#i mean i doubt anyone here will actually read this story but | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

flightlessangelwings · 5 months

Text

Right Where We Belong

Loki x gn!reader

Word count- 3.7k

Dialogue prompt- “ you underestimate how much you mean to me. i wasn’t about to let them hurt you. and i certainly wasn’t about to let them even consider killing you. “ Action prompt-[ SECRET ]: sender, having been secretly following the receiver, saves their life from an immediate threat while remaining hidden from the receiver.

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), protective!Loki, mutual pining, harassment, kidnapping, minor character death offscreen, feelings, romantic s.ex, praise, takes place mostly in a woodsy/forest area but I left it open as to where in the world it is, pet names (lovely, darling), no use of y/n

Notes- For my Year of Protectiveness @yearofcreation2023 . I've actually had a rough idea of this story in my head for about a year it just took some time to flesh it out and get it right. For that reason too, there's no series spoilers and is ambiguous as to where it fits on the timeline so you can imagine whenever.

This can be read as a prequel to In My Arms (Over and Over Again) but it can be read on its own. That fic is one of my pride and joys though so I recommend reading it after this one! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so feel free to also follow that and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on when I post new stuff!

Midgard… Earth. It was the last place Loki ever expected to find himself, let alone willingly. Yet, it was the last place anyone would ever think to look for him. So it’s where he found himself when he wanted to be alone, unbothered by any pressures that surrounded him.

Loki had no idea where on the planet he was, but it didn’t matter. The trees of the forest surrounded him and created a shelter of peace where he would just breathe. The warmth of the sun hit his skin, and the fresh air from the trees filled his lungs. It was refreshing. It was peaceful. It was everything he needed.

But, as he made his way through the forest with his eyes closed, listening to the sound of the birds around him, another sound made his eyes shoot open. The roar of a large animal snapped any notion of peace out of Loki’s mind as he found himself nearly face to face with bared, sharp teeth. He wasn’t worried, though, and he smirked as he brandished his dagger in his hand.

Just as Loki was about to attack, however, a voice from behind him made him freeze.

“Wait!”

Loki paused.

The voice continued, “It’s not aggressive, not really,” you were calm as you spoke, “Keep eye contact and back away slowly and it’ll leave you alone. There’s no need to kill it.”

Loki pondered his options. He could easily kill the beast and be done with it. But, there was something about your voice that swayed him, so he did as you instructed. Slowly, he stepped back, putting more distance between himself and the wild animal until it stopped growling and turned away. As it did so, Loki let out a deep breath.

You also let out a sigh of relief as the tall stranger with black hair got closer to you, “She’s just defending herself,” you explained, “Must be a den or a nest around here somewhere. I bet she just had babies too.”

A smirk lit up Loki’s face, “Would you give that benefit of a doubt to anyone?” he asked as he turned to face you, revealing his face to you.

You gasped as you brought your hands to your face, “You’re…” your body tensed as you clearly recognized who you found in the woods, “Loki…”

“Would you have said the same thing if you knew who I was?” Loki challenged, yet no malice was heard in his voice, “Would you grant me the same courtesy?”

Silence filled the air between the two of you for several moments, the tension palpable. But, you exhaled, releasing the tension in your body as you did so, “I guess I would be a hypocrite if I said no, huh?” you said, trying to ease the tension.

Somehow, it worked, and it made Loki let out a genuine laugh. Something he hadn’t done in so long, and if he had to admit, felt nice. “What is your name?” he asked.

You told him.

“Lovely,” Loki said genuinely.

It all blossomed from there. You and Loki fell into conversation easily and naturally, as if you had known each other for a lifetime. And the more time you spent in his presence, the more at ease you felt, not that you were scared of him in the first place. Nervous, yes, but Loki had a calming air about him, and something told you it was ok. And Loki, for one reason or another, felt comfortable around you. You had the same calming aura about you that Loki felt drawn to, and he found he actually wanted to stay and talk to you longer.

That never happened with anyone before… Loki wondered why that was.

Before you knew it, the sun started to set, and you looked up with a gasp, “It’s getting late,” you breathed, “I…” you paused as you stared into Loki’s eyes, “I should go.”

Loki bid you farewell with a nod and watched you leave. And he already decided he was going to keep an eye on you until you were safe. He wasn’t going to let you know, though, and he stayed in the shadows, keeping watch over you from afar. And as he did, he couldn’t help but notice the new feeling in his chest. Sure, Loki had bedded princes and princesses, lords and ladies, and common men and women. But, you… you were different. And he couldn’t help the feeling of fondness towards you.

You seemed to know the path well, and you made your way to the clearing at the edge of the woods in no time. Behind you was the fantasy world, the forest, the place where your life just changed forever. In front of you was the real world, civilization, the daily grind. Taking a deep breath, you took the first step back into reality.

But, as you started to leave, you suddenly found that you were not alone. A chill ran up your spine as a group of men whistled at you, and closed in on you quickly.

“Hey there sweetheart,” one of them grinned darkly.

You didn’t reply, but your hands shook as you looked around for an escape plan.

“Oh come on, don’t be like that,” another chimed in, “We just want to talk to you.”

A whimper escaped your lips as you hated the helpless feeling that came over you. But, a growl in the distance called all your attention, and everyone snapped over and saw a shadowy creature. All that was visible were glowing eyes and sharp teeth, but it was enough to scare the men away. You, on the other hand, backed away and tried to make yourself smaller in hopes that whatever it was would chase them, and you let out a heavy breath when you felt a rush of wind past you and heard a roar in the distance where the men ran off to.

You stood still for several moments as you processed what happened. For some time, you didn’t dare move, yet something within said you were safe. There was a familiar feeling around the air, as if you were being watched. Yet, you didn’t feel threatened like with the men who approached you. Looking around, you took one tentative step away from where you stood in hopes of finding someone, yet you were alone. After letting out a deep breath, you turned and left, smirking to yourself; you had a hunch who was responsible for the shadowy creature that saved your life. After all, you did notice that the shadowy creature had bright green eyes.

In the shadows, Loki smiled with satisfaction.

One week to the day later, you found yourself back at the same spot. You weren't sure why or what you were expecting, yet you couldn’t help but find your way back there. The sun shone through the trees, warming your skin, and you felt at peace here.

“Well, it looks as if you and I had similar ideas, darling,” a voice chimed through the trees.

“Loki,” you breathed as you turned around and met his gaze. The tension you momentarily held in your shoulders melted away and you grinned widely, “Were you stalking me?” you asked cheekily.

“Never,” Loki replied, “It seems mere coincidence that we both came back to this spot on the same day.”

You gave him a pointed look, but the smirk never left your face, keeping the tone light.

“I promise,” Loki raised his hands in mock surrender, “I’ll never lie to you, my lovely.”

Your breath caught in your throat as the world around you suddenly felt hot, “I.. Uhhh,” you stumbled over your words, unsure of how to respond, “Thanks,” you decided on in a low mumble.

Loki returned the grin you gave him earlier, “Shall we sit, darling?”

It turned into a routine for the two of you. Every week on the same day at the same time, you and Loki met in the woods. It was your escape from the world for both of you. It became a comfort for each of you to seek solace in the other. Although neither of you ever officially made plans, or said you’d be back the next week, you always were.

For you, it was an escape from your life, from your stresses, to meet with Loki. And though you never thought you’d make friends with a Norse god, you were grateful for him. You tried to ignore the way your heart fluttered when you realized tomorrow was your meeting day, and you forced your heart to calm its wild beating as you stood in the woods waiting for him.

And as for Loki, he felt the same way. He never expected to find peace and solidarity on earth, and he certainly didn’t expect to fall… Loki laughed at himself, for so long he chastised his brother for loving someone from earth and here he was… They have more in common than Loki cared to admit. And he wasn’t ready to fully admit his feelings for you yet. They were there though.

Loki paced around the forest; it was unusual for you to not be there waiting for him. It was rare he felt nervous, but Loki couldn’t help the sinking feeling in his gut. Everything in him screamed that something was wrong, and after he waited long enough, Loki decided he was going to look for you.

And may the gods help if anyone hurt you…

You groaned as your body ached. The last thing you remembered was that you were on your way to meet Loki for your weekly rendezvous when you bumped into a group of men who looked like they were up to go good. You gasped and tried to run, but one of them grabbed you. You tried to scream, but no one heard you, and the last thing you heard before a cloth covered your face was, “Wrong place wrong time, sweetheart.”

And that was how you found yourself in a locked room tied to a chair, blindfolded and gagged. You wiggled in your binds as much as you could, but it was no use. They were tied too tight, and you had no idea where you were anyway even if you could break free. You didn’t even know what time or what day it was. And you whimpered softly when you realized that you would most likely never see Loki again…

Or so you thought.

Gunshots and screams from a distance called your attention and you snapped up to strain to listen. You faced where the source of the sound was, even if you couldn’t see anything. You didn’t dare move, however, since you had no idea what was happening. Were you going to be safe with whoever attacked the men who kidnapped you? Or would it be worse? You held your breath, pressing your lips together as you tried to calm your trembling hands.

The screaming went on for what felt like hours, and you could only imagine what the men were fighting in their last moments. Part of you didn’t want to dwell on it, but part of you had to have hope that whoever it was would be your savior. You never, however, expected to hear your name after the screaming stopped.

“Loki?” you whispered. When his voice called your name again, you shouted back, “Loki!”

The door burst open, and you heard Loki breathe your name in relief as he rushed over and untied you, “You’re alright, it’s me.”

“Loki?” tears filled your eyes as you were filled with disbelief that he was actually here. He actually came. For you. “You…?”

“I’m here,” he cupped your face, “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head as you felt your body tremble, “A little sore, but I’m ok,” you froze as you looked into his eyes and your heart skipped a beat at the look on his face, “Loki… You… You came for me?” your voice was shaky.

Loki grinned, “Darling… You underestimate how much you mean to me. I wasn't about to let them hurt you. and I certainly wasn’t about to let them even consider killing you.”

Before you could stop yourself, you lunged forward and kissed him deeply. Your bodies smashed together as you pushed everything you had into him, clinging to him hard. You trembled as your emotions overwhelmed you and for a moment, you lost yourself into the feeling of Loki’s lips. It brought a comfort unlike anything you were expecting, and a lone tear fell down your cheek. But, then you realized what you did.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed as you tried to pull away, “I don’t know what came over me.”

Loki just mumbled your name as he cupped your chin and gently turned you so you met his gaze. There was a sure look in his eyes, and it told you everything you needed to know. This time, it was Loki who closed the gap between your faces, kissing you once more. His kiss was more tender, but very purposeful, and Loki wasted no time in darting his tongue past your lips.

You moaned into the kiss as you lost yourself in the emotions once more. For a moment, you forgot where you were as Loki became your entire world. Nothing existed beyond him and his kiss. And the taste of him was immediately intoxicating.

But, neither of you could stay like that forever, and after one last peck on your lips, Loki broke away. He stayed close to you, however, and his voice stayed low and soft and comforting, “Let’s get you out of here.”

Without a word, you nodded.

“Sorry it’s not much,” you stood nervously at your front door as you let Loki inside your place, “It must be completely different than what you’re used to…”

Loki caressed you as he reassured you, “It’s wonderful, darling,” he purred. Truthfully, he wasn’t even paying much attention to your place; Loki couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

Feeling his heavy gaze on you, you turned back from where your eyes wandered around the living space and you felt a tingle up your spine at the way Loki eyed you, “Loki…” you whispered.

Time felt like it stopped as you stared into each other’s eyes. Your breath caught in your chest as you felt your heart pound. Between the way his hands cradled your form and the way he looked at you with those dark eyes, you knew exactly what Loki was thinking. And before you lost your nerve, you made your move.

You crashed yourself into him as you pressed your lips into his. Loki immediately yanked your close, his hands roaming up and down your sides as he deepened the kiss. Both of you moaned into each other as you savored the taste of the other. Heat rose in the room as passions erupted, and there was only one thing on both of your minds.

“Bedroom is this way,” you murmured, your tone low, “You want to…?”

“I thought you’d never ask, my lovely,” Loki smirked.

Sliding your hand in his, you led the way, and Loki kept a cheeky grin on his face as he waved his hand the moment you crossed into the bedroom. Suddenly, all your clothes were piled neatly on the dresser, his next to yours. Before you could react to his antic, Loki pounced on you, crashing both your bodies onto the bed.

You landed on your back with Loki overtop of you. You gasped as you found yourself in such a vulnerable position, yet you weren’t scared. You could never be scared of Loki. No, there was a different feeling that pulsed through your veins, and it made your body warm at the thought of what was to come.

