think that you guys got the big 3 privilege. what they don’t know is that being in one of the big 3 companies isn’t as much of an easy ride as they make it out to be and you all had demons to fight so you could finally debut.

“oh, they’re also here,” one of your group members softly nudges your side and you follow her gaze, your eyes landing on RIIZE. SM‘s boygroup that debuted a while ago.

“i can‘t believe our managers didn’t tell us that we wouldn’t be the only SM group here,” you whisper to your two group members.

“well, i don‘t mind. i can finally get to know sungchan,” the other group member giggles.

she has been crushing on sungchan since the minute she first landed eyes on him, but because of the fact that their schedule never aligns with your groups schedule, she didn’t really have time to get to know him.

well, none of you guys had the time to get to know any of the RIIZE members.

you try to catch a glimpse of park wonbin, the center of the boygroup.

your members don’t know this, but you’ve been eyeing wonbin for the longest time ever. everytime you guys walk past each other in the company building, you just feel something between the two of you. and you know that you’re not the only one who thinks that way ; especially when wonbin catches you staring and gives you a soft smile.

embarrassing, you think, he saw me staring at him.

what you don’t know about wonbin is that he has been eyeing you the whole time too. the second the company introduced the members for the new girlgroup, he was mesmerized by you. he made it his life’s mission to get to know you.

so the fact that he is here, at ‘knowing brothers’, with some of his group members, and you’re here too — it seems like the perfect opportunity to finally make a move.

when the cameras start rolling, your group enters first. getting hyped up by the people filming, the MC‘s and other guests, you gain confidence and the nervousness you were feeling a few minutes ago starts to fade.

✧˖°.⁺‧˚ ♡ ˚‧⁺ ✧˖°.

“oh, *y/n*, we heard that you’re the main dancer of your group,” one of the MC‘s points at you. “so we prepared something especially for you.”

it has been a while since the show started and your nervousness was completely gone, but when the MC grabs after your hand and pulls you to the middle of the supposed classroom, you feel your ears heating up a little.

“do you think you can do it?”

you take a look around the set, seeing how everyone is analyzing you — including wonbin.

you can’t let him see you being insecure. nope, you need to pull off your best.

“of course i can. i‘m the main dancer for a reason,” you smile, hearing your members cheer for you in the background.

the MC‘s stare at you, amazed by your confidence. they’re not the only ones though ; from the side of your eyes you see wonbin looking at you with a big grin on his face.

“seeing you so confident is refreshing, a lot of other idols would feel shy. it’s kind of cute,“ one of the MC‘s raises his eyebrow at you. ew. you’re so not feeling what he just said, but because the cameras are on, you can’t let your discomfort show, so you just laugh.

wonbin doesn’t notice that he put his hand in a fist when the MC called you cute until sungchan put a hand on his shoulder and told him to loosen up.

“you can’t let your jealousy show, wonbin.”

wonbin looks at him, acting like he doesn’t know what sungchan is talking about.

“jealous? why would i be jealous? i‘m not jealous.”

sungchan doesn’t answer, he just raises his eyebrows and grins at wonbin.

“the random dance play starts now!” the MC suddenly announces which brings wonbin’s whole attention back to you.

while the countdown to the first song started, the same MC who called you cute, walks closer to you . “a little spoiler; at some point, bite me by enhypen will play. i will jump in to do the partner dance with you.”

you had no choice but to press your lips together and smile. remember, it’s all for the show, you tell yourself.

the MC thought he was being slick with walking closer to you to tell you that, but he wasn’t as quiet as he probably intended to be because wonbin heard it. he heard what the MC told you.

“who does he think he is?” wonbin whispers to himself. “i‘m not going to let that happen.”

so far, the dances on the random dance play were all that you’ve done dance challenges to, so it wasn’t really hard. you were doing very good if you could say so yourself.

but the constant panic that keeps arising within you whenever the next song is supposed to play (because you just didn’t want to dance to bite me with the MC) is making it hard for you to focus.

and when the song finally plays, you close your eyes for the first few seconds because you weren’t ready for what’s about to happen.

taking a deep breath in and out, you open them again.. only to see wonbin right next to you, leading the dance.

wait? what?

you’re trying your best to not let the confusion show; why is he here? did he really just come up to dance with you? why would he do that?

the dance goes smoothly, it’s like the two of you were meant to dance together.

not to mention the fireworks that are exploding inside of you right now and they only grow bigger everytime wonbin even slightly touches you.

the whole time, wonbin is trying his hardest to not grin like an idiot because he’s enjoying this so much. he couldn’t care less about what everyone is thinking right now. for him, nothing else matters other than dancing together with you.

the music stops and you two freeze, just looking into each others eyes for a moment until you realize that you’re in public right now and everything is being filmed.

quickly, you bow to wonbin as a thank you and turn away from him to face the MC‘s (who are looking at you with big smiles).

“park wonbin,” the MC, who has been hitting on you the whole time, calls out.

wonbin turns to him, nodding. “yes?”

“you‘re quite the show stealer. and partner.”

wonbin doesn’t let himself get thrown offguard. instead, he puts on his best smile.

“i just thought that a main dancer should dance with another dancer. i didn’t intend to steal your moment, sir.. and also, don’t we look good together?” wonbin smiles at you.

the MC analyzes wonbin for a quick moment until he lets out the biggest laugh. “honestly, you danced way better than i could ever have. you matched *y/n*s energy very well and it’s true that you look good together.. almost like a couple.”

the other MC nodds in agreement. “seeing you two dance together makes me want to wish for a collab stage between the two of you in the future.”

now wonbin’s eyes wander over to you. his smile is so infectious that you feel the corners of your lips going up as well.

“well, *y/n*, let’s talk to our managers about this idea and make it happen.”

✧˖°.⁺‧˚ ♡ ˚‧⁺ ✧˖°.

“and.. cut! we are done!”

you let out a breath of relief. your first ever ‘knowing brothers’ appearance has offically ended. even though you enjoyed it, you can’t wait to go back to your dorm and just rest.

your members feel the same way.

“let us go change quickly,” one of them says when you guys walk to the backstage area.

somehow, your mind is still stuck on wonbin. you can’t believe what had happened. it feels like some kind of dream, or just something that you’ve imagined.

there’s no way that park wonbin wanted to dance with me, you just can’t seem to believe it.

being all in your thoughts, you didn’t realize that someone had walked up next to you.

“hey,” wonbin softly touches your shoulder which makes you stop walking.

“you were a great dance partner earlier.”

not being able to answer (because you can’t grasp the fact that he’s standing right in front of you), you just smile.

talk, say something, you pressure yourself. don’t look like an idiot in front of him right now when you’ve tried to show your best side the whole day.

“i should honestly thank you. really, i mean it. we did well together.”

wonbin smiles, his eyes sparkling, making it look like he has stars shining inside of them.

“i hope we can dance together sometime in the future too. and i don’t mean the collab stage.. i mean privately. like, only the two of us..”

wonbin can’t believe he just said that. it took him all the guts in the world but he’s happy that it’s out in the open, he’s happy to finally have the courage to ask you out (which is what he has been wanting to do for months).

hold on-

park wonbin?? is asking ME out??

you try your hardest to not stop breathing at this very moment.

“as in a date?”

wonbin scratches the back of his head. “yes.. uhm.. unless i was just imaging things and you don’t really want to get to know me the same way i want to get to know you.”

you stare at him while the fireworks you were feeling earlier are making a comeback.

“shit, yeah, maybe this was too much. i should probably just lea-” you cut wonbin off.

“i would love to dance with you again. privately.”

you’ve seen wonbin being all smiley the whole day but right now, you see the biggest smile on his face ever. as if he’s a little kid and someone gave him tons of sweets.

“cool.. more than cool. amazing. would you mind giving me your number so i can hit you up with the details later?”

you shake your head laughingly while typing in your number on wonbin’s phone.

once you give it back to him, his smile only grows bigger.

“okay, yeah.. i will text you. for sure. i just have to leave now, as you probably saw; sungchan keeps messaging me. uhm.. i can’t wait to see you again.”

before you could reply, wonbin turns around and you could swear that you heard him giggle while he excitedly walked (almost galloping) away.

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jjks1ut · 4 months

Text

Crawling Back To You

pairing: toji x reader

summary:after a major argument having you and Toji breakup here you are to get your things from your apartment but he's ready to convince you to stay, you always come crawling back to him anyways.

cw:explicit content edging, cheating, arguing, manipulation, foul language, degrading, pet names, unprotected sex, tit-sucking, fingering, overstimulation, some praise, p in v, heated making out, slight breeding kink

a/n:hi and happy holidays to all my followers, im so sorry for my lack of content for the longest as for a good while I've lost motivation in writing and been so caught up in life. I hope u can come back and enjoy my writing again even if its a bit rusty :)

“You already found another boyfriend?” Toji asks, there’s almost a sneer on his face. “You can’t even handle being single for a month.”

He doesn’t even mean what he’s saying, but he hates seeing you move on. Toji’s self-aware enough to know he’s in the wrong. He wasn’t a good boyfriend. That doesn’t mean you’re allowed to move on, though. Isn’t it obvious he still wants you? Why do you need some other guy? Just come crawling back to him like you always do.

“I’m sorry Toji”, were your only words as you began to pack a suitcase to take all the things you had left in his place.

Deep down inside you really didn't want to leave him but after the last argument you two shared. It had been over something so small, but Tojil continued to reject that he was at fault and it drove you crazy and up the walls of your apartment as you yelled at each other all that night, and when Tojil left to go ‘blow off some steam’ you knew this was the last straw.

So after your breakup you found yourself going to parties, bars, and all kinds of social places while you stayed at your friends place hoping to blow off some steam of your own now without Toji in the picture. So when you found yourself hooking up with a guy or two one of them had finally asked to take things further and make you his lover.

Since then you went straight to dating that new someone to get Toji off your mind and push away your deep down longing. When Toji heard your sudden acceptance and eagerness to leave and move on to someone new it cut him deep.

He doesn’t want you to go. He knows he doesn’t deserve to have you in his life. Not after the way he treated you. But just the idea of you leaving? For another guy? No. He can’t let you go. Not this easily. He can’t let you move on from him. He’s not going down without a fight.

“Wait, please don’t leave babe”,he spoke practically begging you to just hear him out and stay as he went to grab for your wrist. Toji looks up at you, the expression on his face shifting as his expression becomes more sincere. He holds your gaze, making his voice soft.

“Please baby, I know I’ve done a horrible job as your boyfriend these past few years. I took you for granted. I didn’t appreciate you the way I should have. And I regret all of that more than you know”.

He continued as he came closer to you, taking your hands in his own as he began to trail light kisses along them trailing them down until they reached your upper arm bringing out a small moan at your lips bringing a smirk from Toji’s smug grin.

Yet even with the way Toji was making you feel, you felt guilty. Your mind was telling you no, to not put yourself in the same situation you had been in with Toji for so long but your body told you something different as you felt the throbbing of your core as Toji’s ever so hulking form was towering over you. But, to your body’s dismay you followed your mind.

“After everything we’ve been through Toji, I just can’t”, you sighed, pulling your hands away as you went back to packing your things.

As you continue to maneuver around the house getting more of your things each time Toji tries to slow you down or stop you spewing apologies. Even trying to convince you to stay a little longer. Probably just even hear him out but you refuse each time.

Toji’s eyes widened at your refusals, not wanting to let you go so easily. He steps in front of you. "Please. Don't. This time it'll be different. I can fix things, I know I can." He steps closer to her.

"I need you. You can't leave me alone to pick up the pieces." That last sentence comes out just as he intended. He needs you. He needs you to be with him. He can't do this alone.

It’s those first three words that make a small ache form in your heart. Somewhere deep down inside you knew he was lying about trying to fix himself. But, the way he spoke those three words ‘I need you’ made you want to come crawling back but you continued to refuse those feelings.

“It’s no Toji”, you protested as you finished with your bag beginning to make your way to the door with your luggage in hand rolling right beside you. But, what was to happen next you didn’t expect.

As you made your way to the door, Toji wasn’t taking your shit anymore and went to the last thought and resort he had. “Does he make you happy? Does he please you the way I do?”He spoke, leaving you to completely stop in your tracks. It’s a question you never wanted to have to answer when it was coming from Toji.

You had to admit the new guy you were dating was a nice man, a great man even but you knew he could never compare to Toji. From the way his hands would roam over the expanse of your body even outside the bedroom just hoping to get you flustered.

From the way you didn’t even have to ask him and he knew you wanted him. Even needed him to fill the intoxicating throb you felt at your core whenever you two were apart. So that’s exactly why you ran straight to another even after only a month apart hoping to fill that void but to your disappointment it never was.

“What did you say?”,you asked, turning to look at him with a slight eye roll.

“You heard me”, he spoke sternly as he stepped towards you with a slow but almost intimidating pace as he carefully took each step approaching you.

When he finally reached you he slammed the slightly open front door behind you shut, having you jump slightly now backed into the door with his hulking form. At this point you could feel the atmosphere thicken and your skin seem to warm at the sudden closeness Miguel was now bringing at his proximity.

“Toji-“,you try to speak but are soon cut off by his hand covering your mouth, feeling the warmth of skin rise even more. “You didn’t answer my question, y/n”. Toji replied with a smirk forming on his smug face as his other hand brushed some of your hair from your face.

“Now tell me, does he please you the way I do? Make you weak in the knees just at his touch?”, he continues his hands now leave their place on you as he steps back giving you any chance at this point now to leave, to walk right out his home and leave him feeling defeated knowing you’re now not his anymore. But your next words surprise him…

“No he doesn’t, and he never will”,you reply stepping an inch closer as you take his hand into your own.

This now brings a smile on Toji’s face as he steps back towards you placing a hand on the side of your face caressing it with his thumb as he presses a soft kiss against your lips. “That’s a good girl”,he whispers as his kisses begin to trail down your neck leaving you to melt into his arms before carrying you back to his(your shared) bedroom.

Once finally in the room Toji tosses you effortlessly onto the cool mattress where you two spent many heated nights together. That has always been the effect of your disputes. Where he would show how sorry he was through the way he laid you out and used you like his own personal slut.

“Be a good girl for me and strip out those clothes of yours”,he demanded without a second thought. You pulled the sweatshirt of yours over your head and slipped off your pants revealing a lacy bra and panties you had under. “I can’t believe the sight I’m seeing right now”, Toji laughed with an amused look written all over your face.

Just a moment ago you had been eager to leave him but here you were undressed in some sexy underwear as if you came here just to do this with him.

“Now tell me, was this little set for me, or that dumb fuck you’re dating instead of me?”. Toji spoke as he came close to your quivering form to lightly hook his finger at the band of your panties and let go just as fast to hear the quick snap of the material against your skin eliciting a soft mewl from your lips.

In any other circumstance these would be bold words and a straight insult coming from anyone else but from him it just made you need him even more as your thighs clamped together on instinct to hold in the way your core began to leak with arousal.

“Come on, talk to me, pretty girl”, he said, holding your face in his hand to make sure you were looking right at him as his brown eyes bore holes into your skull.

“They just looked nice is all Toji'',you replied, placing your hand on top of his. With your words he smiled, pressing a small kiss on your cheek before he completely pulled off the lingerie, tearing off the bra and doing the same with your panties.

“Toji! That was expensive!”you shouted in protest, now completely bare for his eyes to see as you tried to cover yourself with your hands as heat began to rise on your face, contrasting unfortunately with the cool bed sheets.

“Shut up and just let me pound you into this mattress like the dirty little whore you are sweetheart. Besides we can just buy you a new one once we’re back together just as pretty”,he spoke in an almost cruel tone but his words were filled with sincerity almost hinting at the fact you’ll be coming back to him even with your new boyfriend.

Now with you completely bare in front of Toji everything was open and ready for him to access. So to start the night off he continued to kiss you like he did earlier now trailing his kisses from your neck down to your collarbone until it reached your soft mounds as he took one in his mouth flicking his tongue against the erect nipple and doing the same on the other side but with his finger.

“Toji~”, you moaned in ecstasy at the way his tongue ran circles along the tips, having your whole body quiver beneath his touch already clawing at his back for leverage.

“Fuck I missed this feeling baby, the way you feel under my touch. Tell me, does that new boyfriend of yours make you feel like this?”he whispered as he ran a finger along your silk folds in sensual and long strokes as he watched the way you gasped and trembled at the feeling.

“Tojil..I-”, you began to speak but all that came out was a whimper of yours as you felt him push in another finger into your seeping wet heat. “Speak up, pretty thing, I want to hear what you have to say about the bastard. The one that I know could never make you feel the way I do”. He continued as one finger ran circles around your clit as two others of his thrusted inside your puffy folds.

With one swift motion he began to pump his fingers inside separating your folds apart with two fingers of his. Just one of his fingers felt like two, almost three of your own.

“Just shut up already, Toji.” You whined as his pace increased his hands working in tandem with the way your hips thrusted against his fingers hoping to get the best out of the feeling his fingers had you under.

With each thrust all you could think of was Toji and how well he did you, even if it was just his bare hands he knew each and every spot that would have you squirm.

So as his fingers continued their tantalizing pace inside you, it was only a few seconds until your orgasm washed over you causing your back to arch and mouth to fall open in a silent scream, and no matter if you wanted to deny it or not all that could be heard was you screaming Toji’s name as you left your high.

“I knew you missed me”, he smirked as he could already feel the ache from the forming dent in his pants. “You think your ready for what you’ve been missing out on the most'' he smirks as you can already hear the unzipping of his jeans and as he lifts up his shirt showing off his toned pecs he had always been running to the gym to make even bigger and bulky.

But what really had your eyes widening and mouth watering was the dent in his boxers from his member hidden within his drawers. “You think you can take all of me? Or you've gotten used to that other guy’s micro shit”, Toji teased as he slipped off his boxers, slapping his member against your walls as he let it slide up and down your soaked lips watching the way your pussy seemed to puff up at his member against it.

“Look at you, I haven’t even put it in yet and you're soaking wet practically begging me to put it in”, he continued to tease as he took your lips into his own as he muffled your whiny moans with his tongue sucking in your rambling words of release and for him to already use you already which he obliged happily. “You asked for it pretty thing”

Your breath caught, the unexpected contact of his member sending a shiver down your spine. You met his eyes, finding a silver of vulnerability in his usually cheeky behavior as he let out a breathy groan upon entering your soaking cunt. For a moment, the air crackled with an unspoken tension as he let himself take the final push inside you.

“You good sweetheart? You think you can keep going?”, he spoke softly the first time he generally spoke words of comfort without any backhand talk as he caressed his hand along the side of your cheek his thumb running small circles there.

But, once you nodded in consent his fat dribbling tip finally seeped inside your slick walls. Almost instantly your thighs spread unconsciously for his long legs to take place in between them, an arm snaking from below your side to hold onto your hips as he kept a steady pace slipping in out of your hole that was clenching at the large size stretching your walls.

You feel like a fucking toy under him, just taking all of him at once as he pleased but you wouldn’t deny in the slightest you took in every last bit of his cock as you could hear every noise that was coming from the two of you. From your breathy moans of desperation begging for more of him, to his grunts and groans as you dragged your fingernails along his back gasping from each time his cock would hit that sweet spot inside of you.

The feeling of his length’s veins coming in and out of your chasm is so euphoric, and the kisses to your cervix left your body to writhe and squirm. Yet your haze gets more potent once he picks up the pace, rutting into you with increased speed. Your slit, still sensitive from earlier, gets overstimulated with the constant grazes on your gummy walls and jabs to your tender cervix.

And no matter how badly you want to last longer for him and not come so early you can already feel your brain turning into mush from the relentless ruts against your puffy wet lips.

“Toji~, Please I’m gonna come~” , are your last words as you feel your eyes roll into the back of your lids as tears streamed down your cheeks and drool falling past your lips running down your chest but Toji continued his onslaught even with his precise hits to your canal of nerves.

“You just feel so good princess, let me come inside you first.”, he whispered as his finger slipped between your thighs playing with your clit as he watched the way another wash of release was already on your face. “You gonna let me come in this pretty cunt of yours? Let me be yours instead of that stupid bastard?” Toji mumbled into your ear as he grabbed you by the chin forcing you to stare into those green eyes.

The mere thought of having a child is the last thing that should be on your mind. But in a time like this, who in their right mind would be thinking straight? So without a second thought you obliged as you were practically rutting against his thrusts as you watched the way his cock would make its way in pushing the mix of slick and previous orgasms back inside you.

With one final shared moan between you both you felt his hot seed slip inside your walls filling you to the brim. “Fuck I can’t wait to see you with my baby”, Toji sighed with one final breath before falling against the now warm sheets as he pulled you in close.

Later that night, you would wake up to go use the bathroom with Toji dead asleep knocked out with the occasional snoring from the bigger man. But, even with this clear chance to sneak out and leave you had no intention to. Just like he said you would, you came crawling back to him like you always do.

As you pulled out your phone while on the toilet you were met with over 20+ messages from the guy you had been talking to in your time apart from Toji and when you opened the messages you were met with an interesting sight.

There you were sprawled out on the sheets you had just been on with Toji as a video played of your moaning and drooling face crying Toji’s name as he practically made you his bitch on screen ;).

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader smut #toji fushiguro #toji fushigro x reader #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x y/n #toji x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk toji

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angelwithdemonictendencies · 23 days

Text

they threw envy at me like mud and told me to be grateful; i've never felt luckier than in the passenger seat of your truck.

tj17 x reader: an unorthodox take on what it means to be high school sweethearts.

(warnings: blasphemous filth, unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), hair pulling (ugh, the curls. the curls you guys), oral sex (f on m), crazy amounts of tension and bad communication and self-doubt and pain (you guys know me, just keeping it light!), obviously i'm forgetting things but all my usual stuff. please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)

(a/n: oh my god, my favorites. this has been so long in the making it's honestly kind of embarrassing. first off, it's 20k words (longest one yet! just couldn't help myself). anyways, i give you one of the most special and personal stories i've ever written (and honestly, i'm not sure why - something about the topic of beauty and being yourself and the relationship with the home is going to do it for me every time). thank you for waiting patiently. there's a lot going on here, and lots of plot holes, so if it doesn't make sense in places, don't tell anyone. no, i don't know anything about baseball or influencers. yes, i'm obsessed with mattias samuelsson (his voice is my favorite in the league). and yes, dylan cozens is a librarian who wants to be on jeopardy. and of course jack quinn is jj peterka's barback. this may or may not have been inspired by a crisis i had about my high school ex a bit ago (he was so good to me! and it was probably just because we were kids! but what if no one is that good to me again!). jesus sorry about that, i don't know what came over me. what else? oh, yeah, when i am describing beauty here, please know that i am talking (i'm being dead serious) about kindness. if i have learned one thing throughout my life, it is that a genuine smile and a listening ear is all it takes to get pretty privilege (use it!). this is not a "she's not like other girls" story - the opposite, actually, i hope. i chose tj17 for this because he is the epitome of the hometown sweetheart that you just keep coming back to (look at that laugh!). playoffs soon? (i love when everyone gets all angry and bloody in pursuit of the cup). pretty, pretty please, tell me what you think. i've got lots in the works. i'm sending so much love to you and your snakes. make space for yourself in the places you've outgrown. until next time, all my love).

you could admit that it had probably been too long. too long since you'd last ventured back to your hometown, which, to your amazement, as you drove down main street towards your parents' house, looked almost exactly the same as you remembered it.

you could have come home for senior spring break, or for christmas, but you hadn't - it had to have been since thanksgiving, then, which had practically been an overnight trip.

thankfully, it didn't appear that you had missed much. it was all the same tall pines around the outskirts of the avenues, the same town square with the same family-owned shops, same bar (under new management), same stone library steps and street lights that needed repairs.

the directions on your phone were more so a comfort than a necessity - you'd know the way to your street blindfolded, maybe dead, but it was sort of nice, in a way, to think that you needed help getting there. to think that you'd grown up so much that you no longer knew this place the way you know the songs your dad played in the car on the way to school - entirely and wholly, if not a little senselessly.

in what felt like a blink, you already had made it into the driveway, your subtly luxurious suv suddenly feeling much too big and attention-grabbing. you felt as if you might as well have been driving a limo, maybe one of those sleek borderline race-cars in some flashy color.

you put your car in park and unbuckled your seatbelt, your hands gripping the wheel so hard your knuckles paled.

"arrived at home," the robotic voice from your phone said, which made you choke out a short laugh. in all ways but the ones that mattered, yes, you supposed, this was home.

would it be frowned upon to leave the car running? just in case you needed to make a quick exit? you groaned, laid your head down against the steering wheel, careful not to press your forehead down hard enough to honk.

this was exactly what coming home always felt like - frustration to the point of madness, but control to the point of lunacy. home left you crazy, either way.

you were pulled from your anxious haze by a ping from your phone. the name you saw across your screen made your heart stutter.

are the rumors true?

is the starlet back in town?

you sighed, couldn't help the tiny smile that pulled at the corner of your lips, regardless.

even though you were no starlet, even though the thought of small-town rumors made your breath feel short and shallow.

as much as coming home made you want to tear out your hair extensions one by one, as much as the monotonous continuity of this town made you almost dizzy, there was one thing, one person, rather, whose relentless sameness you looked forward to, every time, without fail.

and that person was tyson jost.

you'd known tyson practically forever, or at least for what felt like forever, ever since him and his family moved next door the summer before middle school.

you still remembered seeing him for the first time, watching from your bedroom window as he carried boxes from his mom's minivan up his driveway.

it had started as all lovely things did - so naturally it was hard to pinpoint how exactly it had started.

you swore you could remember him meeting your eyes through the window, his unruly hair in his face, the easiest smile you'd ever seen stretching across his mouth, only barely visible above cardboard flaps.

but, as you'd learned long ago, your memory wasn't always the most trustworthy of places, knew that it could be dramatic and volatile, at times, so you didn't dwell on what exactly had been the beginning of you and tyson.

all you really knew was that all through middle school and high school, he had been your everything.

your school bus seat buddy, your locker neighbor, your smile across the classroom.

he cheered the loudest at your tennis matches, and you never missed one of his baseball games. he was over yours doing homework every weekday, you were the first person he picked up when he got his license. he was your secret language spoken between opposing open bedroom windows.

of course, as he shed his baby face and you got your braces off, things changed a bit, but not really.

you were still his stop it, tys, giggled under your breath when he'd make goofy faces in class, just to get you to laugh.

he was still your you'll be there, right, kid? spoken so earnestly the morning of the championship game, something like worry clouding his usually relentlessly bright eyes. worry that had floated away when you'd hugged him close, mumbled your of course into his chest.

and his constant support, his never-wavering smirk of a smile, it was exactly what you needed during one of the most turbulent times of your life.

high school is weird for everybody, but it was especially weird for you, whose observant tendencies lended themselves to deep, deep emotions that you felt almost physically.

you were a people pleaser, an approval seeker, and at some point you began to realize that others weren't always as forgiving as you were. that other people may not give you the benefit of the doubt, as you tended to afford them.

it got worse when you realized you were pretty.

sometimes, it felt as if you had been beautiful since you could listen, since you could first turn your gaze on someone and make them feel heard, make them feel seen.

and that was a big part of it all - your quiet kindness, combined with that lovely smile, with that careful posture and easy laugh - it seemed that others had become acutely aware of your beauty long before you had.

you caught on, eventually.

you were sixteen when you started to feel the weight of male attention on you in the hallways, when your bare legs in the warm weather started to feel heavy with expectation, when you started to notice how groups of girls would turn and giggle behind their hands when they thought you were just out of earshot.

it was exciting, at first. girls wanted to talk to you, to be close with you. guys wanted to hang out with you. people wanted to give you things, seemingly for nothing.

you distinctly remembered one humid night, in tyson's bedroom, just after he had driven you both home after his practice. his hair had been damp at the roots, his face still a bit flushed in that rosy way you loved.

he'd been scrolling on his phone while you worked on a geometry problem set, half-focused, the other half telling him about the senior in your econ class who'd asked for your snapchat.

you could still picture his narrow gaze, barely looking up from his screen.

"you know he doesn't want to, like, marry you, right, kid?" he'd said, and it was so flippant that it jarred you.

you'd looked up, blinked, felt suddenly so embarrassed you thought you might be sick. "what?" you asked, "yeah, of course, i just-"

"like, he knows nothing about you besides you being hot," tyson finished, almost coldly, rolling onto his side on the beanbag he was sprawled across.

and he was right, obviously, but it felt really mean, somehow, felt like tiny drops of flame were pricking at your cheeks. you felt, to your dismay, that you actually might cry.

"why do you have to say it like that?" you'd asked, hating how pathetic your voice sounded, how it broke towards the end.

this must have gotten his attention, because when tyson finally looked up, his eyes flooded with gentle apology. he let his phone fall to the side, opened up his arms in invitation.

"'m sorry," he mumbled into your hair when you joined him on his beanbag, let him wrap his arms around you. "'m sorry, kid, know that was mean. 'm just jealous, i think." his tone was so matter-of-fact, not trying to hide anything. you supposed he had always been like that.

you laughed into his breastbone, felt the warmth of him all over your face. "you're jealous?" you asked, "what do you have to be jealous about?"

he gave you your favorite kind of smile, the one that made your stomach flutter. "maybe 'cause you're in my room, and you're smilin' 'cause of some other guy," he mused, which made you look up at him, find completely genuine adoration saturating his gaze.

you hummed.

"and 've been tryin' to get you to see that i like you, and it hasn't been workin'-"

your heart stuttered, because of course you liked tyson. how could you not, when he was your everything? when he had been the one who stood by you, before everyone else had seemed to catch on?

