#the one time they use mattia

[devourable]

✘ delinquents

sfw | tws : yandere behavior; stalking, obsessive thoughts, mildly implied violence

delinquent male yanderes x reader! only pronoun used for reader is ‘you’ 😌 i took a bit longer than expected so i hope yall enjoy these knuckleheads

mattias was the first to take notice of you.

he caught sight of you during one of his typical late night walks with his friends, semi-drunkenly cracked jokes amongst themselves as they passed around liquor that they had stolen earlier in the day. and when his gaze fell onto you from some distance away, he stopped walking.

you were doing nothing but sitting at a bus stop, but... what was it about you? the way the street lamp bathed you in its light, illuminating you with an amber glow like you were the only thing on the street? it made the boy's heart stutter in a way he'd never felt before!

when his friends returned to his side upon noticing he had stopped walking, mattie quickly pointed you out to his friends ("guys, check out that cutie!"), and an additional three pairs of eyes landed on you as your bus rumbled down the road. and they all had the same reaction as him — you were adorable! what were you doing out on your own so late? didn’t you know there were criminals around here? poor little thing you were, you must’ve not had any other choice…

clearly, you needed someone to protect you!

they were too far away to approach then and there, but it was probably for the best. getting talked up by four drunk, imposing male strangers so late at night would probably not make the best first impression, one of them pointed out as they watches you board your bus. so completely unbeknownst to you, your four new admirers had already began to devise a plan to meet you formally.

it was strange how naturally their collective desire for you fell together. any other time, if even just two of them liked the same person, it was enough to cause infighting and strife among the friend group. but you? the way you united them simply by existing, you had to be something special! it must’ve been destiny that they noticed you that night.

the four would slowly trickle their way into your life, one by one. despite mattias begging to be the one to do it, dominic would be the first of the four you’d actually meet. in his eyes, he was the least intimidating, the most suave, the most manipulative. his charmingly crooked smile had always helped him charm his way into and out of most situations, and you were no different.

he’d casually start riding the same bus as you at the same times you did, using it as an excuse to talk to you. coincidentally, you and him had the same stops, too! and he even got the driver to give you free lifts, even when he wasn't around. it was an old favor he was owed, he'd say, so you didn't have to pay any mind to the tense demeanor of the bus driver whenever you boarded.

naturally he’d offer to walk you home, too, but if you weren’t comfortable with that, it was no biggie (he’d figure out where you lived regardless). he was content with waving you off and walking in a different direction for the meantime.

mattias and judas came next. when dom had managed to convince you to stop by the nearby corner store with him one day, his friends just so happened to be there! as if they weren’t waiting there every day after you and dom had established a friendship.

it was all mattias could do to not scoop you up the moment you met. you were even cuter up close! he was so happy when his patience was rewarded by being graced with your voice, your laughs at his witty sense of humor, and your little smile when you looked at him. did you like him back? did you think he was half as attractive as he found you to be? he desperately wanted to know what you thought of him, but he choked back his questions to keep from scaring you off. in spite of his usually energetic persona, he played it cool to gain your favor.

judas, meanwhile, observed you in relative silence — he wasn’t much of a talker, dom explained — but it didn’t mean his thoughts weren’t any less intense than mattias’s. he couldn’t deny it — he liked you, quite a lot. more than he thought he would. despite finding you attractive too, he didn’t think much of you when he had first grown aware of your existence. he’d simply chalked you up to be the temporary fixation of his friends. but the second you did meet, judas’s mind went to places he had never expected it to go.

for once, he found himself… wanting someone. wanting you. and for once, he was happy his friends had dragged them into this whole scheme.

the four of you all got along so well! and when aaron was finally introduced to you as well, he was no exception. aaron was the only of the four to have a car, so when he ‘learned’ that you were taking the bus so late to get around, he was quick to offer up his own services to help you out ("dom is too much of a nuisance to drive around," he'd claim). an excuse to be able to spend more time with you, with and without his friends around, and you don’t have to deal with public transportation anymore! a win-win, right? and when you accepted, he was over the moon.

it didn't take long for them to sweep you right off your feet after you had met all four of them. they were relentless in capturing your heart and all four of them worked together to ensure you were theirs.

on top of that, none of them were afraid of breaking a few rules or laws to do that, either.

you found yourself always with at least one of the four — usually mattias, as he had the most free time and arguably liked you the most — and the few times you weren't, you could bet they were doing everything in their power to get back to you. other people in your life suddenly began to pull away from you, never having time or simply not wanting to be around you, or so they claimed. it left you with little else to turn to outside of the boys. they had started to puppeteer your life without you ever even knowing it.

they didn't quite understand the pull you had on them — hell, you didn't even realize what you were doing to them! and they even started to question if what they were doing was okay. was what they were doing to your life just to keep you in theirs worth it?

but dominic, mattias, judas, and aaron all came to the same decision the day you agreed to be in a relationship with all four of them...

it was definitely worth it. and they'd keep doing whatever it took to keep things going exactly as they were.

#🚬 the delinquents #mattias callahan #aaron diaz #dominic graves #judas jones #mine | fics #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere boy #yandere x you #yandere x oc #polyam yanderes

[rainydaymiscellaneous]

I hate to ask again but I had and idea. Also the last one was so cute thank you. If you can can you please write a Kaz Brekker x reader where the reader is in love with this book but no one has read is so they have no one to talk to about it so Kaz reads it and starts a conversation about it with the reader and they get really happy and start ranting about it to him and he’s just happy to sit and listen to them and make comments from time to time

Dude, send me all the requests for our boy Kazzle Dazzle your ideas are so creative!

Book Club (Kaz x reader)

He needed an opening. Just one solid reason to actually talk to you. You had been in the Dregs for years now and Kaz was still struggling to even breathe around you. He had this crush on you that he refused to admit was there. Inej saw it, even dumbass Jesper saw it.

You'd assume that Kaz was mute if it hadn't been for your presence in the Dregs. You had been there for a long time but disappeared on a mission far off for three years. The room above Kaz had been vacant and then suddenly it had life. Kaz had no idea anyone even lived above him until you knocked on his door your first night back and asked him to join you for tea.

There you sat on a nice couch with a cup of chamomile. Kaz was perplexed by who you were and why the fuck you wanted to drink glorified leaves in water.

"Why am I here?" He asked.

"You tell me." You said, sipping from your cup. Kaz furrowed his brow.

"You asked me to have tea with you." He said, watching you with those daggers for eyes.

"You didn't have to say yes." You shrugged.

"I did."

"You did not." "I did." He said. "Okay then, why did you have to accept?" You asked. He sighed, looking at you with his gloved hands gripping his cane.

"Because I needed to know who was suddenly living in the room above me." He said. You rose a brow.

"You could've asked Inej to investigate." You said. He blinked.

"You know Inej?" He asked.

"I've been in the Dregs for three years, of course I know your main lot. Inej, Jesper, Nina, Wylan and that off-putting convict Mattias." You said.

Kaz was confused. How did you know so much but he was ignorant to you? How did he not know who you were?

"I'm a sharpshooter. I use that-" you pointed to a rifle on the mantle "rifle to kill whoever you want dead." You said.

"Why do I not know you?" Kaz asked.

"I was off in Shu Han for Haskell." You said. "For what?" Kaz asked.

"You do your business, I'll do mine." You said.

He liked that response. It meant you'd keep any secret that slipped through your ears. "I will work for you when you need me. Say the word, I will be there no questions asked unless one of ours is bleeding." You said.

"Why tea?" He asked. "We easily could've done this over something less detestable."

You chuckled. "You've not had the right tea then." You said with that smile.

That fucking smile. From that moment on Kaz was hooked. He couldn't help it. It was hard to not fall in love with someone like you. You were always there when he needed you, apparently you had taken some training on stealth from Inej, leaning to be one with the dark making you even more deadly.

But for the deadly persona that the streets simply knew as "the bullet", you were a gentle person. Kaz often noticed you with stray animals, seeing that kind smile. The one that made Kaz at a loss for words. You'd often make that same smile at Kaz when you'd pass him with a gentle "hi boss."

Sure, technically Per Haskell was the "boss". You however knew damn well Kaz was the brains behind everything. You had become close with the other members of the Dregs, including Inej who called you a sister. She loved being around you. You gave good advice and that was probably why the rest of the group would flock to you.

So there you all were, your head in Jesper's lap as you read. Kaz had noticed your sudden interest in this, everytime he saw you, you had that book in hand now. Wylan looked over at you.

"Care to join the game?" He asked.

"I'm good." You said, turning the page.

"You've been reading that for two weeks now, come up for air." Inej said.

"I need to know if Alistair lives Inej, the prophecy is strongly implying he will die and I don't think Cousland can handle him dying." You muttered, reading.

"None of that made any sense." Nina said.

"It'll make sense if one of you would at least read it." You said.

"We're all too busy. Kaz keeps giving us stupid b&e's.(breaking and entering)" Jesper said.

"Not all of you are busy though. Wylan?" You said.

"Kaz has been training me for lockpicking." Wylan said.

"He take you to the financial district?" You asked, looking up.

"Once or twice." He shrugged.

"Course he did. Best place to practice." You said before going back to your book.

"Alright, who's in?" Jesper asked.