Loki hovered over you, his hands on either side of your body. As he trailed up and down your figure with his eyes, Loki felt his cock harden and his heartbeat quicken, “You are absolutely lovely,” he purred, “A decadence of perfection.”

All you could do was whimper as your mind went blank. No one ever whispered such sweet and beautiful words to you, or about you, before. Your hands roamed all over Loki’s bare chest, and you felt a rush of need between your legs as he groaned at your touch. “Please, Loki,” you whispered, “Don’t tease me right now.”

He smiled down at you as he caressed the side of your head, “Don’t worry, darling,” Loki’s tone was just as low as yours, “Let me show you how a god makes love.”

The moan you let out echoed in the room as Loki leaned in and attached his lips to your skin. With expert precision, he nibbled and licked and sucked at every spot that made you mewl, as if he had touched you a thousand times before. Loki groaned into your skin as he kissed his way across your chest before latching onto your nipple.

You arched your back, allowing Loki more access to your body as you dug into his shoulders. Your mind swam in pleasure as he swirled his tongue around your nipple, driving you wild. Bucking your hips into his, you murmured his name once more, begging him for more.

“I’ve got you, darling,” Loki hummed as he kissed his way back up your body, “Exquisite,” his voice was a low rumble that went right to your core. Loki noticed of course, “You like that, darling?” he asked, amused.

He didn’t give you the chance to properly answer as he rocked his hips against yours, dragging his cock between your legs. The action made you moan even louder and you dropped your head down onto the mattress. “Fuck… Loki…”

He exhaled sharply with a grin as he did it again, feeling a tingle up his down spine as he rocked himself against your body. But, as much as Loki wanted to prolong this, the way you cried out, and especially moaned his name, made him more impatient than usual. “Are you ready, darling?” he asked as he reached between your bodies and lined his cock up with your entrance.

“Yes,” you replied immediately, “Please, Loki.”

Loki groaned as he slowly pushed himself inside you, feeling your warmth engulf him. Both of you gasped loudly as he filled you inch by inch. You cried out as he pushed deeper inside you, and you wrapped your arms and legs around him as much as you could, holding him tightly.

Once Loki’s hips met yours, he immediately started a slow yet harsh pace. Skin slapped against skin as Loki drove his cock into you over and over again. Your mouth dropped open as the moans and cries flowed freely- music to his ears.

“That’s it, darling,” Loki purred, “So beautiful…” he mourned your name as he lost himself in you.

As Loki’s cock hit that one spot deep inside you, your eyes shot open and you screamed louder, “Loki! Fuck! Yes!”

He growled as he picked up his pace, aiming for that spot every time, “I’m close too, darling,” he groaned, “Fuck, you’re so lovely.”

“Loki…” you whimpered as you saw stars and felt your skin tingle.

It only took a few more thrusts for you to completely fall apart and you came with a loud scream. Your nails dug into his skin as your entire body trembled. Never in your life had you felt a pleasure like this, and it brought fresh tears to your eyes from the overwhelming sensations.

Loki groaned as he watched the spectacle you put on just for him. His arms trembled as he fought to keep himself overtop of you, not wanting to miss a moment of your climax. Although you couldn’t hear over your screams, Loki mumbled soft praises as you came on his cock. And he had never seen anything in the nine realms more beautiful than you were right there in that moment.

And that was when Loki couldn’t hold back any more. He came hard, his own orgasm overtaking his entire body. And Loki did something he had never done before in bed- he moaned your name as he spilled himself deep inside you. Tears of his own formed in the corners of his eyes as he gave one last thrust before he fell forward.

Heavy breaths filled the room as you both came down from your highs. Loki placed a series of feather light kisses on your skin wherever he could reach as he caressed your body tenderly. Once he gathered his strength, he carefully pulled out of you, kissing the side of your head as you gasped. Loki didn’t go far, though, and he settled in your bed with you gathered safely and secretly in his arms. Together, the two of you laid like that for several moments in a comfortable silence.

Until you broke it with a question that had been on your mind for some time, “Why me?” you asked.

Loki grinned, “Remember the day we first met?” he paused as you nodded, “You can see beyond what’s in front of you, and that, my lovely, is a rare occurrence in the universe,” Loki cradled you in his arms as you let out a deep breath, “Sleep now. I’ll watch over you. You’re always safe with me.” He placed a feather light kiss on your head.

“I know I am,” you yawned contently, “Loki I…” you fell asleep mid thought.

Loki watched you for some time as he whispered to your sleeping form, “I’ll protect you, darling. No one will ever harm you again, I’ll make sure of it.”

As Loki watched you sleep, he noticed that the beat of your heart was the exact same rhythm that drew him to earth time and time again. It was like a siren song that called out to him although neither if you were aware of it. Was it soulmates, as your people would call it? Perhaps… but Loki was never one to believe such fables… until now. He smirked to himself before he fell asleep in the last place he expected. But it was right where he belonged. And you were right where you belonged: safely in his arms.

435 notes · View notes

xeeroo08 · 1 year

Text

Astro Observations 《2》

Disclaimer : I am not an astrologer so please take these observations with a grain of salt. Plus I have noticed, I ranted a lot here so please bear with me. It's only for fun.

♦️ Mercury could indicate what kind of genre/content you like to read. For example:

Mercury in Taurus/2nd – Cookbook, rom-com, finance, fashion magazines.

Mercury in Leo/5th – Children's story books, Tales, quizzes, riddles, Adventures books.

Mercury in libra/7th – Romance novels, fashion magazines, pamphlets, brochures.

Mercury in Scorpio/8th – Non-fiction, Thrillers, mystery, smut.

Mercury in Sagittarius/9th – Encyclopedia, Rom-adventure, historical books, Atlas.

Mercury in Pisces/12th – Spiritual books, inspirational, Autobiographies.

♥️ Pluto in 11th house is a big Best friend crisis placement, if you ask me. In this, you can never be anyone's only bestfriend and no one can be your bestfriend. Friends are a lessons in your life. They come, you transform each other in some way, they go. Nobody stays long enough. Their definition of best friends is tricky, because– "We have known each other for 6 years but we haven't talked since 3 years, are we still besties?" To these people, Instead of feeling betrayed or petty, accept it and move on.

♦️ People with Asteroid hobby in their 11th house might like to do coding or other technical work. Technology and social media plays a major role when they are free. They might even share their hobbies with others on social platforms.

♥️ No matter what the reputation says, Sagittarius venus are the most hardcore lovers. They also don't mind a bit of possessiveness in the relationship. When I say possessiveness, they don't want to hear how you will lock them up in a castle for the rest of their life if they try to run away from you. Whereas, that might be a fantasy for some but its not for Sag venus. They will purposely take the next immediate flight and be gone for good. What they actually want to hear is how you will chase them to the moon and back. And no matter where they go, you will always be there to embrace them with your open arms. All we Sagittarius people need is to feel grounded not caged.

♦️ Asteroid Lie aspecting Neptune could make very imaginative and fluent liars. Sometimes it won't make any sense but you will still believe them because they lie with such a honesty and projection that you are forced to doubt your own judgment. Their lies are very descriptive and they make them on the spot. They appear dreamy as if they are not lying but living their own reality. Sometimes it comes handy to them but sometimes it backfires when they forget what they lied about for no reason.

♥️ Aquarius Rising got nothing on Uranus conjuct ascendant. Look, I get that Aquarius is ruled by Uranus but honestly I can't relate to the stereotype when they say Aquarius risings have a unique fashion sense. Being a Aquarius rising and having Uranus in first house I personally think it fits the Uranus conjuct ascendant more. Yes, I like to stand out but my fashion sense is not that unique. I like it different but simple. My brother has a 12th house Uranus conjuct ascendant and he is a uranian more than me. He wears the most unconventional outfits at very wrong timings. He has a very unique fashion sense and he remains fixated on it until the last moment. Man... and he still pulls it off effortlessly. I could never do that.

♦️ Asteroid Sharp (5426) true to its name could indicate the area of your life where you excel the most and are quite attentive. You also learn and grasp those parts quickly. For example: Asteroid Sharp in Aquarius means you are good with electronics,technology, innovating things. In 2nd house could mean you handle money matters very well. In 10th house, you make profitable business deals, bargains and have a good eye when it comes to trading something.

♥️ Have you seen a Mars in 4th house getting angry? They are never angry. Well, never angry enough to be angry. But be careful just because they are not saying anything for the past twenty minutes while you are chewing their head off doesn't mean they are calm. It means either you are someone they can't cross with for the time being or they are thinking of hundred ways to kill you without getting into jail. Good luck bby, these people are damn calculative and smart. They will let you walk all over them for a moment but later.... oh boy you will not even realize what hit you. And trust me, they will have a strong alibi.

♦️Venus in 10th house 🤝 Get them a man/woman with financial stability. They themselves prefer to be independent and classy in a relationship. But no matter what financial stability is a must for them. Maybe not the first but definitely one of the top priorities.

♥️ Virgo Mars people are really fond of ropes, handcuffs, belts, elastic things and all. Idk why my brother keeps checking their strength when he encounters them. Hmm...sus

♦️ Saturn in 1st house could mean you were forced to grow up too early. You had many responsibilities on your shoulders at a young age and faced a lot of difficulties expressing your weaknesses. You might also be the person in the family who is looked upon and respected the most. No decision is taken without your consultation because you are considered to be the wisest of all.

♥️ Pluto in 3rd house, don't tell me your school life was easy. Either you failed a subject, were bullied for no reason, had abusive teachers, teachers who always picked upon you, unstable attendance or your family could hardly afford your studies.

♦️Scorpio/8th house Mars and their gazes. God, please don't stare at me like that. I get chills. There was this girl in my class. She used to stare at people a lot, that too bluntly. We thought she was creepy. But later after knowing her, she turned out to be really sweet and pretty decent girl.

♥️ Moon in 3rd house, very very curious people. They need to know everything there is in this world until they are emotionally satisfied. My 8 year old cousin asked me where do babies come from? She also added, don't say from God.

♦️I don't know about other Pisces placements but Pisces venus, they do have a thing for foot. Trust me on this, I had a deep conversation about this topic with my cousin who is a Pisces venus and because I didn't want to go with stereotype judgment, I had to make sure it was true. But it can vary from person to person tho.

♥️ Saturn in 2nd house people could come from a poor household or used to be financially unstable. But trust me it doesn't stay this way throughout. They usually face many difficulties with money until they don't at all. Karma always pays off and most of the times they live a very satisfied life. Very down to earth people. They don't fear poverty either.

♦️8th house Virgo are suckers for hygiene and perfection. But can be quite freaky in bed. Or the complete opposite of both. They can also have a guilty conscience after sex or masturbation.

♥️ Chiron in Capricorn/10th house can be very hard on themselves. These people often feel incompetent when it comes to their professional life. They can be insecure and anxious if things don't go their way. For them being unemployed is much worse than being heartbroken and it can be destroying.

♦️ Saturn in 6th house placements have an unimaginable disturbed mental health. They don't show and it seems as if no one sees it either. They pretend that everything is okay and no one can tell that it is not. Sometimes they are not even capable to share because people around them make them feel as if they are not supposed to. They often feel restricted when it comes to their emotions.

♥️ Now this is kinda funny but I have noticed some of the people having Sagittarius in fifth house or prominent Sagittarius/Gemini placements come off very lively and enthusiastic when it comes to kids. They also have a thing for irritating kids in a funny way to the point they start crying. Then they laugh it off.

#mercury #sagittarius venus #zodiac signs #astrology #astro observations #sharp #asteroid sharp #saturn in 6th house #pluto in 3rd house #saturn in 2nd house #aquarius rising #uranus conjuct ascendant #pluto in 11th house #asteroid hobby in 11th house #asteroid lie #mars in 4th house #venus in 10th house #virgo mars #Capricorn chiron

3K notes · View notes

garbageday · 5 months

Text

By now you have, no doubt, heard all about the dangerous new TikTok trend sweeping the nation. China’s great and powerful cyber weapon has convinced the innocent teenagers of America that Osama bin Laden was actually a pretty cool guy and now they’re all sharing his 2002 “Letter To America”. Well, first, just to get it out of the way, Osama bin Laden was actually bad. Also, a nepo baby.

After spending most of yesterday digging into this, I’m pretty convinced that this was never a real thing on TikTok. Even though it has since snowballed into a full on moral panic that is beginning to feel dangerously unstable. The Biden administration released a statement about the supposed trend and alarmed big-name creators and actors also reportedly met with TikTok this week to discuss the rise of antisemitism on the app.

Baseless generational in-fighting, aging millennials who refuse to accept the new status quo of the internet, easily monetizable rage bait, lazy TikTok trend reporting, and bad faith political actors swirled together to create a perfect storm this week.