"you like me?" you had whispered, almost like a prayer, and his big, beautiful eyes had shimmered with something lovely. something almost bashful.

you swore you could feel something rumbling against his chest. "well, yeah," he said, "but, i don't wanna lose you, kid, so if you don't feel the same way-"

you'd cut him off by pressing your lips to his in a kiss that felt like sunshine, like a sigh of relief, like pillow forts and fall foliage and sunday morning waffles.

so, from then on, not only were you the beautiful girl, you were the beautiful girl dating the budding baseball superstar.

as such, you were seventeen when you realized that as much as it may have seemed that people wanted to give you things, they wanted to take things from you more. much more.

still, as long as you had your small group of friends, and your grades, and your parents, and tyson, you told yourself you didn't really need everyone to love you.

as long as you were kind and generous and empathetic, everything would be fine.

it grew tough to turn the other cheek all the time, though. especially when guys didn't seem to respect that you were in a relationship, when people were starting rumors about you sleeping around, when girls tried to get with your boyfriend again and again and again just to prove they could take him from you. of course, they never could, but it hurt nonetheless.

still, you'd go to every one of tyson's games, as long as he'd jog to the fence afterwards to give you a goofy kiss, like he'd missed you, even for just the few hours he'd been playing.

you'd endure the snide comments in the stands about your outfits as long as he'd whistle, wrap his arms around your waist, pull you back against him and tell you that he almost dropped an easy ball in the third because you'd looked so distracting.

you'd let people assume you were dumb and obnoxious and entitled as long as he'd ask you about your advanced calculus tests, your data analytics internship, your speech and debate competition.

and that was enough. for high school, that was enough.

inevitably, it became clear that people wanted what you had, no matter what it was, no matter how hard you had worked for it.

you were eighteen when you realized you could make a career of people wanting things that you had.

social media was something you stumbled upon accidentally.

just a random post one day, a couple of pictures of you on the tennis court, a few of you in the stands at one of tyson's games, and suddenly you were flushed with followers and likes, more than you knew what to do with.

of course, this only made the rumors worse, but your friends thought it was funny, and tyson thought it was awesome, so you didn't mind. you just continued posting exactly what you always did - your outfits and weekends and dinners and the like - nothing crazy, always tasteful.

it was only a matter of time before brands were reaching out to you, before you suddenly had the need for management, before your social media accounts actually started to become a source of income.

you recognized how lucky you were for this to even be an option for you - how it was mostly because of something as shallow as appearances, how there was nothing more vain, more potentially vapid than social media.

you never cared about the numbers of it all, though, never looked twice at pictures of yourself, never scrolled through your notifications or comments. tyson was always the first to like your posts, anyways, always commenting first! followed by a string of incoherent emojis (usually including the flame one).

he'd text you, too, after you posted, something like love the filter on the second photo! or quite the handsome hand in the fourth :) about a picture of your coffee that he was holding. enough to let you know that he looked at every picture, that he supported you unconditionally, even though you, yourself, sort of thought the whole ordeal was kind of stupid, that social media was dumb and not worth anyone's time.

you were at a bit of a crossroads towards the end of high school - you wanted to get a college degree, that was non-negotiable, but it seemed too good to be true that you could be paid just for being yourself online, just for developing a personal brand.

it seemed too good to pass up.

before you knew it, it was time to apply for college, and it only made sense for you to aim for schools in los angeles, across the country.

just as it only made sense for tyson to play for the national championship winning state school, only a forty-five minute drive from your hometown in upstate new york.

long distance loomed over the two of you like a thunderous cloud, and the weight of it felt heavier than just breaking up, even though splitting up with tyson was still the most painful thing you'd endured.

you still remembered him dropping you off at the airport, insisting on carrying your suitcases all the way to security, even if he had to leave his truck idle in the drop off line, even though he was probably going to get a ticket about it.

of course, you still remembered how his bright eyes had gone glassy, how he still tried to smile even through his slightly quivering bottom lip. how he'd shuddered in your embrace when you hugged him goodbye.

"you'll come back, kid?" he'd asked, almost pleaded, into your shoulder.

"of course, tys," you'd said, but even the memory of the words felt weightless. "don't forget to call me, okay? every day, if you can."

he'd laughed, then, short and choppy, wiped at his nose with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. his voice was wobbly. "'d never forget," he said, and it felt true, then.

and so you and your everything went separate ways. you fell into a routine in california, balanced school and your job as an influencer. tyson had a routine of his own, too, practice and lifts and games and the odd class.

you called everyday, in the beginning, heard about how everyone was really good here, how he was nervous on the field for pretty much the first time ever, how classes were hard and everything was hard without you.

you told him about how smart the girls in your classes were, how you really, really wanted them to like you, how you found yourself going to baseball fall games just because it was familiar.

he'd gotten a sad sort of tone in his voice, then. "how's their shortstop?" he asked, and your stomach dropped, because that was his position, and you had a feeling you knew what he was looking for.

"i've seen better," you whispered into your phone, the weight of missing him feeling like an anvil on your chest.

even though you and tyson weren't together, in the technical sense of the word, it still sort of felt like you were.

there were guys here and there, sure, and you could only guess what a hit tyson was with the sorority end of greek row.

you pretended not to notice, on facetime, when there would be purplish bruises on the column of his throat.

you pretended not to notice how jealous it made you, that someone else knew what his pulse felt like under their lips.

just as he probably pretended not to notice when the back of some other guy's head would make an appearance in one of your posts, just enough to run up the comments.

tyson still liked every single one of your pictures, still texted you about almost every one of them, but for those ones, the ones that shimmered with someone-else-ness, he was notably silent.

neither of you seemed to like the notion that the other had an entire life away from the other. both of you seemed to agree that what you didn't see, right in front of you, couldn't hurt you.

every break though, without fail, the two of you would come home and fall back into whatever you were, without explicitly saying what you were.

all you knew was that when the two of you were home for thanksgiving, or christmas, or spring, or whatever else, your phone would light up with a text like heard you're around?

usually the night that followed would involve huddling together on the massive beanbag that was still in his room, pretending to watch a movie before his lips found yours and your hands found the warm plane of his chest. the air would be hot with the unspoken truth of just one more time, just until i leave, just for a second because i missed you.

he never treated you differently, never made fun of your job, even though it would have been so easy to, never was anything but supportive. he was the same gangly boy walking up his driveway, and you were the same shy girl looking at him from your bedroom window, even if that shy girl now had hair extensions and a bit of lip filler and received invitations for black-tie events.

tyson never seemed to care about all of that, anyways, even as years went on, and you both returned home less and less, texts and calls becoming less frequent.

now, as you sat in your car, staring at the text, there was a bittersweet sort of taste in your mouth, because this would actually be the last time.

you and tyson had both graduated about two months ago, and he had moved back home to play for the minor league baseball team, hoping to gain enough traction to eventually earn a spot in the majors.

this week would be your last week home, one you hoped to spend moving all of your stuff out of your parents' house. you planned to move everything back to your place in la, to officially make los angeles your home for the foreseeable future. it only made sense. you had an absurd amount of followers, now, and all your biggest partners were in southern california.

this would be your last week home, and then upstate new york wouldn't be home anymore.

you stared at your phone, bit your lip, contemplating what to say.

i'm home but we can't fuck because i think i'll cry if we do! you typed, then promptly deleted.

barely in the driveway, you sent instead, how did you already know?

got eyes and ears everywhere, he sent, and you could practically see his smug smile. told cozey at the library to watch for your car.

you smiled to yourself, had no idea who cozey was, but figured you'd probably meet him.

busy today? you asked.

know i'd drop everything for you, he sent, immediately, which had you blushing, had you feeling a little dizzy. but headed into practice now. wanna meet me there in a bit?

you agreed, settled on a time and got the address to meet up with him at the field, later.

for now, you exhaled a deep breath, finally got out of your car, and walked into the house, greeting your parents before heading up to your room to shower and change before you left again.

you washed the residue of travel away, tossed your sweat set in a hamper and pulled together an outfit.

after years of practice, you'd become a kind of expert in quick, easy style, in balancing what you liked to wear and what others liked to see you in.

it was warm, today, but not oppressively so, so you landed on a miniskirt and tall boots, a hoodie that made the entire look more relatable to a wider audience.

that's what your brand had come to rely on, over the years - your life was meant to appear out of reach, but only just so. just enough to entice people to try the eyeliner that you wore to an awards show, to buy the jacket you were wearing to a hockey game, to drink the cocktail in your hand on the beach.

it was a careful balance, but it was one you'd mastered. just imperfect enough to be real. just perfect enough to be an ideal.

you made your way to the address tyson had sent you, parked your car and walked to the fence by the practice field, the familiar sound of the sport making your breaths come out easier, your body feel a little lighter.

you leaned up against the old metal fence, feeling a little selfishly lucky that tyson wasn't in the majors, yet. it'd probably be a little harder to just show up at his practice, if he was.

you scanned the diamond for that familiar figure, that broad frame, the auburnish curls under the brim of a cap. you squinted, but most of the team was too far away.

"are you looking for someone?"

you almost jumped, laid a hand over your startled heart at the voice just next to you, now.

the man next to you was in uniform, so he must be on the team, but he was so far in the outfield, so isolated, it was almost comical. he looked to be about your age.

"yeah, sorry," you said, "i'm here for tyson?"

something flickered across his face at this, like recognition. you'd seen this look before, and it scared you a bit, to know that someone thought they knew something about you before meeting you, but you swallowed your anxiety, for now.

"practice is ending soon," was all your cryptic companion said, fidgeting with his glove.

"okay," you tried, "and what's your name?"

"jack," was his short answer. he had a symmetrical face that you had a feeling looked nervous at its resting state, his brown hair short on the sides, his nose almost feminine.

"nice to meet you, jack," you said, a little wary. "i'm-"

you were interrupted by a familiar laugh that had you grinning on instinct.

you looked up to see a trio of men approaching you, one of whom made your face break out into a smile you couldn't contain if you tried. you locked eyes with tyson, felt your heart almost fizz at the sensation.

the tallest of the three slung an arm around the shortest. "like we're not even here," he said, dramatic, his voice silly in its depth.

"oh, shut up, sammy," tyson said, but his eyes didn't stray from you. he looked awestruck, but not starstruck. like he couldn't believe you were here, but not because of who you were. rather, because of how much he had wanted you to be here.

it seemed that every time you saw tyson, he only got more ruinous in his beauty. he wasn't the lanky kid you'd met all that time ago - now so wide across the chest, the thigh, his arms looming large in his short-sleeve. he'd grown into his body, but his face, too, now so sharp at the jaw and nose, but soft around the cheeks in a way that made his smile crushingly beautiful.

as soon as he was in front of you, he put his hands on your waist, lifted you easily over the fence and wrapped you up in his arms.

you swore the world melted away, for a moment, as you breathed him in, not caring how sweaty he was, or that his friends were around, or how you probably weren't supposed to be on the field.

"i missed you," you murmured into his chest.

"how long do i get you?" he mumbled back, his breath hot on your neck.

"a week," you replied, pulling away, just a bit, not quite telling him the full story, yet. not quite telling him that this time, you were leaving for good.

he hummed, a half-answer, before generously turning to the group of guys who had taken to leaning on the fence.

"you met quinner," tyson said, to which jack raised a shy hand in recognition. he nodded towards the shortest of the group, the blonde, who nodded to you in greeting. "this is jj. two of 'em work the bar downtown on free nights."

you smiled. "you're bartenders?" you asked them, curious.

jj scoffed. "i'm a bartender," he clarified, a trace of an accent making his words quick, "he's my bar-back."

"don't have to tell everyone that," jack mumbled, kicking the dirt softly with one of his cleats.

"and you know sammy," tyson finished, gesturing to his side.

you peered up at the at the tallest of the bunch, whom you remembered as tyson's friend from college, one you'd met multiple times, who'd tried to get your number before he realized who you were to tyson.

"hey, hollywood," sammy asked, and you rolled your eyes at the nickname.

"i wasn't hollywood until i politely declined," you reminded him, smiling, tyson's arm tight around your waist.

sammy gave a light laugh, leaned back further. "and it was your loss," he argued.

"'m not so sure," you sing-songed back.

"careful, hollywood, or i'll cancel you," was sammy's reply, and it made you laugh, at the reminder of just how odd and unique your life was, your job.

after catching up quickly, and making plans to get drinks with them the next day, you bid your goodbyes to tyson's teammates.

as you walked away with tyson, towards the parking lot, you heard the back end of the conversation you'd left in your wake.

"what were you doin' out here, anyways?" came jj's voice.

"just in the outfield, i don't know," jack's mumbly voice said, almost embarrassed.

"yeah, right," sammy replied. "you were tryna put the moves on her, weren't you?"

you bit back a laugh as you fell into stride with tyson. nothing had ever been easier than being pressed against his side, your shoulder curling in, just to be closer to him.

"last time i saw you, you were a national champion," you said, tilting your head to look up at him, smiling. it was crazy to think that he was a professional, now.

"and last time i saw you, you were prepping for that podcast you were going to go on," he said, "how'd that go, by the way?"

you furrowed your brow. "you didn't listen? thought i sent it to you."

he flushed in that way you loved. "i listened," he admitted, "just tryna play it cool, 's all."

you laughed into him, playfully hit him on the chest, relished in the shake of his shoulders. "you're so nonchalant, tys, it's killin' me," you said, and you could almost hear his grin.

"you're sweet, kid," he said, "thinkin' i know what nonchalant means."

then you were in front of his red truck, the same one he learned to drive on, the same one he used to drive you home from school in. "you're a pro and you've still got this piece of-"

tyson opened his mouth in feigned shock. "don't you dare," he warned. "she's no hunk of junk. been with me through everything."

and you swallowed your words. because you knew he didn't mean it like that, but the truth hung between the two of you, nonetheless - that his truck had been with him through everything. that you had not.

tyson seemed to sense your shift in emotion, tried to change the subject. "wouldn't make a habit of calling me a pro, either," he warned.

"yeah?" you asked, and his eyes flashed. "gonna get a big head on me?"

he leaned a little deeper against the passenger door, a little easier. "don't spoil me, kid," he warned, and it was light-hearted, but sort of serious, too. like if you were too nice to him, too lovely, it'd make your leaving all the more painful.

you hummed, sucked on your teeth for a second, a nervous habit. "should i be mean, then, tys?" you pressed, because you missed him, like this. missed the way your breathy words could make his exhales shallow, his cheeks rosy, his eyes glossy.

he rested his temple against the window, crossed his arms over his chest. you mirrored his posture, crossing your ankles and leaning against the side of the car. "know i like you both ways," he said, low, and it had something sparking in your stomach like an old-fashioned lighter.

because you did know. you knew that as much as he liked when you whispered how pretty he was against his mouth, or through spit-soaked lips against his cock, he also liked when you pulled his head back off of you by his hair, when you murmured how greedy he was, how spoiled and bratty.

in a world that wanted to take everything from you, against your will, against your wishes, it felt like something magnificent that tyson wanted to take whatever you'd give him, so badly.

you and tyson had always felt inevitable, in a way, like no matter what (or who) you did, you'd always stumble back together.

"i have my own place, now," he said, and it was strained, almost desperate. "i could show you?"

and you wanted to say yes, so much so that you had to bite your lip to stop the words from coming out. "tys," you began, instead, because you knew that if you didn't tell him your plans, now, you'd regret it forever. you knew that to blindside him would be cruel.

his eyes shone with something other than desire, then. "i know you're not coming back, this time," he said, and you hated the resignation you'd evoked in the most hopeful person you knew. "i know i don't get you again, kid."

you sighed. you supposed it wouldn't have been that hard to infer the truth. you hadn't really been trying to hide it, only trying to minimize damages.

"i just," you said, willing any shake from your tone, looking down at your feet like a coward, "i just don't think it's a good idea for me to come over, tonight."

there was a small pause that felt like a grand piano on your chest. you could feel his probing gaze on your profile, searching for something, some sign. you felt awful that you couldn't give him one.

"okay, kid," he said, eventually. it was impossible to miss the slight disappointment that wavered in his voice. "you'll be here, tomorrow?" the unsure shake in his tone could have killed you.

"i'll see you tomorrow." you said, hopeful, even though all you wanted to do was kiss him so hard it chipped his perfect teeth. "we'll get drinks with your friends?"

he smiled back at you, but his eyes didn't scrunch up at the corners. it wasn't real, not truly. "yeah," he said, "yeah, perfect."

you hugged him goodbye and couldn't ignore how he held you, then - like your feet were buoyant in the air, like you were dreamily floating away, and he was the only thing keeping you on the ground.

that night, in your childhood bed, you slept in bouts of doubt, amidst tantrums of guilt. you slept poorly.

you had some work to do the next morning.

this "work" didn't look the same way work did for most. while you still fostered a general skepticism towards social media, you found small joys in it nonetheless. for example, you still avoided reading comments, and you never watched your videos over again after posting them, but you loved to leave kind words on the posts of people you'd met over the years, of close friends, sometimes of acquaintances.

you enjoyed the feeling of getting an especially lovely shot of your morning coffee, a unique picture of your friend laughing after pilates class, appreciated when girls would reach out to you to say how much they loved a product you'd endorsed. you liked sharing what you thought about books you were reading, how recipes you tried turned out.

you figured that it wouldn't do you much good to dwell on the seemly meaninglessness of what you did. you figured that you could make your own meaning, a meaning that involved kindness and gratitude and genuineness in a world of drama and envy and vanity.

as was the case for most things, for most jobs - there were both good parts and not so good parts.

this morning was pretty tame, in comparison to some of your recent workdays. you had a few videos to shoot (including a sort of ironic get ready with me in my childhood home), a short meeting with your management, and a brand deal to finalize.

you wanted to get all of that done before that night, so that you could fully enjoy your night out. so that you could fully enjoy your time with tyson.

thankfully, your meeting was easy, just a twenty minute check-in on your computer, and filming get ready with me videos had become something of a instinct, so that was fast, too.

for your brand deal though, you wanted to get out of the house, maybe shoot at a location with a little better natural lighting. so, after making some progress packing up your bedroom, you left the house in search of large windows and an abundance of sunlight.

your search proved successful when you found yourself at the local public library. the beautiful stone building had the most gorgeous floor-to-ceiling windows, a ton of sunshine, and a big study space full of desks - perfect for the ad you were shooting for the blue-light glasses brand you loved.

you didn't want to overstep your boundaries, though, knew that different places had different policies on cameras and the like, so you approached the front desk, and the narrow-faced, brown-haired boy behind it, who didn't seem to register your presence, his face all but hidden in what appeared to be a book about the history of horses.

"excuse me," you asked, "can i ask you something?"

he looked up, his face blank, completely devoid of a reaction. "yeah," he said, plainly, not putting his book down.

"great," you replied, your smile cheery. you looked down at his name tag, saw that it read dylan. "i was wondering what your policy was on taking pictures."

"of me?" dylan asked, his brow scrunching up in confusion.

you blinked, half-laughed. "no," you began, slowly. "no, not of you."

"are you josty's girl?" was his follow-up question, and you felt your head spin in an instant, felt your heart well up at his wording. oh, no, how you weren't tyson's girl. oh, how you wanted to be.

you just tilted your head. "you know tyson?"

he nodded, his eyes careful, a little calculating. "he had me watchin' for your rover the other day."

your eyes widened in realization. "you're cozey," you said, and it came out like a laugh, because somehow such a childlike nickname didn't fit the face in front of you, the serious expression, the quiet nature.

he smiled, at bit, his thin lips curling towards the corner. "was startin' to think he made you up," he said, "talks about you so much, and we never saw you."

"oh, wonderful," you said as you dramatically covered your eyes with your palms, consequently getting a strong smell of your perfume, still potently present on your wrists. "can only imagine all the nonsense he's told you."

dylan looked a little confused, but maybe that was just how he looked. "just that you take pretty pictures," he said, "and that he's gonna be busy this week."

you could tell that there was more to what he was saying, that he was keeping something from you, something important, but you didn't pry.

"is it okay if i use that table over there to shoot an ad really quick?" you asked, pointing towards the desk by the window.

he seemed generally confused as to what you were doing and why, but he consented nonetheless.

"thank you," you said to him with a smile, "you're the best, dylan."

he just blinked at you and mumbled a yeah, no problem.

without another person there to help out, you were left to your own equipment, the dreaded tripod making an appearance to get a good shot of you in several pairs of glasses, in front of your computer, looking like you were working.

you were past feeling awkward about taking photos of yourself this way, but the ordeal had memories flooding back to you, anyway.

memories of sitting on the beach with tyson, trying to get an alright angle so that you could capture all of the sponsored swimsuit you had been wearing.

"want me to help?" tyson had said, almost immediately, his curly hair windblown, his chest sandy and tan.

you'd looked at him with such gratefulness, then. at the small gesture that meant he didn't hate the weird life you were living - but rather that he still recognized it was you who was living it.

"could you, please?" you'd asked, couldn't stop the smile his eagerness pulled from you.

and he'd look so happy to be of service, his long fingers making your phone look like a child's toy, his tongue peeking out of his mouth as he poised the camera just so, shifting it softly between shots.

he'd let out a low whistle when you'd angle your body a certain way, mainly to showcase the cute neckline of the swimsuit, but also in a way you knew made your chest look good.

and other guys would probably let loose some snide comment about how it wasn't fair that everyone got to see you like this, how it wasn't right to show yourself off in this way.

of course, tyson didn't do that, though, was never the type for such things.

"am i drooling, kid?" he'd asked instead, leaning his face forward so you could get a better look at his mouth, his eyes sparkling. "feel like i must be, at this point."

and you'd roll your eyes at him, but your chest would feel warm and content, and you'd lean forward and kiss him softly in thank you.

then he'd smiled and scooped you up, phone forgotten on his towel, and ran you over to the ocean, diving into the waves with you in his arms as you'd squealed your disapproval.

"tys," you'd whined, once you'd both come up above the waves again. "now my hair's all ruined." you pouted, but you didn't regret any of it - not when he was looking at you like you were some kind of mermaid, maybe a siren - something or someone he couldn't say no to, even if he'd wanted to.

he'd pulled you against him, so warm in contrast with the cold ocean water, so close you could feel every ridge of muscle against your stomach. "look prettier than any picture," he'd breathed, his cheeks rosy, running his hand through your hair, so genuine it almost hurt to remember.

it didn't feel the same, now, at this sunny library desk, pretending to be someone put together. pretending to be some different person, someone so much more organized and important, simply because of the half-rimmed glasses you were wearing.

regardless, you got the shots you needed, sent them to your management to be approved by the brand, and then began to pack up your stuff, folding your tripod up and throwing your bag over your shoulder.

after checking your phone, you realized you were a little pressed for time, that you'd actually been here for longer than you'd realized.

you stopped by the front desk again on your way out, gave the attendant a small smile. "thank you again, dylan," you said.

he looked up from his book, now something entirely different, not the complete history of horses but rather the complete history of sabretooth tigers. "no problem," he said, his voice fairly uninterested.

"are you coming out with us tonight?" you asked. "to that bar downtown? what's it called?"

"the kid's line," dylan answered. you squinted, slightly, at the odd name for the bar. "yeah, i'll be there. think jj and jack are working tonight."

"i'll see you there, then," you said before turning to make for the door. he called out a quiet goodbye as you did.

it became clear, after about a half hour of you trying to get ready, that something wasn't quite right. as you stood in front of your closet and open suitcase, you blew a stray lock of hair from your face, frustrated.

you had no idea what to wear, which rarely ever happened. nothing felt right. your dresses felt too formal, your skirts too revealing, your jeans not revealing enough.

you were stuck in this weird limbo, this almost purgatory-like mental space - caught between wanting to look really good and knowing it would be a little cruel to do so, when you'd just, last night, practically rejected the one person you wanted more than anything.

perhaps rejection wasn't the right word, as you hadn't flat out denied him, hadn't blatantly lied, said no, tys, i don't want to come over, i don't want to hug you until both our ribcages crack, i don't want to hear you moan into my ear until it's the only sound i can remember.

that happy hope dying out in his eyes though, that blinking realization that this time was different, that this time wasn't going to be like all the others - it sat in the back of your head like an ancient man in an even more ancient armchair.

you sighed, closed your eyes for a moment. home had always been tough to come back to, a place you felt much too big for, like trying to squeeze into middle school jeans. it had been a place defined by mean comments that still lurked in your mind, in snarky looks from classmates and adults alike, in always feeling like you were the last to know things, on the bad end of every inside joke.

tyson had always been your exception, though, your trump card, your tangible proof in a world of through-screen praise that you were worth something.

it was dawning on you, slowly but surely - when you left in a few days, for the final time, when you didn't have him to ground you to the earth like the roots of some great maple - what then? would you even recognize yourself without the heavy knowledge that even if you had nothing else, at least you had him? what would a truly tyson-free you even look like?

you shuddered at the thought, at how much it scared you. still, the question made your decision about what to wear suddenly seem very easy. you threw on your favorite pair of jeans and one of tyson's baseball sweatshirts from high school without giving it another thought before heading out the door and making your way to the kid's line.

this bar used to be called granato's when you were growing up, but apparently the name had changed recently with the change in management. you gave an impressed sort of look as you entered the establishment. it was a lot nicer than you remembered.

you scanned the room for the group you were looking for, which was a little hard, given how packed the place was. you squinted, your gaze shifting from face to face, before you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"they're over by the edge of the bar," a sweet, feminine voice said, making you turn to face a petite woman, probably about your age, maybe a little younger. she wore her smile beautifully on her round face. her black clothes and apron, along with the tray of empty glasses she was carrying, told you that she worked here.

"thank you," you said, smiling back at her, "what was your name?"

"mia," she answered, and you gave her your own name in return.

"how'd you know who i was looking for?" you asked, curious.

she tilted her head like you'd said something funny. "tyson's only been talking about you for about a million years," she said, and the information made you feel guilty and overjoyed all at once.

"i better get over there, then," you said. "it was nice to meet you, mia. i hope i'll be seeing more of you?"

she smiled. "i'm always around," she said, kindly.

you squeezed behind stools, chairs, and people to approach the edge of the bar, quickly recognizing the group of guys you had been looking for.

sammy was the first to notice you, from his high vantage point.

"hollywood," he greeted, deep and loud, "you made it."

"that i did," you said, quickly slotting yourself next to tyson and wrapping an arm around his waist, not giving yourself a chance to be timid, beating your guilt and regret to the punch. "mia showed me the way."

if tyson was reluctant to accept your display of easiness, of affection, he didn't show it, immediately tucking his broad hand into the back pocket of your jeans, the way he used to do in high school. it made you blush, swoon, feel dizzy. dizzy enough to lean your head against the side of his arm.

"mia, eh?" sammy's smirk grew teasing as he looked to dylan, who was basically melting into the wall, gaze averted. "what do you think, coz? should we get her over here?"

your eyes widened in interest. "d'you have a thing for mia, dylan?" you asked, smiling, happy to have something to focus on besides your own internal dilemmas.

the librarian gave something like a dismissive scoff, but his blush was something violent, all over his face, and he almost choked when he took a sip of his drink.

sammy basically pulled his friend from the wall by the back of his neck, slung a huge arm around his shoulder. "it's only been, what, a few years, eh, coz?"

tyson chuckled, and you felt it at your temple.

"why don't you ask her out?" you asked, to which dylan pressed his lips together, like he knew exactly what was going to be said next.

"that would require him to actually talk to her, kid," tyson said, right by your ear, his breath hot, sweet, from the cocktail he was drinking.

you winced. "oh, dyl," you said, slow, almost pitiful.

"i've talked to her," he tried, but it was weak, knowing.

sammy gave that boisterous laugh, tilting his head back. "good one, coz."

you hugged tyson closer to you, smiling into the embrace, loving how it felt to be a part of his world, if only for a bit. you realized that you were almost hungry for it - for tyson's world, his touch, just him.

such a predicament wasn't helped when he leaned down, slightly, just enough to make the music feel far away. "like your sweatshirt, pretty thing," he said, and it was the kind of rasp that told you that he'd had a few drinks before you'd arrived.

regardless, you looked up at him with an almost delirious hope in your eyes. "yeah?" you asked, reaching up to push his curls from his face, so you could see his hooded eyes.

he hummed. "know i love my number on you," he said, and your knees practically wobbled, because you did. you remembered how so many nights spent in the stands with his number on your back ended in ways that had you wondering where he began and you finished.

your heated haze was diluted when someone bumped into you with something cold, jarring you, making your head snap to your left.

you were met with a guilty looking jack quinn in all black, supposedly on the job, with a bucket of ice in his hands.

"sorry," he said, walking towards the other side of the bar.

tyson pulled you back so you were right in front of him, allowing you to relax against his chest. "watch where 're goin', eh, quinner?"

"jack," came a jj-sounding voice from next to sammy, shaking some drink together over his shoulder. "what'd i say about walking through the room with the ice?"

"to not to," jack mumbled, making you shake in a soft laugh.

jj winked at you, which made the arms around your front tighten, ever so slightly, just enough to notice. just enough to feel wanted. "sorry, beautiful," jj said, "my bar-back's not the brightest of the bunch."

"that's just mean," jack mumbled to himself as he dumped the ice in the cooler below the counter.

"no worries at all," you said, "didn't feel a thing."

dylan laughed by the wall. "don't have to lie," he said, "know he swings that thing around like a mace."

"oh, big words from the bookworm, eh?" sammy chided, leaning back against the counter.

dylan rolled his eyes. "mace is four letters," he responded. "not my fault it'd take you a few tries to spell your own last name correctly."

sammy scoffed, set his beer down. "whatever," he said, "'m gonna go talk to that smoke by the door."

there was a moment during which he waited for dylan's retort, but it never came. he shot dylan a look. "your silence is speaking volumes, coz," he said, walking away. "tell mia i say hey."

the lot of you watched as sammy approached the blonde woman with sharp features who was standing off to the side of the door.

tyson laughed lightly when his friend's posture grew suggestive, when sammy leaned down to hear the woman when the music in here wasn't even that loud.

"such a tool," dylan mumbled when sammy took her hand and kissed the top of it, like some kind of prince courting a fair maiden. by the looks of the woman's flush, her delighted laugh, the tool seemed to be doing okay for himself.

the night passed both sluggishly and too fast, defined by tyson pressed against you, the sound of laughter, the taste of some cocktail that jj had named the hollywood.

the hollywood was fruity, sweet, and pink, but it turned out to be lethal - after one you knew your time drinking was over if you hoped to drive home at the end of the night. tyson, however, had a few of them, and you could tell. you couldn't say you minded, not that much.

ever since he could drink, tyson had been a truly flirty drunk. alcohol seemed to make his hands stick like velcro to you, make his posture hunch just to be at eye level with you. with a few empty glasses came sweet words from his mouth, if not a little jumbled. his cheeks always flushed so pink, and he became even more uninhibited about showing you just how happy he was to be around you.

tonight was no different. as you listened and joked with his friends, his embrace grew steadily more meaningful, until he was practically hanging off of you like a garland on a christmas tree.

at some point, jj said something that made you laugh, and you could feel tyson's pout on the back of your neck. it made you scrunch your brow in confusion, look up at him, push his hair from his blushy face.