Inej noticed Kaz at the bar, occasionally looking over at you. "I'm out." She said.

Inej made her way to him and he cleared his throat, turning back to his drink. It looked like scotch but the smell... it wasn't scotch it was tea.

"Didn't you say that tea was just leaves in water that is hot?" Inej asked.

"I hadn't drank the right tea." Kaz said, looking at the glass with vacant eyes. Inej recognized the expression. Kaz was at war with himself, as usual.

He never handled his innermost feelings well, especially the ones that left him vulnerable. And what was more vulnerable than love? You were a plague to his mind, always there. When it wasn't your face that he was smiling internally at, it was your laugh. When it wasn't your laugh it was your smile and so on. He wanted so badly to talk to you like he once did over tea but he didn't think it was a good idea.

You were just so perfect in his eyes. So beautiful, so smart. If he tried to converse, he'd make an ass of himself. He needed an opening something fierce. Something to give him a reason to talk to you instead of "hey, your face is anestheticly pleasing to look at, which I do. Frequently. Without you knowing."

"You're staring at your glass mighty hard there." Inej said. Kaz looked up. "You should just talk to her." She said.

"It's not that easy." He muttered.

"I do it all the time." Inej said with an eyeroll.

"Because you are friends. You know her. I am not that lucky." He said.

"You do know her." Inej said.

"Not like that. I know her from afar. Where it's safe." He said, drinking the glass.

"Kaz, she's right there. Just talk to her." Inej said.

You got up, stretching with a yawn. "I'm heading out " You said to Inej.

"Kaz will go with you!" Inej volunteered.

If looks could kill, Inej would've been six feet under at that moment Kaz glared at her.

"Alright..?" You said confused. Kaz sighed looking at Inej and then you before standing up.

He walked out with you, noticing the dark clouds that hung in the sky. "Looks like it might rain" he said.

"Good reading weather." You said.

"You're usually reading nowadays." Kaz said.

"It's a nice escape from things when they get too intense." You shrugged.

"What is it that you're reading now?" He asked.

If you were a dog, your ears would've perked up. "It's amazing- it's about this girl who joins this legendary army and has to rebuild what was-... Sorry." You cleared your throat.

"Why are you apologizing?" He asked.

"Well apparently everyone thinks I talk too much about this book." You said.

"Who said that?"

"Well Nina." He'd kill her

"And Jesper." He'd shoot him with his own guns

"And Inej." Wait what?

"And pretty much anyone who asks me." You finished.

"Wow." Was all Kaz could muster for words.

You shrugged. "I wish they'd just listen to me and read the damn book." You said.

"Why do you think they haven't?" He asked.

"They're all busy. They have their own lives and I have mine. It's nothing personal, I know. But I just wish sometimes I could talk to someone about it and have them actually know what I'm talking about." You said walking.

Kaz then realized this was it. This was his perfect excuse to get closer. "What's the name of the book?" He asked curiously.

"Rise of the Grey Wardens. Why?" You asked.

"I figured I could read it." He shrugged.

Your eyes lit up and Kaz felt intense joy. He made you happy. He actually made you happy. He didn't mean to but he did and my god were you adorable to him when you were beaming. "Then I know where we should go!" You said walking ahead of him.

Instinctively he followed. "Where are we going?" He asked.

You looked back, a breeze blowing your hair in such a beautiful way as you turned to him. "My favorite place in Ketterdam."

He asked no more questions after that, just following you quietly through backstreets. Kaz watched you approach a side door to a building, knocking on it rhythmically. The door open, an older woman smiling at you.

"Weren't you just here a few days ago?" She asked.

"I brought a friend." You said with a smile, stepping back and motioning for Kaz to introduce himself. Kaz couldn't help but feel a little giddy of your use of 'friend'.

"I'm-"

"I know." She said. She didn't say it with disdain though, which shocked him. "You're the reason we're still open. Come on in Mister Brekker."

He didn't know what that meant but accepted the invitation, walking in. "Do you have another copy of 'Rise of the Grey Wardens'?" You asked.

"I do, why did you burn through your other copy?" She asked.

"Mister Brekker wishes to read." You said with a grin. Kaz's eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room. Bookshelves lined the walls both on the first and second floor of the building. There must've been thousands of books in front of Kaz.

"Here you are mister Brekker." The woman said.

"Thank you er..."

"Miriam." She said with a nod and a kind smile. She gave off the feeling of a doting grandmother with how fond she seemed of you. "Right! Y/n dear, I made some sugar biscuits if you'd like to try them" she said. You seemed to have found your way upstairs when you responded back with a

"Be right down!"

You returned with a new book in hand and Miriam grinned as Kaz took the book. "I see you've found the sequel." She said. You had the biggest grin.

"I had no clue it was a series." You admitted.

"The second one tends to be slow but it is vital for the third." She said, handing you a cookie.

You smiled, taking it. "Thank you. How much do I owe you?" You asked.

"Nothing. It's on the house." She declared.

"Miriam, if you ever wanted to apply for sainthood, I do believe you to be eligible." You said making her laugh.

"Thank the saints you didn't know me in my youth." She teased making you laugh. Kaz couldn't explain it. Usually smalltalk annoyed him but something about this was nice to him. You and Miriam seemed to have a tight bond.

"We should go, it does look like it'll rain." You said, peaking out a window. Kaz nodded but Miriam held her hand up before handing you and Kaz paper bags.

"For the road." She told the both of you. You gave her a kind smile before walking back to the door. "One moment Mister Brekker." She halted. Kaz turned around as Miriam motioned for him to lean forward for them to whisper. "Keep her safe, will you? There's not many a good person in Ketterdam but she's one of them." She said.

Kaz with possibly the sweetest look of adoration he could muster simply said "I will, Miss Miriam." Before he followed you out. The two of you began your trek back to the Slat. "How long have you known Miriam?" Kaz asked.

"Going on ten years now. Saved her cat from a town fire, she's been grateful since." You said, opening the paperbag and pulling a cookie out. Miriam gave you both cookies. Maybe Miriam was just a village grandma.

"Has any of the others met her?" He asked.

You shook your head. "You'd be the first I've shown to the Archive." You said.

"Why me?" Kaz asked as a crack of thunder sounded off.

"Because you asked me about what I read." You said before walking into the Slat.

Kaz winded up spending a good week reading that book. You were right, it was an amazing story. When he finished, he had that same urge that you did to discuss it.

All of the crows were back in the club, this time Kaz and you both playing a round of poker. Jesper hated this. You were way too good at poker and kept winning, hand after hand. You had a nice stack of chips. Inej seeing your smirk as you leaned back in your chair.

"I win again!" You said.

"Why is this so hard?" Wylan asked.

"Because Y/n is way too good at this." Jesper groaned, smacking his head on the table. Nina sighed.

"I need a drink. A very large one." She said.

"I've got my own little army of chips." You said, stacking them.

"You could rebuild the Cousland estate with your winnings." Kaz said, you looking up slightly shocked. "Course, I could always pull a Howe and, y'know. Knock it down." Kaz added.

You looked bewildered as Inej rose a brow.

"Kay, is it just me, or did none of that make sense?" Jesper asked.

"You just made a reference." You said.

"I did." Kaz nodded.

"You finished it."

"I did."

"And!?"

"You were right. The book is fantastic, I could not put it down." Kaz said.

Inej and Jesper exchanged a look.

"Fuck poker. We need to discuss the book NOW!" You said excitedly.

"Yes! Put me out of my misery!" Jesper said.

Kaz looked at him and then you. "Let's have tea." He suggest. Nina's eyes went wide as she realized what was happening before her, her looking at Inej who had a smile on her face.

"I'm grabbing my coat! Let's go!" You said getting up. Kaz followed you as you practically bounced out the door with excitement.

Nina gaped. "How long has he been in love with her!?" She asked as the door closed.

"Oh a while now, like since she got back." Wylan shrugged.

Jesper and Inej looked at Wylan as he moved your chips.

"You knew?" Inej asked.

"It'd take a blind man not to see."

You ended up back at the Slat, sitting cross legged on your sofa. You two must've discussed the book for hours, Kaz loving every moment of it as he heard you passionately talk about the story.

You sighed with a smile. "It's funny, I didn't think you liked me." You said, looking at your empty tea cup.

Kaz rose a brow. "Why did you think that?" He asked.

"You just seemed so... I dunno. Angry that I returned." You said.

"I wasn't."

"But you seemed it."

"I didn't know who you were. I was on my guard" he said. You rose a brow.

"You're not anymore?" You asked. Kaz bared a gentle expression that made your heart almost explode inside your chest.

"I'm not. You're one of the few I trust. The only I'd trust with my entire being." He said. Kaz didn't have faith in a lot of things. But he had faith in you and it showed. He looked at you. "Do you trust me?" He asked.

You gave him a look of pure adoration. "Of course." You said. You had spent your life reading books about the greatest romances of all time. You'd get lost in those stories of how the man always loved the girl but she didn't realize it until a pivotal moment.

"Kaz... you said you trusted me." You breathed. "Please. Please let my intuition be right." You thought to yourself as Kaz gave you a questioning look. "Do you... love me?"

Your question hung in the air for what felt like the longest minute of your life. Kaz definitely seemed caught way off his guard by the question, his eyes widening the second he realized what was happening.