The story has morphed from what should have been a weird curiosity — and perhaps even a moment to reflect on America’s post-9/11 legacy — into a full-blown national scandal with dumb-dumb headlines getting written about it, like CNN’s “Some young Americans on TikTok say they sympathize with Osama bin Laden”. I mean, I haven’t even had time in this piece to point out that a lot of the people I saw sharing the letter were millennials! But, yeah, teens fucking love Bin Laden. They’re saying 9/11 just hits different now no cap fr. Gen Z wants Baby Gronk to lead Al-Qaeda in a victorious jihad against the western imperialist hegemony gyatt!!

We have invented a version of TikTok that simply does not exist and now many people in power are ready to tear apart the foundation of internet to prove it does. And what’s worse here is that there are very real issues with how TikTok works. It is a major source of misinfo and disinfo. It still has a terrible bullying problem. And, ironically enough, it’s also one of the most oppressively censorious social platforms that has ever existed. To the point users had to create a puritanical version of leet speak to communicate on it. But we can’t even begin to address those issues unless we start to look clear-eyed at what is actually happening on the app. And it is most certainly not the digital hub of a large-scale Gen Z Bin Laden fandom. Be fucking serious.

The internet is an extremely chaotic living ecosystem and it’s constantly reacting to itself and all you accomplish by amplifying something like this is give more ammo to those who want to who want to take that away. You turn bizarre discourse into something bigger than it was ever meant to be. You pointlessly villainize normal people who aren’t public figures and don’t deserve this kind of scrutiny. And you help conservative political movements continue their culture war. You also just look like clueless boomer to anyone even slightly younger than you.

[Read more over on Garbage Day]

446 notes · View notes

angelwithdemonictendencies · 24 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.

230 notes · View notes

picaroroboto · 3 months

Text

For the past couple days, I've been unfortunately cursed with thinking about Zenos yae Galvus. I don't even particularly like him - not that I dislike him either, Zenosfuckers you can put your scythes down - but it seems to me like a lot of the fandom either greatly misunderstands him, or doesn't even care to try to understand him, which from an objective standpoint as someone who cares deeply about writing in video games kind of pisses me off. But I'm more pissed about the fact that I'm apparently going to keep thinking about this issue until I actually write a character analysis of him.

Q: "But, what even is there to analyze with him? Isn't he all about wanting to fight the WoL and nothing else?"

Well, you wouldn't be wrong with saying that. That motivation is at the forefront of his character, and even if you look closer, everything about him comes back to either "violence" or "lack of understanding of others". But there are more meaningful sides to his deceptively simple character. That question of meaning is what I really want to look into - what does his character mean, what symbolic or thematic role does he play in this story?

Q: "Better question: why are you posting this on your art blog/Fate meta sideblog?"

Good question, with a stupid answer: I have all of 6 followers on my FF14 sideblog, and around 150 here. Let's go under the cut so they don't have to read a wall of text, unless they want to.

When you look at and compare FF14's villains, you can see a very clear change, no doubts thanks to the change in main writers. ARR Gaius and Thordan are more or less two-bit villains - Gaius's memeable iconic Praetorium speech gives us insight into how fascists try to justify themselves but little into Gaius's actual personality, while all Thordan gets as far as depth of character is an NPC in a sidequest remarking that he wasn't always a bad person and was probably doing what he thought best for his nation. Nidhogg is a little more understandable, since revenge is a relatable motivation to anyone who's been hurt by others. In Stormblood, Zenos and Yotsuyu are both presented as deserving of pity even as they do terrible things. Come Shadowbringers and Endwalker though, the story takes a greater interest on why villains like Emet-Selch and Elidibus do the things they do, and the player is allowed more options to try to understand them and see how similar they are to the WoL. Hell, Hermes and the Endsinger are barely "villains" at all, with the level of sympathy the story shows them.

What I'm getting to here is that Zenos, with half his arc in Stormblood and the rest in Endwalker, is sort of caught in the middle of this shift. He played the role of the rival character in Stormblood really well, but come Endwalker, he's standing on a stage full of heroes and villains with grand causes and deep motivations, as the guy whose sole motivation is fighting for pleasure.

It seems he's not unaware of this contrast himself - when Jullus confronts him for ruining Garlemald for no good reason, he retorts with "Would you be happier had I a good reason?" Zenos makes no attempt to justify his own actions and doesn't care that his reason seems incomprehensible and unforgivable to others. Yet in that same cutscene Alisaie hits him with the fact that if he keeps living solely for pleasure, he'll die alone. When next we see Zenos, he's alone at the Royal Menagerie waxing philosophical about what he really sought in the battle with the WoL.

See, what really motivates Zenos isn't just the thrill of battle - this guy has gotten Battle High and the joy of human connection confused. Really.

Even before he gets so perturbed by the idea of dying alone, there's other suggestions, like his proposal of friendship to the WoL when they fought in Stormblood, and then later his dying words in which he explains that he never understood others - at his core, he's just lonely. I know there's an official side story that tells it, but you don't need to know the exact details to glean that he had some sort of tragic backstory. Sad, but not a surprise, considering he's the prince of the Garlean Empire, raised to take the throne and continue the Empire's legacy of violence.

At his core, he's a very lonely person, but also a thing of violence, raised using violent methods for the purpose of causing more violence. Violence is how he lives and breathes - the only way he gets any sort of connection with others in a world of hurting and being hurt is the brief connection warriors dueling as equals can sometimes find. Don't deny that this sort of connection exists - FF14 is great at making fights that are both fun and tell a story. Hence, why he goes crazy for the WoL, but also refers to them as "friend". In their fights, he senses (or thinks he senses) similarity between him and them. Beneath all the madness is a pure, genuine joy in seeing the self reflected in the other...but he also instantly gets on the train to projection-town, population Zenos, and assumes the WoL is exactly like him, ignoring or failing to notice that they also fight for deeper meanings. The worst part is, he doesn't even notice that what he's actually seeking in fighting them is connection until Alisaie's aforementioned callout.

So he goes and angsts for a while, then turns into a dragon again and flies across the universe to help us kick the Endsinger's tail feathers, then issues his challenge for that duel he'd been longing for. But what's changed is that he starts with a question - "Such pleasures you sought for their own sake, and for no other reason, is that not so?". Dying after the duel, he's full of questions too: "Was your life a gift or a burden? Did you find fulfillment?" Alisaie's suggestion that he'd die alone actually spurred him to realize what he actually sought in the WoL, and now he's asking all these questions in an attempt to, for the first time in his life, genuinely connect with another human being.

The questions aren't important just because they're a sign of how Zenos has changed in Endwalker - they're actually the thematic heart of Endwalker! ARR may have had "Answers" as it's theme, but EW is the expac of questions. Namely the biggest question of all: What is the meaning of life? Different characters have different answers to that, leading to the grand-scale symbolic conflict being the Endsinger's despair - her belief that there is no meaning in life - versus whatever reasons the WoL chooses to live for, left, as always, up to player interpretation.

When you look deeper, Zenos isn't actually as out-of-place in the symbolic conflict as he first seems. His depressed worldview - that metaphor about drowning in a swamp again - seems to align with the Endsinger's view about life being meaningless. But he aids the WoL in defeating her. In that way he serves as part of the answer to her question about the meaning of life. He may have resented life at times, but he still found meaning in chasing pleasure. Not the strongest or most beautiful reason to deny oblivion, perhaps, but it did enable him to help the WoL triumph. I think of Zenos's philosophy as being connected to the concept of "Amor Fati"...largely because this quote explaining it sounds like something he'd say, or at least agree with on some level:

"and if our soul has trembled with happiness and sounded like a harp string just once, all eternity was needed to produce this one event—and in this single moment of affirmation all eternity was called good, redeemed, justified, and affirmed."

So he does have a meaningful role in Endwalker, as the "Amor Fati" against the Endsinger's "Memento Mori". I think that in this the story shows that his reason for living, while somewhat shallow, is not necessarily a morally wrong thing in and of itself (setting aside for a second all the people he hurt in his pursuit of that). It's just that, since it is a lonely pursuit that denies everything except for his target, it still feels empty. The core of the counterargument against the Endsinger's despair is that both pleasure and fulfillment are necessary to live a meaningful life in a meaningless universe, and that's why Zenos is here in Endwalker. Why he even exists in the story in the first place.

Even if you're one of the people who deeply hates Zenos...well, you probably wouldn't have read this whole thing if you did, but I still think it's important to read into characters you dislike, because every character in a story is written for a reason. Plus, trying to understand even their worst enemies is one of the WoL's key traits as of ShB and EW. With his last breaths, Zenos was trying to understand the WoL too - carrying this understanding of him with you as we move into our next adventures is the least you can do for your "friend".

#ff14 #ffxiv #zenos yae galvus #zenos viator galvus #endwalker #ffxiv meta #endwalker spoilers #meta posting on my art blog #god why did i spend my afternoon on this all this proves is that I need to be put in an English class again purely for enrichment purposes

369 notes · View notes

vcnillazelda · 1 year

Text

alive

simon riley x reader

summary: you almost die on a mission

tags: near death experience, angst with a happy ending, hospitals, hand holding, hurt/comfort, cuddles bc ik y’all crave it, f! reader, also very stubborn! reader, jealousy at the end but it’s not too bad

✞———————❖———————✞

your heart beats below his fingers and simon lets out a soft exhale. it’s not that he doubted your condition, he just needed to see it for himself. simon hadn’t gotten to visit you since the mission, but now you were in safe hands he could relax and sit beside you. his heart aches for you, and he clutches your hand tight. “i’m sorry, sweetheart.” he whispers, blinking. his mask feels stuffy in the warm room, yet he doesn’t care enough to remove it, even when the paint around his eyes begin to smudge and fade. you hum softly, head rolling towards him a little as your body shuffles to sink further into the cardboard-like mattress that was your hospital bed in the infirmary. simon sighs, running his fingers over your knuckles. you twitch a little, hand flexing under the feathery feeling of his touch, and simon lets up, not wanting to disturb you.

“simon..?” you mutter, voice thick with medication and sleep. “i’m here, doll.” he responds softly, and you hum. “hi, there.” you smile a little, not bothering to open your eyes due to the heavy lead feeling on them. “how do you feel?” simon asks, and you hum. “not too bad… i’m on some heavy meds.” your lips twitch upwards once more and simon huffs out a small laugh. “i can tell.” his hand squeezes yours, and you let out a soft exhale through your nose, body relaxing. “don’t get all depressed, si. it’s not my first time in here.” you state, and he hums. “i mean it, y’know.” you finally open your eyes, poking his forearm. “i know you do.” simon states, eyes soft and doe-like. “good. just because i got hurt, doesn’t mean you’re at fault. we all got separated, there’s nothing anyone could of done.” you reply, smiling a little.

there’s a small silence between you both, and yet it’s not uncomfortable. “you’re impossible, y’know that?” simon mutters after the silence fades with the sound of footsteps walking past. “i know.” you respond, closing your eyes once more as you settle beside him. with that, you fall asleep. simon stays by your side for as long as he can before the doctors kick him out, knowing full well he’d be back in the next day after every little job he had to do was settled.

simon comes back after his shower, which he took after training, his hair is damp under his hood and his actual mask is gone, leaving him in the balaclava he wears under it. you’re awake this time, yet relaxing as your fingers run over the bandages. “hello, sweetheart.” he mutters, and you open your eyes. “hi, simon.” the way his name rolls off your tongue makes him smile. “you need to rescue me, si. recovery is so boring.” you joke, going to sit up. simon gently pushes you back down, sitting on the chair beside you. “hey, now. recovery is important. i don’t want any lasting injuries on you, okay?” he mutters, and you sigh. “stop agreeing with everyone.” you roll your eyes but he can tell you’re joking because you break into a grin and kiss his fingers.

simon let’s you talk about things, noting every little ‘get well soon’ gift and card you had gotten. he has to get you one too… “so, yeah. that’s how i broke my arm on the first day of training.” you sigh, and he hums softly. “sounds rough…” simon sympathises, and you hum. you know better than to ask him for stories in return, anything he told you would be of his own accord when he was ready. “johnny dropped off some book, but you know how i am…” you trail off, and simon rolls his eyes. “yeah, yeah. where is it?” he asks, and you point to the bedside table. “in the top drawer. thanks, si’.” you grin widely as he picks up the book, one he wasn’t familiar with, and opens the cover.

you had fallen sound asleep just after simon had finished reading the fifth chapter, and so he put the book down and lifted his mask a little to gently kiss your forehead. he doesn’t leave just yet, he had nothing else to do, and so simon sits and watches over you, keeping a close eye on your vitals and the machines around you. you seemed to be doing well, but simon knows how easily it would be for you to take a turn for the worst; he’d seen it before and truth be told, it terrified him.