"what's wrong, tys?" you asked, quietly, just for him.

he sighed, and it made him younger than he was. you turned to face him, fully, wrapped your arms around his neck, ran your nails along the back of his hairline, just how you knew he liked. when he sighed again, it was in bliss. he looked at you like there had never been anyone else in this world more interesting.

"just want you, i think," he said, so blunt and honest, as he always was, and it cracked your chest in two.

"is that all?" you breathed, and you meant it as a joke, but it came out strained. he rested his palms on the small of your back.

he smiled, slightly, the corner of his full mouth pulling upwards. "yeah, nothing new," he said, "same as always." something like indecision flickered in his gaze before he pressed a kiss to your cheek, then to the other, then to your forehead, his lips so warm and doting and lovely and familiar.

your own lips parted slightly at the sensation, and you felt yourself leaning forward slightly, practically begging him to kiss you, for real-

a cold, hard, smack against your leg ripped you from your fantastical daze. once again, you turned to find jack and his bucket of ice.

"jesus christ, jack!" jj called from behind the bar. "honestly, it's not that hard!"

jack set the ice down on the ground, turned to jj with something like anger in his eyes. "why don't you do it, then, if it's so easy?"

jj shook his head like this was the craziest thing he'd ever heard. "the bartender doesn't get the ice, idiot," he said, "that's like the first rule. apologize to the beautiful lady."

jack shook his head, murmured his apology to you before taking the ice behind the counter.

sammy was long gone, supposedly with the blonde from before, and dylan had wandered off. he said he was going to the restroom, but mia appeared to have intercepted him mid-walk.

you smiled to yourself at the sight - he looked about as nervous as a person could get, hand in his pocket, the other wrapped so tightly around his glass that his knuckles were white. mia didn't appear to mind, either way, if her easy laugh and wide grin were anything to go by.

when she tilted her head back in a sweet giggle at something he had said, dylan looked just about stunned.

you turned back to tyson, wrapped one of his big hands up in both of yours. deja vu stole your breath for a second. you used to do this before big games. tyson would turn to you before he had to join the team, offer his left hand to you.

"warm her up for me, please, kid," he'd say, wait for you to run your palms over his. he would refuse to leave until you pressed your lips to his knuckles, swearing it gave him good luck, that he wouldn't play well without your seal of approval.

at this point in his career, with him playing without you, you both knew this wasn't true, but it felt true, then.

"let's get you home, pretty boy," you said to him, now, knowing he was not in a state fit for driving. "i'll give you a ride."

you leaned forward on the bar counter, not dropping his hand. "thanks for tonight, boys," you said to jack and jj. "wonderful service."

"anything for you, beautiful," jj said, wiping the counter down. you supposed that his charm must make him quite good at this job.

"'m sorry about the ice," jack said, scratching the back of his neck. "it's just really heavy."

"aren't you a professional athlete?" you teased, tilting your head.

jack looked confused at the relevance of your comment. "i guess," he said.

on your way out, you passed mia and dylan. you thanked her again for her help. "oh, and dylan told me he set aside a book at the library for you," you said, and the man in question began to shake his head vigorously, trying ever so hard to get you to stay in your lane. "right, dyl?"

he gave you an angry look that evaporated as soon as mia turned to him, looking genuinely touched. "really?" she asked.

dylan coughed. "i guess so," he said, clipped, "got a real great read for you." you made a gesture with your free hand for him to continue, to keep talking. "and you can pick it up," he paused, squinting at you, as if deciding, "tomorrow."

after that had been decided, you and tyson officially said your goodbyes. he was a little slow on his feet, but he got into the passenger seat fine, if not a bit quietly.

"you'll be good if i drop you at yours?" you asked as you pulled out of the parking lot. you knew he hadn't had too, too much to drink, that he should be fine on his own for the night, especially if his roommate, sammy, would be coming home later tonight.

tyson just nodded, gave you his address. you wanted to ask him what was wrong, why he was suddenly so quiet, but a selfish part of you didn't want to know.

he spoke, eventually, regardless. "you're so good with them," he said, and it was soft, almost wistful.

"with who?" you asked, making a right turn. you were thankful that driving gave you an excuse not look at his face.

tyson gave a vague gesture. "them," he said, "everyone. my friends, this town. you're good, here." there was a pause. "you're good with me, kid."

it was selfish and probably cruel, but you were a little grateful that he was tipsy, so you could chalk it up to the alcohol. so that you could deny it wasn't just the plain truth.

"tyson," you began, but then you bit your lip, unsure.

"wow, full name," he said, sad but teasing, like he was trying so hard not to be serious. "must've really fucked up." he turned to face you as you pulled into his driveway, and when he spoke again it was as cruel as you'd heard him. "was it something i said?"

there was a pause during which you had absolutely no clue what to say. because as much as his confession had hurt you, because of how much you knew it hurt him, these words hurt in a different way. if you're good with me had been a slow growing infection, a dull and steady pain, was it something i said was a dagger wound to the ribs - sharp and stinging with every exhale.

and it probably wasn't fair, because it hurt you only because it was true, only because it reminded you how much you were killing him. it hurt because it was guilt. it wasn't fair, because who were you to hurt, now? all because the person who had always taken everything you gave him was finally asking for something? the one thing you couldn't give him?

luckily, tyson didn't seem to want to stick around to hear your answer, instead getting out of the car with a heavy breath and walking up to his front door, unlocking it and closing it behind him without a look back.

you were practically shaking for the rest of the night, all throughout the drive to your place, as you brushed your teeth and took off your makeup, as you tucked yourself into bed and stared up at the ceiling.

you thought about texting him, saying something like you know i can't do this, but you figured it would just be salt in the wound, so you just tossed and turned all night, trying to push his disappointed tone and rosy resignation from your head.

the next couple of days passed in agony. you weren't sure if you could reach out to tyson, and he didn't reach out to you, so the countdown to your final goodbye ticked down. it felt like a waste, because you only had so many days, and you weren't even getting to see him for so many of them. all because of you. or him. or both of you.

you used your isolation as much-needed time to catch up on work and finally make some serious progress on packing up your room.

mornings were filled with brand deals and computer meetings and phone calls and filming. when the sun dipped lower in the sky, like an inflated end of summer peach, too heavy for the breezy blue sky to support, you would turn your attention to your dresser, your drawers, your storage bins.

it was fine. it was all fine - this was what you had come home to do, in the first place. this was the whole purpose of you coming home.

eventually, though, when you sighed, opened up your closet doors to tackle the very last space you had to deal with, when you realized after the closet was done, you would be done, when it registered that you were leaving tomorrow night, when you couldn't really bear the thought of not seeing tyson on your last night here, you caved.

you took the easy way out, though, didn't just text him i miss you or i'm sorry, instead pulled out the second place talent show trophy you'd found buried under tennis skirts and winter coats, took a photo of it and sent it to him.

still think we were robbed, you added, even though it wasn't true. the kid who won the year you and tyson did a magic act was a truly exceptional pianist, and all you did was gesture towards tyson's card tricks in a sparkly outfit. for the whole year afterwards, though, the two of you would joke about how the whole thing was rigged, how you demanded a recount, how first place was overrated.

it made you smile, to remember a time when the two of you were so close, when the prospect of being separated wasn't even on your radar.

you half expected tyson to ignore your message, maybe to tell you to fuck off with all of your weaponized nostalgia, but of course he didn't.

within minutes, he had sent you back a picture of his own trophy, displayed somewhere with his diploma, college degree, and all of his baseball stuff.

of course, he never would have let such a relic sink to the depths of his closet, to be all but forgotten amidst old halloween costumes and flannel bedsheets. he would never have let a reminder of you be anything but front and center.

probably would have won if you'd been running the show, he texted back, and a small smile tugged free on your face. it felt like the first time you'd smiled in days.

yeah? you responded, think you could pull off the sequins?

is that even a question? was tyson's response. you could practically see his smirk, his easy lean.

there was a second of pause as you stared at the bubbles on your screen that let you know that he was typing.

you're probably busy, he sent, but we're playing at home tonight.

your decision to go see him was made in a second, in a second that you realized tyson jost thought that there was a possibility that you could ever be too busy for him.

too scared, maybe, too self-conscious and self-doubtful, sure, but too busy? never.

i'll be there, you sent back, tacking on an i miss you, tys on the end just because it was true.

after assuring you he'd drive you home after, he texted you an i miss you, too, kid.

you finished packing up your closet, got ready for the night. you were going to get at least a few photos of you in the stands, as the ballpark lighting would add some variety to your natural-looking feed, so you decided to put a little more effort into what you were wearing, made sure to set your face well enough to last.

not enough effort, however, to refuse to wear tyson's cap from high school, the one that had his number stitched into the brim. you texted dylan, since you figured he'd be attending to support his friends, arranging to sit together once you'd both arrived.

after a final look in the mirror and a deep breath, you headed out the door and took the bus to the ballpark, turning your music up loud enough in your headphones to drown out any thoughts of doubt or guilt or regret.

dylan wasn't there yet when you arrived, so you figured you'd take the time before the game started to get those pictures you wanted. you made your way to your seat, set up the timer on your phone, went through the routine you usually went through when you were shooting in public, changing your angle or pose slightly after each shot.

you didn't spread out, made sure not to intrude on anyone's space - you were well practiced in being courteous and conscious while taking pictures.

even so, it wasn't long before you heard the distinct sound of poorly-hidden laughter just behind you, a few rows back, just loud enough and close enough to know they were laughing at you.

"is she actually doing that right now?" came a voice that you could almost recognize - if there's someone who doesn't know what a judgmental high school girl sounds like, perhaps they should consider themselves lucky.

someone else, probably her friend beside her, snickered. "probably hopin' one of the players will notice her."

at this point in your career, you were used to people not getting it - not getting you. and while you had long ago made peace with the fact that guys could just be jerks, especially when you weren't interested in them, it had always been the hate from girls that hurt the most.

it had been the same way in high school, when girls, yourself included, were still learning that life wasn't some grand fight-to-the-death competition for which the prize was male attention. you knew that if girls were mean to other girls, more often than not, it was because they had been taught that that was just the way it was supposed to be, bombarded from a young age with ideas about cat-fights and mean girls and such.

of course, having gone through it yourself, you knew that such behavior was something you grew out of, something that comes with the privilege of having close female friends, the privilege of understanding how lovely and genuine such friendships can be.

you chose to give these girls behind you the benefit of the doubt, to believe that they would grow out of their meanness. and sure, you could have turned around and snapped at them, maybe even said something about how you didn't need one of the players to notice you, because number seventeen was already yours (even though that wasn't all the way true).

you could have done a lot of things, but instead you just turned to face them and smiled.

the one on the right gave you a guilty look, like she'd been caught.

"sorry to be a bother," you said, "but do you think you could take a few for me?" you handed your phone out to her. "i'd love some from your angle. you can say no, though, no problem."

one of the thing you'd learned along the way was that it was harder to be critical about things you were directly involved in.

the pair of girls blinked at you for a second, but eventually, the silence was broken.

"yeah, sure," one said. "no problem."

"awesome, you're the best," you said, then showed her how to angle the phone and what settings to put your camera on.

she took a few and then handed the phone back to you. your eyes widened as you looked through the photos she'd taken. "woah." you looked up to meet her expectant gaze. "you're, like, really good at this," you said, because it was true - you now had several good options to post.

the girl blushed, and the sight made you really, genuinely happy. "i'm into photography," she admitted, "usually not people, but, i mean, i don't know."

her friend smiled, slapped her playfully on the arm. "don't be humble," she teased, before looking towards you, "she took my prom photos and they were crazy good."

"i believe it," you said, nodding, before gesturing between them. "do you want me to get one of you guys?"

after they agreed and handed you one of their phones, you shot a couple of them, together, arms around each other, their smiles genuine and brighter than the massive lights above the ballpark. eventually, your phone buzzed.

"i think that means my friend's here," you said, then handed them back their phone. "but it was really nice to meet you guys. thanks again for your help."

one of them waved you off. "of course," she said, "anytime."

you gave them a wave and a smile as you made your way back down to your seat, where dylan was waiting.

as you turned, you heard them begin to whisper again, but with a very different tone.

"she's, like, so pretty," one said.

"oh my god, right?" the other agreed, "and i need that jacket."

you bit your lip to stifle your smile as you settled into the seat next to dylan. it was honestly kind of crazy - how simply being kind made you that much more beautiful in the eyes of others.

"hey, dyl," you greeted, taking in the tall, thin figure to your left before narrowing your eyes. "why're you dressed like you're on the run?"

dylan scoffed, but your observation was spot on. your companion had on two sweatshirts and a bucket hat, tilted down so that his face was barely visible. "i'm not," he said. you raised a brow, to which he sighed. "mia said she was coming tonight."

you all but squealed, pressed your palms together and held the side of your hands to your lips. "why're you hiding, then?" you asked, your fingers itching to rip the hat from his head.

"because i gave her a book like you forced me to," he bit out.

"well," you said, "what book did you give her?"

"the complete history of open heart surgery," he answered, plainly.

you grimaced. "oh, dylan," you sighed. "why didn't you give her a cute little rom-com, or, like, a book with a character that reminds you of her?"

"i got nervous, alright?" he said, gesturing flippantly. "i just gave her the book i had been reading the day before."

"what's with all the complete histories, anyways?" you asked, curious. "every time i've seen you, it's been something different."

dylan cut you a side glance as the teams stilled, as the announcer introduced the anthem singer. "'m training," he said, "for jeopardy."

you took off your hat and shook your hair loose, deciding as the anthem began that there were crazier things that your hometown librarian training to be on a trivia game show.

as the music ended and you turned back to the diamond, clapping with the rest of the crowd, you searched for number seventeen, for that figure you'd know blind. you found him, his curly hair unruly even under his hat, the sight of him enough to make you practically sigh in relief.

if you hadn't been aware of how much you'd missed him, these last couple of days, the ache in your chest was making that abundantly clear, now, the weight of it impossible to ignore.

the game passed fairly predictably. tyson's team was the heavy favorite, and they had pulled away in just the first few innings. sammy was pitching a heater, and jack and jj proved to be much more of a reliable duo in the outfield than they were behind the bar.

of course, you weren't particularly paying attention to anyone besides tyson, your gaze almost glued to him under the harsh light above the bleachers.

nostalgia had become something like a dagger since you'd been home, but there was something lovely about the way sitting in the stands and watching him play made you feel.

you'd been in this position a thousand times before, through high school varsity and club teams and summer league. you'd been an observer from a distance during his college years.

and here you were, back again, both of you so, so different and yet devastatingly, beautifully the same. as you hugged one knee up to your chest, you felt young in a way you hadn't felt in years, maybe ever.

it felt so good to not have to worry about anything besides if you were cheering too loudly.

"i just don't want to embarrass you," you used to say to tyson on the drive home, when you'd bring up your anxiety on the topic.

he'd squeeze your knee, chuckle to himself. "you could never, kid," he'd say, "want everyone there to know you're there for me."

you barely noticed dylan's practically frantic search around the stands for mia, or jj and jack's dugout antics (spilling blue gatorade on each others' white pants), or sammy's loud voice basically cutting through the night air.

the only thing you noticed was tyson's easy posture, easier smile, perhaps easiest laugh. he was at home, here. he had a home, here, and there wasn't a single part of him that was embarrassed about it.

the realization made you flush with something you couldn't quite put your finger on, something like want, or maybe more like need.

something that had you crossing and recrossing your legs, adjusting the hair on the back of your neck, almost sighing with relief when the game finally ended, when you and dylan made your way to the ballpark back exit, where tyson had promised to meet you.

"well, i guess you successfully avoided mia," you said as the two of you waited.

dylan let out a sharp breath. "yeah," he conceded, "thank god."

you smiled at his tone, though - you had a feeling this was exactly what he needed to realize that avoidance was the last thing he actually wanted.

"quite the game, eh, hollywood?" came that comically deep voice, behind you, forcing you to turn and face the group of guys now coming through the open doors.

you didn't waste any time, felt like you couldn't afford to - spotting tyson's smirk-line smile quickly and making to almost tackle him in a hug.

sammy scoffed. "like we're not even here," he reiterated, before opening his arms up to dylan with that loopy grin on his face. "where's my celebratory hug, cozey?"

dylan looked positively horrified, stiffening up in the shoulders as sammy embraced him in one of the more awkward hugs you'd seen in your life.

you didn't really care, though, weren't really paying attention to anything but tyson. because as soon as you'd wrapped your arms around him, he'd done the same, dropping his bag immediately to make space for you, slotted his heavy arms around your waist, pulled you close enough that you turned your head to rest your cheek on his collarbone.

with an exhale into his neck, you had the harrowing yet comforting thought that there would never be anything as good as this.

"what's this for, kid?" tyson whispered into your hair, his nose brushing your temple, quiet, like he didn't want anyone to hear but you, like he was afraid he might scare you off.

you could have murmured something like does there need to be a reason? but you knew you both were aware of how you'd been ignoring each other for days. you knew you both were aware that you were leaving tomorrow.

"for you," you mumbled, breathing him in, memorizing him, like this.

he pulled away slightly, flicked the brim of your cap, speaking in a way that made his smile evident, his other arm still around your waist. "all for me, eh?"

you nodded, flushed, looking up at him through your lashes, eyes wide with expectation. you wanted to be all for him, so, so badly, even if it would be the last time. especially if, even. you were hanging off of his frame in a way that you thought probably made you look almost drunk. maybe you were drunk, in a sense, but not at the fault of alcohol.

"okay, well, i still need a ride home." jack's slightly louder voice drew your attention.

"how is that possible? how did you even get here?" jj asked him, incredulous.

jack shrugged, looked down, scuffing the bottom of his shoe against the pavement.

jj's head was already in his hands. "don't tell me you took one of those stupid scooters."

jack's squinty look was answer enough.

you felt tyson's laugh rumble through your body in a way that had you feeling almost limp against him. your heart felt hot in your chest.

"why can't you just drive me?" jack pestered his blonde friend. "my place is, like, two seconds from yours!"

"why can't you just get a functional car that doesn't need to be in the shop every other week?" jj countered.

you tilted your head up to tyson's ear as the bickering continued, as sammy egged jj on and dylan remained silent. "think we can sneak out?" you whispered.

his pink mouth ticked up at the corner. "in such a rush to get home?" he asked, and when his eyes flickered down to meet yours, you realized his question went deeper than a surface level joke.

you nodded, squeezed his bicep. "want to go home with you, tys," you clarified, and something burned in his gaze that had your knees weak.

you and tyson bid the arguing group goodnight, assuring them that you would make sure to see them tomorrow, before you left.

"just drive him home, jj," tyson called over his shoulder as the two of you walked to his truck. "'m sure he'll make it up to you."

sammy laughed loudly, at that. "yeah, sure," he said, "he'll let you split scooter fare with him next game."

tyson opened the passenger door for you, helped you into your seat before closing it, putting his stuff in the backseat, stepping easily into the driver's seat.

you leaned back against the familiar worn-in leather, the seat you'd spent practically all of high school in. this seat had been something of a throne to a younger you, and sitting here, now, it felt just as powerful. you swore you could feel the weight of a tiara on your head.

tyson smiled as he started the car, which jumped to life quickly. "think she missed you," he said, half-joking.

you ran a hand along the dash, careful. "missed her, too."

to your surprise, you found yourself fidgeting, slightly, on the drive, at red lights and stop signs.

"i can still drop you at yours, if you want," tyson said, and you could have cried at how selfless and sweet the gesture was. never pressuring you, even now. he wrapped one of your hands up in one of his bigger ones, brought it to his lips and kissed your knuckles softly. "i understand."

and maybe you would have taken the easy way out he'd offered you, it probably would have been the smart thing to do, but it was his last few words that had your head spinning. i understand. in a world where it felt like no one understood you, he did. he did.

of course that was enough to have you shaking your head, soft as a sleeping breath. you traced your fingers along his jaw, rough under your touch as he leaned into you, like an instinct, like he couldn't help it.

"i don't want you to drop me at mine," you said, and it came out sort of strained. "i want you, tys." you'd worry about the repercussions of your actions later. there wasn't room for anything else besides honesty in you, anyways.

his eyes practically fluttered shut at your words, and he let out a sound that was scarily close to a whimper. everything about him appeared so overwhelmed with lust that you wondered if he was okay to make the rest of the short drive home. "makin' it hard not to pull over, kid," he basically whined.

you pouted, just a bit. "you can wait a little longer, can't you?" you cooed, twisting one of his curls around a delicate finger, lifting your mouth to his ear. "'d rather you fuck me into your mattress than the backseat." you smiled against his neck at his feverish nod.

before you knew it, tyson had pulled the car into his driveway, opened your door for you, tugged you inside and nudged you up against the shut door with a broad thigh.

his gaze hung from your mouth like looking away would turn him to stone. when he dipped his head down to you, you felt your bottom lip quiver. he spoke, and you could feel the words on your own mouth, like it was you speaking them.

"can i?" tyson breathed, begged, his eyes so hot and hooded it should have burned you. "please?" one of his hands found your hip. "i need it."

later, maybe you would think about how it was this that seemed more off limits than anything else. it was his lips on yours that had felt the most forbidden, the most right, therefore the most cruel.

there had never been anything you'd wanted more, though, so you nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck as he cupped the side of your face in his rough hand, guiding your lips to his in a kiss that felt like a warm shower after a snow day.

kissing tyson was second nature to you, now, after so many years of practice, yet it still took you by surprise. he felt like late nights after school, like summer popsicles and picnics, like laughing so hard your stomach hurt. he felt like throwing your graduation cap, like playing catch in the driveway even though you couldn't throw to save your life, like crying in his arms the day you got your college acceptance.

his thumb traced circles into your jaw as you rooted your hands in his hair, still damp with sweat, kissing him harder, deeper, as if a whirlwind of meaning and memory and significance wasn't spinning around the two of you like a tornado. like you weren't being swept up and away.

he sighed into your mouth like he'd been holding his breath for years, and he tasted like orange gatorade, which made your head spin.

tyson had started drinking only orange gatorade junior year, when you'd mentioned after kissing him after practice one day that you liked the orange flavor but not really any of the other ones.

and here he was, still drinking it. like he needed to be prepared at all times, in case the opportunity to kiss you arose.

the realization made you well up with want as you bit down lightly on his bottom lip, rolled your hips lazily against his front, felt him already hard. he groaned, deep, and your stomach was a wave of desire.

you pulled away, slightly, watched his eyes flutter open, almost reluctant, his forehead resting against yours, your breaths hot, heavy.

you gave him a wicked smile, rolled your hips again. "already hard for me, tys?" you teased, your voice slow, false-pitying. "so needy, hm?"

"got no idea," he grumbled, his head dipping down to your neck when you palmed him over his pants. he left messy, open-mouthed kisses on your collarbone, your shoulder. when he moaned you could feel the vibrations against your skin like snowflakes. "no idea, kid."

you hummed. "want you in my mouth, tys," you said, voice rough, almost weary with desire. "gonna let me?"

he nodded, pulling you to his bedroom basically before you'd gotten the words out. "anything you want," he murmured, like a prayer, as he pulled you close against him, sat on the edge of his bed.

even in your lust-driven state, you still clocked the room around you - how much bigger his bed was than the twin he had at his parents' place. how much he'd grown, in the most intangible sense of the word.

it made you soften, slightly, made you bend down to rest on your knees, but not without a quick detour to his lips on the way there, a gentle, grateful kiss.

a kiss that had tyson's eyelids fluttering again, caught in some dreamy haze. you knew the feeling - it had been so long since you'd had him like this, and it was very likely that you'd never have him like this again. the gravity of the situation seemed to make him hypersensitive, especially whimperish and touch-hungry.

it made you want to memorize every single thing about him, his body, his sounds. it made you want to ruin him for anyone else who may be lucky enough to come after you.

now sitting back on your heels, you rested your elbows on his wide-spread knees, peered up at him as you lazily continued to palm him. his breaths came out like pants when you finally took him out, fully, spit into your hand and ran it up and down his cock in a firm, slow grip, relished in his strained groan, the way he had to hold himself up with a palm flat against the mattress, bringing the other to the side of your head, gathering your hair away from your face.

you gave a blissful sort of sigh at the sight of him, chest rising and falling, cheeks flushed, gaze so steadily focused on you as you worked his hard length. "oh, tys," you said, "why do you have to be so pretty?"

his lips quirked, ever so slightly, his brow still slightly pinched. "'m sorry, kid," he conceded, only a little smug, only a little cocky, just enough to make you aware of how wet you already were. "can't help it."

you chuckled, a light soft sound, then ran your tongue along the underside of his cock before finally moving to take the whole of him in your mouth.

you flattened your tongue against him, hollowed your cheeks, began a steady pace as you focused on his thick thigh flexing while you dug your nails into it for support, the way his grip in your hair grew desperate, hard, forcing a moan from your throat.

"fuck, 're so good at that, pretty thing," he rasped, at some point, once you'd gotten into a rhythm, once your eyes started to water and your neck started to tense, "so fuckin' good for me."

you hummed at his praise, lifted your head off of him, ran your wet lips along the length of him, using your other hand to run a thumb along the tip, couldn't help but smile against him when he shuddered, his neck rolling to the side for a moment. "taste so good, tys," you breathed, surprised at how rough your voice sounded, muffled with spit. "could suck you off forever."

and you sort of felt like you could - there was something about him, like this, so lovely and physical yet so entirely at your mercy, that made the dull ache in your jaw feel good, that made your raw throat burn like you'd just downed a shot of tequila, that made your sensitive knees and tense forearms feel sore in the best way.

there was something about knowing that, in this moment, there was no part of you that was hurting him, that every little bit of you was entirely focused on making him feel good.

"yeah?" he rasped, tugging lightly at your hair, his arm flexing to keep him upright. "love to make out with my cock, hm?"

you nodded, smiled up at him through lazy lips, your lashes long and heavy as you rested your cheek on his knee, just looking at him for a second. his hair curling into his face, a pink flush blooming up from his neck as he traced a thumb across your cheekbone, down to your swollen bottom lip, memorizing the way it felt on the pad of his finger. he wanted to remember you, like this, it seemed. you wanted to remember him, like this, too.

eventually, after a few exhales that felt weighted with meaning, he gently pulled you to your feet and onto his lap, but not without kissing you again, softer and sweeter and almost sadder, drowsy in a way that felt like lingering along the outskirts of a funeral for a loved one - not willing to leave, just yet, like your general closeness might somehow resurrect them, and you didn't want to miss it.

his wide hands kneaded at the flesh of your hips, slow and intentional, as his lips against yours grew even more sluggish, as you wrapped one arm around his neck for leverage, grasping at his firm chest with the other hand.

when he brought a hand down, shifted your clothes aside so that he could run his fingers through your folds, he hissed against your mouth, making you almost laugh.

"all this, for me?" he asked, forefinger just barely grazing your clit, making you jolt against his lap. "fuck, how lucky am i?"

you whined, let your head loll down to his shoulder as you rocked your hips against his hand, aimlessly chasing some kind of friction, relief from the tension that had been building inside of you for so long. "please, i need it, baby," you tried, "need you so bad."

he hummed, tracing lazy circles on your clit, making your breathing short and shallow, "what do you need, pretty thing?" he pressed, bringing his fingers to his lips and sucking lightly. you felt his words against your temple. "know 'll give it to you."

"can i have," you began, then whined when he teased you with a broad thumb, "can i have your cock inside me, tys?" you asked, "please, baby, 'm so hungry for it."

he groaned, and you felt it in your hair. "'course you can," he cooed as he flipped you on your back, lined himself up, the tip of his length catching against you, making your eyes flutter, "so polite for me, too."

you basically squeaked when he began to push into you, hard and deep immediately without hesitation. you had the thought that perhaps it was a little odd that somehow, even after all these years, tyson still blew you entirely out of the water, some perfect combination of a pleasure you'd never get used to and a comfort that you'd know in the dark.

he swore under his breath, so strained and desperate, as he pushed deeper into you, so slow you felt the pressure of it on the roof of your mouth, the length of him in the muscles of your thighs.

"that's it," he choked out, one hand on your hip, the other up higher, by your ribs. "fuck, that's it, pretty thing."

you reached a hand up to muffle your own sounds, because all of it was too overwhelming. when he began a steady pace, thrusting in and out with a force fueled by meaning, you whimpered against your own palm.

"oh, no," he said, low, with a spark that had you seeing stars as he picked up his pace. "know i want to hear you, yeah?" he took your hand from your mouth and pinned it to the mattress in a tight grip. "let me have it, hm?"

you nodded feverishly, interlacing your hand with his in a silent promise. "you're so deep," you breathed, "so good, tys, can't stand it."

he sucked on his teeth, moved his hand from your hip down to where your bodies met, swiping your wetness around with his thumb like he was in a trance. "yeah?" he asked, teasing your clit again, making you feel like you were going to explode, making you see fiery shooting stars at the edges of your vision. "feel me here, hm?" he pressed down lightly, increasing the sensation, making you cry out, squirm on his length.

"fuck, baby, right there," you whined, squeezing your eyes shut while his pace grew almost wretched, as his hips began to sputter and you could see his shoulders and neck tense. "wanna cum on your pretty cock, tys, please let me."

he hummed, his pace not relenting for even a second. "no one can fuck you like me, hm?" he rasped, almost delirious. "tell me, kid." he gave a quick grunt. "promise 'll let you milk my cock."

you whimpered, and even then, you sort of knew saying so would be a bad idea, but you were too greedy to care, too close. "only you, baby," you moaned, "no one else, tys, only you." maybe it would have been harder to say if it hadn't been true.

"good girl," he cooed before teasing your clit again, shifted your hips forward to hit that angle that had you moaning out his name, squeezing his cock so tightly, your high vibrating through you.

as you clenched down on him, your nails scraping at his forearm, the other hand holding onto his like you'd sink into his mattress if you let go, he came, too, warm and familiar and loud, his raspy moan rattling around in your head as he collapsed on top of you.

you let out a blissful sigh at the full weight of him against your chest, hot and damp with sweat. you closed your eyes, let yourself breathe him in, the smell of him, all of him, commit it to memory like a favorite lullaby.

at some point, he rolled off of you, but he didn't let you go - wrapping his heavy arms all the way around you, hugging you to him, letting you hike a leg up around his, rest your cheek against his chest.

his breathing was smooth, rhythmic. it made your eyelids feel heavy.