This entire time he has been hoping for an opening to talk to you. A moment to truly get to know you. Well he got one. And he fell in love with every bit of you. He swallowed hard.

"Forget that I asked, I am so sorr-" "I do." He said.

You blinked. "What?"

"I love you." He said. Your jaw must've hit the floor. You knew how guarded this man was. You heard that any semblance of vulnerability was practically impossible from Kaz and yet here he was. Being the most vulnerable he could be with you.

You looked at him before getting up. He thought his words might've done something bad. Maybe you didn't want his love. Maybe he had misinterpreted everything, maybe he was a fool for thinking there was-

You kneeled in front of him. "Kaz, may... Uhm... May I touch you?" You asked. With hesitation he nodded as your hand gently held his cheek. The touch of humans was deeply unsettling to Kaz. That feeling brought him back to a place he never wanted to be in ever again and yet somehow...

Somehow your gentle touch made him feel safe. If it had been anyone else he'd probably be in the process of murdering the fool who touched him. But it was you. You were like an angel on earth to him.

"When I look at you, do you know what I see?" You asked softly.

"No." He muttered.

"I see someone else who's been through hell and came out on the other side." You held his hands, Kaz looking in your eyes. "We've suffered long enough and we deserve to be happy." You said softly.

Kaz had a momentary loss of control. He kissed you, you leaning into his touch. He pulled away with wide eyes. "I am so sorry-" "shut up and kiss me Brekker."

The next day you were at the crow club reading at the bar next to Inej. Jesper yawned. "It's a boring day. Wish Kaz would give us something to do. By this point I'll take a fucking b&e." He whined.

Kaz, as if he were summoned, walked through the doors of the crow club, sitting on your other side. For once, Inej watched you put your book down as you gave a gentle smile to Kaz. "Hello" you said.

The dead give away that something had changed was the fact that Kaz smiled. He actually smiled back at you. "Hello." He said softly.

Inej and Jesper swapped shocked looks. "Y/n, do you mind helping me with this? It's a rifle mod and I wanna make sure I've got the measurements right." Wylan asked. You looked over.

"Alright." You said walking off.

Jesper and Inej looked at Kaz who now had a drink in his hand. "What the hell happened last night!?" Jesper asked.

"Nothing important." Kaz shrugged.

"We just had tea."

#kaz x y/n #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz x you #kaz brekker x reader #kaz x reader #kaz brekker x fem!reader #kaz brekker #grishaverse #six of crows

[angelwithdemonictendencies]

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.

#hockey #hockey smut #nhl #smut #jack hughes #jack hughes smut #nhl smut #quinn hughes #trevor zegras smut #jack hughes x reader #tyson jost #tyson jost x reader #tyson jost fic #sabres #owen power #buffalo sabres #tyson jost smut #colorado avalanche #minnesota wild #mattias samuelsson #jack quinn #jj peterka #dylan cozens

[vinvantae]

Unmasked

9/16

<<< previous part

Word count - 3.5k

Both Bahrain and Saudi Arabia were what felt like near perfect starts for the team - only Max outscoring you both in the second race of the season, so going into Australia you felt confident. You were hoping that continuing to perform like this, the team would finally break and talk to you about Thirty, and whilst that conversation was currently benched, you’d managed to get a 2-on-1 meeting with Mattia about you and Charles.

Sure the relationship was still fresh but you wanted to let him know sooner rather than later that their media co-ordinated relationship had turned into something more, that you had very real feelings for your teammate. The Monaco native kissed the back of your hand softly as you waited for the team principal to join you. “What do you think is going to happen?”

“I’m not sure, but they were the ones who put us together… so…” you giggled, leaning over to kiss him.

You heard the door open and close behind you. “Hmm, I had a feeling that was what this is about, your little show had become a bit too convincing.”

Your boss circled the desk and sat in his chair, clasping his hands in front of him as he studied you both - the way Charles’ thumb brushed over the back of your hand, the way you look more relaxed than you had in years.

“Well yeah, it’s kind of not fake anymore.” You chuckled softly. “And well, we’re not planning on breaking up any time soon so we wanted to know how you wanted to proceed.”

He pressed his lips into a line as he thought, eyes flickering between you both. “This is a conversation I’d already planned to have, as I said - your acting was getting too good. For now, we’ve decided to continue to use your relationship as a distraction from you being Thirty until we think of something else. While we know the media has zeroed in on you being a woman, the laundry list of potential candidates is still long and we’d like to keep you as close to the bottom as possible.”

“Speaking of Thirty, I-”

“We’re not having that conversation. Not now. Keep performing and we’ll have that meeting.”

Charles watched as your jaw clenched and you slumped back into your chair - he hated the way they were using your reveal as a carrot on a stick, encouraging you to keep racing. You were a talent without the blackmail, and it was frustrating to both of you; Charles knew he could try and step in and argue your case but Mattia wouldn’t hear a word of it without the rest of Team Thirty to back him up. He simply stood up and placed his hand on the small of your back as you both exited the room. “I’m sorry, mon amour.”

“I know, I know…” You sighed, looking up to face him. “Hey, at least they’re chill about us, right?”

Your teammate smiled softly as you lifted your hand to cup the back of his neck, gently brushing your thumb across his skin. His eyes flickered across your face before leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your lips. “We best get going, free practice starts soon.”

Once you stepped into the paddock again, you were fully clad in your racewear - bouncing a little on your feet as you tried to warm yourself up ready for the weekend to begin. As much as you didn’t want to let Mattia and the rest of the team hold your reveal over your head depending on your results, getting the job done was still important. You had a championship to win and with Charles currently ahead of you, everything was to play for.

*****

******

To say you were fuming was an understatement. After a piss poor qualifying and car issues putting you in 9th and hard tires relegating you to 14th at the start, you didn’t think it could get any worse. But with only the first lap of the race complete, you fucked it completely and slid across the track, off into the travel at the exit of turn 10.

You didn’t stay for a second longer in the garage than you had to, slamming the door of your driver’s room and screaming into a pillow. It was a stupid mistake, you couldn’t blame anyone but yourself for it - you’d gone too hot into the chicane and ruined your own race. You turned on the TV to catch the rest of the race, too nosey to not know how everyone else was getting on but it only frustrates you further.

The gap between you and Charles in championship only grew with your teammate getting his second win of the season, Max also not finishing the race. The Monegasque had 71 points to your measly 33 and you wanted to be happy for him, you did, but it was bittersweet watching him lift the trophy above his head and you hadn’t even finished the race, let alone got on the podium.

You watched with a straight face as he sprayed Carlos and George down with the champagne, his face a contrast to yours - a smile that would usually brighten your day but it didn’t help at all. Instead you opted to flick off the TV and flop back on your sofa - just letting your eyes closed shut.

However, getting a moment of peace was not to be when your handler and PR manager practically ripped the door off of the seams to come into your room, their faces paled.

“What? Did I do something wrong?” You frowned, sitting up.

“…we’ve got a problem.”

******

*****

This time in Mattia’s office, you were outnumbered. Charles was still down in the garage, celebrating with the team but you were being stared down by the team principal and the two members of Team Thirty who had burst into your room not even moments ago. The public reaction to you not being at the barricade to congratulate Charles was… negative, to say the least. It was the third time you’d not been there for his podium and despite someone posting a photo from your behalf on your instagram story showing you were watching from hospitality, it wasn’t enough.

His die-hard fans were starting to hate you. You weren’t good enough for Charles.

It wasn’t the effect on your mental health that this character assassination that Team Thirty was concerned about, it was the public reaction to you being revealed. All this was doing was making them question everything you’d been working towards.

“I’m not sure how you expect me to be in two places at once.” You grumbled. “Sure, today I could’ve been there but the first two races I was with him on the podium.”

“We know.” Your handler sighed, the last few months had aged him - the once jet black hair he sported now featured more than a few greys and his frown lines had deepened. “So, we’ve always tried to avoid this but, if you both finish on the podium in the next race, we’ll have to bring in a body double.”

You frowned. “…how’s… in what world would that work?”

“At Imola, the cars will be parking on the track at the end of the race - and whilst Charles is talking to the press, we will get you inside, changed and out the front while your double goes on the podium.”

A groan left your lips and you ran a hand over your face. “Why don’t you just let me-“

Your handler agent slammed his hand down on the desk, making you cower back in your chair and the two other men in the room’s eyes widened. “Everything is on the line, y/n, don’t you understand?”

He didn’t give you even a second to protest before he seemingly magicked your contract out of thin air and placed it on the desk in front of you. “We have done nothing but try to protect you, why can’t you see that? This contract was put in place to make sure you had a racing experience without the stigma of being a woman… revealing you now? After all this negativity about you being Charles’ girlfriend?”

The man tutted and leant in closer, and you swallowed heavily - your breath caught in your throat as his dark eyes flickered across your face. “You have no right to fight for a reveal after your piss-poor performance today. Charles is a race winner, you haven’t won us a championship in years… you’re lucky to even have a seat.”

Mattia and your PR manager stayed silent, letting the words hang heavy in the air - you wanted to fight back, give them a piece of your mind but you couldn’t help but think he was right. Instead, you simply excused yourself from the room and went to the last possible place they would think to look for you and thankfully, the person you were hoping to see was standing right outside.