simon gets the news that you’d flatlined then been resuscitated from johnny, and he drops his firearm, startling poor gaz who was trying to get some tips. he sprints through the base, ignoring the worried looks and anyone trying to stop him. barging into your room, simon sees price already there, arms crossed as he watches the doctor test your vision with a pocket light. “just keep following the light here, you’re doing well…” he mutters, watching your eyes carefully. “everything seems to be okay… that was a close call.” the doctor stands upright, and price speaks up. “do we have to send her home?” he asks, and you tense. “i don’t want to go home..!” you frown, but the doctor sighs. “if it continues to worsen you might have to.” he replies, and you sigh. “simon..!” you silently plead, plead for him to take your side, and yet he sighs too. “you should listen to them, they doctor’s right.” you frown at him, turning away. simon’s heart aches, yet price pats your shoulder gently. “don’t worry about it, kid. they’re just looking out for you.”

simon moves out of the way to let the two leave, sitting beside you. “hey..” he mumbles, gently grasping your hand. you don’t respond, clearly upset. simon wants to yell at something, someone, yet not at you, he’d never raise his voice at you. “please talk to me.” he begs, squeezing your hand a little. “…i don’t want to go home.” you mumble, and he nods a little. “i know, but if it gets serious you’ll have to go to an actual hospital.” simon responds, although he’s also dreading the idea. “how did this even happen?” he asks, and you shrug weakly. “i’m not sure… it just did- i went to take a nap and i woke up to a damn defibrillator shocking the life out of me.” you frown, leaning into him, head resting upon his broad shoulder. “how do you feel now?” simon asks, moving his hand from yours to rub your back. “my chest hurts and i feel dizzy… the doctor said it’s because i got zapped back to life.” you sigh, and he hums. “as long as you’re alright…”

“i want out of this damn room, simon.” you complain. two days had passed and you were on the up and up. “i know, doll.” he responds, waiting for you to be quiet so he could go back to reading the book you were quite interested in. you sigh, pulling his other hand up to your cheek. you’re pouting, and he sighs. “it’s not so bad, darling.” he mumbles, and you scoff. “it’s awful… i wanna go back to normal.” you reply, and he hums. “well, you’ve gotta get better first.” simon looks at you, and you crumble a little under his gaze. “okay, okay…” you surrender, falling quiet once more so he could continue reading.

simon sighs as he enters your room, glancing to your bed as he goes to close the door. you’re holding onto your iv, knees trembling as you stand. “poor timing…” you mumble as your lover immediately swoops over, sitting you down. “poor timing my arse, what the hell are you thinking?” he demands, and you sigh. “i’m bored, simon! i want to do anything else than lay in this damn bed all day!” you complain, and simon sighs. “i spoke to the doctor before coming in, okay? you’ll be out soon.” he assures you. “that’s what they said two weeks ago then i fucking died.” you snap, and simon flinches. “si’…” you trail off, voice small. “no, no… i get it. it’s hard.” he responds, sitting beside you on the bed. you frown, leaning into him. “i just wanna leave, simon…” you whisper, and he nods. “i know, doll. not too long now.”

weeks pass, and you’re increasingly bored. you’ve always been a soldier that enjoys inserting yourself into situations, especially during training. you were practical and many praised you for it. simon brings you whatever he can to keep your sanity in check, he even tries getting you to knit to try and involve you in something. you’re become more irate and upset with every day, so simon backs off a little, cutting down his working hours on base to bring you books- only to read them to you, but it was something. so, when the day the doctor states you’re fit to leave back onto base, you’re elated, a wide grin on your face as you snatch up your belongings. simon keeps his hand close in case you fell, still unsure of you leaving early, but the doctor pulled him aside and stated it was just for your mental health and that he’d keep a close eye on you.

you sigh heavily as simon helps you into your shared room with the lieutenant, watching you flop onto your bed with a grimace. “careful. i don’t need you going back in so early.” he mutters, painfully aware of the stitches on your side which trailed to your stomach. “yeah, yeah. i’d rather get sliced up and nearly bleed out again before i go back into that damn infirmary.” simon sighs at your blunt words, sitting beside you. “let’s hope it doesn’t come to that again, yeah?” he mumbles, and you soften up. “sorry…” you reply, muttering. “it’s okay…” simon sighs, letting you tug him so you were both lay on your bed. “let me see your pretty face…” you mumble, taking off his mask for him. simon smiles, kissing your lips sweetly as your thumbs gently run over the faded scars on his skin. “that was the worst part of staying in there, i couldn’t see you properly.” you mutter, kissing him again. “shush.” simon whispers, coddling you close to his chest. “it’s true..” you respond, squeezing his waist a little as your head rests against his chest. eventually, you doze off, wrapped up in his arms.

when simon wakes up, he shuffles a little. you’re tangled in his limbs, head still pressed to him, fast asleep. it feels good to have you so close once more. you whine softly in your sleep as simon moves, clinging on tighter. he stills, letting you settle before getting comfortable again. “stop moving..” you mumble, burying your face into his neck. “sorry.” simon exhales, resting his chin atop your head. “s’okay.” you reply, falling back asleep.

you wake up to an empty bed, yet no beeping. sleepily, you stretch and yawn, wiping sleep from your eyes. “simon?” you ask, sitting up. you look over, seeing him doing his morning exercises. “morning, doll. sleep well?” he asks, as if he wasn’t lifting his entire body weight up on a doorway pull up bar that he had attached to the bathroom of the room. “yeah, fine.” you mumble, taking your sweet time appreciating how his back muscles rippled with each swift lift. “you look good.” you compliment, enjoying how he falters for a split second. “knock it off, i have to finish this.” he scolds, yet there’s no sternness in his words. “yes sir.” you stand carefully, sighing. there’s a knock at the door, and so you open it whilst simon gets down. “hello, doctor. thought i had escaped you.” you say smoothly, and he smiles. “you thought wrong.” he replies, entering the room.

his latex gloved hands are cold as they run over the sensitive wound, you can see simon glaring at the doctor over his shoulder. it almost makes you laugh. “the stitches aren’t ready to be removed yet, but they should be after a few more weeks. meaning no training.” the doctor tells you, drawing your gaze to his face. “right.” you nod, feeling a little dejected as the doctor starts wrapping your stomach back up. simon stays quiet, brooding at the fact another man was touching you so intimately. you giggle softly, excusing yourself as ‘ticklish’ when the doctor raises his brows. “all done. i’ll be back again tomorrow to change your dressing and check on you.” he states, bidding farewell as he leaves.

the door clicks shut and you laugh openly at simon, who scowls. “stop it.” he grunts, walking over and engulfing you into a hug. “you looked so upset. it’s funny.” you giggle, pulling up his mask to kiss him. his lips are desperate and hard against yours. “you don’t have to be jealous simon,” you coo, fingers brushing over the scars upon his cheeks. “i’m all yours.” you feel his lips twitch up slightly as he kisses you again. “i know you are.” he replies, pulling you down so he could coddle you whilst there was still some time in the morning’s free period. you tangle your legs with his, fingers running over his chest as you push your head under his chin, completely content with the position. “i love you, simon.” you mumble, smiling widely to yourself. “i love you too, sweetheart.”

#cod mwii #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod x reader #ghost cod #ghost x reader #mw ghost #simon riley x reader #// 🍨 vcnillazelda #// 🍨 call of duty

1K notes · View notes

dragonmurray · 7 months

Text

Childish Games

Pairing - Loki x F Reader

In which a bet made amongst avengers junior agents leads you to finally confronting your feelings for Loki.

Warnings - smut

“What is it you want Price?” You asked the young agent as you stood in the training room of the Avengers compound. You had just completed a round of training with a group of first years, looking to work their way up in to the field and join the ranks of full agents.

You were already there. Having excelled in all fields, you were now working with the Avengers and actively joining missions. You had quarters in the Tower and there was never any doubt that you belonged there.

“Actually it’s what I can do for you Agent. It hasn’t gone unnoticed you know” said the cocky agent. He stood next to you, arms folded across his chest, smirking down at you as you gathered the last of the equipment from the floor, ready to head home for the evening.

“Please get to your point faster Price, we all have places to be” you couldn’t wait to get back to the Tower. To sneak in to the library and catch a certain god reading. How you loved when he would read to you and tell stories of his youth. You had struck up quite a friendship. Though your heart ached for more.

“You are alone agent y/n, there’s no Mr Agent waiting for you at the tower. You never date. I bet it’s been years since you’ve been kissed. Let me change that” he gripped your arm pulling you upwards in an attempt to bring his mouth to yours. Before he could get close to your face his arm was twisted enough to bend, his legs buckling and an undignified scream escaping his lips.

“Touch me again Price and I will break you, limb by limb, molecule by molecule, until there is nothing left of you but ash and unkissable dust. Now tell me, what the hell are you doing?” You pressed him further into the cold stone floor of the training room, your knee in his spine.

Suddenly the doors to the training room flew open. Loki entered, dragging an equally terrified female trainee behind him.

“Ah, I see I am too late to rescue you Agent. Have you heard what the children are up to?” His voice dripping with malice, sending a shiver down your spine. Did nothing sound bad from his mouth?

You looked at him with confusion as you buried your feelings, once again.

“It seems they have a game being played, they each have avengers assigned to them to try and seduce into bed. This poor thing here, picked me. A clear mistake on her part. I would never lower myself to such a level”. He glared at the trainee behind him, pushing her over to her friend on the floor as you stood up. Price letting out a relived cry.

Loki’s words stung. You knew he was a God. A God couldn’t be with a mortal, why would he try.

“Spill it Price, tell me everything” you sighed. Moving to stand next to Loki, looking down at the two agents like disappointed teachers.

“It’s just a bit of fun, seeing how far we could get before the end of the year. We’ve only got 2 weeks left and you’re the only two left not to crack. You’ve never been seen with anyone so we figured we had to try” he whined rubbing his bruised arm, and ego.

“So this is all because we’re the only avengers not throwing ourselves around? Although I am surprised at Steve” you shrugged.

“He caved pretty quickly, Janine dressed up in a 40s uniform and he kissed her then cried, it was pretty sad actually” said the female agent, she looked down as she mumbled.

Loki stepped forward “I see. Well, we disappoint you then. And it’s off to bed for you two. Goodnight agents, we will leave this little failed operation between ourselves, for now” he glowered down at the two.

As he was talking, an idea was forming in your head. Slowly working it’s way to the surface.

“You know, we could end this now Loki. Take ourselves off the game cards” you said.

He slowly turned to you, his eyes shimmering with confusion.

“I mean, I don’t know about you but I don’t like being cornered by idiots. I also don’t like the reputation of never being kissed. Which isn’t true by the way” you glared at Price.

The two agents on the floor stood up, thinking they were about to win big and compete their score cards. But, before they could straighten, Loki took two strides across the room taking your face in his hands and bringing your mouths together.

You stumbled but his hand reached behind your back pressing you against him, hard. He tilted his head, his tongue asking permission to enter your mouth which you granted, still too shocked as your arms hung in the air unsure how to react.

As his tongue slid against yours, you melted. Your hands went to his chest, gripping his shirt. He moaned in to your mouth pulling you even closer to him. As if nothing was good enough, as if he needed to be one with you.

The two agents stood dumbfounded. As moans started to fill the room they made their hasty escape. Either way they had lost this round.

As the training room door slammed shut you pulled backwards gasping for breath and sanity.

“I… we… I mean..” you stuttered, with no idea what you were even trying to say.

Loki gave you a devilish smile. “Oh agent, I couldn’t agree more” he pulled you back to him slamming your lips together as you both gasped. Gripping each other and pulling at each other’s clothes.

He pushed you backwards until you hit the locker wall, instantly gripping your thighs to wrap them around his waist. You opened up for him, grinding on to him. Incoherent mumbles leaving your mouth.

“I had always pictured our first time being slow, meticulous on my part Agent, but I fear I am past the point of no return. I need to be inside you, now, I have already waited too long to show you how I feel” Loki growled into your ear as he placed kisses down your neck. Your head falling back in ecstasy.

“I didn’t hear a lot of that, my head is swimming. But if I’m correct, then take me Loki, now, please” you sighed.

A green glow worked it’s way across your bodies as your clothes melted away. His cock pressing against your dripping core as the barriers between you disappeared. You took his face in your hands forcing him to look into your eyes.

“Loki, I need you to know. To me you are always worthy. I will always chose you” overwhelmed with emotions you poured your heart out as a million fantasies finally came true.