"tyson," you said, your voice drowsy, worn-out.

he cut you off by pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that felt like an apology. "tell me tomorrow, okay, kid?" he asked, and there was a shake in his raspy voice, like he was a second away from begging. "please, just," he cleared his throat, and it killed you. "let me have tonight, alright?"

you nodded, figured you could, at the very least, give him that. you could offer yourself that final indulgence.

you fell asleep in the warmest bed you could remember, to the sound of a heartbeat you knew as intimately as your own.

the next day wasn't nearly as dreamlike.

your day of departure sort of felt like a day of reckoning. from the moment your eyes opened, meeting the sunlight streaming in front the windows, you felt as if you were carefully holding a match in the middle of a gasoline-drenched room, as if one wrong move might send everything up in flames.

it didn't help that you woke up with a tyson you didn't truly recognize.

the whole morning, as you got ready, when he gave you a change of clothes, when you made breakfast in his kitchen, he acted like a man possessed, but possessed by two different entities, perhaps two different demons. one of which was a doe-eyed child, teary and whiny and just so, so devastated. the other was a cold-shouldered old man, short and snarky and grudge-holding.

it seemed, the whole morning, that tyson was constantly being torn between begging you to stay and screaming at you to just get the fuck out.

"what're your plans for today?" you asked, carefully, as you set his plate down in front of him. you weren't much of a chef, but you knew how to make eggs, and it felt kind of like a peace offering.

"got practice in about an hour," he said, not quite looking you in the eye as he pushed his food around his plate with a fork. "but i have to take you back to my parents' place first."

you scrunched up your brow in confusion. "why?" you asked.

he cleared his throat. "got, uh, a couple last things for you to pack up," he said, and it was quiet, soft. "before you leave." he probably didn't mean it to come out harsh, and maybe it was just you looking for things that weren't there, but you heard it, anyways. the way leave came out almost like a curse.

regardless, soon you were in the passenger seat of his truck, again, maybe for the last time. you breathed in the leather smell, tried not to ruminate on how quiet tyson was being, how unlike himself.

this was not the beautifully same tyson you knew, but you couldn't just go and ask him what's wrong? because of course you both knew.

when you pulled into the driveway just next to your own, you exhaled shakily before unbuckling your seatbelt. even now, tyson opened your door for you, helped you hop down to the pavement.

his parents weren't home, and you were selfishly grateful for it. you didn't think you could face their warm smiles, their knowing eyes. their kindness despite knowing what you'd put their boy through.

he led you up to his old bedroom, a few paces ahead at all times, like walking beside you would make you both move backwards.

when he opened the door, you suddenly felt pressure prick at your waterline, felt heat pull at the edges of your face. you had to remind yourself that you had no right to cry.

tyson cleared his throat again, went to rummage around in his closet.

as he did, your eyes fixated on the beanbag by the window, where you'd had your first kiss with him. you blinked away the thought that you'd already had your last. you missed when time felt infinite.

"right, well, here you go." tyson's voice pulled you from the hazy memory. when you turned to face him, he was handing a box to you in outstretched arms.

"thank you," you said, gently, as you took it from him, opened the top, "what's in here?"

you moved the contents around with your fingers, almost laughing at how random most of it seemed - notes from your speech and debate tournaments, a few of your tennis visors, your sparkly talent show outfit.

"just the stuff you left here," he said, obviously trying so hard to appear unfazed. "the stuff you're leaving."

his words cut you so deeply you couldn't even look at him. tears were so close to flowing it felt like your eyelids were blistering. look around at the stuff you're leaving, he said without words, look at the me you're leaving.

"what's this?" you asked, willing any shake from your voice, holding up a lump of fabric.

"few of my sweatshirts," he said, shifting back and forth on his feet. "know you have enough clothes, and stuff, but i want you to have 'em."

you nodded, could barely muster a thank you.

"and this?" you asked, confused when you held up a small photo book. when you opened it, you found polaroids of the two of you, all the way back to middle school. as you flipped through, there also appeared to be pictures from your social media profiles in there, too, like he'd printed them out.

something rumbled in his voice. "just some pictures," he said, "i kept all my favorites."

you blinked, registering what constituted his favorites - mostly you, mid-laugh, or with a wide smile, or with him. just you. you were his favorite.

you felt a tear finally fall, hang at your cheek as you looked up at him, found his face positively wrecked, his jaw tense, eyes almost scared, gaze simmering. he looked like a child. you had a feeling you looked in a similar way. you had been kids, together, after all. you were kids, a bit, even now.

and you wanted to tell him that he was your favorite, too, but you didn't recognize the voice that escaped your own mouth. "tys," you began, for what felt like the millionth time. "i'm sorry, baby, i am-"

the sound that he let out was something like a tearless choked sob, somehow even worse than when he'd dropped you off at the airport for college. you'll come back, kid? he'd asked you then.

what could you even say, now, when the answer was no?

"i just don't understand," he said, with a waver that could have brought you to your knees. "i just don't understand why you won't give us a chance." when he looked at you, you were almost shocked you didn't melt into the ground. "why won't you give me a chance, kid?"

you fumbled for words, for some semblance of reason. "because it doesn't make sense, tyson!" you said, probably much louder than you meant to. your throat was tight, your chest on fire. "we don't make sense!" you were in such different places, both in location and life.

he made a gesture, incredulous. "what are you talking about?" he said, "we are the only thing that makes sense!" this was the only time you could really remember him raising his voice at you.

you almost growled. "we're not in high school anymore!" you snapped. "we have no idea what it's like to be together, like this. we're different!"

he shook his head, stepped closer to you, took the box from you, set it on the ground, then cupped your face in his rough hands. "we're still us, kid," he said, pleading, "we'll always be us."

you wanted to believe him, but you couldn't. not yet. you looked away from his face, closed your eyes as he wiped the hot tears from your cheeks. "i'm not sure, tys," you breathed, like a secret.

there was a pause. the two of you, in some limbo, maybe purgatory. is that not what all childhood bedrooms are?

"not good enough," he said, eventually, then stepped away from you. there was a certain lightness to his voice that hadn't been there, before.

"what?" you asked, confused.

he tilted his head, wore his honesty like a crown, maybe some delicate tiara. "i'm not sure," he parroted, "your excuse. it's not good enough."

"c'mon, tys," you pleaded, huffing, "you have to see that we won't work."

"i don't," he said, plain and simple, "you can give me a better excuse after my practice."

you scoffed, felt the tears on your face still, practically harden. how you wished he would believe you. how relieved you were that he didn't.

how many times was he going to put this conversation off? just one more night, one more minute, one more second.

"eventually, we're gonna have to say goodbye," you said, and it was low, rough.

"maybe," he said, on his way out. "but not right now. i'll see you after practice."

and so he left you standing in his old bedroom, a box of memories at your feet, feeling even more confused and uncertain than when you'd arrived.

after finally shaking yourself from your daze, picking up the box, heading for the door, you turned around a final time, let your gaze drip down from the ceiling to the floor.

you'd become yourself in this room, on that beanbag, by that window. you'd become more than a beautiful girl, here. you'd become someone special.

when you shut the door behind you, it felt like half of your heart sprouted wings and flew away.

you walked over to your parents' place, next door, began to load all your stuff into the trunk of your car. you realized you hadn't even looked at your phone all morning, that work hadn't even crossed your mind.

there was a part of you that needed to talk to someone, that needed someone to understand, but you didn't know who, if not tyson.

that was how you found yourself calling up the public library as you made trips from your bedroom to your driveway.

"yeah?"

you scrunched up your face. "that's how you answer the work phone?" you asked. you could almost hear the eye roll on the other end.

"no one ever calls this number," dylan's voice said, and you were glad he recognized your voice "why are you calling?"

you sighed. why were you calling?

"is it because you realized you're not leaving?" he asked, in that matter-of-fact tone, alight with vocal fry.

"what?" you asked.

"are you calling because you realized it'd be real stupid of you to leave?" he said.

"uh, no," you said, "well, maybe. i'm calling because i'm confused."

he gave a groan. "you know, i'm actually pretty busy," he said. "i was reading the complete history of the printing press, and mia is here-"

your eyes might have bulged out of your head. "mia is there? with you?"

you could sense dylan's frustration at having to repeat himself. "yes."

"oh my god, why didn't you tell me to shut up and leave you alone? mia is there! that's important!"

there was a pause. "yes," he agreed, finally, "but this is important, too."

and there was something about him saying this to you that made you realize just how correct he was. this was important, and not just because of tyson.

"hold on," dylan continued, "mia wants to talk to you."

you heard the sound of the corded phone being passed between hands.

"hello?" came mia's cheery voice.

"hi, mia," you answered. "how are you?"

mia let out something like a giggle. "oh, i'm good, babe, i'm good," she said. "i thought i could be a better sounding board than mr. brick wall over here."

you laughed, leaned against the side of your car. "he was doing okay," you tried.

"tell me what's confusing you," mia asked, and you sighed.

"i've just been so intent on leaving, for so long," you said, "like, i've never felt like this place was my home, and tyson was really the only reason i ever came back."

mia made a humming sound in understanding.

"and we're older now, too old for whatever weird friends with benefits thing we were doing before. and his team is here, and i'm in california-" you cut yourself off, blinked.

"but," mia prompted,

you bit your lip. "but," you began, "i can't help feeling like if i leave, i'm going to regret it forever." your exhale was shaky. "i don't think i'll like who i am if i leave him behind."

the confession seemed to rise into the air and dissolve in front of your eyes.

mia seemed to grasp the gravity of it, too. "it's your life, your decision," she said, gentle as anything, "but it sounds to me like the reasons why you shouldn't don't even come close to the reasons why you should."

you rested your head against the cool metal of your car, closed your eyes.

"you can work from anywhere," she said, "but there are some things that you just can't get anywhere else."

there was a pause as you took in her words.

"and i'm not just saying that because i like having you around," mia added, in a way that made you able to picture her smile. there was a mumble on her end. "and dylan says he wants you to come to his jeopardy taping."

you laughed, suddenly feeling a sense of clarity. because you wanted to get to know mia, even more, wanted to have her as a friend. you wanted to be around to cheer dylan on when he went on his show. you wanted to be in the stands for the baseball games, to celebrate after at the kid's line. you wanted sammy to keep calling you hollywood, to be the person jack accidentally hit with his ice bucket, to be on the receiving end of jj's bartending charm.

and, more than anything, you wanted to be the person tyson embraced in a sweaty hug after his big wins and tough losses. you wanted to make him eggs in the morning and laugh in his truck until your ribs were sore and brush your teeth next to him at night.

you wanted to give him a chance. you didn't know what the two of you would look like, together, at this point in your lives, if you genuinely gave it a shot.

but, you discovered, you really, really wanted to find out.

for so long, you had been mourning the fact that you'd outgrown this place. how had it never occurred to you that you could simply make more space?

so, an hour or so later, instead of merging onto the western-bound highway, you found yourself taking a left into the parking lot of the baseball team's practice field, about ten minutes before practice was set to end.

you approached the back fence, draping your arms over it, searching for tyson's telltale figure.

"he's over there."

you breathed deeply, stilling your alarmed heart, turned to face jack. "oh, hi, jack," you said.

"hi." he picked at a bent wire in the fence.

"what're you doing out here?" you asked, looking around. once again, he was oddly far away from everyone else.

he shrugged, looked down. "don't know," he mumbled. "just in the outfield."

"right," you said, blinking at him, at how out of practice he seemed to be with regard to talking with others. you looked forward to helping him get more comfortable around you, in the future. "where did you say tyson was?"

jack pointed to where a couple of guys stood, off to the side, putting practice equipment away.

you sucked on your teeth. "d'you think you could get him over here, for me, please?" you asked.

jack didn't say yes, didn't even nod, just whistled through his teeth way louder than you thought was possible. impressed, you thanked him as tyson approached.

"sure," jack said, stiff, while he walked to join jj and sammy, several paces behind.

you couldn't really read tyson's face as he approached you, slowly, as if trying to draw the whole ordeal out. we're going to have to say goodbye, you'd said before. not if i have anything to say about it, his stride seemed to be arguing.

"kid?" he asked, adjusting his cap on his head. "what're you doing here?"

you bit your lip, gave him a look through tired eyes. tired of thinking, of grieving, of assuming the worst.

he settling in front of you, leaning towards you over the fence. "got another excuse for me, do you?"

even with his words, you could tell that he knew you weren't here to say goodbye. it was all over his face, it was burning in his eyes, it was in the palm of his hand. it was all over you, too, in the shortness of your breath, the way your lips were slightly parted, the desperateness of your lean.

whatever you were here for, it wasn't to say goodbye, which gave both of you confidence.

and you did have another excuse, sort of. but you didn't want to pain him any more than you already had. so you just reached a hand out, let him rest his rough jaw in your warm palm. you breathed out. "i'm scared, tys," you said, because it was true. the prospect of trying this out, for real, it made you scared like a kid of the dark.

his exhale was something religious. "'m scared, too, kid," he admitted, making your eyes flicker up to meet his. "trust me, i am."

you sighed, searched his eyes for something undeniable, found it there in spades.

tyson extended a pinkie to you. "but not scared enough?" he asked, waiting, his eyes sparkling.

there was a pause during which a million possibilities flashed across your eyes. what would things have been like if you hadn't gone to school so far away? what if he'd gotten a scholarship somewhere else? what if you weren't beautiful? what if he'd gotten injured? what if you hadn't lived in that house? what if he'd never moved here?

a million possibilities that didn't matter, in this moment, because this was the only true thing.

"not scared enough," you agreed, finally, little more than a whisper, locking your pinkie with his in promise.

in a moment, he lifted you by the waist over the fence, not letting go of you for even a second before his lips crashed against yours in a kiss that felt like chalk on driveway pavement and secrets whispered at night. like sharing chocolate milk at lunch and dirty shirleys at dinner. like sunshine and morning dewdrops and summertime rain.

his cap knocked against your forehead, making you smile as he took it off in an instant, held it at the small of your back.

even now, you were still the shy girl looking out of her bedroom window at the driveway below. he was still the new kid next-door, smiling up at you through cardboard boxes and crazy curls.

you were different now, but you were still the same.

"does this mean she's staying?" came sammy's too-loud voice, making you pull away from each other, just a bit.

"she's staying," you answered, brushing tyson's curls from his face. the smile your words left in their wake was something of dreams.

"alright!" jj said, giving an enthusiastic fist pump.

"who's staying?" jack asked, genuinely confused.

"welcome home, hollywood," sammy declared, in that deep drawl.

and when you looked up at tyson, found a living room in his eyes, a fireplace, an armchair, a couch by the tv, a blanket worn with use, you realized that's exactly what this felt like, what he felt like.

being welcomed back home.

fin.

228 notes · View notes

stevie-petey · 6 months

Text

episode two: the weirdo on maple street

Trying to ease the awkwardness, you hold up a poster and offer it to them, but Steve snatches it from your grasp. “Henderson, didn’t know you were also a little know-it-all. Why don’t you share your review sheet with the rest of us?” He says, casting a teasing look your way. It isn’t until he inspects the piece of paper that he finally notices that it’s a missing poster for a child, not a review sheet. “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry.” You snatch the poster back from him. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

summary: you use your limited psych knowledge to help a bald girl, you force jonathan to accept $20 and he's later an ass to you, steve doesn't know what a "missing" poster looks like, and it's really hard being a single mother to now four kids.

rating: general, but there's cursing as usual and steve being... well, steve - but hes still season 1 steve so give him some time

warnings: cursing, fem!reader, use of y/n, and there's more angst in this chapter with some fighting between reader and jonathan, so fair warning.

words: 10.1k (the longest thing ive ever written)

before you swing in: i'm almost done with chapter 4, so here's a sweet treat as i cram for exams lmao. some housekeeping: should i do a tag list ? i got a few questions about it, so pls let me know soldiers. also, i feel the need to clarify that i adore nancy but for plot reasons - reader and her don't really get along (but they def will later, trust me). season 1 nancy and steve are just so silly. anyways, i hope y'all enjoy this loooong chapter. the rest definitely aren't as lengthy due to plot, but wow. i amazed myself. carry on !

Your jeans drip onto the Wheeler’s carpet, and you’ve definitely left a wet imprint on the couch cushion beneath you. The other boys are dripping as well, but all their attention is on the girl in front of them.

After finding her in the woods, your motherly instincts kicked in, immediately removing your coat to place on her and gently ushering her to your bike and demanding that the boys go back to Mike’s. Your mom is home, so your house was out of the question, and it’s always been easy sneaking into the Wheeler’s, anyways.

Once you all had made it back, you guided the girl onto the couch and sat next to her. You refuse to let her go too far from you, having no idea where she came from or why, but regardless you know she’s too young for any of it to have been good.

Which leads you to now: wearily watching the boys stare at the girl as if she’s some science experiment, asking her a million questions a second.

Bless them and their little prepubescent minds.

Lucas reaches out to touch her, and before you can nudge him away, Mike slaps at his hand. “Stop it! You’re freaking her out!”

“She’s freaking me out!” Lucas retaliates, which honestly? That’s fair. The girl hasn’t said anything yet, even after your multiple attempts to get her to do so. No matter how much you try, you can’t coax a response out of her.

“I bet she’s deaf.” Your brother offers, suddenly clapping his hands to scare her, making both you and her flinch. “Not deaf…”

You roll your eyes at him. “Guys, she’s probably just really scared right now. We should give her some space,” you look at both Lucas and Dustin, “and time,” now you look at Mike. The three boys deflate a bit.

“She’s probably cold,” Mike says after a moment of silence, and you nod at his suggestion. Seeing your agreement, he walks over to a basket of clothes and takes out some pajamas.

While Mike is away, thunder rumbles and the girl jumps, unconsciously getting closer to you. You wrap an arm around her reassuringly, making note that she doesn’t like loud noises. If anything, she’s showing more and more signs of trauma response, which makes you uneasy. You remember Hopper saying something about Will being in danger. What are the odds that this little girl was running from something as well?

“Here, these are clean.” Mike’s return breaks you from your thoughts, and you take the clothes from him and stand up. You thank him, then offer your hand to the girl. She looks at you uncertainly.

“It’s okay,” you reassure her. “Let’s go get you dressed in some warm clothes. I’m right here, sweetheart.”

“She’s super nice.” Dustin says, trying to help.

Lucas adds, “Yeah, you can trust her.”

“She’s alright.” Is all Mike offers.

You give them all an appreciative smile, even if Mike is being a bit of an ass, and then you feel a small, cold hand wrap around yours. The girl stands up, looking around shyly, and you lead her to the bathroom. When you go to close the door, she stops you.

Mike has followed, seeing the interaction. “You don’t want it closed?”

Her voice is quiet, solemn. “No,”

You and Mike look at each other, and he voices what you’re thinking. “So you can speak.”

He looks excited about this new information, and you shove his head out of the doorway. She needs to get dressed. “We’ll leave the door cracked, okay?”

She nods at you, and you stand guard outside the door. It’s not that you don’t trust the boys, but Mike has only known her for ten minutes and he’s already been nicer to her than you’ve ever seen him with anyone else. The only other person he’s this soft spoken to is Will, so you’re protective of her.

You can hear the boys discussing tonight’s events from the living area while the girl gets dressed. They sound scared, and a part of you can’t blame them. While you’re fairly certain that the girl isn’t dangerous, it’s still a creepy situation. Once again, Hopper’s new theory surrounding Will floats through your mind. This all can’t be some coincidence.

Sighing, you approach the boys and catch a bit of the conversation.

“Our houses become Alcatraz.” You hear Lucas saying, and you figure they’ve finally pieced together that there’s no way any of you can tell anyone about the girl. None of you were supposed to be out tonight. As much as you know you should tell an adult, you also need to be able to help Jonathan with finding Will. If your mom locks the house down, you’re doomed.

“Lucas is right,” the boys turn to you. “We can’t go to anyone about this just yet, but I also don’t think it’s a good idea to hide her. She’s been through something terrible, it’s obvious. Tonight, I say she gets some rest. We can figure out what to do later.”

Mike nods, for once agreeing wholeheartedly with you. “She’ll sleep here tonight-”

Dustin’s eyes widen in horror, “You’re letting a girl-”

You clamp your hand over his mouth, motioning for Mike to continue.

“Thanks, Y/N. In the morning, she sneaks around my house, goes to the front door and rings my doorbell. My mom will answer and know exactly what to do. She’ll send her back to Pennhurst,”

They think she’s from Pennhurst? You think, but don’t verbalize it.

“Or wherever she comes from. We’ll be totally in the clear! And tomorrow night, we go back out, and this time we find Will.”

You gotta hand it to Mike Wheeler, he may be a pain in the ass, but he’s a smart pain in the ass. The plan is pretty sound, so long as he follows through with it. However, it’s him following through with it that leaves you a bit unsure.

He looks at you for approval, and you hesitantly nod. “It’s a pretty good plan, Wheeler. So long as you stick to it.”

Lucas and Dustin nod along with you, there’s an unspoken sense of doubt that Mike will actually be able to turn the girl over to his mom. Then she walks out, dressed now in some of Nancy’s old clothes. She draws into herself when you all turn to her, shy. You walk over and offer your hand again, which she accepts.

“Mike, go find her something to sleep on. Dustin, we gotta go soon before mom notices we’re gone.”

Both boys comply, with Mike searching for a sleeping bag and Dustin packing up his stuff. You crouch down next to the girl, so that you’re face to face, and give her a warm smile. “It was lovely meeting you. My name is Y/N, I hope Mike over there doesn’t give you a hard time tonight.”

Mike flips you off, having heard you. “If he’s annoying,” you lean in close to her now, whispering in her ear. “You have my permission to pinch him.”

The girl giggles, finally relaxing a bit, and you warm with pride. She’ll be okay, she seems like a very resilient girl and you’ll oddly miss her.

The two other boys are waiting for you upstairs. You all wish Mrs. Wheeler a good night and head out. Thankfully the rain has now stopped, so the bike ride home isn’t bad. You stop at Lucas’ turn to make sure he gets home safely before finally arriving at your place. As Dustin begins pedaling into your driveway, you don’t follow.

“I’m going to go see Jonathan, he didn’t answer my calls earlier and I just…”

Dustin waves at you, not even bothering to turn around. “Yeah yeah, go see your boyfriend. If mom asks, you’re asleep.”

“He’s not my boyfriend-”

“Are you seriously going to argue with me after I offered to cover for you?”

Your brother gives you a pointed look, and you know he’s right. “Touche.”

Dustin goes to leave, but you quickly grab at his jacket. “Before I forget, swear to me that you’ll keep me updated if anything weird happens, okay?”

He nods at you, knowing better than to argue, and gives you a mock salute as he heads inside.

The living room light is on when you arrive at the Byers home, despite the late hour, but you aren’t surprised. You knock on the door and wait. When no one comes, you knock again, a bit louder this time. After another few moments, the door swings open.

Jonathan has a finger over his lips in a shushing manner, motioning to Joyce who is passed out on the couch. You nod, letting him know you understand. The two of you go to his room and when he closes the door, you finally get a good look at him. He looks worse than he did earlier, the bags under his eyes have somehow gotten darker. His hair is a mess, his eyes bloodshot.

“You’re soaked.” Jonathan says.

“Yeah,” he doesn’t want to talk about it yet, so you play along. “Got caught in the rain. Are some of my spare clothes still in your bottom drawer?”

He nods at you, going over and grabbing a t-shirt and pajama pants for you. You accept them gratefully and excuse yourself to the bathroom to change. Your bones are cold, the rain seemingly having penetrated the layers of your skin. In the mirror you see that your own eyes are bloodshot; you don’t look much better than Jonathan, really.

When you return Jonathan is sitting on his bed, so you join him. It’s silent between you, all you can hear is his breathing. You stare straight ahead, so does he, and you wait. You’ve only seen Jonathan like this a handful of times, where the stress and anxiety becomes too much for him. He shuts down, draws into himself, and all you can do is wait for him to return to you; he always does.

“Mom got a call tonight.” Jonathan’s voice is hoarse, and he looks frail. You wonder if he ever did end up making the spaghetti you prepared for him.

“Who was it?”

He swallows heavily, taking a moment to respond. “She said it was Will.”

“Will?” You look at him now, searching for any signs on his face, his voice lacks emotion. By the way he stares blankly ahead, as if he’s not really present with you right now, you know that it hadn’t been Will on the other end.

“She started freaking out, going ballistic,” his voice cracks a bit, so you take a chance and reach for his hand. He lets you take it, giving you a squeeze, before continuing. “She was screaming, begging whoever it was to give Will back.”

Jonathan pauses again. You don’t say anything, because no words will help. He’s never been the type for comforting words, anyways. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. “It wasn’t him. Lightning struck and our phone got charred. It wasn’t Will.”

Now it’s your turn to squeeze Jonathan’s hand. He doesn’t deserve any of this. None of the Byers do. Out of the entire town, they’re the family who deserves the most that life can give. Will, too good. Jonathan, too selfless. Joyce, too loving. They’re the best damn people you know.

“I tried calming her down, but she was hysterical. She’s only asleep right now because she worked herself up too much and passed out. I’m worried she-'' Jonathan shakes his head, as if ashamed by his own words. “I’m worried she’s going crazy, Y/N.”

He’s quiet again, but you can tell he’s about to break. His knee is now bouncing up and down and his breathing has become slightly ragged. Everything from today has been building up, it was only a matter of time before he snapped. You’re also worried about Joyce, a part of you skeptical to believe her, but the little girl you found tonight in the rain? Something was definitely weird about Will’s disappearance, but you’re hesitant to tell Jonathan just yet. For all you know, she could’ve simply been a girl who got lost and will be returned to her family tomorrow.

You don’t want to worry Jonathan any more than you need to.

“I should’ve been there for him. I shouldn’t have taken that shift.” He gasps out, and like a dam the tears begin to fall. You’re quick to pull him into a hug and he crumbles into you. His body shakes with violent sobs and he clutches at you as if afraid you’ll leave.

“You can’t blame yourself.” You whisper, stroking a hand through his hair. He cries even harder, the force of it almost enough to knock you over, so you situate yourself so that you’re fully on the bed, laying against his pillows, with Jonathan crying into your chest beside you.

“He’s g-gone.”

“We’ll find him, I promise.” Your own tears threaten to come out, but you force them down. You have to be here for him, he needs you. The only other time Jonathan has so openly cried was when Lonnie left years ago. He’s been holding everything in since then, all those years of looking after his family, taking care of his brother, getting harassed by assholes like Tommy Hagan.

Neither of you say anything else, and you know that Jonathan needs to let it all out. You soothe him as best as you can, running a hand through his hair, stroking his back, reassuring him over and over again that none of this is his fault until your own voice becomes hoarse. You don’t know how long you stay like this, but sometime during the night Jonathan finally falls asleep, and you follow shortly after him.

—

Sunlight streams through Jonathan’s spare bed sheet that he’s pinned over his window, serving as a makeshift curtain, waking you up. You stretch, careful not to wake the boy beside you, and crawl out of the bed. You’re antsy, already knowing that today will be another long day. After grabbing some clothes from your designated drawer and getting dressed, you head into the kitchen and start making a quick breakfast. Just as you’re finishing up, Jonathan comes out of his room, dressed and ready for the day.

Neither of you say anything about the night prior, instead silently working around each other in the kitchen with years of practiced ease. He hands you the salt shaker right when you need it, you grab the pieces of toast that he popped into the toaster, the two of you never once get in each other’s way. You get deja vu, remembering all the times you’ve slept over with Dustin, you and Jonathan making the boys breakfast while they slept in.

The only indication that last night really happened is a forehead kiss from Jonathan, his lips soft against your head. Out of the two of you, you’re definitely the touchy one, so it’s always a nice surprise when he initiates the touch, and his forehead kisses were a welcome rarity.

When the plates have been made, Joyce gets up from the couch and stumbles over to the table. You quickly help her sit down, and for the first time since Will’s disappearance you’re able to really look at her. She looks like Jonathan, only worse. The bags under her eyes are darker, her hair is more matted, and you believe she’s still wearing the same shirt you saw her in the night that Will went missing.

“All right, mom. Breakfast is ready.” Jonathan tries to place her plate on the table, but Joyce stops him, worried about the poster of Will.

Jonathan gives you a look and you run over to the table, grabbing the poster so that he can set the plate down.

Joyce gives you a tired smile, “Thank you, Y/N, but I can’t eat.”

“I just need you to eat, mom.”

“Jonathan’s right, Mrs. Byers. You need to eat, we gotta keep your strength up.” You feel like you’re talking to a child, but in a way, you suppose you are.

The woman lights a cigarette instead, and faintly you wonder how many she’s had within the last 48 hours; you’ll need to wash your clothes when you get home. She begins to ask Jonathan to go to Xerox to make as many copies of Will’s poster as possible. You sit down in front of her, silently eating, knowing there’s no place for you in this conversation.

It’s not that the Byers are ashamed that they have little money, but you know it’s rude to listen in. They make do with what they have, and Jonathan has never felt embarrassed with you knowing it.

“I don’t want you to go alone,” Joyce says, causing you to speak up.

“I’ll go with him and help hang them up, it’s no problem.”

Jonathan turns to you. “You have that chem test, remember? I’m not letting you miss that.”

“Shit…” you bury your face into your hands. You completely forgot about that after finding the little girl last night and dealing with Jonathan. You’ve heard about how impossible the chem exams were, and science has never been your best subject. That was Dustin’s thing, your thing was more humanities.

“You’re the smartest person I know, you’ll ace the exam,” Jonathan reassures you before turning to his mom. “And I’ll handle the posters, it’s okay.”

Joyce has been lost in thought during your conversation with her son, only beginning to speak again when she’s asked how many copies will be efficient. Once she starts speaking again, it’s almost like she’s physically unable to stop. She begins to ramble, finally exposing the crumbling woman that you’ve only heard about, now understanding Jonathan’s fears for her.

“Mom-”

“If we… ten cents-”

“Mom!” Jonathan raises his voice a bit, now grabbing at his mother’s hand. “You can’t get like this, okay?”