“What do you mean you lost her?” Charles frowned, stood in your driver’s room with your handler who was pacing nervously. He’d come up to check on you after your DNF to make sure you weren’t blaming yourself too hard but instead he was met with a very stressed looking staffer.

“We had a bit of a disagreement and I haven’t seen her since.” The man admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “And it would be too suspicious if I put out a MIA memo for some random staffer so we’ve just had people keeping an eye out.”

Your teammate shook his head. “You are unbelievable, mate.”

Before the staffer could get another word out, Charles left the room - he couldn’t even call you, your phone was currently stuffed in his pocket after he saw it left on the side table in your room. He could feel the panic bubbling in his chest as he walked through the paddock, every flash of red catching his eye. Clearly, he wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding his stress because more than one person tried to stop and ask him if he was okay and as much as he was grateful people seemed to care, you were still at the forefront of his mind. Where the hell were you?

He was moments away from shouting out your name when a firm hand was placed on his shoulder - Charles turned to say he was fine but when he was met with the dark eyes of Carlos he simply frowned. He felt himself deflate, his eyes desperate as he looked at his rival.

“She’s with Max.” He said quietly, and almost immediately Charles could feel his heartbeat ease. “Because the last place people would think to look is with Redbull, no?”

“Did you see her? Is she okay?” His volume matched the Spaniard’s as they walked in the direction of the Redbull Motorhome, noone batting an eye at the two drivers chatting away - nothing out of the ordinary. “How did she even get in wearing her kit?”

Carlos shook his head. “I didn’t see her, Max texted me that they were together so I don’t really know how or why she’s in there but I saw the panicked look on your face and guessed you didn’t know either… definitely won’t be able to sneak you in.”

The Monegasque nodded. “Can you tell her I’m out here… please?”

The Redbull driver gave him a gentle smile and another friendly pat on the shoulder before disappearing inside the navy blue motorhome - leaving Charles feeling very out of place standing outside of somewhere he definitely shouldn’t be. Thankfully, he didn’t have too much time to overthink before you stepped out of the motorhome, still clad in your Ferrari polo. He took your biceps in his hands and studied your features, eyes puffy and nose as red as your team wear- those bastards.

The driver pulled you into his chest and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, shielding you from prying eyes. Max wasn’t too far behind you, a sorry smile on his face. “Thanks for looking out for her.”

“Wouldn’t hesitate.” The Dutchman said. “But, you might want to get her out of her before too many people notice.”

Charles’ nodded and guided you out of the paddock, doing his best to keep you tucked into his side as to avoid too many prying eyes. Unlike other races, he simply waved at fans - allowing you to keep your head ducked down beneath your Ferrari cap as you head to the carpark, still not speaking a word. It wasn’t a comfortable silence, Charles could feel the weight of it dragging you both down. He locked eyes with Sebastian across the parking lot and the older driver gave him a concerned frown as he watched the young Monegasque help you into the car.

He waved his phone a little at Charles and the Ferrari driver nodded before slipping into the driver’s seat. Charles would be sure to ring Sebastian later but right now you were his priority - you sat slumped in the passenger seat, playing with the skin around your fingers. He’d seen you defeated before but there was something else going on here, he could just feel it.

“Y/n…”

“Can we just get out of here?” You finally met his eyes as a single tear rolled down your cheek. “Please.”

He didn’t even hesitate, driving as quickly but as safely as he could back to the hotel - ushering you into your shared room where you didn’t even hesitate to yank your polo over your head and throw it across the room before dropping to your knees and sobbing into your hands. You felt an intense guilt about breaking down like this in front of Charles when he’d such an amazing weekend - you felt like you were taking away from his accomplishments.

But when you felt his knees brush yours and his strong arms wrap around you, you simply melted into his chest - gripping onto him for dear life as you cried. You felt so betrayed by your team, you’d given them years of your life and your handler had just thrown it back in your face like it was nothing.

“Cherie… talk to me.” He whispered, rubbing his hand up and down your back.

You grumbled into his chest. “I-I… your fans hate me. So if… If we get on the podium in the next race they’re swapping me with a body double so I can meet you at the barricade. Like a good girlfriend”

Charles scoffed, pulling back to take your face in his hands, brushing his thumbs across your cheeks to wipe away some of the tears. “That is a whole new level of stupid… why can’t they just bite the bullet and-”

“Because they’re trying to protect me.” Your tone was mocking. “Because I’m not fucking good enough anymore, Charles.”

He went to speak but you shook your head and stood up, grabbing a T-shirt from your suitcase to change. You let out a pained laugh, running your hands over your face before putting the shirt on - hands shaky as you worked on the button of your trousers. “I should be grateful I even have a seat, they said… so, maybe there’s no point revealing me because by the end of the year I’m not going to be here anymore anyway.”

“Hey.” Charles grabbed at your wrist a little - you didn’t look up at him. “Don’t let them get in your head, y/n. You’re a champion… they’d be absolute fools to even think of letting you slip through their fingers.”

Your teammate could tell their words had really impacted you, your quiet thank you wasn’t convincing as you gently pulled your wrist away from his grasp. “You should call Sebastian, he’s worried about you…”

He pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead. “I’m here for you, okay? Don’t shut me out.”

“I know, I know… I… this just hurts. I at least thought they had my best interests at heart but…”

You sighed and Charles simply nodded. “I know, Cherie. They’re idiots. We’ll get you out of this soon, I promise.”

This time your thank you seemed genuine as you kissed him, a gentle smile on your face - you were eager to believe him but remained cautious. Simply getting out of the rest of your uniform and slipping into bed, the other driver not far behind. “How did you get into Redbull anyway?”

“Max just took me in, no questions asked… I honestly think he could get away with anything.” You chuckled softly, propping yourself on your elbow to look down at your boyfriend. “He didn’t even hesitate to help me, I almost feel bad we’re going to absolutely destroy him in the championship.

Charles laughed, a playful twinkle in his eyes. “There’s my girl. You do still need to call Sebastian though before he hunts us down.”

“I know, I know. I just have to be careful about what I say to him or else he’ll fly out to Italy early to burn down the headquarters.” Your cheeks flushed a little, reaching over to your nightstand to grab your phone; dialling the German’s number. “Hey Seb.”

“Hey kid, how are you doing?” His voice was gentle, you could almost picture the softening of his eyes. “You looked pretty down.”

“That’s a nice way to put it.” You laughed weakly, eyes flickering across Charles’ face. “I don’t think my reveal is going to happen any time soon…”

There was a shift in his tone of voice. “What? Why? Do you need me to go down there myself and talk to them because I will-”

“I’m not performing well enough, and the public opinion of me is apparently bad because I’m not greeting Charles at the barrier…” You explained, letting the fingers of your free hand trace across the skin of Charles’ jaw. “I’m actually worried that I won’t have a seat at all at the end of this year if I don’t start winning races.”

“Y/n, if Ferrari let you go then other teams would fight to the death for a chance to have you… they’re not idiots. They’re just threatening you so you keep feeling loyalty to them and honestly? I’m starting to doubt they deserve it.” The soft tone of his voice had returned, you could hear him chopping up something in the background. “If you’d let me, I’d like to sit down with you and go through your contract. See if we can find anything, not only as a GPDA rep but as your friend.”

You took a deep breath, your mentor always knew exactly what to say. “Thank you, Seb. I’d like that a lot.”

“Okay, well, I’ll let you get some rest. Say hi to Charles for me… he’s a good kid, I’m glad you found each other.”

Charles watched the corner of your mouth tug up into a fond smile - your eyes sparkled at the German’s words but he couldn’t hear them. “Me too. I’ll see you in Imola. Bye Seb.”

“What did he say that got you smiling like the… what's the expression… the cat that got the milk?” He hummed, making you giggle softly.

“Close, it’s cream not milk.” You said, voice fond. “He’s gonna go through my contract with me, see if there’s anything in there we could use to help me… there… there has to be something, right?”

“I really hope so… We’re gonna figure this out, okay?” His hand came up its home on your jaw, the warmth of his touch soothed you - you pressed a gentle kiss to his palm. “Me, you, Seb… Max and Lewis if it comes to it. You deserve to be celebrated.”

Charles simply let you draw shapes on his face, his chest, his neck as you studied him intently - the sunset slipped through the gap in the curtains illuminating the greens and blues of his eyes like the swirls of a watercolour painting. A beautiful ocean brimming with life and warmth, inviting you to dive in. You weren’t afraid of drowning in them, you felt safe as he looked right back at you, the gentlest smile on his face.

He observed you for a moment longer before leaning in and pressing a meaningful kiss to your lips, one you hoped would cement his words and it did. You felt more in that one kiss than any other you’d shared, any doubts you had about his feelings for you seemingly melted away in that moment. You were falling for this boy, hard.

If there was one good thing to come out of the mess that Ferrari was orchestrating; it was him.

And you were starting to think, maybe, just maybe, he was worth every second of it.

***

*****

Next part >>>

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Hope you guys enjoyed!!

#f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 #formula one #x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #unmasked fic #leclerc x reader #Charles leclerc x you

[honestlyspookytyphoon]

Then why are you here?