Loki’s eyes blazed in to yours with so much emotion you couldn’t comprehend.

“Y/n. I have waited eternity for you, and I will spend eternity worshipping you”

With his declaration he pushed inside you. Both of your crying out in pleasure as he set a steady pace. You had never felt anything like this and could do nothing more than grip his shoulders as the pleasure built inside you.

He picked up the pace, burying his head in your shoulder. Kissing and biting as he speared in to you. You couldn’t hold it any longer, your orgasm slammed into you like a freight train and you screamed his name.

Loki gripped your hair to slam your mouths together as he emptied himself inside you. Both of your breaths mingling as you tried to steady your heart rates.

His forehead rested on yours as he slowly withdrew from you, setting your shaking legs on the ground but not letting you go incase you fell. The green glow clothes you both again and you held on to each other. Emotions whirling around you.

Doubt started to creep in. Was this all a heat of the moment scenario? Would he move on to the next conquest? Loki saw your eyes change and tilted your chin up to meet his eyes.

“Take my hand Agent. We are going to my chambers and we will not leave until I have worshipped every inch of your body and proved to you that you are mine” he kissed your hand and started walked towards the door pulling you with him.

A cracking sound filled the room as Tony’s voice came over the intercom “Does no one in this compound care about the cameras? My eyes are burned. Also I erased it, you’re welcome kids”

#loki smut #loki #loki god of mischief #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki x reader #loki of asgard #loki x you #loki x y/n

254 notes · View notes

bitd · 2 years

Text

PERCEPTION [Sight] [Easy: Success] - As you skim the shelves, a familiar title catches your eye.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] - Fisticuffs Convention, by Charles Plucky. Often stigmatized as revolutionary literature, it tells the story of a young man whose anti-capitalist and masculine urges lead him to an amnesiac double life, hallucinating an idealized alter ego.

INLAND EMPIRE - A handsome, emotionally regulated, cigarette-smoking parallel of yourself appearing alongside an amnesic episode?

LOGIC [Easy: Fail] - Come to think of it, have you seen anyone else acknowledge Kim directly? I mean, you haven't been paying close attention, but maybe…

YOU - "Kim, I think you're a hallucination of my idealized self, emerged from my subconscious to guide me in my time of need."

KIM KITSURAGI - The lieutenant, already impatient with your leisurely browsing, does not seem to agree with your theory. "Doubtful. Plucky's novel was driven by the protagonist's estrangement from his mundane and meaningless life. By contrast, you seem rather… emotionally invested."

YOU - "Hold on, emotionally invested in what?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "Most things, from what I've seen."

-1 MORALE

INLAND EMPIRE [Challenging: Fail] - Don't give up on this yet, you know that there's SOMETHING about the novel that resonated with you.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] - If Kim isn't your alter ego projection, that leaves only one option.

LOGIC - You must be his.

VOLITION - Are you guys fucking serious?

- [Rhetoric: Godly 16] Convince Kim you're his alter ego.

- No, that can't be right, my identity is too complex to be anyone else's.

⚅⚅

CHECK SUCCESS

YOU - "Kim, I've figured it all out. Why I can't remember anything before you got here, why we make such a good duo."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Oh? It had nothing to do with your activities prior, after all?" He sounds sceptical, and he hasn't even heard your genius theory yet!

YOU - "That's the thing, there were no activities prior. I'm not real."

KIM KITSURAGI - He raises an eyebrow at you, imperceptibly.

PERCEPTION [Trivial: Success] - Bullshit. It's perceptible. I'm perceiving it. It's not all of us who are completely socially incompetent and can't read facial expressions - just you.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Detective," he starts, in a tone even the most socially competent would find unreadable, "Our acquaintances at the Whirling-In-Rags would likely disagree."

YOU - "Look at yourself, Kim. Calm. Reserved. Repressed. You wear glasses. Now look at me. Cool. Wild. Unrestrained. I wear sunglasses. I'm a superstar. Would you agree that I am, more or less, everything you're not?"

EMPATHY [Trivial: Success] - He realizes where this is going moments before you get there, defeat etched into his face.

YOU - "Maybe even everything you wish you could be?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "Hm."

YOU - "Come on, Kim, it's obvious. It was you who trashed the Whirling-In-Rags, and you're projecting me while you clean up your mess!"

KIM KITSURAGI - Despite everything, he keeps his patience. "That is an... intriguing theory, detective, but there are multiple witnesses who can attest for our separate physical embodiments before and after my arrival. I also haven't lost any time, so it seems unlikely I would be experiencing some sort of latent dissociative disorder."

ESPRIT DU CORPS [Legendary: Success] But that might actually explain some things, now that it occurs to him. A previous inquiry on 'talking thoughts' flashes through his mind.

KIM KITSURAGI - He acquiesces, almost too easily, "I suppose there's no proving it either way. Perhaps tonight after we've finished our work for the day you could do some more research into the matter. I'm sure this store must have some psychological texts you could consult."

📒

TASK GAINED:

READ ABOUT "DISSOCIATIVE DISORDERS"

#disco elysium #de #harrier du bois #kim kitsuragi

2K notes · View notes

junowritings · 5 months

Note

Hello ☺️💚

I hope I can request something, if they are closed please feel free to delete this 🌺🌺

I absolutely I adored your NRC amnesiac MC story with the dorms and would love to see more. It just hit all the tropes I love so much and adore.

Maybe with the rest of the dorms? As scenarios?? Or imagines?? (Honestly I’m a confused when it comes to those terms, so whichever is easier for you)

With pomefiore, ignihyde, and diasomnia? I feel like Vil is going to take one look at mc and go “okay, time to take care of another potato” but lovingly, ignihyde is going ortho is “I have another sibling” and gosh diasomnia is practically family and lilia is going “time to adopt another one 👏👏”

I just found the idea so so cute, but feel free to do whatever you want ☺️🌺

Right so first off I'M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I'M SO HAPPY YOU LIKED THE ORIGINAL ONE!!! Also thank you so much for all the kind comments that you leave on my post I see every single one and it still makes my day to re-read them!

But also GOD I love this idea too and I got way too carried away with this. There's a lot of TWST I gotta catch up on (haven't been able to start chapter 7 yet) so I had to work with what I've got in terms of knowledge of Diasomnia.

I hope this was well worth the wait~! (OG scenario here btw)

Pomefiore

♡ Time passes at Night Raven College, and life continues to move on, as it always has. It’s been months without a single shred of your memories resurfacing, and with no sign of anything returning anytime soon the attention has turned from your past, to your present. Your memory loss has become a simple fact of life at this point, a reality that you had to put on the back burner with everything else that had happened since your arrival and during the winter holidays. You’re thankful that the needless prodding seems to have died down by the time that students start returning back to the school and classes resume. Things return to the only sense of normalcy you’ve ever known, and you think you can get used to this without another incident.

♡ Until VDC happens.

♡ Ramshackle is the only place you have to call home, but even you can admit that it needs a lot of work. It’s a poor excuse for a building, considering the state that it had been left in far before anyone called it home. It at least had running water, and electricity, but compared to the other dorms and their meticulous upkeep by both students and staff, Ramshackle is most certainly the odd dorm out with only two members and a handful of ghosts to its name. And yet it’s the place that the headmaster deems an acceptable place to host the VDC group during their month ‘training camp’.

♡ It makes it easier knowing that you’re good friends with the majority of the group, having been through plenty before the training camp even started. In some weird way it’s kind of like a month-long sleepover with your friends and classmates, not unlike the times Kalim’s dragged you over to Scarabia for the night in the name of making fond memories. Still, you can’t help but feel cautious around the Pomfiore members you now have living under your roof, and how little you actually know about them.

♡ By this point, the fact that you’ve got no memories prior to ending up in Twisted Wonderland is pretty much common knowledge amongst the people who bother to keep tabs on you. And considering how Pomefiore’s got the likes of Rook, a skilled hunter who has a penchant for people watching anyone who catches his eye, you’ve got no doubts that they’re well aware of your circumstances.

♡That, and Crowley’s a loudmouth when it comes to his generosity about your ‘unfortunate situation’. That headmaster is really starting to test your patience…

♡ While Vil is strict, he’s by no means cruel, and is at least polite when you first allow them all into your home. He thankfully doesn’t pity you like you worried he would - you’ve had enough of the pitying looks some people give you when they think you’re not looking. Your lack of a past isn’t something you want to dwell on, Vil can see that clearly with how thoroughly you throw yourself into the training camp alongside your friends and new acquaintances. Not to mention that you act as a surprisingly good buffer between the members whenever tensions start to arise with the upcoming deadline.

♡ It’s admirable really - a single minded little spudling if he’s ever seen one. You’ve got promise, if you keep up that resilient attitude, so Vil offers you no quarter in getting you just as involved in this little training excursion as the others are, if only to help you flourish with enough memories of this upcoming event to last you for a lifetime.

♡ With that being said your thirst for knowledge isn’t to be underestimated, and once you find out that Vil’s pretty much a celebrity and acting prodigy you’re intrigued. Vil’s walking past the living room after the group’s come back from another day training at the ballroom and freezes once he hears his own voice coming through the door. Sure enough you’re lounging over the couch watching one of the more obscure movie titles Vil’s acted in on the phone Crowley ‘gifted’ you before winter break. There’s a blunt honesty when you praise his work once you notice you’ve got an audience. Sure, it’s praise he’s heard from adoring fans and critics more times than he could ever hope to recall, but it’s not something you’re saying just to try and get in his good books. When you offhandedly mention that he looks a little happier in the roles where he’s not the villain, noting that they suit him and that whatever world you’re from he’d probably be a big hit, you swear that he gets a bit smug, apparently pleased by whatever you’d said. You may not know all the ins and outs of this world yet, but Vil’s at least sure you’ve got taste. Which is why he turns a convenient blind eye at the treats you smuggle up to Grim and your room after he’s sure you swore to Ace and Deuce to follow along with their no-sweet regime.

♡ Rook is observant, and it’s hard for people not to feel like he’s prying a bit too much into their personal lives when they happen to gain the huntsman’s attention. Perhaps it’s because you’ve got a relatively blank slate, or that you’re so focused on forging ahead to whatever comes next that you’ll get involved at a moment’s notice. Whatever the quality it has piqued his interest, and from the moment that the camp starts he’s committing every little detail about you to memory.

♡ You may not see it, but there’s so many details in the actions that you do and your daily routines that tell the story of who you are to whoever is diligent enough to listen. It’s in your mannerisms and the way you engage with everything around you, all easily missed to the untrained eye. It’s beautiful in its own way, and Rook is nothing if not an appreciator of that beauty.

♡ Your homestead at Ramshackle is but another shining example of who you are as well. Having nothing but the clothes on your back and a basic understanding of how to function when you first arrived, it’s clear that you’ve made a concentrated effort to at least make the place liveable for you and Grim; not just as a shelter, but as a home. Because of course this is the only place you can call home, and Rook is sure to treat it with the respect such an important place deserves.

♡ Epel doesn’t really know what to make of you at first. You’re from a different world entirely, for one thing, and not having any kind of past beyond school makes him feel a bit awkward about interacting with you. According to Vil, Epel’s still rather rough around the edges, and when his emotions get the better of him he’s been known to put his foot in it and say something that comes off blunt and snappy. Plus, surely there was only so much the two of you could talk about that wasn’t VDC or school related, right?

♡ He’s proven wrong when that huge batch of apple juice from his nana back home is delivered to Ramshackle’s doorstep. All it takes is him mentioning to Kalim that his hometown is known for its apples, and before he can even elaborate your voice chimes in with a helpful “Oh,the village of Harvest, right?” that has Epel’s attention snapping over to you so quickly you think you’ve done something wrong.

♡How did you even know that? His hometown’s barely on the map to begin with, so it genuinely makes him freeze when you recognize it so quickly. The question bugs him until he’s able to ask you about it later, where he finds out just how much you’ve thrown yourself into learning about this world you’ve ended up in. You’re excited that someone’s finally asking you about stuff that you do know, and you pretty much end up talking poor Epel’s ear off for the rest of the evening, telling him all kinds of facts you’ve read up on regarding his hometown’s history and culture. Hell, you spout off a few facts that even he didn’t know about, and he doesn’t miss the proud grin on your face once you learn that.

♡Surprisingly, you want to hear more from Epel too. About the place he grew up, the people he grew up with - his family especially. You’ve had some time to process your own grief around your potential family and your life back home, and though there’s still a twinge of jealousy that sparks up on the bad days you don’t want it to hinder the people that you care about right now. And so you sit, and you listen, prodding him for as much information as he’s willing to give. He practically has to send a message to his nana there and then thanking her on your behalf for all the juice when you learn that she was the one kind enough to send them all over. It’s the only way to get you off of his back about it, but there’s no denying that it’s actually kind of nice having someone who’s genuinely curious about his upbringing, instead of snooping or looking down on it.