The look on Joyce’s face kills you. She looks so lost, ashamed of her behavior, and you cast your head down; this is a private matter. Joyce profusely apologizes to him and all Jonathan can do is gently reassure her that it’s okay. All of this is okay.

Their tender moment is interrupted by knocking on the front door, revealing Hopper on the other side. His presence makes you uneasy, so you stay in the kitchen and begin to clean up with Jonathan while Joyce attacks him with questions.

“A little bit of trust here, alright? We’ve been searching all night.” You hear the cop say. Your hand clenches the sponge, rubbing a bit harder at the plate you’re cleaning. If they’ve been searching all night, why are they here now?

“Went all the way to Cartersville.” Ever since Will disappeared, you’ve been building a wall of hope within you that he’ll be found safe and sound. However, with every passing day, with every new situation that occurs, you can feel a piece of the wall collapse. You can feel it now; the search party went all the way to Cartersville.

“And?” Joyce asks.

“Nothing.” The cry that Joyce lets out causes you to drop the plate you’ve been cleaning, shattering on the floor. You curse, immediately bending down to pick up the pieces. Luckily it didn’t shatter into a million bits, but you still feel horrible for breaking one of their dishes.

Jonathan bends down as well to help, and the commotion catches Hopper’s attention. He sees you scrambling to clean up the mess and sighs with annoyance. “Does she live here or something?”

You and Jonathan look at each other, a slight smile on your faces, and only respond to Hopper with a synchronized shrug. You basically do live at the Byers’ at this point, you have been for years now. It was the same for Jonathan: if you weren’t at his house, he was at yours.

Joyce wipes some of her tears away. “Y/N is family, she’s here to help.”

Hopper ignores this, instead bringing up the phone call from the night before. Joyce leads him over to the phone, and you join them once you’ve collected the remaining pieces of broken glass. When you see the phone, you can’t help but gasp. Jonathan’s words from last night are accurate, the phone is charred.

“Storm barbecued this pretty good.” Hopper says.

Joyce waves her arms out, disbelieving. “The storm? You’re saying that that’s not… weird?”

“No, it’s weird.” Hopper begins, but you cut him off.

“It’s really weird.”

He glares at you. You mumble a quick sorry and back away a bit while Jonathan asks if the call can be traced. Hopper focuses back on the situation at hand, informing him that it isn’t possible and then questions if Joyce even heard Will in the first place. The question makes you cringe, knowing it’ll only make Joyce more agitated and hurt.

“Flo said you just heard some breathing.”

It’s the way he phrases the question, the way he emphasizes the word “just”, that bothers you. This woman has just lost her kid, what kind of mother wouldn’t know her own child’s breathing?

“Even if it was ‘just’ some breathing, I’d know it was my brother. Will is her son, she’d know better than anyone.” You find yourself saying. The words weren’t meant to leave your mouth, but the appreciative look Joyce casts your way outweighs the fear from Hopper’s glare.

“It was him. It was Will, and he was scared. Then something-”

“It was probably just a prank call,” Hopper tries to reason with her, causing you to roll your eyes at him. You respect the guy, you do, but could he at least attempt to listen to Joyce?

You excuse yourself before you say anything else, heading back into the kitchen to collect the two posters you and Jonathan made. While the others talk, you grab his things and pack his bag for him. You know he’ll probably skip school today to get the copies done in time, maybe keep an eye on his mom, so you make a mental note to inform him later that you’ll help with putting the fliers up the second you’re done with the exam. He needs someone there for him.

When you’ve grabbed the last of Jonathan’s things, Lonnie’s name is mentioned. You freeze, standing right outside the hall from them, only a wall between you. If Lonnie is somehow involved in this, you’ll kill him yourself. He was always cruel to Will, even when you were around to witness it. You hate him more than anything in this damn world.

“It’s been long enough, I’m having him checked out.” Hopper declares, storming out of the house.

You count to three in your head, and the second you get to three, Jonathan is following after Hopper. You knew he would, hating his father the most out of everyone who has had the displeasure of meeting him. You follow behind him, heading outside to talk to the Chief.

“Hey, Hopper. Let me go.”

Hopper takes a drag from his cigarette, facing the two of you. “I’m sorry?”

“To Lonnie’s,” Jonathan says, looking at you for backup.

You do your best to try. “If Will’s there, that means he probably ran away. Cops will scare the poor boy, he’ll think he’s in trouble.”

“And he’ll hide. He’s good at hiding.” Jonathan finishes for you.

Hopper stares at you both, inhaling more smoke from his cigarette and blowing it in your direction with a curious look in his eyes. “You two are sickening to be near, you know that?”

You and Jonathan share an annoyed look. A kid is missing, and you still have to clarify that you aren’t together? “It’s not like that,” Jonathan says.

“Sure, you know cops are good at detecting lies,” Hopper approaches him now, grabbing his shoulders. For a brief second you’re afraid he’ll hurt him. “And we’re also good at finding, okay? Stay here with your mom. She needs you.”

Hopper punches at Jonathan’s shoulder before facing you. “And you,” you brace for whatever he’s about to say, knowing you probably aren’t his favorite person at the moment. He points at Jonathan, “He needs you.”

His words hang in the air several minutes after he’s gone. You glance at Jonathan, but he doesn’t meet your eye and instead he goes back inside. You sigh, following after him because it’s what you do. Hopper’s right, he needs you.

Jonathan’s in the living room, speaking softly to his mom when you enter. You don’t disturb them but rather snatch Jonathan’s keys from the counter and wait for him by the door. Like Joyce said, Xerox opens in about thirty minutes and you have a chem exam to take. If you leave now, you’ll be able to make the copies with him and be back in time before school.

The ride to Xerox is tense, you know Jonathan is upset that he’s been sidelined by Hopper. You also know that he’s torn between wanting to help his mom and staying out of his house as much as possible. If it weren’t for your god damn chem test you’d offer to skip and hide out at your place, but you can’t. Jonathan wouldn’t let you risk your future for him (even though you would, in a heartbeat, a million times over).

The man at Xerox gives Jonathan a look of pity, clearly recognizing Will’s picture on the poster. It’s your favorite photo of him, smiling with all his teeth and happy as can be. From what you’ve heard, the whole town has been conducting search parties for him. Jonathan ignores the look and asks for the 200 copies to be made.

It’s just you and him in the store as you wait for the prints to be done. The guy said it’d be about a ten minute wait so you wander around the store. Jonathan clearly is in a no talking mood, so you occupy yourself with whatever you find. You wish you’d brought your backpack to Jonathan’s last night so you could at least study a bit while waiting, but you didn’t. It’d be a miracle if you pass this exam.

Jonathan wanders around as well, so you give a quick look around and find the employee. He’s standing over the printer when you approach. “I’d like to pay for the copies, please.”

“You can pay after they’re done-”

“No, I can’t let him see,” you point over to Jonathan, who is now looking at some stationary. “Please, just let me pay now so he can yell at me later.”

The guy gives you a shrug, clearly not getting paid enough to care. “Okay, it’ll be $20. Just leave the money on the counter over there, the prints should be done soon.”

You nod and do as you’re told, leaving the $20 bill on the counter while Jonathan isn’t looking. He can kill you later, right now you want to make up for not being able to help with hanging them up. There’s literally hundreds to get through, he can’t do that all alone.

When the posters are done and Jonathan collects them, you wish the worker a good day and then wrap your arms around him and use all your strength to drag your friend into the car. He doesn't fight back at first, too confused by your actions, and you’re almost out the door before he sees the man pocket the money and wave at you. The dots connect in his head and Jonathan begins to fight against you.

“Y/N, let me pay-”

“Nope. Not happening!”

“We both know I’m stronger-”

“Debatable, honestly, seeing as how we’re almost to your car.”

“Let go!” He tugs harshly as his arm, which you’ve got a secure hold on, causing you to stumble a bit.

You plant your feet more firmly against the ground and use all your weight to pull the boy forward. You’re a few feet away from the car, just one more solid pull should do the trick. “Stop fighting this, Byers. I’ve already paid-”

“Which you shouldn’t have!”

“Keep fighting and drop all the posters, I dare you.”

Jonathan looks down at the posters in his spare hand, realizing that you’re right. If he doesn’t give in soon, they’ll topple over. He lets out an agitated groan, throwing his head back, and then marches over to the car to unlock it and fling himself into the driver’s seat. “Just get in.”

You do a small victory dance and hop in the car.

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

He hesitates only for a moment. “God, I hate that I do.”

You smile, buckling your seatbelt. Jonathan pulls out of the parking lot and begins the drive to school. He’s less tense this time, at least. The small little wrestling match between the two of you seemingly did some good, then.

When you pull up to school, you once again apologize to Jonathan for being unable to help. He waves you off, understanding.

“It’s okay, I promise. I can’t have you failing out of high school because of me.”

You roll your eyes. “One test won’t make me become a high school dropout, Jonathan.”

He ruffles your hair, which you slap him for. “You can join me after, okay? Good luck, bug.”

“Fine, but I’m taking some posters with me so I can hang up on my way to my locker.”

“Deal.”

You run to your locker, flinging it open and letting out a sigh of relief when you spot your chem cards. Honestly, you really should’ve prepared better for your little sleepover at the Byers. You glance at the watch on your wrist, noting that you have roughly fifteen minutes to memorize all the elements in the periodic table as well as some chemistry definitions.

Just peachy.

You tie your hair up so you can focus better and grab the note cards. If you review the cards as you walk to class, you can save at least three minutes of studying time. You tuck the few remaining posters of Will under your arm and begin to head to your class, getting absorbed in all the elements and words. As you’re skimming a card about protein being K, you run into Nancy and Barb, who also seem to have the same idea as you.

“Oh, hey Y/N.” Nancy greets you, Barb waving to you as well.

They’re being nice, so you try to make conversation. “Studying for Kaminsky’s test?”

They nod at you and Nancy sighs, “Yeah, his exams are the worst.”

You laugh a bit, for once on the same page as her. “I know. I spent last night at Jonathan’s, I completely forgot about the test until this morning. I’m screwed.”

Barb raises her eyebrows at you while Nancy suddenly looks sad. “Oh, I’m sorry about Will. I know you and him are close.”

“Yeah, it must be hard taking care of Jonathan right now.” Barb voices.

You give them both an awkward smile. “Thanks, I guess? It’s just, there’s still hope, so…”

The three of you stand there as your voice trails off. It’s painfully awkward. While you’ve known Nancy since you were 12, and at some point you even called her a close friend of yours, the second you entered high school she became distant. You never blamed her for it, people simply grow up and grow apart. Now you only ever interact with her if it concerns the boys.

Trying to ease the awkwardness, you hold up a poster and offer it to them, but Steve snatches it from your grasp.

“Henderson, didn’t know you were also a little know-it-all. Why don’t you share your cheat sheet with the rest of us?” He says, casting a teasing look your way. It isn’t until he inspects the piece of paper that he finally notices that it’s a missing poster for a child, not a review sheet. “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry.”

You snatch the poster back from him. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

His friends laugh, but Steve has a bit of heart to look guilty, so you count that as something. His shame doesn’t last long though and the goofy and sweet boy who made sure you were okay after almost hitting you with his car is gone.

Steve plays off the situation as if it were nothing. “Let me make it up to you, Henderson. I know you’re probably stressed out of your mind dealing with boyfriend troubles because of Bill-”

“His name is Will,” you grit out, remembering now why you dislike Steve so much. Everything was about impressing his friends, and while you can sympathize with him, it doesn’t give him an excuse to be an asshole.

“Right, Will. Anyways, I was just about to inform Nance over here that my dad has left town on a conference and my mom’s gone with him, ‘cause, ya know, she doesn’t trust him.”

“Good call,” Tommy says, and you glare at him.

Steve carries on. “So, are you guys in?”

“In for what?” Nancy asks.

“No parents, a big house?” Carol says, as if Nancy is a giant idiot.

You feel bad for her being treated so poorly by her boyfriend’s friends, so you lean in and whisper, “A party, Nancy.” Then you look at Steve. “And no, I’ll pass.”

Steve pouts. “Can’t leave loverboy alone for a couple hours?”

You scoff, shoving the poster against his chest, using more force than probably necessary, but the satisfying grunt he lets out pleases you. “If I didn’t know you I’d say you sound jealous. Unfortunately, I do know you, and that’s exactly why I’m not interested.”

“Meow,” says Carol as she and Tommy laugh.

You ignore her and push past the group to get to class. You’ve wasted enough time, you have to study. Steve lets you, hurt by your words, but tries to play it off, instead focusing his attention on Jonathan up ahead hanging up some posters. You both see him at the same time and as you start to approach him, you hear Steve and his group mock him.

“God, that’s depressing.” Steve says, and you’ve never wanted to hit a man more than you do right now.

You glance at Nancy, trying to convey your disappointment in her. She’s a nice girl, she shouldn’t be with an idiot like Harrington. Who the hell makes fun of a guy with a missing brother? Nancy doesn’t meet your eye, which pleases you. She should feel guilty.

As you near Jonathan, Nancy calls after you to wait up. You listen, mostly because you’re surprised she even followed, and together you walk up to him. “Hey, bee. I thought you’d be long gone by now.”

Jonathan looks up at your voice, surprised when he sees Nancy next to you. He gives you a look that you conclude is a what is she doing here? look and you can only shrug as if to say I have no clue how I ended up in this situation.

Nancy doesn’t see this exchange. “Hey,”

“Hey,” Jonathan responds, still confused.

Nancy looks at you uncertainly, but you refuse to leave. Screw your exam, if she even considers voicing her boyfriend’s opinions to Jonathan then you’ll personally see that she fails alongside you. “I just… I wanted to say, you know… I’m sorry, about everything.”

Oh, she’s being nice. You’re still unimpressed, but Jonathan motions to you to stop staring her down, so you reluctantly listen.

“Everyone’s thinking about you.”

You all turn towards Steve and his group, who are clearly listening in, and you snort at her words. “Right, obviously.”

“Y/N.” Jonathan warns.

“Sorry.”

“It sucks.” Nancy continues, and you have to give her some credit. You’re being a blatant bitch, but she’s still trying. You feel a bit bad now, which honestly makes you dislike her a bit more. Damn morals. “I’m sure he’ll be fine, he’s a smart kid.”

The bell rings, ending Nancy’s little monologue. “I have to go, chemistry test. Y/N, want to walk together?”

She really makes it impossible to be a bitch to her. “Sure, just give me a second.”

You lean close to Jonathan and lower your voice. “Good luck with your dad, bee.”

“How did you know I’d go-”

“Because of course you would. Now go, give him hell for me, will ya?”

Jonathan nods, relieved you aren’t pushing the topic. You know that Lonnie is a sore topic for him, for the entire Byers family, really. You only knew Lonnie for a year or so before Joyce left him, but you’ll never forget his spiteful words and the bruises that Jonathan tried to hide from you. He needs to do this alone, father and son.

You see Nancy watching, and just to spite her you kiss Jonathan’s cheek, relishing in the fact that she looks away, and you wish him luck once again before following her to class.

The test isn’t as bad as you’d feared, and the rest of the day goes by with relative ease. You don’t see much of Steve and his group and you’re thankful for that. Nancy also keeps her distance, no longer attempting to be all buddy buddy with you. A part of you feels bad about that, because honestly the thought of someone thinking you hate them makes you feel physically ill, but as long as Nancy is with someone like Steve, there’s not much you can do about that.

After school you stop by all of Jonathan’s classes and collect the work he’s missed over the last few days; he has enough to worry about, so you figured you could help do some assignments for him. It’s nothing unusual, truth to be told. There was a time you were out for two weeks straight due to the flu one year and Jonathan did every one of your assignments, so it’s about time you returned the favor.

Once you have what you need, you hang up the remaining flyers in your bag and begin your journey to work. You’ve used up all of your sick days helping the Byers, and while Mrs. Waters has insisted on letting you have more time off, you figured the distraction would be good for you. Jonathan will want some space after confronting his dad, and as much as you hated Lonnie, something told you he had nothing to do with Will.

Just when your shift is almost done, your coworker, this young kid named Alex who you’re honestly surprised can legally work, informs you that your mom is on the phone and wants to speak with you. You stack the remaining books in your hands and thank him, walking over to pick up the call.

“Hey, mom. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, sweetie! I was just calling to tell ya that Dusty is at the Wheeler’s tonight for dinner, so my plan for ribs won’t work without him. I was wondering if darling Johnny could feed you tonight? I know the two of you have that little sneaky food game.”

Your posture, once slumped over and uninterested, now straightens out. Why the hell is Dustin having dinner at the Wheeler’s? They never do that. “Uh, sure mom that won’t be an issue.”

Your mom lets out a sigh of relief. “Bless that Jonathan! I’ve always liked him…”

Your mom may be the biggest Jonathan supporter you’ve ever met. “Yeah, he’s your favorite. I know,” you shift a bit to catch Alex’s attention, mouthing to him that you need to leave work early. “Hey, did Dustin by chance say how long he’ll be at the Wheeler’s? I can swing by and pick him up after my shift.”

“Oh, I think he’s staying the night there. He mentioned something about Mike not finishing his part of their little science project?”

They’re calling the little girl a science project now? Boys are so typical. “Oh, I see. Well, I gotta get back to work, mom. I’ll be home late tonight.”

Your mom wishes you goodbye and warns you not to be out too late. You hum, already trying to figure out the quickest route to the Wheeler’s house. You can’t say you’re surprised that Mike didn’t follow the plan, but you also can’t say you were prepared for this either.

Alex comes back with your boss and you quickly make up a lie about not feeling well. Mrs. Waters gives you a pitying look and tells you to go. You’re incredibly grateful for her, she’s like a grandmother to you and has always been so kind.

You quickly bike to Mike’s house, going over a grand speech in your head for the boys. Logistically speaking, you’re not sure if they can even harbor the little girl in his basement. Would it be kidnapping? Could kids even kidnap other kids? You aren’t sure and you definitely aren’t willing to find out.

You arrive at the house just as Nancy and Barb are pulling out of the driveway, presumably to Steve’s grand house party. They wave at you awkwardly and you don’t have it in you to wave back. You park your bike next to their doorstep and knock on the door.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Mrs. Wheeler asks after opening the door.

“Oh, I was just wondering if I could hang out with the boys tonight? Jonathan’s busy and I promised Dustin I’d help with their campaign.”

Mrs. Wheeler cocks her head at you. “But I thought there was a special assembly at the school for Will? Nancy and Barb just left for it.”

You feel your blood boil a bit. There was no assembly for Will at your school, and it was really damn low of Nancy to use his disappearance as a cover story for her stupid party. She’s known Will since he was practically a baby. You have no idea how someone could be so unaffected by a missing child, let alone one who has been at your house every damn weekend for years now.

“Oh, that!” You force yourself to remain calm; there isn’t time to snitch on Nancy, Mrs. Wheeler would only have more questions for you. “Yeah, I’m, uh, skipping it. Jonathan doesn’t want to go, so after he’s back from his errands I’m heading over to his place to, you know, comfort him?”

The woman stares at you for a second, trying to determine if there are any lies to your words. You’ve never been the best liar, but being the oldest Henderson child has unfortunately prepared you for being quick on your feet when needed.

“Well, come on then. They boys just went downstairs, and if you can please remind them to bring the plate of food back up here I’d really appreciate it.”

You thank Mrs. Wheeler and let yourself in. Her words have all but solidified your suspicions: Mike kept the girl.

When you descend the basement steps, it’s almost comical how the kids scramble to hide the girl like little cockroaches. They run around and Dustin screams something about covering her before the poor girl is being manhandled into a sheet as Mike screams at Lucas and Dustin to calm down.

“Guys! It’s just me! Jesus!” You shout, shoving past Mike to rush over to the girl and free her from the sheets. She looks more frightened than usual, but at least she’s alive.

“God, why am I always the one you push?”

You shush Mike, smoothing back the girl’s hair and offering her a reassuring smile. “Remember me, sweetheart?”

The girl nods and softly says, “Y/N.”

“Very good. I’m going to scream at my brother real quick, so why don’t you cover your ears for me so you don’t get too frightened?”

“Wait, what-”

The minute her ears are covered, you turn to Dustin and begin screaming. “Are you brain dead and not understand the words ‘tell me if anything weird happens’ or do you simply lack the appropriate empathy needed for a concerned sister?”

Dustin ducks his head in shame. “Y/N, look-”

“No! I’m all for helping you guys with your adventures and whatever, but Will went missing and then she appears and Mike,” you turn to him and he hides behind a frightened Lucas. “You said you’d stick to your plan. Now tell me, did you?”

Mike shakes his head, his eyes wide. Dustin looks no better as he cowers behind the others. Lucas simply shrugs, knowing that this would happen. You never, ever, yell at the boys; the few times you have in the past, all hell had broken loose.

“Y/N-”

“Zip it, Henderson. I’m so pissed off at you right now and if you want to make it to thirteen I suggest you keep quiet.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Now, why don’t you guys catch me up on what you’ve so sweetly kept hidden from me.” It’s worded as a question, but the boys know better than to deny you.

You sit on the ground so that you’re next to the girl and then motion for the three boys in front of you to start speaking. They look at Mike, giving him a nudge, and he hesitantly steps forward to begin speaking. “Her name is El.”

The girl, El, looks up at you and smiles. You return the smile and knock your shoulder against hers in a playful manner. “Nice to meet you, can I ask what El is short for?”

“Eleven,” she says, and you want to question the name further but the look on Mike’s face stops you. Now is not the time, you guess.

“El, she’s… different.” Mike continues, looking around nervously. He’s acting as if someone could break in any second and snipe you guys, and a part of you doesn’t doubt it can happen. “She has these powers, like, mind control powers.”

You snort, unable to stop yourself. El looks at you, looking unoffended, seemingly expecting this reaction. However, Mike groans at you. “Y/N, this is serious. She-she knows about Will.”

At this, your smile fades and you feel an overwhelming sense of hope take over you. You find your arms wrapping around El before you can control yourself and you give her a tight hug. She stiffens in your arms and you immediately pull away. “I’m sorry, I just… sorry.”

She laughs a bit, softly saying that it’s okay.

“Do you really know Will? Where he is?” You ask, almost too scared to say the words out loud. If she’s telling the truth… you shake your head in an attempt to dispel any false hope. You don’t know this girl, she could be lying.

Before El can say anything else, Mike speaks for her. “She does, but there’s bad men out there who want to hurt her. I think they’re after Will, too.”

You freeze. “Bad men?”

“Yes, this is why we didn’t want to tell you!”

“I wanted to tell her,” Lucas says, which causes Mike to glare at him.

You wave your arms at the two boys, breaking up their fight. “Mike, what do you mean by bad men? Honey,” you look at El, “did someone hurt you? Are you in danger? Should I call the police?”

“No!” All three boys shout at once.

You look at them, at the genuine fear in their eyes, and sigh, “Okay, if you can give me a good reason not to call the cops, I won’t.”

“Did you not hear the part about El having powers?” Dustin asks.

“Gee, Dustin. You’re right! It’s like her having powers is totally believable and reassuring to the situation at hand!”

“I can show you,” El speaks up.

You all face her now. “You can?”

She nods at you, getting up and grabbing your backpack that you threw on the ground when you walked in. She rustles through it while you and the boys look at one another. After a few seconds, El grabs one of your comic books and places it on the table. She looks at you and tilts her head, indicating for you to sit down next to her; you do as you’re told.

El straightens out your comic and then closes her eyes, going completely still. The air around you shifts and you can practically feel the static electricity encasing you; the hair on your arms stand up. The pages of the comic begin to flick up, fluttering as if someone is thumbing through them in rapid succession. You watch as the Spidey panels flash before your eyes, the pages flying faster and faster until it becomes almost frightening to be near. Then, once it gets to its last page, the comic flies up into the air and hovers for a few seconds, right in front of your face.

“Holy shit,” you breathe out, your eyes wide.

Just as quickly as it began, the comic drops back onto the table. You look up at El and see that her nose is now bleeding, which rips you back to reality. The chair scrapes against the ground as you get up to help her, dabbing at the blood with a tissue that had been laying on the table.

“Do you believe us now?” Mike asks, a smug look on his face.

You gently wipe away the remaining blood from El’s face, looking her in the eye and directing your words to her. “I’m listening, sweetheart. What can you do to help us find Will?”

El smiles, pleased to have earned your trust, and you get the feeling that this little girl is the most powerful thing in all of Hawkins, maybe even the world. At her request, Mike places his DnD board on the table and arranges the pieces for El to use. She sits down and closes her eyes once more.

Lucas gives you a doubtful look. “What’s the weirdo doing?”

You flick his head, not enjoying the name calling. Honestly, you thought you raised these boys better than that.

El seems to accomplish whatever she was doing and picks up the wizard piece, murmuring, “Will.”

You feel your heart stop. Will always insisted on being the wizard whenever they played the game. He was Will the Wise, forever and always. El couldn’t have simply guessed that, and you know it’s her-

“Superpowers,” Dustin finishes your thought for you. The two of you exchange a glance and you notice the slight glee in his eyes. Under different circumstances, you’d also find this all pretty cool.

Mike sits next to El and begins to ask some questions about where she last saw Will. She gives him a look that you can’t quite decipher before swiping her arm across the table and spilling the pieces onto the floor. She then flips the board over, having it now face upside down, and places Will’s piece back down.

You knit your brows together, trying to follow along. El’s movements are methodical and carefully planned, being unable to find the right words due to her poor speech, and you try to piece together the information you’ve been given.

“I don’t understand,” Mike says, being extra gentle with El. You’ve never seen him so soft spoken before and you’re grateful at least one of the boys doesn’t view her as some monster. Which reminds you that you need to have a conversation with Dustin about respecting women, but for now you’ll hold off.

“Hiding.” says El.

He’s good at hiding, Jonathan’s words echo in your head.

“Will is hiding?”

El nods, now looking more nervous. You can tell that Mike is getting closer to information that she doesn’t want him near, which finally causes you to ask the question that’s been heavily on your mind. “From the bad men?”

Now El gives a slight shake of the head, and Mike presses on. “Then from who?”

Without saying anything, El places a second piece onto the board right in front of Will’s. It’s a piece you’re unfamiliar with, with two snake-like heads that loom over the small wizard piece. Whatever it is, you know it isn’t good judging the way Mike, Dustin, and Lucas look at each other in fear.

You turn to Dustin and whisper, “What’s that piece?”

Your brother puts his hands behind his head and sighs deeply, a new resigned look on his face. He looks as if he’s just aged thirty years, which you find a bit dramatic. “It’s the Demogorgon.”

“The Demo-what?” The name sounds familiar, but you can’t remember anything about it.

Mike looks at you and for once his voice holds no annoyance when he says, “There’s a lot we still have to catch you up on.”

–

Your head is spinning as you bike to Jonathan’s with all the new information you’ve just received. Demogorgons, magical vortexes, kids with damn superpowers. It’s all a lot for you to take in, and while you fully believe that El is something entirely different from a normal little girl, how can you be sure that it’s connected to Will? While his disappearance still confuses you, it’s illogical to jump to supernatural conclusions.

Dustin had begged you to let him spend the night at Mikes in order to keep talking to El, and you only agreed because you figured you’d be at Jonathan’s again tonight anyways. He’s been MIA all day and you’re worried as usual, but you made him and Mike swear to you that they’d stay put in the house. At least this way they’re in one place, so if they screw around they’ll be easier to find.

When you arrive at the Byers home you notice that Jonathan’s car isn’t in the driveway, which only confuses you further. Where the hell is he? You gave him all day to deal with Lonnie and cool off, trusting that he wouldn’t do anything stupid for twelve hours, and yet…

You fear he’s done something stupid.

You don’t have time to think too much about Jonathan’s absence because a frantic Joyce runs out the door screaming. She runs straight past you and into her car, and the house begins to light up like a christmas tree. You can hear The Clash’s Should I Stay or Should I Go, a song that Will once had on repeat for three weeks straight, and you can feel the same static electricity in the air that you felt when El used her powers in front of you.

Joyce suddenly gets out of the car and spots you, pointing towards her house. “You see that too?”

You swallow. “Yeah,”

She nods, as if your confirmation is all she needs to determine her sanity, and then marches inside. You stand in the yard, motionless. You’re terrified, and after learning about El tonight, you don’t have it in you to discover any other supernatural beings in Hawkins at the moment. Sighing, you follow after the woman because Jonathan isn’t home and someone needs to talk her down from whatever panic attack the flashing lights have inevitably caused.

“Mrs. Byers-”

“Y/N, you can’t tell me there isn’t something,” Joyce waves her hands in front of her face, almost grasping at the air, “weird about all of this. That was Will’s song, the lights were flashing in Will’s room, something came out of Will’s wall-”

“Something came out of his wall?”

“Yes! I’m not… I promise I’m not crazy, okay? You saw it, please tell me you saw it.”

You bite your lip, now thinking about El. You swore to Mike you wouldn’t tell anyone about her, and honestly you’re not sure that you should tell Joyce about her right now. You’re still unsure if El is being honest with you, and you can’t just give the woman false hope for her son. It’d kill you if you were wrong about El. But seeing the lights, hearing the music, the thing in the wall… There’s something that she’s not telling you.

“Mrs. Byers… I’m not quite sure what I saw, but we just had a bad storm and it could be faulty wiring.”

Joyce slumps her shoulders, frustrated that you aren’t conspiring with her. You just… you can’t. Not yet. Not before you figure out what the hell El is doing in Hawkins. You refuse to worsen Joyce’s already chronic anxiety and paranoia; Jonathan would never forgive you if you fed into her delusions, but it kills you to lie to her.

“Look, I do think that something is weird about this entire situation, “ Joyce’s face lights up, but you’re quick to add, “however, there’s no proof. You, I mean-Mrs. Byers, you’ve seen things in the past. You’re stressed, and anxious, and all the other synonyms.”

The woman lets a few tears drop from her eyes, now embarrassed. “Maybe you’re right. I-I’m sorry, honey. I just-”

You grab her hand. “I know,”

Her smile is brittle, a ghost of the once beautiful smile she’d give you, and your heart breaks for her.

After your conversation, Joyce excuses herself to her room. She looks even more exhausted than before, so you leave her alone and hole yourself up in Jonthan’s room.

You glance at your watch and note the late hour; you’re starting to worry now. Jonathan didn’t mention anything besides Lonnie and the posters, so you don’t know what else he could be doing so late. He wouldn’t go searching for Will without you.