Summary: Y/N attends the national premiere of a sports documentary and Charles cannot help but fall for her. But does Y/N feel the same?

Word count: +/- 1.2k

Author’s note: I gave the story a little twist, but I hope you like it! English is not my first language so sorry for any bad writing and spelling mistakes. It took longer than expected, but work was a pain…

Warning: None, I guess?  

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a rainy and cold evening in November. The street were covered in darkness, although it was just over 5 p.m. The thermometer outside the pharmacy a little further down the street indicated 9°C, which was a normal temperature this time of year in other parts of Europe but it was highly uncommon in the small Mediterranean princedom.

Charles sighed. After a long and exhausting day, he wanted nothing more than to stay home and enjoy the comfortable warmth and quietness of his own apartment. But he could not because, tonight, the Ferrari documentary premiered in Monaco. It was a beautiful documentary about the history of Ferrari in F1, starting with the introduction of the legendary Italian brand to racing and over the numerous WDC’s and successes to the rather saddening truth of today.

Charles usually did not mind attending official events, especially when they were this close to his home. He was proud to be a Ferrari driver and held font memories of his time as member of the Ferrari Driver Academy. He never had to worry about what he should wear, practically having an Armani suit for every day of the year. He never had to worry about not knowing anyone or feeling out of place, since it were mostly him and Carlos people were waiting for.

Of course, the 2023 was not going great at all, but Charles knew how to put things into perspective. It sucked, sure, but every F1 team has had one or more seasons in which things did not go well and Charles had been through worse in his life. Also, the PR team of Ferrari had made clear to the press that tonight should be about the rich history of the brand and that questions about the ongoing season could be asked at other times.

Then why was Charles not so keen on getting ready?

He could blame it on the fact that his mom and brothers would not be there. He could blame it on the weather or the rigorous training Mattia had put him through today. He could blame it on the lack of rest he has had recently, that the constant travelling got to him. Deep down, however, Charles knew the real reason and he almost felt pathetic about it. Tonight would just be another event he attends alone, without a plus one. Charles normally did not mind being single that much – he had a great circle of family and friends – but at nights like this, he did.

It was during moments like this that he wanted to be more like Pierre. His best friend, but also the biggest Casanova he knew. Ever since childhood, Charles and Pierre both have had a more than fair share of female attention but both coped with it differently.

Charles has always been the serious one, the one being in long-term relationships. Charles met beautiful women every day, but he did not go any further unless he knew it could be more. Pierre, however, was the complete opposite. He was the textbook definition of a player and never hesitated to use his fame and money to get the girl he wanted. Like yesterday, when he texted Charles that he fixed a date for tonight. He met her in a club and sealed the deal less than one hour in. “It could be a fling, it could be more, but whatever it is, we at least had a fun time together”, Pierre said. And sometimes, Charles wished he could look at it the same way.

The alarm beeped. 6 p.m. Time to get ready.

.....

The red carpet went better than expected and the documentary was beautiful. Now that the press and fans were gone, Charles felt like he could finally relax. He went to the bar to get a drink for him and Sebastian when he spotted her.

She caught his eye already earlier that night, when he saw her searching for her seat. Charles thought she was stunning. She was wearing a black silk blouse, dark green wide leg trousers and a pair of solid black heels, adding a good 7 cm to her height if Charles had to guess. He liked that she did not wear any red, as almost all of the other guests did. She had finished off her look with some subtle jewellery and her hair was styled in a messy bun, which accentuated her gorgeous facial features. He got himself wondering who she was, as the after-party was F1-exclusive and he was sure that he would have remembered meeting her at the track.

During his conversation with Sebastian, he could not focus; she was all he could think of. When Charles once again nodded at the wrong time, Sebastian had enough. “Oh god, Charles, just go”, he snickered, “instead of standing here, pretending to be interested in my stories. Ask for her name. She is here alone it seems, and I am sure she would like to talk to you. So…”  Charles even did not wait for Sebastian to finish his sentence.

“Hi”, Charles said.

“Oh, hi”, she answered.

A solid 30 seconds past without Charles saying anything. Y/N started to think that he had mistaken her for somebody else.

“I am sorry. Are you looking for someone else?”, she asked.

“No”, Charles replied, “I…I wanted to meet you, actually.”

“Really? Okay.”

“Yeah, it’s just…this after-party is exclusively for people linked to F1 and I haven’t seen you before, that’s all”, he rambled. He felt the heat rising to his cheeks. Dammit

“You’re right”, she admitted, “I have nothing to do with F1 actually…or not for now, at least.”

Charles was visibly confused. “Then why are you here?” A pause. “I am sorry, that came out wrong”.

“It’s fine. I am an acoustical engineer and Mr. Vaseur invited me to see if I have any interest in joining the team in Maranello. Instead of telling me why to choose for Ferrari, he suggested that I came to watch the documentary”, she said, “and I’ll admit that I am impressed.”

“My name is Y/N by the way. Very nice to meet you, Charles”, she reached out her hand, “I am a fan.”

“Nice to meet you to, Y/N, and I am glad to hear that!”  He could feel his mojo coming back.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“The drinks are free here, Charles”, she laughed, “but I would love to have a drink with you.”

Charles and Y/N continued to talk for the rest of night.

.....

“And that, Y/D/N, is how I met your mother”, Charles said, tickling the belly of his newborn daughter who was lying in his arms.

 “Oh god, Charles”, Y/N chuckled, “She is just 2 months old. She doesn’t get it.”

“I don’t care, Y/N, I like the story and she does too. Look how calm she is!” he said.

“It seems to me that you are the only one not enjoying it”, he hinted, “and I am offended, Y/N!”

Charles brought his hand to his chest, faking to be heartbroken.

“You know I love it, Charles. And you know I love you, too, so much”, Y/N said, draping her arms around his shoulders.

“What will you do when Y/D/N is all grown up and doesn’t want to hear the story anymore, like never?”, Y/N teased.

“She won’t. But if she would…”, Charles said, turning his head to face his beautiful wife, “I guess we’ll have to make another mini-us to pass the story onto.”

#f1 imagine #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #f1 x reader

[lastflowerofyourhouse]

i fucking love the stuff with the ghosts in htn btw.

abigail and magnus get to be 3-dimensional and interesting and they get to use their skills to help people. they're first act shock value deaths but they were so so smart and in this one they get to be useful like they never got to be before. they get to do what they would've done, given the chance, and hold the group together. they get to actually solve the problem and offer harrow a truly healthy relationship with adults. they get to show her real guidance.

marta dyas, a one-note character who dies off page, completely freaks out when sock puppet judith dies. she's distressed, she's confused, but abigail convinces her so easily to stay and help harrow, a girl she's barely spoken to. she doesn't just get to demonstrate her genuine resolve and skill when fighting commander wake, but she also gets to be a good person, and she gets to be afraid.

dulcinea septimus. fucking dulcinea septimus. the woman on the sidelines whose name means sugar, the romantic interest who you were delusional for believing in, the unseen recipient of letters, is sick of roses and horny for revenge. she's jilted, she's angry, she's been cooped up and bored for a long long time and she's going to help you kill a ghost because what does she have left to loose.

and ortus nigenad, my beloved. talk about a one-note character who dies off page. a generally unpleasant poet who almost none of the characters respect. and he gets to be the hero. his genuine passion and love for something no one else gives a shit about is enough to warp reality and save everyone. harrow goes to him genuinely contrite and ashamed of herself, and he doesn't just forgive her, he apologizes for not doing more to protect her. he gives her a hug. he makes her feel seen and safe and real. and then. and then this is a story in which the power of love genuinely does save the day and ortus's ardent love for his mattias nonius verse fanfiction is the love that makes up the difference.

even protesilaus writes poetry. he has a family. he cultivates roses in his free time. and his relationship with dulcie is complicated. he genuinely cares for her but he isn't always what's best for her. and he, too, stays to help harrow. with no ulterior motives, no self interest, despite having never met her before, he stays to help harrow.

it just offers so much agency and depth to these characters who are so easy to write off in the first book. like, it sucks what happens to ortus, but no one was crying about him. we feel kinda sad about dulcinea for palamedes's sake, but not for her own. but then harrow the ninth comes out and suddenly they're all people. selfless, brave, intelligent, angry people banding together to help this unpleasant but desperate seventeen-year-old and i love them all so much. harrow the ninth is such a good fucking book.

#harrow the ninth #dulcie septimus #ortus nigenad #magnus and abigail #protesilaus ebdoma #marta dyas #my post

[sinnful-darling]

BAERRR THE MALE SIREN ONE WAS JUST SO— JRKEODKDDNDKSSKEKDJDJDK

SCREAMING. 🛐🛐🛐

He makes me wanna punch him in the face (romantically😳)

Are we getting a part 2 soon?? 🤭🤭

YAN! MALE SIREN PRINCE PT2

tws: manipulation mentions, abuse mentions, torture implications (not directed to the reader), domestic violence mentions, regicide,

i didn’t know y’all would like that so much 😭😭 but yes i can do a pt 2.

♡ Yan! Male Siren Prince who, as mentioned before, is the eldest. He’s the heir of the Siren Folk and because of that, his parents are extremely strict.

♡ Yan! Male Siren Prince who has scars on his back from lashings and has had scales ripped off of his tail as a punishment. His parents punish him when he doesn’t live up to their expectations, so he’s become very introverted and resentful because of this.