♡Even after VDC you’re surprised to find that Pomefiore’s promptly nestled itself into your life. With everything that took place before and after the group's performance it only made sense that they’ve bonded to their newest potato, just be prepared for what exactly that entails. Expect plenty of gifts in the form of the latest cosmetic brands and accessories to be delivered to Ramshackle (much to Grim’s disappointment because it’s not food.) You’ve even had yourself called all the way over to Pomefiore’s dorm only to come back with entire outfits just because you let slip once that Crowley’s budget for your dorm doesn’t cover enough to justify buying anything more than your uniform.

♡ Those aren’t the only gifts you receive too. Often when you’re hanging out with the first year group Epel’s got one thing or another that his family back home has practically strong-armed him into giving to you. He’s talked about you to his folks a few times thanks to the whole apple incident, and Marja herself has made Epel remind you more than a couple times that you’re always welcome at the village of Harvest when the next school breaks come up. Did that embarrass Epel? Yes. Did it make him panic when you immediately teared up because of how touching it was? Also yes.

♡ Pomefiore’s final gifts are small, but mean just as much. They also confuse the hell out of you because when did they even show up??? They’re specific things - things related to your hobbies like new books, CD’s, Movies of your favorite genre for you to enjoy (in case Crowley ever caves and gets you that TV on sale at Sam’s store that he’s been promising you for weeks now goddammit-). All placed somewhere that you’re sure to find them. These gifts are well thought out and honestly mean a lot once you realize who they’re from. Not to mention that there’s a folder with a beautiful decorated cover amongst these little surprises, a clear label reading ‘Memory book’ in very familiar handwriting. Thank god the mystery is solved once you find out Grim’s being bribed with tuna by a certain bob-cut huntsman to drop all these things off at Ramshackle (Grim was supposed to give them to you in hand, but he always gets too bored to do so before you get back from school.) So long as you come to terms with the fact that you’ve been pseudo-adopted into Pomfiore’s ranks by the end of it, it’s honestly kind of nice.

♡Just maybe don’t tell Vil that you may have accidentally made friends with his biggest rival on the day of the event because you ran into him backstage. Rook is certainly happy about it - Vil not so much.

Ignihyde

♡ Your friendship with the housewarden of Ignihyde can be rather prickly in light of everything that’s happened, especially after the events with S.T.Y.X. Before that your only real contact with the Shroud brothers was through Ortho, during your first run in at the audition waiting room. You didn’t hide your excitement once you learned that Idia had made the vocal synthesizer that Ortho was using for the VDC auditions, marveling about how cool it was and asking question after question about how he did it. Ortho is more than happy to answer each and every question you have and then some - especially once you learned Technomancy was a thing and just about lit up like a lightbulb. In fact Ace and Deuce basically have to strong arm you away from the conversation in the end because you’re gonna end up making them late for the damn audition.

♡ You at least have the chance to call out to Ortho to tell his brother that he sounds awesome and his stuff is cool before the ballroom door shuts behind you. And that’s exactly what he tells Idia as soon as he’s back from the auditions. Idia thinks that you’re just pulling his leg and don’t actually mean any of the nice things that you say, and it takes Ortho insisting on playing it to him on his memory bank multiple times to prove just how genuinely nice and excited you sounded.

♡ Idia doesn’t really expect to hear anything from you after that, but hoo boy is he mistaken because once you’ve gotten in one of the Shroud boys’ good books the other one (reluctantly) follows. Not that he has much of a choice, because not even a couple of days after the auditions Idia’s getting added to a group chat with him, Ortho and you. It’s supposedly because you’d wanted to ask him a few more questions about his tech, and after Ortho had mentioned his brother probably wouldn’t like the face to face grilling, a group chat with the younger Shroud as the middleman was born. Grim sometimes forces his way into the conversation, but that usually involves him demanding you to write down the texts for him or slapping the nearest meme on your phone into the chat completely out of context.

♡Ortho has a lot of fun chatting with you because he shares your passion for learning things, and the two of you become thick as thieves over it before and after he officially becomes a student. He’s basically got the internet at his fingertips at all times, alongside a variety of other tools that basically make the younger Shroud brother a walking hub of information. You, for one, are absolutely living your best life because whatever odd subject has caught your attention, no matter the question you can always ask Ortho and he is more than happy to provide you whatever fun fact you’re looking for within a matter of moments. You get a bit quiet once he mentions the memories he was given during his creation, but that’s to be expected given the circumstances that you’re working with.

♡ At first, getting Idia to even pop up in the chat is like pulling on a gacha - you’ve got a good 2% chance of him actually interacting, though he does check in a lot more than you’d expect. With time however, and more than a little persistence on your part, you’ll find cracks in Idia’s defenses. He finds it easier to talk to people behind the safety of a screen, and it's not like you’re forcing him to interact with you so that at least gets you some brownie points. Granted, expect him to prod juuuuust a little bit if the topic of your memories come up in chat. He’s sure he hasn’t got enough of a bond rank with you yet

♡Things go up in the air when S.T.Y.X breaks into NRC.

♡ It was one thing having all of these people who you’d come to call friends suddenly stolen away, but losing Grim? The one who’s been your rock since you first showed up who’s been a part of every single memory you’ve made? If Rook wasn’t already planning to sneak out to find them you would have tore through their headquarters with your bare hands to get that damn tuna loving weird rock eating fluff ball back. Once you found out what S.T.Y.X actually had their hands in, especially considering the Lethe River system you were pissed. If you didn’t know for a fact that you were from another world entirely, and that the system operated to a very specific set of procedures for rewriting and erasing set memories, you would have thought that it had something to do with your own memory erasure. If that was the case you probably would have throttled the poor older Shroud; but because you know the truth, and the system itself is down for the next few centuries you settle for being absolutely livid about it.

♡ It’s a sore spot, hitting a little too close to home knowing that there’s people out there who have had memories taken away from them or altered to protect S.T.Y.X’s existence. It’s nothing like your own situation, but you can’t help feeling angry for them. And on top of that, seeing all of those phantoms and knowing that they could have been your friends if you hadn’t been able to bring them back from their overblots? You may try to think of every memory being worth it, but you learn that some bad memories keep you up at night for days after you’re all finally home.

♡ Your friendship with the brothers is tentatively built back up after this, but it takes a bit of work. Idia’s convinced that you’re never going to want anything to do with either of them again after all that’s happened. So convinced that he nearly has a heart attack when you reach out into the group chat once you’ve had time to process things and recover.

♡ Gonna be honest, the wonderlink he gets for you and Grim becomes a huge olive branch once you’re settled back at Ramshackle. Your determination to make memories alongside not having a clue how the gaming system works leads to you either calling Idia over the phone or actually wrangling him into coming over to play with you. Whether by accident or purpose most of the games you purchased on the system he gave you are multiplayer and you insist that there’s absolutely no way just the two of you can place and that you need a gaming expert. Of course Idia sees through your poorly veiled attempts to get him to socialize, but you must have pulled some cheat code because you somehow manage to get him over to play with you two. Just be ready to have more than a few memories of losing - he’s a gaming pro for a reason, after all.

Diasomnia

♡ You’ve firmly wormed your way into the Diasomnia circle from the moment that you first encountered Malleus, whether you realize it at first or not.

♡ Mallues may not be the most intimately involved in the school's affairs or gossip, but even he’s heard talk of the prefect from another world with neither magic nor memories to their name. The lack of magical aptitude wasn’t anything to bat an eye at, though it was unfortunate given your current enrollment at one of the top arcane colleges in the world. But to have no recollections of your life prior to enrolling? In a place where no one can recognize you or give you the answers that you’re looking for? Truly, an unfortunate set of circumstances you’ve been dealt.

♡ He did not expect to cross paths with this infamous prefect on Ramshackle’s grounds not long after word of them popped up. The old bones of the place were a comfort to Malleus on many nightly walks; when he finds out that it’s no longer as abandoned as he first thought he’s sour at the knowledge that he’ll have to find another place to pass his time in peace. The last thing that Malleus expects is you being bold enough not only to approach him, but to greet him so casually as you none too subtly try to pry into what he’s doing walking around your dorm grounds.

♡ Perhaps you’ve lost more than just your memories, as there’s not even a shred of trepidation or cautiousness as you so boldly interact with the fae. Not only that but you listen, looking up at him not with the nervousness or even fear that he’s seen in the faces of most of NRC’s students, but with curiosity. You’re a stranger to this world, so you don’t yet know the name Malleus Draconia, nor the face the name is tied to. For once your lack of knowledge works to someone’s benefit, and an unusual bond is formed.

♡ Your friendship with Malleus is an interesting exchange - you provide him company and idle conversation whenever he spirits away to Ramshackle; and he provides you company in turn, as well as a willing ear for you to confide in. Sure, your friends have told you that you can talk to them about your problems, but for some reason you’re able to open up easily to Mal. Maybe it’s because of just how little you know about him, right down to his very name - he’s just as much of a blank slate to you as yourself. So you find yourself sharing your worries about where you came from, or the life you lived before this, or the general distress of not knowing the first thing to do about getting your memory back.

♡ Even after all these months it still weighs heavily on you, Malleus can see it in the tired expression that wears on your face when you recall all the things you’ve done to bring back even a shred of your old identity until your head’s pounding and your eyes ache. He hates seeing you troubling yourself over it, and more than once he’s found himself flickering through old books and tomes that haven’t been touched in centuries back home with the small hope to relieve some of that burden from your mind.

♡ On a happier note, Malleus will quite happily fill you in on subjects that peak your interest. He may have lived a fairly isolated life up until his enrollment here, but even what he does know about NRC and the world outside of it he’ll share with you, if only to see the way your expression lights up in wonder hearing everything he has to share.

♡ This dynamic changes very little, aside from the fact that now that you know his true identity these interactions are no longer purely one sided in the sense that you don’t have to wait around for him to just magically appear like you have been for months. Now he’s the one being surprised by your presence when you come knocking on Diasomnia’s doors looking to hang out. Surprising, but it honestly makes the young Draconia’s day having you march through his dorm’s halls wanting to spend time with him, encouraging him to talk about his day and asking how Roaring Drago is doing as you do so.

♡ It’s an unusual feeling, having someone’s undivided attention simply because they enjoy your company, and that you leave such an impressionable impact on their memory. Your memory is a precious commodity considering your unique circumstances, and Malleus realizes that he wants to be in as many fond memories as you’ll allow him to.

♡ Though he has to admit, Malleus can’t shake the conflict that dwells in his chest whenever the topic of your home world comes up. Perhaps it’s just in your nature to yearn for something you’ve never known, but he wonders if you’re thinking about it because your worried about your ties to this world. He hopes that once you realize the life that you’re building here, and the memories that you’re making with him and your friends will be enough to convince you to stay. But that day is far away, and so he pushes it to the back of his mind in favor of enjoying the time spent with his closest friend, for however long it lasts…

♡Lilia, catches onto the friendship you’ve got with Malleus quickly, because of course there’s no hiding how much happier Malleus has become. You’re an interesting case yourself, being able to tackle most of the problems that Ramshackle has to offer you and come out the other side as unscathed as you can be. That coupled with the increased amount of time you begin spending around Daisomnia and its students is more than enough reason to catch this guy’s attention. He learns about your memory loss early on, especially considering that it’s pretty much the talk of the school once the information drops. He won’t prod you about it like some of the younger students might, however; he’s been on this earth long enough to recognize a sore subject when he sees one.

♡ And so he sets about learning things about you in the present rather than the past. Your likes, dislikes, favorite foods, how easily shocked you get when he tries one of his infamous surprise appearances. Lilia’s very easygoing so it’s rather easy to get along with him, not to mention being a dad he’s got the comforting parental presence down pat when he wants to use it. He’s an easy person to let your guard down around, and admit things you usually wouldn’t. Maybe that’s why you end up talking to him about the what-if’s of your previous life.

♡ It’s a moment of weakness, you let one of your idle thoughts about your family back home slip, asking aloud if there’s anyone there to actually miss you. Lilia doesn’t miss the somber chuckle as you admit that you’re a little jealous - Sebek has his parents, and Silver has Lilia. You want a family like that. You try to lighten the mood by jokingly asking why someone can’t whisk you away into their family already, thinking about that time Kalim very nearly got you adopted into his family once he learned of your memory loss. You don’t expect an answer, much less for the moment to suddenly be broken as the fae pats your head ruffling your hair. No doubt he’s made your hair a mess by the action, but you’re more focused on the grin Lilia gives you when he mentions always wanting a big family - he’s sure Silver wouldn’t mind having a new sibling!