You wake up to Jonathan returning an hour or so later, apparently having fallen asleep while waiting for him.

“Y/N?” His voice is gruff and surprised.

You groan and rub your eyes. “Turn the light off, bee.”

He doesn’t. “What are you doing here?”

The tone of his voice wakes you up a bit, making you sit up and look at him more clearly. His shoulders are tense, his eyes are hiding something, and his overall demeanor is hard to read. “I had something to tell you, but is everything okay?”

“You couldn't have waited until tomorrow? Y/N, this is my house, just… just get out.”

“I’m sorry?” You’re confused by his behavior, now starting to become a bit defensive and hurt by his dismissal.

“You can’t just let yourself in whenever you please.” Jonathan puts his camera on his desk, still refusing to meet your eyes.

“Jonathan, we literally have always let ourselves into each other’s houses whenever we please.”

He rolls his eyes at you and rips off his jacket, throwing it at you. “Get out!”

You catch the jacket before it hits you in the face. “What the hell, Jonathan!”

“Listen, I get that you think you’re a part of the family, but you’re not. You’ve been here for days now, it’s getting old.”

His words cut through you and leave vicious wounds against your skin. He doesn’t mean that, he can’t mean that. You and him were family. He’s never, ever insinuated anything less. He wouldn’t dare. Your Jonathan would never act like this to you, and the only time he’s ever been this cruel to you was when he accidentally dropped Lonnie’s last beer in the fridge and was too embarrassed and ashamed to ask for help; he’d shown up with bruises later that night.

Then it hits you. He did something, something that makes him feel guilty; he keeps glancing at his camera. You soften your voice, “Bee, what did you do?”

He whips around, now yelling. “Nothing! Just get the hell out of my house! It’s getting pathetic!”

You swallow back the angry tears that build in your throat. Fine. Whatever. Let him be a raging bitch after everything you’ve done for him these last few days.

“Fine, I will.” Grabbing your backpack you snatch the assignments you were supposed to give Jonathan and slam them against his chest. “Here’s all your fucking assignments, by the way.”

He seems to come back to himself, blinking away the anger and shame. “Bug…”

“You don’t get to call me that.” And with that, you don’t spare Jonathan another glance.

–

When you get home, the house is eerily quiet. Dustin is at Mike’s and your mom leaves you a note saying that she’s spending the night at your aunt’s. Great. Looks like it’s just you and Mews tonight then.

After everything that’s happened tonight, you never found time to eat dinner, and your stomach is loudly growling. You drop your stuff in your room and then reheat some leftovers, feeling like a pathetic child. You know that Jonathan didn’t mean what he said, but the words had come too easily to him to have just been a way to dodge his guilt. There had been some truth to them. Maybe you were pathetic for always fretting over him.

Dinner is quiet tonight.

You wait for the phone to ring, for Jonathan to call you and apologize, but the call never comes.

You’ve never felt so alone before.

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#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #wdtai #m's writing #the thought of steve just taking will's missing poster and then being like oh shit was so funny to me i had to add it #also sad ending #sorry #but also not

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changisworld · 3 months

Note

For changbin: you decide to start your fitness journey and call your experienced boyfriend to help you training, but apparently he has other plans (i was totally inspired by the skz yoga class, that man fixing hyunjin's position got me to places lol)

OMG what a good ask for me to respond to for my FIRST EVER BINNIE FIC!! I hope you enjoy <3

Word count:2.319

Obvious MDNI,18+ smut warnings under the cut

Any reblogs & comments are deeply appreciated!

©ANY translation, copy & paste, posting of my work is strictly forbidden for ANY posts/ writing i post.

PSA FOR ANY ASKS/REQUESTS: i WILL get around to posting everyone's requests, I'm sorry if it takes a bit of time but whatever you request i'll get around to posting it! IM ALSO MAKING AN ANON LIST!! just send me anything & tell me what emoji you wanna be!

main masterlist here

SMUT WARNINGS; slightly jealous binnie, coke can cock binnie, confident reader, pet names such as pretty,jagi, baby, public sex, creampie, quickie, slight teasing

You have finally decided to join the gym after saying it was your new years revolution for thee longest time & who better to help with your journey than your long term boyfriend, Changbin!

You put on a pair of sport leggings & a matching sports bra & you put Changbins shirt over it. You admire how you look in the mirror, trying to make sure you look as good as you can without looking like you're putting in effort & then you put on the gym shoes Changbin bought for you to encourage you to go to the gym & you then decide to walk to the gym & meet Changbin there. Since its 1am on a tuesday it's a safe & quick 15 minute walk to the gym.

You walk into the changing room & lock your bag off & you take off the baggy shirt you're wearing & shut the locker, putting the key around your wrist.

You step into the gym & unsurprisingly it's completely empty, other for a random guy & of course, Changbin himself.

You walk over to Changbin who is currently on his phone & taking a drink, of course sitting on the edge of the bench presss.

"Hey Binnie!" you say, waving your hand in front of his phone to get his attention over his music playing in his headphones. "Oh hey y/n! when did you get that set? you look so good" he says smirking at you as you giggle & roll your eyes as he stands up & gives you a quick hug. "I'm happy you're here jagi, trust me you'll loooove the gym once i teach you!" He says, nothing but enthusiasm in his voice. "Yeah well i better hope so seeing since i want to look a bit better & fit for summer" you say, looking at the huge mirror that stretches from one end of the gym all the way to the other. "Your body is already perfect y/n, the gym can just be a healthy hobby for you! Anyways, lets start with some stretches." He says, taking a hold of your wrist & guides you over to the matted open area.

"Okay so to start off, lets sit on the ground & put your legs straight out in front of you & set your hands out as far as you can." Changbin says, already getting into position. You copy him & you do what he asks as he gets up & pushes your back slightly to get that extra stretch. You hold it for 30 seconds before he helps you stand back up.

"Do i really need to stretch? my back is still pretty stretched out along with my legs from when you had my feet up past my head earlier when you had folded me in half, probably not the only thing that's still a bit stetched still hm?" you flirt with him, he playfully hits your shoulder. "yaaah! not.. here, i won't be able to handle it" he whispers back, trailing his fingers along your stomach as he kisses the sweet spot behind you ears. You let out a small hum then pull away. "I was being serious! but fine, what should i do now?" You ask, putting your arms above your head & just stretching normally, scrunching your eyes together, Changbin licks his lips subconsciously. "ehhh, lets have you just simply touch your toes hm? try hold it." he says, coming up behind you to help you with keeping you as folded as possible but as he is doing this, his covered cock is now against your ass & your cheeks blush.

You hold it, quite liking the burn in the back of your legs but liking the feeling of binnie pressed against your ass more. You let out a small huff & a second later you're pulled up abruptly by Changbins calloused hands around your waist. "You said 30 seconds didn't you?" you ask, slightly confused. "yeah but that guy over there kept staring at you & i didn't appreciate it." He says, glancing over at the guy who was in the gym when you arrived is now slightly closer, 'on his phone'. "ooo my jealous baby" you smile at him, kissing his cheek & scratching under his chin like a catplayfully. "anyways, let's just go on the treadmill or something for now hm?" you ask, holding his hand in your & nods, still got a bit of a frown on his face.

~TIME SKIP~

It's been an hour & you & changbin have been on multiple areas, he helped you get used to a lot of leg strength machines just to show you how they worked but mainly helped you train arms. The other guy has since now left & its just you two left in the gym. "Okay so to finish up, why not we do some squats hm? it helps arms & obviously your glutes too. I'll help your form so don't worry jagi." He says, picking up two 20lb weights & giving them to you. You sigh loudly as you take them & Changbin helps you get into position. You squat down, looking into the same mirror as earlier & hold it, changbin holding your hips. "your ass looks good like this, i could get used to helping you" he says, giving it a playful slap. You wince at the slap & drop the weights before standing up right. "stop the teasing binnie! I need to take this seriously if i want results." you giggle back before grabbing his hands & putting them back on your waist as you pick up the weights again & continuing.

"y/n you need to put your legs slightly further apart." He says & you try to slightly split them, still in your position. "wait, a little bit less jagi, wait i'ma try something" He says & before you get to respond, you see changbin lying down & starting to slide underneath your legs. "They should be as far apart as how wide the bottom of my ribs are, mkay? I know you know that much so try think about it that way." You giggle as you look down & see his cute, pretty smile & face looking up at you. You nod as you breathe through your mouth & he starts so slide back out from underneath you but he notices something... a small wet spot right where your crotch is. "jagi, drop the weights for a second." You don't need to think twice since your arms are burning along with your legs at this point, dropping them to the sides.

You stand up as changbin finishes sliding out from under you & is behind you again & he wraps his huge arms around your chest & waist as he kisses your neck back. He nibbles your earlobe & whispers; "meet me in the changing rooms in a minute, cameras are watching us & they might come find us if we leave at the same time" He kisses your cheek before leaving, leaving you excited & also confused.

You put the weights away & try look busy for a few minutes before you head into the boys changing rooms & you are immediately ambushed by changbins lips. You moan into it with surprise before he leans you against the wall, large hand resting on it right next to your head as he has the other hand loosely wrapped around your neck. "Wheres this suddenly came from hm? Couldn't wait until we got home, no?" You tease, your own hand coming own to play with his sweatpants drawstrings. " suddenly? Hope you know you have a literal wet patch on your leggings baby, you sure you weren't just waiting for me to do this hm?" he teases back, fingers from your neck trailing under your sports bra to begin pinching your nipples, you whine in response. "Well how can you expect me to not be wet when your hands were basically touching me more than my own clothes hmm? grinding against me?" You say, pawing his joggers & boxers down just enough to free his cock.

You kiss his lips again before slouching down to your knees & taking a hold of his thick dick in your hand, fingers just barely wrapping fully around it. You begin kitten licking the tip & along the sides, paying extra attention to the sweet spot right under the bottom of his tip, he lets out a low groan in response. "Jagi please, don't tease.. Can i just put it in you? i'm desperate baby" he whines, thrusting his dick in your hands, tip hitting your tongue & lips. "I would say no & suck your soul out but my jaw is still sore from earlier when you fucked my face." you smirk up at hiss blushed cheeks & damp sweaty hair as you stand up & he helps pull your leggings just below your ass as your face is pressed against the wall.

"your ass is so perfect gorgeous, to die for." changbin hums, giving it a light smack & caress. "you sure you can take it baby hm? want me to open you with my tongue or something first? you know i'm big." He asks in a sweet tone as his fingers are spreading your folds, teasing you further. You whine & squirm at the contact as he plays with your pussy open, trying to get more contact. "I can take it Bin' i should be able to since you fucked me so good earlier, please put it in" you whine, moving your head so you can make eye contact with him. He nods as he grabs his cock again & pumps it twice before lining it up at your entrance & then pushes just the tip in, you let out a breathy gasp.

"H-holy fuck.. s-so big oh my" you whimper out, feeling his heavy tip splitting you open.

"Told you baby, i'm gonna push in more now mkay?" he asks as he leans & kisses your shoulder as he starts paving his way into your velvet walls, him holding his breath subconsciously as you let out a long whine at the feeling, eyes scrunched together as you finally feel his balls hit the bottom of your cunt.

"so wet for me baby, letting me into you like this, so good for me hunny, can i move now hmm?" he asks in a higher pitched voice, stroking your hair as he does so. "yes.. j-just move.. p-please Binnie please" you reply, fingers trying to dig into the walls with how much you're trying to grip the walls. He hums before letting go of your hair & starts a slow but strong stroke movement. You start letting out raspy whines as you hear skin clapping around the room as his cock quite literally splits you in half.

"F-f-uck Bi-binnie already gon' cum, holy shi" you moan, clenching around his cock unintentionally. Changbin lets out a satisfied whine as his hand slithers down to start rubbing your clit which makes you start squirming even more, moans getting louder. Changbin smacks your pussy lightly "Shhh we need to be quiet baby mkay? we are in a gym remember." he whispers in your ears as your eyes roll to the back of your head, being reduced to a melted pile against the wall he's fucking you into.

His hand resumes its movement on your clit as you cum around his dick, walls not being able to clench too much due to the genuine thickness of his cock in you. "good girl, cumming around me like this, so hot for me." He gives you a moment rest from the abuse on your clit before he starts resuming his movements, making you thrash but it's no use as he wraps his hand in your hair as he lifts you so you're now positioned back to chest as his thick, muscly arm wraps around your waist & stomach as he continues pounding your now red & swollen cunt.

His hips start to stutter & you know he's close but you're in too much of your own world to propely mention it. "Bin' s-so f-ffull.. fuck" you say but comes out as a raspy whisper at this point due to the amount of moaning you've been letting through your lips, your voice is now starting to leave. "awk yeah? so full in you hm? why not you have a better feel?" he asks as he grabs you hand & presses it into your own lower tummy & you let out an even bigger groan at feeling his dick quite literally fucking into you.

You throw your head back into his shoulder as you feel it, moving the angle of your head just enough so you can reach changbins lips & you kiss him full of tongue as you feel his hot release painting your walls as his hips stutter. His eyebrows furrow as he lets out a high pitched groan into your lips, hair stuck to his face.

You break the kiss to let you both catch your breath back. " that's definitely in one of the top 3 best quickies we've ever had & definitely the hotttest, i love you pretty pretty." he says to you in deep breaths, smiling at you as you lean your arms against the wall again. You go to reply when someone knocks on the changing room door... it is an employee. You both shoot a glance at eachother with wide eyes, trying not to laugh, You mouth the words 'I love you too & i agree' & you go to hide in one of the cubicles as changbin quickly pulls his sweatpants back up before unlocking the changing room door. "uh yeah? anything wrong?" he asks through the door, voice tinged with embarrassment.

#changbin #changbin x reader #changbin smut #changbin stray kids #binnie #stray kids #skz smut #skz asks #anon ask #request #bang chan #han jisung #hyunjin #jeongin #lee know #seungmin #felix #skz scenarios #skz x reader

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beomcoups · 2 years

Text

The Athlete

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: footballer!Hoshi x journalist!reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, slight angst, smut, sports au, strangers to lovers au, slow burn-ish

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: R (18+)

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing, kissing, throat grabbing, slight choking, oral (m and f receiving), (semi-rough face fucking) fingering, clit stimulation, unprotected sex, missionary, nipple play, dirty talk, praising, mentions of parental death, bit of a tear jerker

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 6.2k

𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You are assigned to do an interview with Kwon Soonyoung, the trailblazing athlete everyone calls Hoshi. But as you spend more time with him, you start to see there are more layers to him than football.

𝐀𝐍: A massive thank you to @wordycerty for reading this for me and reassuring me about this. This is the longest fic I have written. Also thank you to @playmetheclassics for reading over a bit of this as well. Appreciate you guys ❤

“Mr. Kwon is ready to see you now.” You get up from your seat, stretching a little before following the little woman named Helen in front of you. She leads you down a massive hallway full of sports memorabilia, making small conversation along the way. This isn’t your first time here; the enormous stadium was built five years ago with enough money to feed the homeless for ten years. Sometimes you are here to watch a football game, but you are mostly here on business.

You are a journalist working for the country's most prominent television broadcasting company at the top of your field. You’ve met many celebrities in your area, some of whom you have become close to. Unfortunately, you have also met some not-so-nice ones, but fortunately, in your line of work, you don’t have to deal with them unless they come to you via their company. You love your job, and today you will interview the hot shot athlete from The Tigers, Kwon Soonyoung, known nationwide as Hoshi.

“He is finishing up a photo shoot, so he will be all yours soon,” Helen announces, opening a wide door. “You can just sit in here until he comes.” ‘I thought you said he was ready to see me,’ you think to yourself, annoyed that you have to wait longer. It’s not like you have anything else to do, but you value being professional and, most importantly, not wasting your time. She leads you to the main room where the photoshoot is happening, with Hoshi standing in front of the photographer.

If you didn’t have quick reflexes, you would’ve run into Helen, knocking her on her face. He poses for the camera, wearing a gray crop top sweater, showing his firm abs. His black basketball shorts fit his hips perfectly, and the tiny veins on his lower stomach lead you to thoughts you shouldn’t be thinking of. This is your first time seeing him this close in person, and he is every bit as hot as everyone says he is. You thank Helen as you set your things on a glass table, carefully taking out your recorder and setting your questions aside for when he is finished. “Alright, buddy. We are done,” the photographer announces, shutting off his camera. “Finally, I’m ready to get some grub,” Hoshi exclaims loudly, rubbing his stomach. You make eye contact, with Hoshi winking at you and returning it with small heads up. You are used to guys, and sometimes women hitting on you. He will have to do better than that. “Hi there,” you rise out of your seat. “I’m—” “I know who you are,” his tone is smooth like silk. “You’re the pretty lady who gets to talk sports with us.” You shake hands, reaching for your chair before Hoshi unexpectedly grabs you. His hands are soft, and his nails are clipped and clean, the results of a very good manicurist. “Sorry darling, but I’m hungry,” he explains. “I ordered some lunch for us in the conference room. I hope that's okay.” You blink, slowly removing your hand and clearing your throat. You aren’t opposed to eating a little early, and it is not like you haven’t worked and eaten at the same time before. “Sure,” you nod. “I could use a bite, anyway.” You gather your things, and he leads you across the hall, a room set up with sandwiches from a popular local deli. The food there is your favorite, and your stomach rumbles as soon as you sit down. “Well, this is quite the setup,” you observe, pulling out your tape recorder. “I hope I am making a good first impression,” he winks at you. “Maybe you are,” you flirt back. You cross your legs, your skirt rising slightly, showing off your smooth legs. Hoshi’s checking you out, and you smirk, used to the attention that you get when interviewing athletes. You know you are gorgeous, your best feature being your warm eyes. You use that to your advantage, making people feel comfortable as they tell you about themselves. You finish setting up and take a small sandwich, biting into it and feeling instant gratification. Next, Hoshi pulls a chair in front of you with his own food, taking a bite of a pickle. “You look content,” he remarks playfully. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I saw the food,” you confess. Your face heats up, and you regain composure, wiping your mouth with a napkin before turning on your recorder. You can feel his eyes on you, your skin tingles, and you feel warm, like you are basking in the sun. Hoshi is not the first person you have interviewed you found attractive, but you always make it a point to be professional at all times. It gets messy in the world of sports journalism, and after seeing what your peers have gone through, you want no parts of it. No matter how cute he is. “So,” you clear your throat. “We are here at the championship game finally. How do you feel?” “I’m pumped,” Hoshi perks up. “This has been a long time coming.” “I watched your game, where you ran the game-winning touchdown. What was going through your mind when the clock hit zero and you were at the goalpost?” He slouches back in his seat, his hand laid over his right leg. “I thought, ‘it’s about damn time,’” he remarks. “I want to lead the team to victory once more.” You see the passion behind those brown eyes, and you feel his conviction in his voice. You have seen him play before, and you can feel he is one of the best wide receivers in the nation. The way he eyes the field and manages to outmaneuver the cornerbacks, you deduce that he is an intelligent player. “I know everyone asks similar questions, so I want to ask you something different.” You pause to take a sip of water. “What inspires you to get out there on the field?” He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he shifts in his seat, a falter of sadness reflected on his face. It catches you a bit off guard, not expecting to see this side of him so early. “My dad,” he says. “My dad died before I was drafted, and I want to do this for him.” You offer a small, kind smile, feeling his pain from your own experience. You lost your dad in a car accident the day you were hired by the company. He was your only parent growing up and your biggest supporter. That was a few years ago, and that pain feels fresh every day. “We can take a break, if you want,” you offer, turning off the tape recorder. “I know how it feels to lose a dad, and I understand if you need a moment.” Your eyes meet each other, understanding the shared feeling of losing a parent said without words. He shakes his head, takes a sip of water, and sits up straighter in his seat. “Nah, it’s okay,” his voice is gruff. “This isn't really the time for the feels right now.” You nod, turning back on the recorder and returning to your questions.

“What is the first thing you will do when you win the championship?” “Ask you out on a date.” You snort, not expecting that to be his answer. But you have to give it to this guy; he is bold. “I’m serious,” he asserts. “When we win, I will find you on that field and ask you out on that date.” “You’re awfully forward,” you muse. “You barely know me.” “You’re right,” Hoshi responds. “I hardly know you. But I like what I see. I know what you do, and you do it well. You’ve been on my radar for a while now.” You nod slowly, mulling over his words. Then, you ask him more questions about his family life and sports records when Helen comes in, telling him it's time to go into the locker room. You check your timer, noting that you had been talking to him for forty minutes and time flew by fast. “I appreciate your candor, Hoshi,” you say, gathering your things. “Thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to talk with me.” “Of course,” Hoshi declares. “Don’t forget, I am going to ask you out on that date in a couple of weeks.” You shake your head, not bothering to hide the grin on your face. “Okay,” you chuckle. “We’ll see.”

You stare at your computer screen, tapping your pen nervously as you read every comment on your article about Hoshi. Most of them are positive, a tremendous relief to you because you worked on it to help your readers see another of him. Of course, there were a few troll comments here and there, but you never let those get to you. Some people just want to be seen, and you’d like to think you have tough skin. You have to, in this industry anyway.

It’s been a week in a half since you saw Hoshi; the interaction is still fresh on your mind, leaving an everlasting impression on you. As everyone says, he is charming and witty, but seeing it firsthand hits differently. In addition, he has a southern charm that makes you smile, reminding you of your upbringing in the South. You shouldn’t think about him this much; you barely know the guy. ‘Get it together,’ you are lost in your thoughts. ‘Just because you haven’t had sex in a while doesn’t mean you should bounce on the first person giving you attention.’

“Great job on the article.” You yelp in surprise, not noticing that your boss Gail Kim is beside you. “You scared me,” you titter, clutching your chest. “But thank you.” “So,” Gail pulls up a seat next to you. “Danielle will not be able to interview the winning football team this Sunday. She has covid.” “Oh, my god. Is she okay?” You pause before realizing that was a stupid question. “Wait, of course, she’s not. What the hell is wrong with me? How is she feeling?” “She’s… okay, I guess,” she mutters. “But you know the quarantine period is five days, which overlaps into the game.”

There is a slight pause, then it dawns on you. “Am I going to be interviewing the team?” “Yes,” Gail reveals. “I need you to step in her place.” Interviewing at any big event is the highlight of anyone’s career, let alone the championship. You’ve been on the red carpet at the Oscars, the Grammys, and any other prestigious event, but this has been your dream. One more thing to knock off your bucket list. “Yeah, I can do it,” you say eagerly. “Great. I knew I could count on you.” Gail gets up from her seat. “Get your questions ready, and I want them in my inbox by 5 pm tomorrow.” “Yes, ma'am,” you joke, playfully giving a salute. You look at the time, noticing it is after five and time for you to go. You shut down your computer and lamp, gathering your purse before almost bumping into a man holding a bouquet of flowers. “Hi, I think this is for you,” he says, handing the flowers. “Thank you?” your voice trails off as he walks away. Your fingers trail over your favorite flowers, the prettiest roses and Shasta daisies you have ever seen. They smell fresh, as if they were picked from a garden, wrapped nice and tight in pink foil paper. You are aware of your coworkers staring at your gift and your good friend Gina marveling at the flowers.

“Is it Valentine's day already?” she quips. “Who’s the lucky person?”

“I don’t know,” you smell the flowers. “I should thank them, though.”

A small white card is snugged in the middle of the bouquet, and you pull it out, reading what’s displayed in beautiful penmanship. Just a little idea of what our date is going to be like. -H “Wait, who’s H?” Gina questions. “That’s not who I think it is—” “Shh,” you cut off. “Walk with me.” You both beeline it to the elevators, feeling relieved when you step in and no one joins you. Your heart is beating out of your chest, your adrenaline pumping like you are keeping a horrible secret. “So, listen,” you begin. “You know how I had that interview with Hoshi?” Gina nods, pressing the parking level button. “I remember.” “Well, he was flirting with me heavily and then basically promised to ask me out on a date at the game.” Gina’s eyes widen, and you try to surprise your grin, failing miserably as you press your lips together. “So, are you gonna go out with him?” “I-I don’t know,” you stammer. “He’s direct, and he’s cute… but I am so into work right now. I finally got where I dreamed of being, and I don't want anyone thinking it's because I got with some hot football player.” “Oh please. Fuck these people!” Gina exclaims. “You got here because of your merit and hard work. Plus, it's been a while, and you need to get laid, my friend.”

The elevator doors open at the worse time, with two men on the other side with curious eyes. You excuse yourself quietly, speed walking to your car to hide from further embarrassment. “Jesus, Gina,” you mouth. “I’m sorry,” she whispers loudly. “How the hell was I supposed to know there were people at the other end?!” You shake your head, turning your keys into your car. You know she meant well, and you aren’t really mad at her. Just embarrassed that two random men know about your sex life or lack thereof.

“So, are you gonna call him?” Gina probes. “Are you gonna thank him for the flowers?”

“Mm, I should,” you mutter. “Let me get on that.” Gina nods, and you say your goodbyes, getting in your car and driving out of the parking center. Then, you send a voice message to your contact at the Tigers organization, asking for his number to “verify something” you wrote in your article. His number is in your inbox a few minutes later, ready to be called. Deep down, you are starting to feel giddy, like a young girl with a school crush on a popular boy. It’s not the first time you’ve received flowers from anyone, especially shown who’s shown interest in you. But something about him is bold and different… maybe you’ve watched too many clips of this man. “Hey siri, call xxx-xxx-xxxx.” The phone rings twice before he picks up. “Hi there, beautiful,” his voice comes through smooth as silk. “Hi,” you click your tongue. “So uh, I got your flowers. How did you know what to get?” “It’s just like I told you; I’ve had my eye on you for a while, and I pay attention.” “Uh huh,” you hum. “Well, I want to thank you for them. They are very nice.” “Anytime, gorgeous,” he replies. “I gotta go, game stuff. But I’ll see you on Sunday?” “Yeah, you will.” You end the call as you pull up to your condo. You aren’t willing to break your rules yet, and you see nothing wrong with getting to know him. It can’t hurt to go on one date with him, right?

“There are two minutes and forty-eight seconds left in the fourth quarter, with the Tigers trailing behind by five points. The coach has called for a timeout.”

You nod at your cameraman, Jeff, pinning your mic together on your shirt before grabbing your mic and leaving the press box. The short walk to the field is buzzing with personnel and other reporters fixing up their hair or going over last-minute questions before the celebration begins. You bite your lip, the outcome of the game leaving a fit of nervous bubbles in your stomach as you watch the field. You want the Tigers to win, not just because Hoshi is the team's star wide receiver, though that is a plus. You and Hoshi have been texting since he sent flowers to your job, mainly flirting and getting to know him through his funny innuendos. So far, you’ve learned he is a mama’s boy, has a big heart, and loves tigers. You can tell he is a good person and cares about the people around him. It’s not like you daydream or wish for the impossible, but you hope he asks you on that date tonight. “Seventeen seconds left on the clock, Choi throws a fifty-yard pass to Hoshi… MY GOD! HOSHI CATCHES THE BALL AND MAKES THE TOUCHDOWN! TIGERS HAVE WON THE CHAMPIONSHIP GAME!”

The crowd erupts in thunderous applause, confetti falling from the stadium's roof, and fans from all over jumping and shrieking with joy. Hoshi is raised in celebration, holding the football in his hand, screaming victory with tears in his eyes. The other reporters rush out to interview the teams, but you know better, not wanting to get mixed in with the crowd of personnel, family, and friends on the field. You wait until the coaches have shaken hands and the crowd disperses a bit before walking onto the field. The stage is already set up, with the organization's commissioner standing on the podium, trophy in hand. Making your way to the stage, you review your questions in your head one last time before the team arrives. “We will be ready in thirty seconds,” the cameraman tells you. You nod, turning around and bumping squarely into someone’s chest, your face red with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I’m such a clutz—” “It’s okay, darlin’,” that familiar buttery voice responds. “You look really pretty.”

Hoshi is gazing at you, his short blonde hair messy from his helmet, his good looks more evident than before. You can’t help beam at him; unbeknownst to you, you are falling for his charm. “Thank you,” you grinned, moving in front of him. Your body slightly rubs against his, the tension small but noticeable enough to set your insides on fire. This is a bad time to be horny, and Hoshi doesn’t make things any better. “So that date—” The theme song comes on, cutting him off, and you move in front of the camera. You introduce Commissioner Han to the crowd, listening to talk about the game and listing off the players' achievements. “And this year’s MVP goes to… Hoshi!” The cheers shake the podium, Hoshi moves up to the front to accept the MVP trophy. You two make eye content, a wide smile spread on his face. You stand next to him, mic in hand, watching the wave of emotions seen on his face. “What is going through your mind right now?” He doesn’t answer immediately, his eyes filled with tears as he breaks down and sobs. He didn’t have to answer the question for you to understand how he felt. This is supposed to be the happiest moment of his life, but the one person who wanted to see him succeed the most isn’t there. You know that feeling all too well. “Dad,” he catches his breath. “I hope you are proud of me. I did it.” Everything felt like it was happening in slow motion; his teammates hugged him, giving him words of encouragement that lifted his spirits. It brought you back to when you found out your dad died right after you were hired for this dream job. He always rooted for you and was your best friend, your only family. Losing him was a cross you never thought you would have to bear, and if you are being honest with yourself, it's something you can never get over. The mood makes you sentimental, and a single tear falls down your cheek. Not wanting to be noticed, you wipe it away quickly. You wait for him to regain his composure before he finishes the interview, the atmosphere full of love and admiration for Hoshi. You couldn’t have been more proud. “Any last words?”

There is another pause, a twinkle in his eye. “Yes. Will you go on that date with me?” You cock your eyebrow, trying to surprise your smirk. His teammates scream in loud cheer, the crowd telling you to say yes. You admit you were caught off guard, the date not even on your mind after seeing him cry. But Hoshi got you good, and you can’t say you aren’t impressed. You nod, not bothering to hide your smile anymore. “Yes, I’ll go on that date with you.”

The next few weeks were hectic, the championship high still going strong in the city. You were assigned other projects, and Hoshi was busy celebrating his win with his team. His “proposal” of a date on national tv put you more in the public eye, with people all over wanting to know about your relationship. Your boss loved it, asking you every other day about him and mentioning the buzz the department was getting. Gina was specifically entertained, teasing you every chance she got. “So, where’s your star player?” Gina taunts you, sitting on your desk.