♡ Yan! Male Siren Prince whose name is Mattias.

♡ Yan! Male Siren Prince who is natural kind and nurturing, but is also a master of manipulation. Be careful, his words might not be in your best interest at times!

♡ Yan! Male Siren Prince whose father was not only abusive to him, but to his mother as well. Because of this, he plans on killing his father and taking the throne to protect his mother and his siblings.

♡ Yan! Male Siren Prince who tried his best to protect his siblings and mother from his father’s wrath, but when his father laid hands on you, he snapped.

♡ Yan! Male Siren Prince who kills his father in a blind rage, claiming the throne and immediately creates a law that protects all human lovers.

♡ Yan! Male Siren Prince who, in case you were wondering, used a spell to permanently allow you to breathe underwater since you refused to become a Siren.

♡ Yan! Male Siren Prince who is a better ruler than his father by far, but because of that, he doesn’t have much time for you anymore.

♡ Yan! Male Siren Prince who wishes he left his home with you instead of becoming the King. He’d be able to spend more time with you that way…

♡Yan! Male Siren Prince who fakes your deaths and leaves his home to find a new place to live!

♡ Yan! Male Siren Prince who’s furious when he finds out his siblings figured out his plan and invited themselves >:((

♡ Yan! Male Siren Prince who begrudgingly admits that the more people there are to protect you and have eyes on you the better. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all… but you have to love him the most!

#tw: yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere male #yan! male siren #yan! siren prince #yandere oc #yandere x darling #yandere oc x reader #soft yandere #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere hcs #oc hcs #oc headcanons #tw abuse #tw domestic violence #tw manipulation #tw murder #tw killing #killing mention tw #tw yandere #yandere drabble #male yandere

[whore-ibly-hot]

Heya, hope you're doing well. I was wondering on the yans with a body conscious darling? Specifically with their tummy and thighs, totally not feeling body conscious myself lol.

Thank you! (Also may I be 💍 anon? :0)

ARRRRAARAR I LOVE THIS ASK

As a bigger girl myself, I am no stranger to being body self conscious. While I am on a really successful weight loss journey right now, my thighs and tummy are my most embarrassing areas in my mind. I'm happy to make an short piece based on this, 💍 anon!

First and foremost, there are two stand out yanderes who love your tummy and thighs. This would be Joey and Fritz. Joey's town is old fashioned, and Fritz is literally in the olden days. Back then, wide hips were seen as a sign a lady could carry a child easier and bear more. Since both Joey and Fritz crave a family, the adore it. Upon learning you are self conscious, they would bathe you in compliments, and whether or not it removes the anxiety it does feel nice.

The Mean-girls, or at least Maggie, have unending confidence. Because of this, they don't really know how to make you feel hot. They've always either told themselves they were gorgeous, or told losers at school they weren't. So, Maggie and Sasha would take you shopping, in an attempt to retail therapy the sadness away. This happens to be Sasha's favorite pass time. Meanwhile, Lindsey would be trying to figure out what conscious meant.

Ahmed would go the route of showering you in compliments about your body, but mostly just tries to make you feel better by putting himself down. You feel ugly? Don't worry, your a godess, it's a lowly worm like him who's the disgusting one. Patrick would just try to plow you, telling you the nastiest things he can think of pertaining to the parts that make you upset. Telling you to get used to loving your stomach because it will swell much bigger when he fucks you full of his seed, or how he wants you to trap his head between your thighs.

Mattias would be gentle, and kind. As I mentioned, he craves physical touch from you, and loves using your body as a pillow. He would explain in more than just compliments, but rather a speech about how beautiful you are to him. He would also offer to go to the gym with you, and teach you how to use some of the machines there, if only so he can see you in workout clothes.

A thicker woman was seen as beautiful in ancient Athens, so Puck would be very confused as to why you didn't think you were beautiful. He would take you to see human statues and paintings of beautiful women, to show you the similarities in your figure and there's.

Carl would definitely take a similar approach to Patrick, and try and fuck the negative thoughts out of your mind. He'd also be more possesive, telling you not to think bad things about HIS possessions, his girls tummy, his girls thighs.

Gabriel wouldn't be the kindest about it, telling you to not worry about vanity, and to not insult your appearance, as his God made you in his image. Joshua wouldn't say anything, to stubborn to compliment you the way he wished. Instead, the few times you both cuddle he would silently pay more attention to those area.

Last but not least, Johannes is to awkward to voice how he feels, so he would do whatever Fritz told him to...

#yandere #yandere oc #ask me stuff #tw.yandere #yandere fanfiction #yandere content #x reader #yandere boy #oc joey #oc joshua #oc puck #oc carl #oc mattias #oc Lindsey #oc maggie #oc sasha #oc fritz #oc gabriel #oc ahmed #oc patrick #oc johannes

[sainz-leclerc]

Beach Talks - Charles Leclerc

pairings : charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary : you meet a cute stranger in the darkness of the beach and start rambling about your f1 passion .

warnings : nothing just pure fluff :)

A/n : I’m currently on vacation and my wifi connection is shit so I won’t be posting too much do to that . I will however try and post as often as I can

Also , this is my first ever big story , yuhu 🥳🍾 Hope you all enjoy it . Again , feedback or constructive criticism is highly encouraged 😋

Peace.

That’s the only thing you were feeling at the moment.

You were currently sitting on a lifeguard’s chair , the dark beach of Monaco surrounding you .

It was past 1 am , the perfect time to be by the seaside in your opinion .

“No what Mattia , no”

Turning around , you saw the intruder of your peacefulness . It was a young man , definitely under 30 , wearing a dark suit and currently screaming at his phone .

Beside the beach was a fancy restaurant , probably the place where this screaming man came from .

The rest of the conversation was spoken in italian so you couldn’t comprehend what the he was arguing about .

However , what you definitely observed was that he was slowly getting closer and closer to you high chair .

“Fuck” you turned your head once more to see the man putting his phone back into his pocket , a hand coming up to his face .

“Hey” you called out . the man looked up and started looking around . Seeing no one else was around he pointed at himself “yeah you , u okay ?”

He took a second before replying “honestly no”

You struggled seeing in the dark , hoping to catch a glimpse of his face , but no such luck . The lights from the restaurant were just way too far .

“Wanna come up here ?”

“Why ?”

“Because you seem like you could use some relaxing. This place seems really peaceful at the moment and you could use it”

When he hesitated you said “I promise I’m not a serial killer”

The man softly laughed but didn’t say anything . Instead he made his way up the chair .

Once he was seated beside you , you softly nudged him , encouraging both of you to take a deep breath .

A few quiet minutes passed before he finally said “thank you , I really needed that”

“No problem” you smiled at him , even though you were sure he couldn’t see it .

A few more seconds pass “what brings you here tonight , you from around here ?” He asked , wanting to know more about this mysterious girl who offered him a place into her peaceful palace.

“Oh no no , I’m on holiday with my family. What about you ?” You asked, curious about this earlier shouting man.

“Yeah , I’m from here . But I’m currently only visiting for work” he took another deep breath “my job requires me to be on the move a lot so … it’s good to be home”

You giggle “yeah , I could tell by the way you were screaming at your phone”

The man laughed , a sincere wholesome laugh , the tension in his shoulders finally releasing .

“So what brings you and your family here ? Anything special you want to visit ?” he asked .

“Oh we’re here actually for the Formula 1 race” you turned towards him , a smile on your face .

His eyebrows rose “you’re a f1 fan ?”

You nodded vigorously “oh yes , I adore f1 . Can’t wait for this weekend’s race . Are you a fan ?”

The man took a second, his face twisting a bit “let’s say I know enough about it . Who’s your team ?”

“Ferrari of course”

For some odd reason your new companion smirked “yeah ? who are this year’s drivers ?”

Deciding to ignore his smirk you continued “Carlos Sainz Jr. and Charles Leclerc. This is actually Charles’s home race and apparently everyone including him thinks this race is cursed for him” you scoffed and rolled your eyes “if you ask me that’s just bullshit”

The smirk on his face disappeared “why’s that ?”

Taking a second to gather your thoughts you began “I think that only thing that keeps him from winning Monaco’s grand prix is himself”

“After all this race is very important for him and I think he forgets to actually enjoy the race and not focus on winning”

The man laughed again “Not focus on winning ? How is he supposed to do that ?” Now he sounded interested.

“I’m not saying he shouldn’t focus on winning . What I am saying is that he’s focusing too much on it . He needs to learn to loosen up . In this race especially he has to be one with his car.”

“Tune everything out and just be him , the car and the track. As long as he’s enjoying the ride and feeling himself it will be impossible to not win” you explained , smiling at the end of your statement.

He took a second , processing your words before nodding.

“You are right , that’s exactly what I’ll do”

“Excuse me ? What you’ll do ? Are you by any chance the great Charles Leclerc ?” You teased , getting ready to leave and go back to your family

Your new friend laughed once again “I wouldn’t call myself the great but Charles works fine”

He moved into the moonlight , finally able to take his features in .

He indeed was Charles Leclerc . What was the first thing you said ?

“Oh fuck you”

Charles was a little shocked but quickly recovered “me ? What did I do ?”