♡Unrelated but Lilia loves sharing old stories with you. Some of the things he shares you vaguely recall reading about in some history books at the library; some of those books were so old you have to wrack your brain trying to do the mental gymnastics to figure out exactly how old he is. He is thoroughly entertained seeing the mild existential crisis inducing cogs turning in your head as he continues his tales, waiting for you to inevitably jump into the story to prod him for more information. Just wait until Malleus shows you that one textbook that’s got Lilia’s portrait in; Lilia doesn’t hear the end of it when you come flying into his room mid game with the textbook in hand demanding to know how the hell he looks the same in a portrait taken centuries ago and waiting like a stubborn child next to his chair as he finishes the raid he’s working through with Gloomurai.

♡ Maybe if you weren’t so desperate for answers, you would have noticed that his friend’s gamer tag looks kinda familiar…

♡ Offered to cook you your favorite dish once. You thought it was a nice gesture, until Sebek and Silver made a joint effort to wrangle you away from the scene, basically pleading with Lilia to please not step foot into the kitchen. That’s probably one thing you’re better off not learning about…

♡ When Sebek first runs into you at NRC, he almost fools himself into thinking that you’re playing up the amnesia for some unforeseen gain. He’s not the first student to have had their doubts, and honestly you can’t entirely blame him for just how weird ‘complete memory loss aside from remembering basic functions and muscle memory’ sounds even without the whole context of this being a world governed by magic. However, what makes Sebek different is that he approaches the subject about as delicately as a falling brick. You’re only half listening as he’s demanding answers for things you don’t even know yourself, already fed up with the whole rigmarole of people throwing questions about your amnesia at you.

♡There’s only so much you can hear about memories this, hiding that before you snap back, hissing out that you’d give just about anything for it to be a lie rather than spending every night guessing where you’ve come from and who you’ve left behind while he’s got the luxury of knowing the kind of life he’s lived before this damn school. That shuts him up faster than you’ve ever seen, jaw snapping closed so hard you swear you hear his teeth click together as you turn heel and generate as much distance between the two of you as possible.

♡ He feels guilty afterwards; Sebek may be a bit of a livewire but even he knows when he’s taken things a bit too far, and it’s clear to see his prying has left you feeling more than a little bitter towards him. Thankfully team dad Lilia is right there to offer advice on smoothing things over in a way that doesn’t result in things looping back around to the original argument. It takes a little while to come to terms with the fact that Sebek genuinely didn’t mean any malice in his prodding; with him on a determined path to become a knight worthy to protect Malleus he wants to know that he can trust you before allowing any kind of potential friendship to form. The way that he went about it however was blunt and came off way ruder than intended; that’s something you can both agree on when he bellows out an apology in the middle of the damn hallway when you cross paths the next day.

♡ He comes to respect how diligently you work despite your initial setbacks coming to Twisted Wonderland with such limited knowledge. What he once thought was an attempt to pry into things for malicious gain he finds is actually just a desire to understand the world around you and the people who inhabit it. Sebek has relayed his respect to you before, in his own way, and thankfully you’ve spent enough time around him to know that he genuinely means every word of it.

♡ Will actively spur on your thirst for knowledge. The first time he lent you a book because he thought the material would give you something to think about, he fully expected it to be weeks before you’d finished. Cut to the next night and you’re unceremoniously dropping that same book onto his bedroom desk, sitting down next to him as you exclaim how cool the book was and your favorite highlights.

♡ Of course Sebek quizzes you about it, but when it’s clear you’ve actually taken an interest in the book he’s given you expect to be walking home that night with a new pile of them to pour over to your heart's content. He’s got his own passion for books, and the pair of you bond over this shared activity a lot more than people realize. Lilia almost can’t believe his eyes how quickly Sebek’s hot-blooded attitude simmers down into something more tempered whenever you come over to gush about the latest book he’s recommended to you.

♡You made a joke once about being adopted by Sebek’s parents while he was on call back home, if only to get a laugh out of the smoldering glare he shot you from the other side of the couch. That laugh however breaks out into a full on cackle hearing his parents actually agreeing with you as you shuffle across the couch and pluck the phone from Sebek’s hands while he’s frozen in shock. His mom is thrilled; Sebek, decidedly, is not, as a pillow from the couch goes sailing across the room as you flee from the scene, disappearing into Daisomnia’s halls with Sebek’s phone to tell your second adopted family all about how he’s been making them proud at NRC.

♡ Silver doesn’t miss the signs that you’ve essentially been pseudo-adopted by his father and the other Diasomnia members, though he doesn’t know that you haven’t clocked onto it yet. Considering how Malleus considers you a close confidant, Lilia is basically treating you like another one of his children, and Sebek seems to actually enjoy having you around it’s easy to think that you’ve noticed just how much everyone cares for you. And of course you care for them in return; more than once you’ve stopped by during Silver and Sebek’s training with something from the cafeteria, or you’ve brought the oddest little things you’ve found at Sam’s shop to show off how cool they are (all of which he’s pretty sure he’s seen scattered around Malleus’ room whenever you bring a new item to the dorm.)

♡ You’re quickly becoming such an integral part of Diasomnia’s life that it’s getting harder to imagine a time without you here, and these guys have become all you’ve ever known in the same way. So it’s shocking to Silver when one of the other students mentions that you’ve basically been adopted into the dorm - you’re there so much you’re practically family anyway - and he sees your reaction. You freeze, jaw slack as you process what you’ve just heard. You hardly even notice Grim swiping the sandwich Silver brought you for lunch in your shock, instead glancing up at the Diasomnia boy as if to confirm what you just heard

♡ When he gives you a confused look in return and asks why you’re so shocked since they’re right he practically watches you go through several stages of emotions, right before you’re grabbing him by the lapel of his uniform and guide him to follow you as you bolt over to Crowley’s office. The poor headmaster doesn’t hear the end of your demanding for Grim and yourself to be made honorary Diasomnia members after this. If they’re adopting you, then by the seven you’re getting it in writing from the bird man himself.

♡ Silver mentions once that he wouldn’t mind if you really were adopted into the family. It’s right as he’s on the cusp of another one of his naps, leaning up against your shoulder when he lets slip that he’d be proud to have a sibling like you without thinking anything of it - because of course it’s true, it's just a thought he hasn’t voiced out loud before. Cut to Lilia coming in a minute or two later to check in only to find his son conked out on your shoulder while you’re a blubbering mess over the fact that someone genuinely wants you as part of their family. Lilia feels only marginally bad when he reaffirms the sentiment, him casually throwing out that he already sees you as Silver’s little sibling resulting in you crying harder.

171 notes · View notes

nburkhardt · 1 year

Text

Be Your Alibi

This was supposed to be a small thing, it ended up not being small. My bad. Btw, the narrative is all over the place sorry about that. Couldn’t stick to one person this time around. Special shout out to @mentallyundone for all help with parts of this means a lot!! 🩷 (this definitely should’ve been like a three parter, also no read more because the app doesn’t have it and it deletes my stuff when I do use it)

ENJOY~~

The whole group is in the hospital, half of them needing to be looked at and the other half not quite threatening anyone but definitely trigger ready. It’s not long until the police come in, immediately handcuffing Eddie to his bed and having someone stand there to stop anyone from entering. Nancy manages to convince Dustin that he’ll be fine, they’ll figure out how to get the handcuffs off and keep him out of jail, but for now the handcuffs and police officer stays.

“What else could we tell them to let him go?” Dustin demands. It’s been officially two weeks since they defeated Vecna/Henry/One and Hawkins is slowly putting things back together. The Party is all together again and the actual adults are back with a very alive Hopper. The only ones not with them is Max, who’s still in an induced coma, Lucas is with her and Eddie, he’s still in the hospital with a hand in handcuffs but overall recovering and most likely annoying the hospital staff (and the police guard).

“Powell told me that unless he has a solid alibi that isn’t a kid, there’s nothing until Owens releases the cover story” Hopper explains, a glare directed at Dustin who had his mouth open again, “no, your little club doesn’t work either. Half of it is kids under eighteen.”

Dustin huffs and crosses his arms, “well! What else could work?”

Standing next to him is Steve, who bites his lip as he thinks to himself. It’s not the plan, it could end up horribly for him and Eddie, but they do have enough information on each other and all their past dates to be a very reliable alibi. He’s also not a child, turning twenty very soon actually and Wayne could back him up. It could, technically work.

Looking around at the lost and frustrated faces, it makes up his mind. He pushes himself off the wall and clears his throat, getting the attention on him. “I can be his alibi”

It’s uncomfortably silent now, he feels his skin crawl as everyone in the room stares at him. Nearly all of them look doubtful, Dustin’s snorting like it’s a joke, “oh yeah? And what were you doing? You don’t even like Eddie”

Steve blinks at him and holds back a laugh, because him not liking Eddie? Not possible. If anything, he likes Eddie too much. Way too much actually. Wayne told him once that he and Eddie can be insufferable actually. Not that anyone in this room knows that.

“I can be his alibi,” he repeats louder, ignoring Dustin completely and staring straight at Hopper, “He had hellfire and I went to the basketball game, but he came home with me. We had pizza from DomiNick’s, I have leftovers and we watched Star Wars: Return of the Jedi. We didn’t finish it, got too caught up into each other.” He glances away, face flushed as he thinks of their last date night, “We took a shower then crashed in my room”

No one says anything, all just staring at him and he’s even more uncomfortable. If Eddie was next to him, he’d make some sort of joke to get the attention off him. But he’s not here and Steve just wants someone, anyone to say that the alibi will work.

“Are you, are you really suggesting that you and Eddie were hanging out?”

He shakes his head, “We weren’t just hanging out, we were on a date. If you want more, proof or someone to back me up, we can ask Wayne. Eddie’s uncle, he’ll back me up”

Hopper shakes his head, rubbing a hand down his face before looking back at him. “Harrington, you do understand what you’re saying, correct? You’re willing to say you’re dating another guy.”

“You don’t even know if Eddie will be willing to do that!” Dustin nearly shouts out, “you think someone will believe that? The story has a lot of details and you’re saying that you like men, but there’s no way anyone would believe that!”

Steve crosses his arms, determined and annoyed that they don’t know how much thought he’s actually put into this. How he knows Eddie will eventually agree and repeat the story with even more details, like how they decided making out on the couch was more fun than watching Luke Skywalker try to get Darth Vader away from the dark side or that they ended up in the shower together before falling asleep in bed wrapped around each other. “I know what I’m saying Hop. I’m completely fine with admitting it now, and Eddie will be fine with it”

Hopper nods and grabs his shoulder to pull himself up, “come on then, let’s go now while you have that story fresh. We’ll talk it over with Munson, you sure about his uncle?”

“yeah Wayne will be fine with it” he nods and looks back at his friends, all of them staring at him with varying looks of disbelief and confusion, no disgust or anger. Well, Mike looks annoyed and maybe there might be disgust. Honestly, that just might be Mike’s default for Steve. Hopefully there isn’t disgust or anger later on when it comes to light how true his ‘story’ is. He doesn’t think that matters right now though, “Eddie won’t need us to get the story straight- um, that really did happen. Just not that day” He finally admits once he and Hopper are outside and getting into his car.

Hopper’s in the passenger seat, he still looks exhausted over what had happened. The man didn’t even bother with demanding he drove, “The hell you mean?”

He grips the wheel, pulls out of the driveway and takes a deep breath before admitting, “I’m actually dating Eddie. We’ve been together before Starcourt was burned down, he kept bugging me at Scoops. Didn’t think anything of it until his friend Jeff explained to me that Eddie was actually flirting with me, told me to either tell Eddie I don’t like guys or to give him a chance.” He glanced over out of the corner of his eye to see Hopper rubbing a hand up and down his face, “That was nearly nine months ago, I’m practically living with him and his uncle”

The drive is even more silent after, Hopper’s mumbling something and Steve can’t hear him. But he’s at least not cursing him for dating another guy, so it’s not all terrible. They make it to the hospital in no time, parking close enough to the front for Hopper. Steve spotted Wayne’s truck while parking, thankfully they wouldn’t have to make multiple stops.

“So, you, uh you’re gay then?” Hopper’s gruff voice cuts into Steve’s thoughts, “That’s what you’re saying?”