“I… don’t know,” your voice trails off, turning around to face her. “Why, what's up?” “Mmmm, do you think he has a single teammate looking for a good time?” “Jesus, Gina,” you snort. “How am I supposed to know? I haven’t even gone on a date with the man yet.” “Speaking of that, when is that happening?” Gina probes. “I mean, it's been a few weeks since he’s asked.” “Your guess is as good as mine,” you muse. “We’ve been talking a lot, so maybe he has something planned.” Gina returns to her desk, and you finish working on your projects. It’s been a welcoming distraction from being anxious about your date whenever that happens. It’s not like you and Hoshi haven’t talked since then. You talk every day, either via text or video chatting. He greets you good morning and makes an effort to make sure he is the last person you say good night to. You have a lot in common in your shared interests in travel and childhood stories about your dads. Talking with him is comfortable; his positive energy is a small light in your hectic life that you greatly appreciate.

He gets more handsome every time you see him, and you finally see what everyone is raving about. He’s a small-town boy with a big heart, always talking about how much he loves his mom and how much he provides for her. It made you wish you had a family like that, someone you could rave about and show a lot of love to. It also doesn’t help that he’s a looker; your favorite part of him is his dimples. The way they randomly appear when he’s talking always sends you into a tailspin, but you’d never tell him that, of course. A few hours pass, and you check the time, realizing it is time to go. You finished most of your research and decided to do the rest at home, wanting to be in the rush hour traffic. You have a three-day weekend, and you plan to enjoy yourself by all means. You sit up to gather your things, feeling your phone buzz in your pocket. Pulling it out, you see Hoshi calling you, your heart skipping a few beats. “Hi,” you answer quickly. “Hey, beautiful. Are you done for the day?” “I might be,” you toy with the string on your purse. “Why, what's up?”

“Okay, I’m coming right up!” “What—” He hung up before you could fully react, butterflies quickly filling your stomach. You check yourself on your camera, doing a once-over just before the elevator opens. He strides in, wearing a black bomber jacket, fitted jeans, sneakers, and a white shirt with a single gold chain. He is holding the prettiest bundles of white roses, presenting them to you as you walk toward him. “H-Hi there,” you stutter. “I wasn’t expecting you here.” “I know, I know,” Hoshi responds, pulling you into a hug. “We never planned that date, and I figured why not now? So I worked it out with your boss and freed your schedule up for me.” “Oh, did you now?” You turn around and look towards Gail’s office, who is standing at the door, a smirk on her face.

“Well, are you ready?”

You beam at him, pushing the strap of your purse over your shoulder. The butterflies are still there, and your heart is beating a million thumps per second, but at this moment, you are ecstatic. “Yeah,” you nod. “I’m ready.” He suddenly picks you up, carrying you out of the office while your coworkers cheer you on. Feeling incredibly shy, you hide in his jacket until you reach the elevators. Once you’re in and you hear the doors close, you peak and look at him, meeting his dark brown eyes. “You are something else,” you giggle. “Do you plan on carrying me all the way to the car?” “I didn’t plan to,” he confirms. “But now I will.” You roar with laughter as the elevator stops, Hoshi keeping his promise and carrying you to his black Jeep. You hold on to him tightly, admitting to yourself that you don’t want to let go. He senses your earnestness, opening the door while holding onto you with one arm. His strength turns you on, your mind wondering if he would use that same strength in the bedroom. You know he has a nice body, and you’ve imagined him being on top of you with your legs open, pounding you until you came over and over. It’s gotten you through some nights you felt needy, your trusty dildo doing the trick until you can have the real thing. “Do you like steak?” You blurt out as he sits in the car.

“Yeah, why?” “I make a mean steak and potatoes, and if you don’t mind swinging by the market, I can cook for you,” you offer. Hoshi shuts your door and goes to the driver’s seat, turning on his engine. “Making me dinner already?” He playfully rubs his stomach. “I might just have to marry you, woman.”

The crackling sound of oil and the smell of steak fill up your condo quickly. Two wine glasses on the counter, filled halfway with red cabernet, one of them stained with your lipstick. You made due on your promise, making steak and mashing up your potatoes to serve with your meal. Your grilled asparagus was already finished, set to the side to cool off. Hoshi watches you with curiosity, and you don’t mind it, as you pride yourself on being a good cook. Since your dad passed, you haven’t offered to cook for anyone, and you feel a bit rusty, second-guessing yourself on a simple recipe. “Are you okay?” Hoshi chuckles. “Your hands are shaking.”

“Uh, yeah,” you fib, grabbing the salt. “It’s just been a while since I’ve cooked for anyone.”

You add your milk and butter to the potatoes, mixing them with garlic, salt, and pepper until they are fluffy to your liking. You feel Hoshi move around you, turning over your steaks in your pan. Every time he gets close to you, you tense up, your inner goddess begging you to give in. It doesn’t help that he is so stinking cute with a nice body. You are in deep trouble. “I’m not a good cook. Terrible actually,” he says. “But I know how to make a steak.”

“Oh, what would I do without you?” You tease. “Well, let’s hope we never find out.”

The steaks are finished several minutes later, and you make the plates, sitting them at the table while he waits. You hold your breath while you watch him take his first bite, sitting on pins and needles as you hope he likes it.

“Damn, woman,” he swallows. “You know how to throw down.”

Feeling proud, you dig into your own food, discussing your day and upcoming projects. Then, he talks about an upcoming family trip to the mountains, where he owns a huge cabin. You think about the time your dad took you to one for Christmas, waking up to snow falling from the sky and holiday music playing throughout the place. It was one of the happiest moments of your life, and you would give anything to relive that again.

“Hey, are you okay?” Hoshi asks, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Oh yeah,” you get up quickly with your empty plate. “I’m fine. I am just gonna get some more wine.”

You wash your plate at the sink, taking a moment to get together before running right into Hoshi, getting barbecue sauce on his shirt.

“Oh my god,” you gasp. “I am so sorry. Let me clean that for you.”

Before he could protest, you already have a detergent stain remover in your hands, scrubbing the sauce off vigorously. Yet, you can still see the stain there, and in the spur of the moment, you do the unthinkable.

“Take your shirt off.”

“What?” Hoshi says nervously, playfully clutching his shirt.

“Come on,” you chuckle. “I am going to throw it in the washer.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do. Take off your shirt, or I will do it for you.”

He cocks an eyebrow, a devious smirk on his face, and you gulp, realizing what you got yourself into. He closes the space between you two, the tension building like a balloon ready to pop.

“So do it. Take it off.”

Your fingers flirt seductively with the hem of his shirt, pulling it off slowly. You didn’t hear the shirt fall to the floor; you were too distracted by the sexy man in front of you. He licks his lips, and you bite yours, allowing his arms to wrap around your waist. Your face is inches away from his, your insides clawing at you, begging you to take him.

“You're dangerous,” you murmur. “Am I?”

“Yeah. I like it, though.”

He leans in and kisses you; it feels magnificent like fireworks lit up in the sky. Your heart is pounding, and your breathing is heavy as you drink him in, walking backward towards your bedroom. Both your clothes come off in a blur, your naked bodies pressed against each other, engulfed in a flame of passion and sensuality that had been brimming for so long. “You’re so pretty, baby,” he whispers as his lips trail down your neck. Your skin tingles as if you are finally being awakened by his touch, your hands clinging to his hair as he reaches your breasts. His tongue swirls seductively around your hardened mounds, his warm hands cupping your ass and giving it a nice squeeze. Your center is dripping for him as if he read your mind, his fingers slowly trickling to your tight hole. “Already wet for me, baby?” He teases, his thumb rubbing your clit softly. “Y-yes,” you murmur, jolts of electricity spreading between your legs. He licks each nipple, sucking on them until they are nice and ripe, then makes his way down between your legs. Finally, he stands up, his hand pumping his cock as he licks his lips in fascination at your pretty pussy. You knew he had a nice body since you saw a peak at the photo shoot, but seeing him naked, sexy, and rock hard because of you sends you into an internal spiral. “I gotta taste you.”

He licks his lips again, getting on his knees and pulling you closer to him. Then, without any warning, his tongue attacks your nectar, slurping happily as your body radiates from pleasure. Your hand clutches onto your breast, pinching yourself as he dives into your sweet heat, ravishing you like a starved man. Your legs tremble as he slips his delicate fingers inside you, instantly making you crave his cock. “Hoshi, please,” you moan softly, lifting your head up, so you watch him. “Make me cum.”

Without delay, he laps his tongue against your clit, your moans turning into screams, and then whimpers as his fingers pump into you faster. He growls as he dives further into your cunt, the pressure building deep inside you as you feel it coming. He goes deeper into your dripping sex, his tongue flattening your clit, sending you over the edge as you finally cum in his mouth. Your hands grip his hair tightly as you ride his face, screaming beautiful profanities as your body goes through this incredible high. Finally, his fingers slip out of you slowly, and you take his hand, sucking your juices off each of his fingers. “F-fuck,” you breathe heavily. “I don’t think I’ve ever come like that.”

“Well, look forward to more of those, sweetheart,” he murmurs, standing up.

His hand is pumping his cock vigorously, beads of precum dripping out of him and making your lips water. Instinctively, you kneel in front of him, taking his cock and sucking on his head. His legs shudder, and he lets out a low howl, an evil grin on your face as he does not know what he’s gotten into. You love sucking dick when it’s the right person.

“It’s your turn to be taken care of, baby.”

You shove his thick cock into your mouth, sucking him gleefully and savoring his taste. You wrap your fingers around his base, giving it a tight squeeze before running down his shaft, your slobbering mouth sucking his balls, your tongue swirling around in a way that makes him shift his stance. You return to his length, letting him hit the back of your throat as he fucks your face roughly. Tears roll down your face at his roughness, but you don’t mind it; your clit throbs at the thought of this soon filling your tight cunt.

He cocks his head back, clearly enjoying the divine feeling of your warm mouth. His hand has a tight grip on your hair, his strokes slowly before pulling himself out of your mouth, pulling you up to your feet, and kissing you deeply. He lays you back on the bed, marveling over your naked body before climbing over you, parting your legs with his knee. You hold your breath, watching him slowly sink into you, filling you up until you take him whole. “Are you okay?”

Hoshi kisses you as he strokes you slowly, allowing you to adjust to his size. The moans between you two are synced together, his hips bucking as his thrusts are faster and deeper. The hard-smacking noise of bodies colliding together echoed in your bedroom. He grunts with each thrust, his hands grabbing your throat and, with your nod of approval, giving it a slight squeeze.

“Fuck,” you mew, biting your lip. “Just like that, please.”

You are soaked for him, the squishiness of your tight core heard with each pound into you. The tighter he squeezed, the more aroused you became, your walls clenching around him. It had been a while since you had good dick, and this was very much worth the wait. He suddenly releases his hand from your throat, pulling you into sloppy kiss, deep pants against your skin as he fucks you senselessly.

“I’m so close,” he putters, looking into your eyes.

You were about to reach your peak, the coil threatening to snap below as he lifted your legs over his shoulder. Your hand finds your clit, rubbing it hard until you scream his name, your orgasm crashing down on you like an avalanche. Hoshi looks amazed, watching your legs shake because of him, his release soon after on your stomach. Your heart is beating fast, barely catching your breath as you collapse on the bed, eyes wide at the ceiling.

“You are sensational,” he whispers, leaving sweet kisses on your face.

You can’t help but giggle, wrapping your arms around him and snuggling with him tightly. You had every intention of getting up to shower and clean up the mess you made from cooking, but instead, you fell into a deep sleep in his arms. You don’t feel him get up or hear him go into your bathroom, take his shower, and then clean you delicately. You are sound asleep as he cleans up your kitchen and makes sure your cats are fed. But you do feel him get back into the bed with you, and kiss you on your forehead.

“Hey,” you mumble.

“I was just straightening up the mess we made. Go back to sleep, love.”

You did exactly that, falling into a deep sleep and waking up at sunrise, still in his arms. You ended up spending your three-day weekend with him, staying in and ordering take-out, watching movies, having meaningful talks about each other’s lives, and fucking each other whenever you wanted. You had each other wrapped in each other’s fingers, a twin flame you never thought you had in this world. You looked into his eyes and felt something, a hope of what your lives could be together if you let him in.

“You aren’t going to ghost me, are you?” The weekend is over, and you are at the door, kissing Hoshi goodbye. “Not if you come over with snacks, Hoshi,” you joke, playfully pushing him out the door. “I think we are past nicknames now,” he leaves you with one last kiss. “Call me Soonyoung.” (bonus chapter)

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tmntfixationxreader · 3 months

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"I just read your Donnie fic and I am in LOVE with the way you write. Sometimes I feel like fics don't really show the emotions of the turtles beyond being shy around reader and I appreciate fluff where the characters actually interact and have a meaningful moment without it having to be sexual. So let me just say your writing feeds my soul. I love it.

That being said can I request a Raph x fem reader crack oneshot?

Reader was a friend of April and April decided that it would be good to introduce the turtles and reader. Little did she know that reader had a thing for big buff dudes, to the point that she goes from generally outgoing to extremely shy within seconds. So when she meets Raph she gets quiet, avoids eye contact, and fidgets frequently. Raph calks it up first time nervousness because he knows that he can be a bit intimidating. Reader eventually starts hanging around the turtles more often and gets closer with Donnie, Leo, and Mikey but is still shy around Raph and it ends up hurting his feelings. He feels like he's too scary and starts avoiding reader. Obviously this is the opposite of what the reader wanted, especially after getting to know him a little bit better and liking him even more.

Bonus points if the reader is taller than most her peers and a bit stronger to so she is often viewed as not feminine. So in order to seem more feminine she wears baggy clothing and curls in on herself to feel small. Happy ending please🙇‍♀️

Sorry if this is too long or too specific 😫 I just really like the way you write and I feel like I can trust you with an idea that is so dear to my heart!!!

Make sure to rest and drink some water.❤️"

♡All requests are anonymous, so here is the copy and pasted ask♡

Thank you so so much for the kind words!! I really appreciate and it fuels me to keep writing <3 Also, I did drink some water.

Here is your request! I hope It is how you wanted it :)

*****************************************************************

♡You don't scare me♡Raph x Fem!Reader♡

~When you get nervous around Raph, he’s worried you are scared of him~

Word count: 3,237 (longest one-shot so far)

Warnings: Fluff, Fem reader, strong/tall reader, reader attracted to strong guys, squishmallows.

*****************************************************************

When Apri skipped up to you, bag over her shoulder with more than a few pencils falling out the back end, you knew immediately she had planned something.

She was panting, and smiled excitedly at you. “Y/n! Guess what?”

You smile at her, stopping and helping her pick up the pencils that had just fallen out. “What?”

“So you know those friends I told you about?? The ones that don’t go to school here?” She said, grabbing the pencils with you and shoving them messily back into her bag.

“Yeah! That's the brothers right?” You say, standing back upright after you had collected the last of the pencils.

You were easily a head taller than April, had broader shoulders, and had some pretty good muscles on you. From April being small and lesser on the muscle scale, and you being tall and muscular, the comparison made many people do a double take. It just heightened the differences you two had. You two didn’t care though, you liked yourselves just as you two were. And if there were days when you would doubt it, then April was always, always here to prove just how great you were. Just like you were always there for her.

She nodded excitedly. “Yes! Mikey, Leo, Donnie-”

“And Raph,” You finished, grinning, and April nodded happily. “You talk about them a lot.”

She laughed, and you two began walking. “Yeah, I guess I do… Anyways, I had a chat with them and they invited me to bring you to their- er- house!”

Your face lit up with excitement. April had talked about these guys for years. It was about time your finally meet them

“Heck yeah! When can we go?” You ask, putting one hand into your baggy hoodie pocket. You always wore baggy clothes.

April smiled, pushing her red glasses back up into place on her nose. “After school! If you're not busy.”

You shook your head. “Nope! I’m not busy, I would love to meet them.”

April grinned. “Perfect! I’ll let ‘em know, and we can go after school!”

April found you immediately after school, which wasn’t hard. You two usually walked home together on most days anyways.

What you weren’t expecting was how far away their house was.

It seemed like you two were just walking until the crowd of kids faded away, which turned out to be the idea.

When April turned and went into an alleyway, you got really confused.

“An… Alley?” You said, raising an eyebrow and following her anyways. You trusted April, and knew she wasn’t going to lead you anywhere dangerous.

April nodded her head side to side. “Well… Yes.. I mean, they aren’t living in the alley…”

She walked over to the sewer gate and lifted the lid. You stared at the sewer entrance.

You raised an eyebrow, and put a hand on your hip.“Ok, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

You trusted April. She had been your best friend for a long time. You two had done a lot of crazy things when you were little; from pulling amazing parkour stunts on the couches to playing Floor is Lava. You two did it all. Now that you two were older, you had broadened the area of things you two could do; the mall, movies, drawing, unfortunately homework, and you still were the all-time champion of floor is lava.

Even after everything, how April managed to convince you to go into the sewers, you still didn’t know.

That didn’t matter now, you were walking in a sewer tunnel next to April, narrowly dodging some unmentionable things you avoided looking at.

But in all honesty, it wasn’t that bad. It was at first, but the further and closer you got the cleaner it was. Soon the smell went away entirely, and the tunnel was empty and clean. The smell was so gone, that you actually started smelling… Pizza?

The sheer thought of smelling pizza in a sewer tunnel attempted to trigger your gag reflex.

“April… is that pizza?” You ask, feeling nauseated and looking at her like this whole thing was crazy. You were open minded, but this was getting crazy.

April smiled and nodded. “Heh, yeah, the boys like pizza… Mikey is probably cooking some.”

“Ok… So how close… are… we?” You trail off as you turn a corner, seeing an entrance to what you could only assume was the brothers house. It looked really nice on the inside, from what you could see. Pizza boxes, skate ramps- like the whole place was a skate park on the inside. And that was only what you could see.

April stepped inside.

"She’s here!” She called into the layer.

“Ok!” A light-toned male voice called back. “Tell us when you're ready!”

April turned back to face you.

You glanced around to see the lack of brothers. “Are… They hiding?”

April nodded nervously. “There’s a couple of things I need to explain first…”

You raised an eyebrow and fidgeted with your hoodie drawstrings. It wasn’t out of nervousness, you were excited.

“Ok… What is it?” You ask.

April nodded her head side to side. “So… Before you meet them, you need an open mind.”

“April, you know me. I am a very open minded person- as long as they aren't walking crocodiles living in the sewers I'm fine.”

April blinked. “How does a turtle sound?”

You raised both eyebrows. “I like turtles… But what does that have to do with them?”

April smiled slightly. “Mikey, why don’t you come on out!”

You got slightly excited; you had heard so much about the brothers already, and knew that Mikey was the artistic younger brother.

Mikey slowly side-stepped out from around the corner, a large smile on his face.

He was… Green? With an orange mask and a… Turtle shell??

Your jaw dropped and you blinked. You were frozen like that for a while.

Mikey turned kind of shy, giving a small wave.

You waved back, and finally took a breath. “M… Mikey?”

His face lit up into a smile. “Yep! I’m Mikey!!”

You smile a little. “Wow! You're a… Turtle!!”

Mikey smiled back. “Yep! A mutant turtle teenager!”

You smiled back happily, taking a step towards him, and walking around him. You were a head taller than he was. You looked down at his shell, his green skin, and the yellow spots on his shoulders.

“Wow!” You exclaimed, looking back at April, who smiled. “Wait- are your brothers turtles too??”

Mikey nodded. “Yep! Would you like to meet them?”

You nodded, smiling, eyes wide with shock and excitement.

“Leo! Donnie! Come on out!” Mikey called.

A turtle in a blue mask came out around the corner. The first thing you noticed was that he was a different color green, and he had red crescents around his eyes. He was as tall as you were, close enough that you could probably only tell who was taller by standing side by side.

He waved his hand.

“What’s up Y/n! I’m Leon!” He said in his show-offey-tone.

You waved back. “Hi Leon!” You said happily.

A turtle in purple came out next. You noticed he had a head wrap instead of a bandana, and he had a pair of goggles mounted on his head. His shell looked different too, like it was metal. And you more than quickly realize it was.

“My name is Donnie, Donatello, and to my loving brother here, Donald,” He said with a sarcastic monotone voice.

You smile, watching Leo lean an arm on Donnie’s shoulder. You give Donnie a wave too.

“Wait, isn’t there one more brother?... Raph right?” You ask the brothers.

Mikey nods. “Yes in deedy! But there is something you should know first… Raph is a little… Bigger than the rest of us. He wanted me to tell you that first before you met him.”

You shrug. “I am bigger than most people my age, too.”

Mikey smiles. “He may look big and scary, but he really is the sweetest guy…”

You smile and nod, looking around the corner to where the other brothers came out from.

“Raph? You can come out,” You say.

Then, a turtle who was two heads taller than Leo, and at least twice his size, came out around the corner. He was strong, his arms and legs loaded with muscle, and he had spikes protruding from the top and back of his plastron and back of his shell.

One small tooth poked out from the right side of his mouth, and he smiled nervously when he spoke, clearly shy.

“Hi… I’m Raph...”

You smiled, and gave him a nervous wave. For someone who was generally outgoing, you suddenly became very shy. You didn’t know exactly why.

Raph smiled, and looked towards Mikey with a smile. For him, it was just a win that you didn’t run away.

“H-hi Raph… I’m Y/n,” You say, smiling up at him but, then looking away back at the other brothers as you felt it growing harder and harder to keep eye contact.

Raph beamed, and nodded happily. “Nice to meet you!”

The brothers and April smiled.

The pizza timer dingged, and everyone looked towards the doorway to the kitchen.

“Time to eat! Y/n, how do you feel about pizza?” Mikey asked, rocking on his heels excitedly.

You grinned at him. “I love pizza!”

It had been about a month since then, and you and April would hang out with the turtles everyday after school.

You and the turtles had gotten closer, you would play games with Leo and Donnie, and make art with Mikey. You really wanted to train or hang out with Raph, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Something about him was just so… You didn’t want to explain it. But whatever it was, it was making you nervous. You would fidget, avoid eye contact with him, and get much, much quieter. You just couldn’t get yourself to stop being so shy around him, even though you really wanted to hang out with him.

April and the other brothers didn’t seem to notice, and if Raph noticed. He had avoided you multiple times before. He knew he was big, scary and intimidating, and he thought you just hadn’t gotten used to him yet.

“Hey guys! How about we play a board game?” Mikey called out to the others from where he was playing his video game with you. You had gotten pretty good at that fighting game, and Mikey was getting a little playfully worried that you would beat him soon. That was his high score on the line after all.

You grinned. “Perfect!”

“That sounds great!” April said excitedly, then got up from her spot next to Leo. The two of them had been watching a cartoon on his phone. “I’ll go get one!”

Raph came excitedly into the room, ushering Donnie in as well. Donnie didn’t seem all that pleased about the idea, but perhaps that was just the aloof-bad-boy persona he was trying to perfect.

Everyone gathered around the table, standing over it as April brought in the game, she had chosen Sorry.

You were bubbling with excitement as everyone gathered around… Until Raph took his spot across from you, smiling that adorable smile that had been playing on loop in your head for the past few weeks.

Your heart (for reasons you didn’t want to sort out-) started to flutter again. You took a firm hold of your hoodie drawstrings, seeming to shrink a little. Your smile was still genuine, but it seemed lesser, like you were suddenly self conscious and shy.

The others didn’t notice as they were setting up the game, but Raph did. He always did. He always noticed that you got nervous around him. He really did think you were just shy around him at first, but you had known him for weeks and you still were like this…

Raph’s smile seemed to fade a little too.

Just as they were handing him his game token, he put his hands up and took a step backwards.

“Sorry guys, Raph just forgot that he was supposed to help Dad clean up the living room…” Raph said, speaking in the third person again. Normally you thought that it was adorable when he did that, but something about the way that he was speaking seemed off.

Mikey raised an eyebrow. “You can do it after, I’m sure Dad wouldn't mind if-”

“No, no, Mikey, I told him I would… You guys go ahead and play. Raph’ll catch up with you later…” He said, and walked off towards the living room where his dad was always watching his commercials.

The brothers exchanged glances, and April got up to go after him, when you stopped her.

“I’ll go get him. You guys go ahead and start, Raph and I will join in the next round,” You say, and follow where Raph had left.

Raph wasn’t in Splinter's room.

You checked the dojo, and the skate ramp before finally finding him in his room.

You heard moving from within his room, but his curtain was pulled covering the door so you didn’t let yourself in. Instead you knocked on the doorframe.

“R-Raph? Are you coming?” You asked.

“Uh- Y/n… Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute…” Raph said. You stood quietly for a moment.

“Can I come in?” You asked.

“Yeah… Sure,” He said.

You stepped through the curtain into his room. He was sitting on his bed, the mattress bowing beneath his weight.

His room was nice, a few posters, some weapons hung up, and a few scratches on the walls from his spikes. It was pretty clean, surprisingly.

The one defining feature was the squishmallow on his bed, each neatly in place. That made you smile.

He watched you expressionless for a moment.

You watched him.

“Can I sit down…?” You asked quietly. He nodded.

You sat down next to him. It was weird being smaller than someone, you were normally much taller than the rest of your peers, so sitting next to someone so much bigger than you was almost a relief. You more than often hunched over to make yourself feel smaller, but next to Raph you felt like you didn’t have to do that. It makes you feel more comfortable in your own skin.

Raph watched you for a moment. “Why did you come to get me?”

You shrug, playing with your hoodie drawstrings again. “The others got worried when you left, so I volunteered to come and get you.”

Raph nods a little. “But… Why?”

You shrug again, seeming nervous. “I wanted you to come and play.”

Raph looked slightly surprised, shifting so he was facing you. “But… You don’t like Raph. I make you scared… Why would you want me there?”

You look extremely confused. “What? Scared? You don’t make me scared, Raph.”

Raph shook his head, his voice quiet. “But I do… I'm big… I’m scary… I make you scared..”

You looked at him like he was crazy. “What? Why would I be scared of you! You're one of the sweetest guys I’ve ever met!”

He blushes a little at the compliment. “But… You're always fidgeting when you're around me… You get quiet. You don’t like hanging out with Raph.”

You shake your head, reaching up and putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I love to hang out with you, Raph… Actually it’s been making me a little disappointed that you keep avoiding me.”

Raph nodded. “Sorry… Raph just thought you would like it better if I stayed away…” His eyes dropped down to the mattress.

You shook your head. “Raph, why would you think that? You don’t make me scared, or intimidated at all…”

“Y/n, I’m a giant mutant snapping turtle. You do get nervous around me. You don’t have to be sorry for that, I get it,” He said, attempting to give you a fake smile, but you saw right through it.

“Raph… I do get nervous around you, but it’s not because I think you're scary. Promise… But I get where you're coming from… Actually, you're a lot like me. I’m so much bigger than everyone else my age, and I'm not trying to brag, but I'm pretty strong in comparison to them, too. I’ve had a lot of people avoid me before.”

Raph looks at you, waiting for you to continue. When you don’t, he speaks.

“So… If you're not scared… Then why are you so nervous?” He asks. You put your hands in your lap and fidget a little again.

“W-well… See… I…” You stutter.

Raph looks confused.

You sigh, taking a deep breath.

“Well, I… I kind of have a thing for big strong guys…” You mutter.

Raph blinks, and blushes without his expression changing.

His eyes widened. “Oh- so you're not scared of me- you… you just have a thing for big strong guys?”

You nod a little, feeling your own cheeks burn.

Raph’s eyes widen even more. “Wait- I’m a big strong guy!”

You chuckle, and nod.

His jaw drops momentarily and he blushes. “Ohhhh- so you think i’m-” He puts a finger to his chest and waits for you to speak.

You nod again. “Y-yeah…”

His face lights up into a bright smile. “S-so you think I’m… Attractive?”

“Yeah… Very…” You say, feeling your cheeks burn. You are smiling a little, but taking out all of your nerves on your hoodie drawstrings.

Raph grins and he blushes. “So you're not scared of me?”

You shake your head, smiling.

Raph nods, grinning. He blushes a little more. “Y/n… Can I tell you something?”

You nod, still blushing. “Of course…”

“Well… I kind of have a thing for strong girls…” He smiled, face as red as his mask.

You blush, looking down at the mattress with a grin.

“So… You…” You say and wait for him to answer.

He nods. “You probably don’t realize it… But you're really cute, Y/n…” He blushes a lot.

You smile, blushing and feeling awkward. “T-Thanks…”

You two sit in the silence for a moment.

“So… You probably think that someone as big and strong as I am is weird for collecting squishmallows then…” Raph said, feeling slightly embarrassed.

You immediately shake your head. “Nope! I’ve got a few at home too.”

Raph’s eyes lit up. “Really! What ones? What are their names?”

You grin. “I’ve got Abby the octopus, Caddie the cat, and Darex the dinosaur!”

Raph grinned. “Cool! I have quite a few… I can show you if you want!”

You nod excitedly, and Raph shifted so he could show you his collection better…

For the next half hour, you and Raph talk about both of your squishmallows, and the conversation slowly shifts from your favorite tv shows, to your favorite foods, and your favorite music.

You and Raph learned a lot more about each other, and you two grew much, much closer.

Eventually April comes up to say the second round is starting, and you two play the game with the others.

And this time, when Raph stands across the counter from you and smiles that adorable smile of his, you smile back.

And if you get nervous, he knows it’s not about his appearance or that you think he’s scary…

…It’s because you like him…

…And he might just like you back…

*****************************************************************

Hope you like it! Thank you very much for the request! <3

This one ended up being longer, my brain took the story and ran with it lol

I am currently working on 4 other requests, and I will write them in the order I received them :)

Master post

Bye bye Butterflies!!

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marvelavengerspovs1 · 2 months

Text

Winter Wolf - Chapter 2

Winter Wolf Master List

Warnings: Use of Y/N, Mentions of drinking

Length: 2149

A/N: Here's a little early upload for y'all!

I do not give consent for my work to be translated, copied, or sold!

It is the day of the party and you do not want to go. You always have fun, but you don't want to deal with all of the people that come. They're normally just a bunch of random socialites who want to say that they are BFFs with the Avengers.

You're lying on your bed when there is a knock at your door.

"It's open!" You yell.

Natasha and Wanda come in and you groan. You know what is about to happen. They're going to drag you around town for a makeover that you did not want to attend.