“You let me ramble on about f1 to you like I was some genius about the sport while you’re a driver for fucking Ferrari ?”

The driver laughed at your playful outburst “hey , in my defense I just wanted a normal conversation without being THE GREAT Charles Leclerc” he smiled at you “ also , you looked pretty cute talking witn such a passion”

You blushed , thank god for the dark covering your red face.

“First of all , I agree . I am pretty damn cute” that made Charles grin “ Second of all , I wouldn’t have given you the privilege of treating you like a celebrity … If you were Carlos on the other hand I would have definitely asked for a picture” you teased.

He frowned in a playful way “now you’re just being mean”

“I’m sorry”

Charles took a second to think it over “Now that’s just not good enough”

You joined in his teasing “oh yeah ? What would be good enough for you all mighty lord perceval ?”

Lord perceval burst out into a laughing , making you giggle . After his laughter died down he suggested “How about you let me take you out to dinner while you’re still in Monaco ? You can tell me all about your opinions on this great Charles Leclerc”

Taking a second to pretend you’re thinking , when actually you were freaking out , you finally said “yeah , okay”

Pulling his phone out , he gave you the phone app for you to put your phone number in.

You took it , a smirk on your face “promise not to scream at me through it ?”

He let out another soft giggle “don’t give me a reason to”

“Deal”

You both climbed down the lifeguard chair , softy making your way back to the restaurant . Before entering you announced you were actually going back to your hotel.

“Where are you staying ?” Charles asked , hopping not to intrude.

“The Crown Marina hotel . It’s about 20 minutes from here” you smiled at him , ready to wave goodbye .

But just as you were about to say your goodnights , the monegasque shook his head “ I can take you if you want” he offered

Now it was your time to shake your head “Oh no , don’t worry . I’ll just take a cab”

Charles wasn’t having it “No way , let me drive you”

you fought a bit more before finally giving up and allowing him to take you home .

The ferrari driver smiled , taking ahold of your hand and directing you to his Ferrari Pista Spider 488 .

Butterflies took over your stomach as his hand squeezed yours .

The drive to your hotel was nice , a calm air hanging between the two of you . You chatted some more about god knows what .

After arriving at your hotel , Charles insisted on taking you up to your room .

“You sure this isn’t just some sneaky way of finding out my room number ? ” you teased

“Busted” he teased right back .

You softly giggle “Thank you for driving me Charles.”

The young man erupted in a blushy smile “Thank you so much for showing me that lifeguard chair . Really calmed me down”

“My pleasure. Goodnight Mr.Leclerc”

Just as you were about to close your door he stopped you “Wait , I don’t even know your name” he suddenly realized.

Leaning over the door , you kissed his cheek and whispered in his ear “check you phone”

With that you closed the door , your red lipstick stain bright on his cheek.

Charles left the hotel , getting into his car before checking his phone .

New contact : Y/n <3

He smiled at the little heart , texting you

- Goodnight pretty girl . Don’t forget you promised me a date ;)

a few seconds passed before you replied

- don’t worry il predestinato , I’m a woman of my word

The whole drive back to the restaurant , Charles was a smiling mess , only thing in his mind was what he’ll do for your guy’s date.

Going back to his table, Pierre greeted him “where were you mate ?”

The monegasque turned to his friend “Just went for a walk on the beach”

The french man grinned “Aha , and that kiss stain was given to you by a mermaid ?” pierre teased , pointing to the red mark on his cheek .

“What ?” Charles pulled his phone out before seeing a small red lip stain on his cheek. Softly laughing , he snapped a picture and sent it to you .

- Thank you very much for this little souvenir Y/n

- you are welcome mr. Leclerc.

Putting his phone back into his pants , he was met with 5 pairs of eyes starring at him .

“Care to share with the group?” Carlos smirked

“No thank you” Charles quickly replied , taking a sip of his beer .

“Oh come on mate , tell us the details” Daniel urged.

“Was she pretty ?” Lando quipped.

“Yeah Charles , was she ?” Max added

Charles took another swing of his beer. He was far too sober for this conversation.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles lechair #il predestinato #lord perceval #charles marc herve perceval leclerc #f1 one shot #formula 1 #formula 1 drabble #imagines #blurbs #oneshots #f1 #writing #f1 fluff #lando norris #pierre gasly #carlos sainz #daniel ricciardo #sainz leclerc writes #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 x reader #ferrari #f1 ferrari #scuderia ferrari #ferrari f1 #cl16

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Walls Are Crumbling: Part 4

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: 6 months into your marriage and your pregnancy. You and Benedict are so in love. Every day is filled with even more love and laughter...until you see Lord Mattias again.

Warning: mentions of miscarriage (but its a lie), insinuation of smut at the end.

A/N: uh oh

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You didn't expect for things to get a lot better, but they had. Being in love with Benedict, being married to him, having a child with him, albeit not his by blood, it was wonderful.

After the love confessions, you two had decided to sleep in the same bed together. You still have your room for reading or some alone time. Benedict has his own study where he paints. More often than not, you'll sit in the room with him to read while he paints.

Not today though. You had gone on a walk with Daphne and Auggie and you ran into someone unexpected: Lord Mattias.

It had been months since you last saw him. He had his arm around another woman and, previously, you would've been crushed. But now, you have neutral feelings towards the man.

"Lady L/N. How," he glances down at your stomach, "..wonderful to see you."

"You as well, Lord Mattias." You see him glance at your wedding ring, the one that belonged to Benedict's grandmother.

"I heard you'd gotten married," he states plainly.

You nod, "To Benedict Bridgerton."

"And you're expecting."

"I am and I'm very happy. Things have worked out well for me. I assume they have for you since," you gesture to the woman he has yet to introduce to you.

"Amelia," she introduces herself, "Jeffrey and I just gotten engaged ourselves!" She looks up at her fiance excitedly.

"Congratulations," you say. You nod to Daphne, "This is my sister-in-law, Daphne Basset, Duchess of Hastings."

Amelia immediately curtsies and Daphne shakes her head, "That's not necessary, please." She clears her throat, "Amelia, why don't you tell me how you and Lord Mattias met?" She gives you a pointed look before wandering off to the side. Amelia, eager to be in Daphne's presence follows her to a nearby bench.

Jeffrey clears his throat, "So is this child-"

"No. Fortunately for you, I lost the baby in its early term. This child is completely mine and Benedict's," you put a protective hand on your belly.

Jeffrey sighs, "Y/N, I regret what I said all those months ago. I do still lo-"

"Please, don't, Jeffrey. Save yourself from embarrassment. I'm happy now and you're getting engaged," you nod in Amelia's direction.

"I don't love her. Not like I love you," he reaches out to touch you, but you step back.

"Do not get any closer to me. Despite how much you've hurt me, I don't hate you. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be as happy as I am now, married to the man who's always been there for me and cared for me. But do us both a favor, and forget what happened between us."

You swiftly turn on your heel and walk over to Daphne and Amelia, your sister-in-law looking relieved to finally have you back, "Ready to go, sister?"

"I'm feeling quite tired now. I think it's best we head home for rest, don't you think, Daph?"

She nods all too quickly, "Yes! I agree!" she turns to Amelia, "It was a delight speaking with you. Congratulations on your engagement."

"Thank you so much, my lady!" You watch as Amelia gets up and rushes back to Jeffrey's side. You don't look his way as you pass, but you feel his eyes on you.

"Are you alright?" Daphne whispers.

"I can't believe I thought I was in love with him," you mumble, "He said he still loves me."

"Oh dear."

"I know. That poor girl. She looks so happy with him."

"Hopefully he'll get his head out of his arse."

You groan, "God, I hope so."

__________________

When you arrive back home, Benedict is in his studio painting. You're stomping in, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl in the middle of the room, and biting into it.

"I was painting that," he says with an amused smirk.

You stop chewing, "Oh," you look at him guiltily, "I'm sorry." You place the apple back into the bowl as best as you could.

He chuckles, putting down his brush and palette down, "It's alright. I should take a break anyway." He gestures for you to sit on the chaise and he sits beside you, "How was your time with Daphne?"

"It went well...until I ran into Lord Mattias." Benedict immediately sat up, "He asked if the child was still his."

"What did you say?"

You wince, "I lied. I said I lost his baby in early term. Should-Should I have told him the truth?"

"Did he say anything else?" Benedict asks with concern.

You look away from him, "He said he still loves me."

"Do you believe him?"

You look back up at your husband, "I don't know and, to be quite frank, I don't care. I've moved on. I'm happy and content," you cup his face with your hand and he leans into it, "with you and our cherub."

Benedict leans in and pecks your lips, "That's-That's very comforting to hear, honestly."

You look at him confused, "Why? Did you expect me to go running back to him?"

"No. Of course not. I-I suppose I thought there might have been a small part of you that still loves him."

You shake your head, "Benedict, my heart is completely yours. I don't care how Jeffrey feels. I love you."

"I love you. I just don't want to lose you."

"You won't," you take one of his hands and place it over your heart. With his other hand, you place it on your stomach, "You have us."

Benedict pulls you in for another kiss, murmuring against your lips, "I love you." Smooch. "I love you," Smooch. "I love you," he lays you onto your back, continuing to press kisses down your face, to your neck.