He shakes his head, not answering him yet. Flashing a smile at the receptionist “Here to see Munson, please”

It’s only once they’re in the elevator and alone that he answers, “I’m not gay- I still like girls. I just, just like Eddie too. I think he called it bisexual?” Shaking his head he looked back at Hopper, “doesn’t matter right now. Wayne knows, it’s hard to keep things from him, he probably already knows all of what really happened, Eddie doesn’t keep many secrets from him”

He shakes his head and smiles, thinking it’ll be nice to have another actual adult around that knows what hell they’ve been through. Hopper doesn’t bother saying anything else and Steve’s a little thankful for it. This was a lot even if he offered it, once he’s outside of Eddie’s room he ignores the police officer in favor of just opening the door (also ignoring the “hey!” From said officer) and walking inside with Hopper following him.

“Stevie-baby!”

He doesn’t bother hiding how hearing Eddie’s voice makes the tension go away, he’s smiling and there’s Eddie sitting up in bed with his yellow sweater pulled over the hospital gown, a notebook sitting in his lap. Wayne’s sitting down in the chair next to him.

“Hey Eds” he moves closer and sits next to him on the bed, “Got some bad news and uh, good news I guess?”

Eddie squints his eyes at him before glancing at Hopper, his body goes a little stiff and Steve notices Wayne sit up straighter in his chair. “bad news?”

Steve reaches for his free hand and squeezes, “You’re stuck with handcuffs still since the police want a solid alibi. Since the cover story still isn’t out yet”

Eddie closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying not to get too upset. “And the good news? Is it good or just, not bad?”

“Well, it’s news?” Steve doesn’t know how exactly to describe the fact that he’s willing to out himself and Eddie and their whole relationship, it’s a lot, something he didn’t think they would need to do at all. At least not of people not in their inner circle, “I…offered to be your alibi. That we were together when everything happened, pizza with Star Wars. My house, and uh,” he glances up at Wayne, “Also said Wayne could also back us. That he knows about us”

The room isn’t quiet, the beeping from the medical equipment is still going and there’s the bit of noise from outside but everyone in the room is quiet. Eddie’s eyes are wide and Wayne looks concerned, and Steve is gripping Eddie’s hand like a lifeline still. Hopper has moved enough to lean against the sink and he hasn’t spoken yet, he doesn’t have a reaction.

“Stevie, you- are you sure?”

He nods and moves to sit on the bed, facing Eddie, “Yeah, Eds. I’m not, like excited but there’s nothing else anyone could come up with. They don’t want to take the kids words and everyone else in town believes Hellfire is a cult. We know each other, been together so often and Wayne has seen us, the boys too. We have a number of dates behind us that we wouldn’t need to study a fake story”

“But, baby- I can’t ask you to put yourself out there like that, I don’t want you to-“

Steve shakes his head and ignores the eyes on him and Eddie as he leans forward to rest his forehead against Eddie’s, “You don’t have to, I’m offering. I love you, honey. I don’t want you in jail, you’re innocent. I’ve thought about it, they’ll figure out why we didn’t come forward. Or we explain how dangerous it is for us, either way, I’m doing this for you”

Eddie’s eyes are watery, he nods and slumps against Steve.

It doesn’t surprise Wayne to see the boys like this or to hear those words of love either. He’s been hearing it for the last few months now, even before the official three words were said from his boys. Eddie is and always will be a sap and Wayne has found out that Steve is right there with him. He doesn’t make it obvious that he’s still on edge with the idea of them outing themselves to get the police off their backs. For now he looks over at Hopper, raising an eyebrow, “Ain’t you supposed be dead?”

Hopper shakes his head, rubbing a hand down the back of his head, “Didn’t stick. Harrington wasn’t lying?”

“He wasn’t, these two are lovesick fools. That should be enough right?” Wayne glances at the boys and finds Steve rocking Eddie slightly, he can barely catch him telling his nephew about what he missed, “need a straight answer, will this work?”

“Christ, it should. Powell’s good, reasonable. The whole- thing should work” He looks a little off center as he looks at the two on the bed before looking back at Wayne, “He said your nephew doesn’t keep secrets from you, what’d he say?”

Wayne crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair, “Apparently he’s been to hell and that Steve’s been dealin’ with it with y’all since eighty three. Things make a whole lot more sense now”

“Yeah, that sums it up” Hopper nods along before sighing, “I don’t want to say it because the last time, I ended up locked away in an Russian prison. But, this could be it. Hopefully we’re done”

The plan is simple, bring physical proof and statements and Wayne to the police station. Steve’s got pictures, the boys statements along with Wayne and a determination to get his boyfriend out of handcuffs. Nothing was gonna stop him, even if Dustin still didn’t believe it would work.

Powell looks permanently tired and unamused, “Sit down, Mr. Harrington and Mr. Munson. What can I do for you?”

Steve sat up straight and placed his box on the desk, “I’m here to tell you, Eddie’s innocent and he wasn’t with Chrissy when she died, he was with me”

“Why was she at his trailer then?”

Steve made sure to keep his face natural, and not annoyed so quickly. “I’m not sure about that, maybe she broke in and thought he was there? We’ll never know but what I can tell you, Eddie was at my house with me when she died. We had pizza from DomiNick’s and watched a movie, then crashed in my bed.”

It’s quiet then, Steve and Wayne both on high alert waiting for Powell’s response. This is where it’ll be either a death sentence for both Eddie and Steve or a realization that there’s at least one more person in this small minded town that isn’t close-minded.

Powell sighs and runs a head down his head and just looks at Steve, then slumps just a bit, “Look, if you’re saying what I think you’re saying. I’m not going to do anything to you for even implying it for your friend. I don’t think you’ll want that to be your official statement to the public, correct?”

“Well, I mean, no. But Eddie really is innocent, there’s no way he did any of it.” Steve answers back and slumps in his seat, “Could- is there any way it doesn’t have to be released officially? Like- like-“ he’s grasping at straws trying to figure out something, anything to say.

“Look, kid. I’ll take your statement and visit Munson to see if it matches-“

“it will!”

He sighs, “I’m sure it will. Since the town decided to do a witch-hunt against him while I’m chief of police, and I don’t want another one happening. I’ll get take the cuffs off and start paper work to get him under a house arrest instead, then i’ll help you figure out a different way to stop a mob”

Wayne eyed him, crossing his arms, “you’re willing to help now?”

“Truthfully, I didn’t think your nephew did any of this. I only caught him selling once but besides that? His hands are technically clean. I saw what happened to all those victims, I don’t see how he would’ve done any of that by himself.” Powell explained and leaned forward looking between the two, “So, we’ll have your statement, take Mr. Munson’s and seal it. The town won’t hear the real one, I’ll give them something else entirely”

Steve nodded while his brain raced with thoughts. “So, you’re uh, okay with what I was saying?” He needs to know if his and Eddie’s secret is safe. Needs it said aloud and not just implied, before he can feel even remotely okay with what might be happening, it needs to be said.

“Harrington, I’m not sure what exactly you want from me right now. Just know that what you’re telling me will be between us and will stay sealed once this is all over, as long as I don’t catch either you or Munson doing anything illegal, all is fine with me.” Powell explained and pulled out a drawer, “Now, we’ll start that paperwork and then I’ll visit the hospital later, I assume both of you will be there?”

Paperwork doesn’t take long and before Steve can really process what just happened, he’s back instead the comfort of Wayne’s truck and they’re driving back to the hospital. It’s been two days since he told his friends and coming up with this fake alibi at least until Owens and the government comes in with their own cover-up. He’s hoping that happens before any official statement comes out from Powell.

The excitement of Eddie being released under house arrest is dimmed just a little by them getting ambushed by their friends.

Steve is too busy being an overbearing boyfriend and watching Eddie’s every move as they walk into his house to notice the group in the living room. Eddie’s too busy whining about being fine, “Stevie, I’m fine. The doctors said to just take it easy. You don’t have to be this paranoid, just- gimme your hand” he quickly grabs Steve’s hand and stopped them from moving, “All I need right now is this, okay? Well, maybe a bed and you as my pillow-“

“Ew!”

Both of them don’t jump necessarily, they do flinch and Steve pulls Eddie closer to himself. That’s when they notice Dustin and the rest of them, Dustin’s the one they focus on since he’s the one who spoke up. He looks more annoyed than anything, there’s not a hint of anger or disgust.

The rest of the group looks curious, Steve can see Robin’s face and she looks happy and pissed off. He knows it’s because they’re soulmates and he never told her about his boyfriend. The other one that stands out to him is, Will. He’s wide eyed and look’s grateful for some reason.

Steve sighs and says, “Look, maybe we can talk about our relationship another day? Eddie just got out of the hospital and I just outed our relationship just to save him from being thrown in jail.” He doesn’t tell them that he’d also just like to be in bed with Eddie and know that he’s alive and safe with him.

There’s grumbles from most of the group, everyone walking out and the only ones left with them is Robin and Dustin. They’re not surprised, especially Steve. These two are stubborn. “We’ll leave after you explain why you never told us about you, thought we were best friends?”

“You are my best friends,” Steve starts off and flicks his gaze between both of them, before settling his eyes on just Robin, “We meant to, even when the relationship was still new and before the Russians appeared. But then the upside down was back and then school was back.”

“Eventually we just sorta, gave up trying to figure out a good time” Eddie took over, squeezing his hand before looking at the other two, “we still had plans to tell you. My friends, they’ve known since the beginning and Stevie wasn’t out to either of you so- plans happened but so did life”

Robin and Dustin are quiet and Steve doesn’t know what to do with that, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, really.”

“Dingus- you don’t have to say sorry” Robin says then pulls both of them in a hug, “I’m sorry for making you feel like you had to say that. I’m happy for you, really! Maybe a little annoyed you managed to get a boyfriend before I got girlfriend” she whispers the last part in his ear and he laughs and squeezes her, “I do want all the details of how you became a couple!”

She smacks a kiss to both of their cheeks before walking out and then it’s just them and Dustin.

“I’m- still so confused, but I guess I get it. I’m sorry for exploding on you, Steve.” Dustin admits, shaking his head, “Just, why would you hide even a friendship between the two of you from me? I’ve been trying to get you two to meet and you’ve known each other the whole time?”

Steve sighed and moved away from Eddie to pat Dustin’s shoulder before pulling his cap down, “Look, Eddie and I’ve known each other for years. We did go to school together- yes we didn’t run in the same circle- and it took me getting a lame job-“

“And a hot sailor outfit!”

He rolled his eyes and Dustin pulled a face, mumbling out “ew” before looking back at Steve, “anyway, it took a lot for us to even get together and then after, I just- I just wanted something for myself for a bit but his friends already knew then his uncle, so we did planned to tell you guys especially after you joined hellfire. But you have to know how scary it is for us”

It takes Dustin a second for it to process, because that’s one thing Steve knows about him. He’s a genius but sometimes things just don’t process the same way. Especially things like this.

Dustin nods, “yeah, yeah I’m sorry for getting upset again. So you were going to tell us- tell me?”

“Of course, dude. You’re our annoying little brother, would’ve told you guys. We did have a plan, the upside down ruined it” Steve grins and moved back to Eddie.

Eddie grins too but doesn’t move closer, instead he wraps his arms around Steve to lean his weight slightly against him, “now scram, I wanna cuddle my boyfriend.” That gets his desired reaction, Dustin scrunches his nose In annoyance and walks rolls his eyes before walking out the door. Leaving the couple alone officially.

Instead of moving, Steve turns Eddie around so they’re facing each other and leans his forehead against Eddie’s. Eyes closed, arms wrapped around each other. Only a simple kiss is enough for them right now, just enjoying being each others arms is enough. They’ll eventually go to Steve’s bedroom, undress to their boxers and climb into bed. Steve on his back and Eddie not necessarily curled into his side, since his bites are still healing and hurts, but still he gets his wish for his boyfriend-shaped pillow.

Tomorrow they’ll officially tell their friends about their relationship and explain what happened with Powell. For now, they’re just happy to sleep in the same bed with each other and not have to worry about the upside down or monsters. All that matters is them.

_______

Wellllllllll, I didn’t mean for this to get this long. Like, I was just wanting the alibi thing but with an actual secret relationship 🫣 I went a little outta hand and honestly I probably could’ve wrote out them telling their relationship to everyone but decided nah. Maybe I’ll write that out another time. Tagging those who made comments on my original post & those I talked to about this!

@i-less-than-three-you @artiststarme @stevesoli @grandwretch @val-from-lawrence @mentalcyborg @boop-ba-doop @lwhoscribbles @itsfreakingbats @annoyinglyfanon @counting-dollars-counting-stars @moonshadows-13

#steddie #steddie au #steddie fic #steve harrington x eddie munson #Steve x eddie #stranger things #stranger things fic #Steve Harrington fic #Eddie Munson fic #it’s a secret relationship reveal ✌️#it was supposed to be a small thing and it turned out to be a long thing instead #nburkhardt writes

519 notes · View notes