"Why can't I just go in sweats?" You complain.

"Because Tony has a dress code," Natasha reminds you.

"And this will be a fun trip! We haven't hung out in ages and this is a good way to catch up!" Wanda says optimistically.

You cover your face with a pillow and let out a scream. The two girls laugh at you before they sit on the bed.

Wanda shakes your shoulder. "Come on Y/N! It'll be fun!"

"But why do I need to go out if I have all of this makeup and clothes here?" You counter.

"You know how Stark is. If he sees you wearing something you've worn in the past he'll insult you for weeks." Natasha rolls her eyes.

"HE DOES THAT ANYWAY!" You exclaim after throwing the pillow across the room.

The pillow hits an unsuspecting Bucky as he opens the door. "How can you make a pillow hurt?"

"Sorry Bucky, I didn't realize you were coming in." You apologize.

"It's fine, I should've knocked. Anyways, Tony wanted me to tell you that we all have to show up and be dressed for the occasion."

"What does that even mean?" You question.

"I don't know. But I thought you should know."

"Ok, thanks robot arm!" You wave bye at him and he offers a small smile before closing the door.

"You should ask him out on a date," Natasha looks at you. You forgot that Wanda and Natasha were there for a second.

"She has a boyfriend Nat!" Wanda swats her arm.

"What he doesn't know won't kill him," Natasha explains.

"I wouldn't cheat on my boyfriend."

"Come on, let's go!" Wanda pulls you up and you groan.

"It's going to be the longest day of my life!" You exaggerate with a huff.

After they drag you into Natasha's car, the three of you go out to look for some new clothes. Natasha was the first to find her outfit. It was a black jumpsuit paired with a black belt. The outfit made her look like the powerful woman she is.

"What shoes are you going to wear with that?" You ask her.

"Probably my red stilettos."

"You're going to look so good!" Wanda compliments.

"Thanks, babe." Natasha smiles at her.

The next person to find an outfit is Wanda. She found a red long-sleeved dress. The dress reached Wanda's mid-thigh and a slit was cut on the right side of her dress.

"I don't want to sound repetitive but you look hot!" You tell her.

Wanda blushes at the compliment. "Thank you Y/n! But we should go and look for your dress now!"

You sigh. You were hoping that the girls would forget what you all initially went in for.

The three of you went to multiple different boutiques for you, but nothing caught your attention. You were growing frustrated that Natasha and Wanda would not let you go home.

"Guys, I'm not going to find anything. Let's just go home!" You whine while they drag you into another boutique.

"This will be the last one, I swear!" Natasha promises you.

"Who knows, maybe you will find something you like," Wanda says, being optimistic like always.

You sigh and let them drag you in. "This is the last one."

You guys search the whole boutique, going through every single rack. Both Wanda and Natasha found a few dresses that they thought would look good on you. Out of the whole store, you only find one dress that catches your attention.

"Ok, time for a fashion show Y/N!" Wanda pushes all of the dresses into your hands and pushes you into a changing room.

You put on the first dress you see. Wanda had picked out a burnt orange dress that hugged your body. It was beautiful but it is not something you would wear. You go out anyway and show them.

"It's a beautiful dress, but I don't think it's for you," Wanda admits.

"That's what I was thinking." You admit.

"Go try on the one I found," Natasha smirks.

You don't tell her, but you're scared. Natasha's taste in clothing is significantly different from yours. She likes tight, form-fitting clothes that are revealing. You tend to gravitate to something more modest. If a dress is form-fitting, you prefer for it to be a little longer.

You go back into the changing room and find the dress Natasha picked out. You're not even sure if you could call it a dress. It was a black long-sleeved dress that had the hips cut out of it. It was cut low on both the front and back. You leave the dressing room with your cheeks hot.

"You look hot!" Natasha complimented.

"Are you sure you didn't pick this out for you?" You ask her.

"If you don't want it, I'll take it," Natasha said.

Both you and Wanda roll your eyes and you go back to the changing room. You decide to put on the dress you grabbed.

The dress is silver and when the lights shine on it, it becomes iridescent. It was beautiful. It hugged you in all the right spots but it was in your comfort zone. It was the perfect solution to wanting to look cute and sexy.

You leave the dressing room with a big smile on your face. You spin around once and Natasha and Wanda clap.

"This is definitely you babe," Natasha smiles at you.

"I told you you would find it!" Wanda smiles and claps.

"I'll admit, you were right." You look at Wanda.

"Come on, let's go pay for this, and then we can go to the makeup store." Wanda goes with you to put the dresses back and you pay for the dress.

The three of you go and have a quick lunch before going back to the compound.

You and Wanda are laughing at a joke Natasha made when you see Thor strolling by, a Pop-Tart in hand.

"What is so funny ladies? I would like to laugh as well." He asks with a smile.

"Oh, it's nothing, Thor." You smile back at him.

"But I find humor humorous!"

You look at Natasha, letting her tell the story.

"It wasn't anything big. We were just eating at a sandwich shop when we..." You zone out of what Natasha was saying.

You were thinking about your boyfriend. He is an amazing guy and you know you love spending time with him. This relationship was fairly new, only 2 months since you guys made it official. You wanted to introduce him to the rest of the Avengers.

You're pulled out of your thoughts by Thor's laugh.

"That was very funny!" He throws the rest of the pop tart into his mouth before walking away.

"I'm going to go to my room now, I'll see you guys in a couple of hours!" You wave at Natasha and Wanda and head to the elevator.

You go to push the button but a metal arm beats you to it.

"Oh, hey Bucky! Thanks for pushing the button." You smile up at him.

"No problem, Doll." Bucky smiles back at you.

The doors open and he gestures for you to go in first.

"You are being such a gentleman today Mr. Barnes," You smile up at him as you walk in.

"I try once in a while," Bucky smiles at you before walking in after you.

"So what are you planning to do this weekend?" You ask him.

"I don't know. I don't really have anything set in stone. Did you decide what movie you're going to see with your boyfriend?"

"Not yet. I think we're going to get dinner instead."

"That sounds nice." The doors to the elevator open and you both step out.

Bucky walks you to your door and smiles at you. "I'll see you later tonight, Doll."

"Bye Bucky," You walk into your room.

After a couple of hours of laying in bed doing nothing, you decide that it is time to start getting ready. You didn't buy any new makeup after shopping for a new dress so you didn't need to unpack anything except the dress. You hang it up in your closet before heading to the bathroom.

You take a quick shower, avoiding your hair since you washed it the night before. You stay in the bathroom and start to do your makeup. Just a simple look, nothing over the top. You decide against liquid liner and use eyeshadow instead. You debate about going for a bold red or a clear gloss but ultimately you choose the clear gloss. You decide to lightly curl your hair, leaving them in beachy waves.

You put on your bra and underwear before going into your closet for the dress. You put the dress on and smile at yourself in the mirror. You feel beautiful. You grab some strappy silver heels and head to the elevator. You were the last one to leave so you were alone the whole time.

You decide to send a text to your boyfriend.

I can't wait to spend some time with you this weekend.

You didn't bring a purse and you started to regret that until your phone buzzed with a new notification.

Me too. Did you decide where we're going to eat?

At the restaurant we always go to?

That sounds perfect

You smile at the messages before you exit the opening doors.

As soon as you walk out, you could tell it was a Tony Stark party. There were hundreds of people mingling, many of them trying to talk to the Avengers. Of course, the team would politely hold a conversation, well all except for Tony and Bucky, but they always found a way to get themselves out.

You decide to go to the bar and ask for a glass of white wine. You didn't want to get drunk, but you didn't want to only drink water. You find a small group, Wanda, Natasha, Vision, and Bruce, hanging out and sit next to Natasha.

"You look so good!" Wanda clapped her hands and smiled at you.

"Thank you!"

You guys hang around for a couple of hours, laughing at jokes and memories. You casually drink your wine, not wanting to get too intoxicated. As the party starts to wind down, the rest of the Avengers find their way to the couch. Some girls try to stay but Tony has them escorted out.

The only people left were you and the rest of the Avengers. This is the only thing that made the parties worth it. Although you guys live and work with each other every day, you guys were family. They had your back and you had theirs.

You guys were talking about past stories and then your love life became a topic.

"Oh come on Y/N! Tell us who your mystery boyfriend is!" Natasha begs.

"Yes Lady Y/N, I am curious as well." Thor injects himself.

"No! If I told you then he wouldn't be that much of a mystery now, would he? He's my secret boyfriend for a reason." You smile before sipping on your wine.

"We're not worthy," Steve whispers to himself, but everyone hears.

"Steve, no." Natasha shakes her head.

"Yeah, I agree with Nat." Bucky shakes his head at his best friend.

Natasha turns back to you. "Come on! Is it Barnes?"

"No," Bucky immediately answers.

"I'm going to have Wanda read your mind." Natasha looks at you before turning to Wanda.

"Leave the poor girl alone, Nat." Bruce comes to your rescue.

Steve is still looking down, thinking about his joke.

"Guys, Y/N isn't going to share who her boyfriend is. Let's just leave it alone." Bucky defends you.

"Aw! Thanks, Weiner Soldier!" You ruffle his hair.

"I thought my joke was funny," Steve finally looks up at the rest of the group.

Tony claps Steve's shoulder. "Sure it was Capsicle."

You get up and pull your dress down. "This has been fun, but all of you are pretty much drunk. I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

You leave the room and the rest of the Avengers stay.

"Y/N is not Mjölnir Steve, you know that. Right?" Wanda turns to Steve.

"She might as well be!" Steve shrugs his shoulders.

Tagged Readers: @ordelixx @bellabarnes1378

#avengers #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader smut #james bucky buchanan barnes

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justcallmenikki7 · 3 months

Text

Hi, it’s Nikki.

I’m writing this to give you all, the ones who are still here even tho I’ve been basically hiatus for a while now, with some posts here and there. You probably all, also, saw this coming, but I’m sadly done writing.

God, im crying lmao.

Anyways, I realized after constantly trying to write something, outline, everything, I couldn’t write anymore. Maybe it’s because I went through a severe abusive relationship at the beginning of April 2022 to the end of November of 2022, and it completely changed me as a person. I lost a lot of love, likes, whatever you may call it, from that relationship. It changed me, and one of the things it changed in me was my love for writing. My spark isn’t here anymore, and I’ve been trying to hold on for the last possible year and a half for you guys, but it hasn’t happened. I’m afraid of change, I’m afraid of letting go, and have a bad time of accepting the fact that i mayve grown out of a phase, you know? My love for the boys will always be there, always.

What has also caused me lots of stress, and is a sign of losing my spark, has been trying to write and come up with ideas, and creat stories for those who have messaged me privately, and I feel terrible for not being able to do that, and I hate breaking promises/not keeping my word because I wanted to make you guys happy, and I’ve failed those individuals. I’m sorry for not finishing those requests, and I’m sorry that I never actually started them because I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to make you happy, but I couldn’t get anything out and so I sat for the longest time, trying to get a good paragraph, or in a general a sentence out, but i couldn’t and I didn’t.

And I’ve sadly relapsed the other night after almost 2 years of being clean from s/h. My depression has been in the dumps, and even tho I have so many positives going on in my life and such amazing people, and an amazing partner, my mental health is deteriorating and I need to focus on myself.

I know I’ve once done a short hiatus before and came back because sometimes a small break is good to have, but sometimes all things must come to an end, and I’m officially closing my chapter with tumblr and writing for good.

I’ve made a couple of friends on here, and those friends I want to address real quickly and say my peace.

@wickizer , girl you know everything and ily

@minniepetals . My gosh, I remember reading your story String of Fate when it first came out, and I swore up and down, still today I do, that it’ll be published in the hall of fame. Despite it being on its hiatus, it’s still the best story so far. You deserve an award for your writing, and your story Cry Me A River is such an amazing masterpiece. I’ve been meaning to read it all, but life has gotten in the way and I’m so proud of you. Even tho we haven’t talked in the longest time, I’m still cheering you on, on here and outside of tumblr.

@aft3rhrs . Love, you’re amazing and I hope you take care of yourself and take time for yourself. Self love and self kindness is a priority and make yourself a priority. Your writing is beautiful and I’m glad we befriended each other. I’m cheering you on, and always will. Thank you for being a kind person.

And every other writer that I bonded with on here, I love you and will be a huge cheerleader for you. To those who I reached out to when I was still new for advice, or for me to fangirl to, thank you for being kind and helpful.

And to my followers, the ones who cheered me on to keep writing when I first joined tumblr, thank you for being kind and supportive. I love each and every single one of you. You made this place a safe place for the longest time, and I’m thankful for all of you.

I’m sorry for the longest apology and me basically dumping my issues on here, I just needed to be honest with you all. I didn’t want this to sound like a ‘poor me’ ‘feel sorry for me’ but I needed to, like I said before, be honest with you.

This is scary for me, but this is me saying goodbye.

Love forever and always, justcallmenikki7.

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hookhausenschips · 10 months

Text

Slippery Fingers

Pairings: HOOK x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,036 words

Warnings: SMUT 18+, dirty talk, semi public sex, some smartass comments, some light anxiety, maybe slow burn, fluff.

Summary: an accidental text leads to a very eventful time after Hook’s match

A/N: this is the longest imagine I think I’ve written. I hope you all enjoy it because let me tell you, this was a wild ride writing this. NOT PROOFREAD!

Masterlist

Y/N’S POV

I am currently sitting in catering scrolling through tiktok waiting to film some segments. Being the only girl in the faction of the Acclaimed has been a very interesting journey, but a fun one nonetheless. Those three really keep me on my toes. Plus I’ve gained some friendships thanks to Anthony. Many people know them as “The Lads” which is Darius and Dante Martin, Action Andretti, Anthony, and HOOK. As well as making friends with some of the women’s roster like Skye, Willow, Jade, and Britt. I don’t know what I would do without the girls, even if they constantly tease me about a certain FTW champion.

Tonight is a very hectic night on Dynamite, many people racing around backstage. Including talent getting ready for their matches or filming promos. “There she is and looking gorgeous as ever.” I hear a voice say entering catering,. I look up to see Skye and Willow walking towards me. I smile and stand up to hug the duo. I was wearing an acclaimed crop top and some cargo pants. “Hey you two, I thought you weren’t going to be coming tonight?” I questioned as we sat together. “Well we heard from Anthony that you guys had to film some stuff so we thought we would come see our favorite scissor girl.” Willow giggled. I rolled my eyes, “That’s worse than ‘Ass girl’ Willow oh my god.” I groaned. The girls laughed. “And besides we heard your boy toy is having a match with Jack tonight.” Skye smirked. I could feel myself start to blush. “He’s not my boy toy. Tyler and I are just friends.” I said. “Yeah sure, ‘friends’. Because we’ve noticed those heart eyes you give him any time he’s around. And god that sexual tension. Girl if you don’t fuck him already. Speak of the devil.” Skye said and pointed towards the entrance of catering where Hook and Jack were coming in.

“Let’s not go into this please. There’s no feelings between me and Tyler.” I whispered. Willow and Skye exchanged a glance. “Oh hey girls didn’t know you three were going to be here tonight.” Jack said after noticing us. My eyes traveled up Tyler’s body, even if he was in his usual sweats and sweatshirt he was still so attractive. “Oh Willow and I aren’t filming anything but we thought we’d stop by anyway.” Skye answered as Willow nodded agreeing. “I’m just waiting to film some stuff with the guys and then probably head back to the hotel.” I answered as Tyler and I made eye contact. The two nodded. “You’re not coming out with Anthony tonight?” Tyler asked. “I would love to just sleep after that terrible flight but I know he’s going drag me along.” I answered. He nodded and before he could speak my phone dinged. I looked down and seen it was Max texting me that the crew was ready to film. I quickly replied that I was on my way. I stood up, “Hey sorry guys I gotta go film but I’ll catch you guys later. Good luck on the match tonight you two.” I said as I squeezed Hook’s arm as I passed the two.

After filming our segment with Renae, I turned my phone back on after taking it out of my pocket. I was standing with Anthony and Max as they discussed what Max would rap this upcoming show. I seen that I had a message from Tyler, which wasn’t uncommon. What I wasn’t expecting was what the message read. ‘You sure about that?’. My body froze as I realized I had accidentally sent a message meant for the person I was hooking up with, ‘If you don’t throw me down and ruin me until the only word I can remember is yours, I’m going to riot😩’ Oh no no no no. “Hey Y/N are you even listening?” Max waved a hand in front of my face. I jumped in shock and turned off my phone screen. “Sorry, what were you saying?” I asked and looked at my faction partners. Anthony squinted his eyes at me, “Are you okay? You look a little hot.” He questioned suspiciously. I nodded my head, “Yeah I’m good. Just have been off since my flight. What did you need me for Max?” I said trying to divert the attention away from me. Max started to explain a part of his rap that he wanted my option on as Anthony kept looking at me suspiciously.

I paced back and forth in the hallway as my mind continued to race around Tyler’s message. What do I do? I opened the groupchat with Willow and Skye and just started texting. ‘Guys I fucked up.’ I continued pacing waiting for a response. It felt like forever when my phone pinged. ‘Did you go off on Austin and Colten?’ Skye typed. I went back to mine and Tyler’s conversation, screenshot it and sent to the girls. Automatically read was seen from the two. ‘How is that a bad thing?’ Willow asked. ‘Because it wasn’t meant for him!!!’ I typed back. ‘Okay Y/N listen. We both know you like Tyler and deep down you have to know the feeling is mutual. Just go talk to him about it. What’s the worst thing that could happen? You getting your back broke?’ I read Skye’s reply. ‘I’ll get back to you guys later. I’ll go see him after his match.’ I answered and then went to the locker room. Thankfully Billy, Anthony, and Max had left a little bit ago. I sat down on one of the chairs and looked up to the screen to see Jack and Hook making it to the ring. God I hope this doesn’t change our friendship.

I’ve seen several Texas Tornado matches in my life and this one definitely kept me on my toes. I was worried for Hook after he took Preston through the table. Preston’s blood was practically everywhere, even on Tyler’s body. It’ll definitely take a lot to get the stains out of his gear. But I would be lying if I said he didn’t look good covered in it. Soon enough the match was over with Hook and Jack taking the win. My heart was in my throat at the realization that now I would have to confront the consequences of my actions. Thankfully I didn’t have any luggage here at the arena so I wouldn’t have to worry about anything here in the locker room.

I stood up and made my way to Hook’s locker room. My anxiety was skyrocketing the closer I got. Stopping in front of his door I started to doubt everything. No I can’t avoid this forever, I took a deep breath and knocked. “Who is it?” I heard his raspy voice. “Uh it’s Y/N. Can we talk?” I questioned. After a couple seconds the door opened and there he stood still in his gear. “Yeah come in.” He said and opened the door for me. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize you haven’t showered yet, I can come back later?” I said stepping inside and turned to face him. He shook his head, “Nah it’s alright you can chill here. I won’t be that long.” He answered. I nodded and watched as he grabbed the stuff he needed and headed to the showers in his locker room.

Lord his back muscles were going to be the death of me. I shook my head and went to sit on the couch next to his backpack. I looked up at the tv to see Anna Jay going against Kris for the TBS Championship. I jumped hearing his voice “So I’m guessing the text is what you want to talk about?” He asked. I nodded and looked to see him shirtless with a towel drying his hair. I could feel my face start to heat up as he walked to the couch and sat next to me. “That was a great match by the way.” I whispered while trying to collect my thoughts and calm my heart from exploding. His lips twitched into a slight smile. I took a deep breath and realized it’s now or never, “Listen I didn’t realize I had sent that to you, it was meant for someone else in all honesty but.” I paused as he grabbed my hand to stop me from fidgeting. “You don’t have to apologize, I get it. Was a little shocking to have it come from you out of all people. I can’t deny that it made me feel a certain way though.” He said. I froze. My heart continued to hammer in my chest, “Tyler don’t play with my feelings right now, I don’t think my heart can handle it.” I whispered as I felt my throat start to tighten and I looked down.

“Hey, hey come on please look at me Y/N.” He said calmly while lifting my head to face him. “I’ve been into you since you literally ran into me on the way to Tony’s office your first day. You blew me away and as I’ve gotten to know you, those feelings have become way stronger. Can I show you how much I feel for you?” He asked. Looking into those brown eyes I could see the sincerity and love that swirled around them. I couldn’t even speak, I pulled him down to kiss me. “Does that answer your question Tyler?” I ask as we pulled away. He smirked, “Always talking, come here and I’ll give you something to talk about.” He said and pulled me onto his lap as we kissed again.

His lips are soft, the taste of mint on his tongue. His hands move along my back and ass, squeezing the flesh there and making me moan. Taking advantage of my open mouth, he slides his tongue alongside your bottom lip before slipping his tongue inside of my mouth. Tyler moans hungrily as my tongue begins to swirl with his. God he is such an amazing kisser. The act makes my pussy clench impatiently in my panties, aching to be touched by him. To feel him fully stretch me out. Tyler pulls off my crop top and throws it across the room. I begin to kiss him all over now: his neck; his jawline; his collarbone; his naked shoulders. "Fuck baby,” Tyler moans as his head falls back against the couch. His hands roam up and down my hips and sides, squeezing.

I start to grind against him. And god I could tell he was big. I can feel a bulge in his sweats that can only be his hardening dick. He's turned on by me. The fact makes me goes absolutely insane. He stops my hands from wandering into the waistband of his sweatpants, “Wait wait. As much as I want this to go this way. This is supposed to be about you. I have to taste you.” I smirk while standing to take off my pants leaving me in my bra and underwear. “Wow. Y/N, just wow.” He whispered as he placed his hands on my hips guiding me back to the couch. I blush knowing I have such an effect on him. I start to bite my lip and watch Tyler as he kneels down in front of me and opens my legs. When he gets a look at my soaked panties, he smirks. "Goddamn, baby.” he groans. "You're so wet for me. I haven’t even touched you yet. I bet you’ve been like this since my match." His eyes flick up to yours and his hands still at your thighs.

Wordlessly, I nod, unable to speak. But Tyler isn't accepting that. He begins to brush his fingers up and down my wet slit above your panties, paying close attention to my reactions. "Words, baby;" he demands.

"Gimme words." He smirks.

"Yes! You looked so fucking good during your match!" I moan, my toes curling at the feeling of his fingers brushing my wet cunt. Tyler please touch me." He gives me a grin at my reaction, but doesn't keep me waiting. He loops his fingers through the waistband of my panties and pulls them down my legs to reveal my naked, soaking wet pussy. "Shit!" he moans, staring at your sex. “Your pussy is so fucking pretty.” I was about to speak but I was cut off by a moan ripping through my throat. Hook leans in and begins suckling on my clit and eating my pussy like it was his last meal on earth. He is relentless with his tongue and fingers, paying close attention to my reactions every time he does something new. This man. This pussy eating connoisseur was definitely a gift from god. He’s going to be having me act up and sending a thank you card to Taz and his wife. If the head is this good, I can’t imagine what his dick is like. My hips start grinding against his mouth as my fingers weave through his hair pulling him closer. My moans getting louder. Tyler smirks to himself. "You're so wet." he mumbles into my pussy. "Is this making you go crazy baby? Knowing anyone could walk in and see you spread out for me."

I nod and moan in response, unable to form words. Hot flashes of pleasure searing up my spine and through the synapses in my brain. I could feel my stomach start to clench and my thighs start to shake uncontrollably. “Oh fuck, Tyler please don’t stop. I’m gonna cum!” I moan and he continues his assault on my pussy. “Cum for me baby, be a good girl for me. Cum!” He growled against me. My body seized and my mouth dropped into a silent moan as my mind went blank of everything but Hook. I could’ve sworn I blacked out because next thing I know Hook is kissing up my body. He reaches my lips and I pull him to me, moaning as I taste myself on his tongue.

He pulls away while smiling down at me, “Such a good girl. Fuck you taste so good. Here open your mouth and see for yourself.” He says as he guides his middle two fingers into my mouth. I moan and suck on the two digits keep eye contact showing him that my mouth isn’t good for just talking. He nods his head smirking, “That’s right baby. Taste good huh? So fucking good.” I moan and release his fingers with a pop and my hands reach for his waistband. He stops me, “You can return the favor another time. I gotta be inside you. This is about you right now.” I nod my head and reach to take my bra off as he reaches into his backpack and grabs the condom. He slips his sweats off and my jaw drops. Fuck he’s big. He smiles at my reaction after tearing open the condom and putting it on. “You tell me if it’s too much and we’ll stop. Okay?” He states. I nod, “Uh-uh I need your words Y/N.” He says rubbing his cock against my pussy, teasing me. “Yes Tyler I understand. Now stop teasing me please!” I sink my nails into his shoulders.

Tyler goes slow, taking his time to allow me to get adjusted to him. As soon as he pushes in, my jaw is dropping open. "F-Fuck, Tyler!" I whine, gripping his shoulders not even caring if marks were going to show. We’ll deal with the repercussions later. Hook starts to move his hips slowly picking up the pace. The feeling is just too much. His dick strokes the most sensitive parts so deliciously and so deep. I bite my lip trying to keep quiet knowing the show was still going on outside the door. “Enjoying yourself princess?” Hook grunts in my ear. Smirking at the fucked out look on my face. “Haven’t even had me for long and you’re already cockdrunk? Bet you’ve wanted this for so long baby. And I’m so glad to give it to you.” My eyes roll back and I clench around him. His hips stutter, “Oh fuuuck baby don’t do that or I’m not gonna last.” He moans and starts to fuck me harder. “Fuck yes Tyler! Just like that please!” I sob and move my hands from his shoulders to his biceps and squeeze.

That same feeling from earlier begins to build in my core even stronger. I wrap my legs higher on his waist, taking even deeper if possible. Without warning pleasure sores through my blood, “I’m cumming Tyler. Holy shit I’m cumming!” I sob and pull him down to kiss me. He fucks me through my orgasm, chasing after his. My mind in a post orgasmic haze, I begin to beg. “Please Tyler wan’ you to cum for me please. I need it please.” His hips begin to stutter as he moans out a mix of swear words and my name finally reaching his climax. I collapse into the couch with Tyler on top of me exhausted and so ecstatic. After a few minutes of silence and calming down he pulls out and goes to throw away the condom as I groan finally putting my legs down. He walks back over and pulls me onto him cuddling after we help each other get dressed then kisses my forehead. “I want you to know that I don’t want this to be a one time thing.” Hook said. I smiled, “I would hope this wasn’t a one time thing, you think I’m going to let you go after the way you just fucked me? And people say I’m the lunatic.” He laughs. “Careful, I still can show you another way to put that smartass mouth of yours to use. Let me take you on a date after the show.” He said looking down at me. “I think you have the process backwards, you’re supposed to wine and dine me then fuck me.” I giggled as he rolled his eyes. I leaned up to kiss him. “But yes I will go out with you Ty.”

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mintkookiess · 8 months

Note

HIII!! could you do proposing hcs with miles(1610)??

Miles Morales headcannons # 8

SAY LESS ANON (I think its abt time i do reqs again) Given that this is hcs on Miles proposing, naturally he's all grown up here okay?

Hope you enjoy babe

Love,

Mint

Miles Morales is the most awkward man of all, but at least he’s still somehow brave enough to push through with his ideas. Though this time, proposing to you was something that he really held back on until the last minute

You’ve both been dating for a few years and he knew it was high time to take your relationship to the next level, to settle down with you officially.

He’s actually held on to this idea for the longest time, but he was just scared that maybe you’d think he was going too fast or maybe you weren’t ready for that type of commitment yet

So it starts with subtle hints, you know? Or maybe subtle hints to you, but he just thinks his actions are going unnoticed

Like going on a casual date to the mall and he stares at the ring stores for a bit too long that you have to tug on his jacket’s sleeve to continue walking

You had an inkling of what your boyfriend has been thinking about, but you were just patient with him, let Miles go about it in his own pace (go you!)

He isn’t big on extravagant things, like from when he asked you to be together with him, Miles just said it when the two of you were in his room, teasing and tickling the hell out of each other that he blurted it out

But for proposing? He’d want to step up his game just a wee bit,

He wants it to be absolutely perfect, but not too much that it scares or overwhelms you (and him)

Miles has asked his mom about this, and Mama Rio goes on ahead to tell him that he shouldn’t overthink and that you’d love whatever he does

Which is true of course

He starts listing down like his ideas on his phone’s notes

Miles is more of a casual guy, so he crosses off the formal ones like some fancy dinner or a yacht

He settles down to doing it in that secret spot on top of an abandoned building reserved for just the two of you

It requires Miles to swing the both of you to the top, so it was really solely for just you and him and the place has been covered with memories like pinned pictures, old worn out fairy lights adorning the walls, and— you get the picture

But this time he changes the whole place

Balloons on the floor, scattered with rose petals, the fairy lights stayed on though, slightly dimmed as it was fading but still enough

He swung you to the top of the building as usual, but this time you had a blindfold on. Despite your protests your boyfriend wouldn’t let up so you just gave in.

Miles’ heart was beating erratically that he’s afraid you’d be able to feel it through his suit, and he just prayed the wind was strong enough to hide it. When the two of you landed, he grabbed you by the elbows and gently ushered you towards the center of the place.

“Just stay still amor,” He said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. Miles pulls out the red velvet box from his backpack and crouched down on one knee in front of you. He gulped hard, hands shaking as he raised the tiny box up. “You can remove it now.”

You quickly untie the blindfold to see him and the entire setup of the place. Tears had immediately run down your cheeks and it honestly made him want to cry with you, but he knew he had to say what he needed to say.

“I’m- wait crap,” He pulls out the mask from his head and you see how flushed his cheeks were, and he had this lovesick grin on his lips, brown eyes glistening with tears threatening to fall.

“Anyway… Sorry about that I knew this is like a serious thing, and the mask would be really weird since you wouldn’t be able to take me seriously, maybe? I don’t know I guess it’s—“

“Miles you’re rambling sweetie,” You laughed between tears. Your boyfriend cleared his throat, “Right sorry, just uh nervous.”

Miles took a deep breath, opening the box to reveal the ring which had belonged to his grandmother (Mama Rio gave it to him for when he finds the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with).

“I’ve thought about this for a long time now, and I’d love to go on about how much you mean to me but I know that’ll just stall it and all that so…”

“Will you marry me amor?”

“YES YES Are you kidding?! Of course Miles!”

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