He truly loved you and he was going to show just how much.

#benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton fic #benedict bridgerton x reader

[devourable]

Do you have smut hcs for the delinquents with an oral fixation darling? Outside of sex, they're playfully nipping the boys or giving plenty of kisses! Darling could be getting dicked down within an inch of their life but they'll whine if they aren't sucking dick/biting someone's shoulder/or having one of the boys' fingers in their mouth. it's degen hours for me ajsdhsjsdkjfblsjfk

this post is dedicated to mazzy. she literally ghostwrote this anon AKDJSKTB

i was gonna post this yesterday but i fucking blacked out so. hope yall like smut in the morning

nsfw, minors / ageless dni

· the boys are ALL over this. it drives them crazy when you’re affectionate with them, to the point they start arguing about who gets your attention next. they're melting every time you pepper them with kisses, playfully biting you back whenever you bite them, always so eager to return your energy when given the opportunity to.

· naturally, this attitude follows them to the bedroom, too. it wouldn't be too uncommon for some of them to bicker about who gets to fuck your mouth first next to spark up, especially since some of them would definitely start to hog you upon given the chance. it’s a guarantee that you won’t be leaving an encounter without the taste of one of them lingering on your tongue.

· aaron and judas are the most gentle, having their fun rubbing their cock against your mouth just to make you whine for them. judas would take his time getting himself off with just your lips no matter how much you protest or try to suck him off, gently scolding you every time you make the attempt to. aaron on the other hand would lose his patience after some time. all that begging, so desperate for him, he'd have no choice but to shut you up. who is he to deny you of what you both want?

· mattias and dom, meanwhile, are both practically the opposite of their friends. any time either man is involved, you'd definitely find yourself gagging on one of them before all of your clothes are off. they just can’t wait to be inside you any longer than what’s necessary.

· dominic isn't as classless as mattie — he's taking his time with you, asking you if you like how he tastes, looking real deep into your eyes throughout the whole act. he really loves to see the look on your face when he's cumming down your throat. but mattias can't help himself from using your mouth like a fleshlight, no matter how hard he tries. the sounds you make when you're gagging on him, the feeling of you desperately sucking his cock, the way you look at him when you know he's about to cum? he’s addicted to it. he likes it more than he likes actually fucking you, especially knowing how much you enjoy it too.

· you'll never have to worry about going unsatisfied with these four around. they're obsessed with and take advantage of your fixation as much as you'll let them — and you'll let them as much as they want, won't you? they're only trying to give you what you want, after all!

#this isnt even the most degen thing ive written and im still embarrassed #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x oc #yandere boy #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere boys #male poly yanderes #yandere smut headcanons #yandere smut #yandere nsft #yandere x reader smut #xxi ;; the world — asks #🚬 mattias c. - dominic g. - judas j. - aaron d. ;; the delinquents

[meltthefrozenheart]

FROZEN 3 and FROZEN 4 are both in development, and I can't wait!

The news sounded odd to me initially, I didn't expect anything like this from Disney Animation, but it became immediatly appealing the moment I realized the GREAT potential a double feature could have for the franchise, most importantly when Bob Iger specified “Jenn Lee, who created Frozen, the original Frozen, and Frozen 2 is hard at work with her team at Disney Animation on not one but actually two stories.”, which would mean:

More time to enstablish new elements, new characters, time to explore new lore and new places without the risk to rush everything;

A bigger story that can help flesh out our protagonists in their new roles, their new wants and changes they might face, considering how the F2 ending brought many new possibilities;

A narrative context where the new crysis (whatever it might be) could be explored even better, also allowing to maintain things in a complex prespective just as the Frozen movies like to do, where the matter of "good and evil" not at the center, and things are first of all deeply personal for the characters

It seems to me that Jennifer Lee always wanted to delve deeper into things, this is why the Broadway Musical was a perfect opportunity for her and the Lopez to expand the characters and flesh out things in the story, also adding new elements that would've been useful for F2.

And when they worked on Frozen 2, they built it as the "second part" of the story, reconnecting almost all the aspects of the sequel to the 1st movie, and the story was clearly meant to be BIGGER and longer compared to what we ended up having because of numerous issues and rewrites. J. Lee and C. Buck didn't want to introduce something that would feel just as "a new adventure", and more about the actual characters evolving, see what they left unresolved, breaking the "Happy ending" scenario of F1, which also led them to NOT give the new human characters (Mattias and the Northuldra) the same relevance given to Spirits of Nature, in order to remain focused on Elsa, Anna and the rest of the gang.

Now, Lee will most likely not direct or write these two new movies, but she is still directly involved, because it's both part of her job as CCO of Walt Disney Animation Studio and because Frozen is her (and Chris Buck) baby. It will be curious to discover with what idea Marc Smith came out with, but the fact he worked on the 1st Frozen as a storyboard artist and the became Director of Story for Frozen 2 says a lot about him and why Lee trusts him so much, and I'm sure they will follow the approach used with the 2nd movie and carry it on with 3 and 4. Numerous sagas used the two-parter approach, like the books adaptations of Harry Potter, Twilight and Hunger Games series, or more "original cases" like Pirates of the Carribeans or what we are getting now with the animated Spiderverse movies (Across and Beyond). But I think the best similarity (and probably what led to this ambitious choice) is with Avengers Infinity War/Endgame, where the BIG FINALE gets developed in two movies.

#Frozen 3 #Frozen 4 #Frozen #Frozen 2 #elsa #kristoff #anna #hans #prince hans #olaf #sven #Arendelle #Enchanted Forest #Northuldra #Honeymaren #Ryder Nattura #Yelana #Lieutenant Mattias #King Agnarr #Queen iduna

[smoooothoperator]

What A Shame

05: The Winner Takes It All

Driver! Charles Leclerc x Singer! OC (Juliette Morelli)

Exes to Lovers, Forced Proximity, Childhood Sweathearts

Summary: things are starting to calm down? or is it just the calm before the storm?

Words: 3.1k

warnings: Charles being a lost puppy, Juliette being Meryl Streep for some secons (if you understood the reference tell me), flashbacks are on italics

Official Playlist

Masterlist

previous part | next part

a/n: hey! you just got a free chapter today because is frstive where I live so that means no classes yay!

Every interaction is very welcomed!!!!

🏎️

I walked out of her room. I had a chance to talk with her, but that didn't go how I wanted.

Just when I thought that we were on the same page, talking about my regrets and that I still love her, she just pushed me away.

"What did I do wrong?" I frowned looking at the ground.

I walked through the corridors going outside towards the garden, needing time alone to think. For a moment I saw my Juliette, the one that used to place a band on my thigh and calmed me immediately. The one that smiled and all worries disappeared. For some minutes I had that woman back with me.

But it was just an illusion.

Julitte Morelli is no longer the little girl I fell in love with, she's no longer the next door neighbors' daughter that came to the same school I was, she's no longer the girl that came to cheer for me during all the karting races.

She's a different woman that had matured because I broke her heart. And I'll never forgive myself for doing that.

"Thank God you woke up in time" Carlos said walking towards me. "Pierre was searching you"

I turned around and looked at him. I don't know what shocked him the most, how red were my eyes trying to hold the tears or that I was a functional man after drinking god knows how many glasses of whiskey last night.

"Mate, are you alright?" he frowned, walking closer to me.

"I talked with her" I said, taking a deep breath, smiling weakly. "And… God. I just hurt her so much"

Carlos looked at me and his gaze changed. Again, he's looking at me trying to show his big brother instinct.

"At least now you know it" he sighed.

"No, no… You don't understand" I said shaking my head. "I read her notebook, her lyrics, her poems… She said she had a lover but in that notebook the only name there was mine"

"Well, good for her that she had a lover! She deserved it just after you fucked up everything" he frowned looking at me confused.

"She still loves me" I said. "She… God, how can someone like her, after everything I did… How can someone like her love me?"

I was questioning everything. Every choice I made came to my mind as a list.

The first contract with Ferrari. Sure, it was my dream. I was the second driver but I had Sebastian Vettel as my teammate. The best mentor I could even imagine.

Then Anthoine died. I fought hard that weekend to make him proud, even if that meant no sleep and study every previous race I could. That meant not sleeping with her in bed. First bad decision.

Then Ferrari showed me the contract of the first driver. Everything I ever wanted was in front of my eyes. Wrong, it was something I dreamed about and I promised her to accomplish it with her next to me. Second bad decision.

Being the first driver meant being a leader, fighting hard. I needed to spend more time on the simulator and on the headquarters, away from home and barely going to see my family and my girlfriend. Third bad decision.

I signed for more seasons with Ferrari, rejecting all the contracts other teams showed me promising things and warning me. I didn't believe their words, I defended my team with all my heart. Fourth bad decision.

I never leaned on her anymore, I got distanced and locked myself in the simulator room and did everything Ferrari told me to do. She showed me support and I never appreciated it. Fifth and worst decision.

But the worst decision I took was pushing her away, breaking her heart just because Mattia told me to do that. The worst decision I made was choosing Ferrari over her. Choosing a team that tortured me instead of a person that loved me.

"She hates me, Carlos" I sighed. "And she has every right to do that. I promised her so many things and broke all the promises"

"For example?" he asked me, leading me to sit on a bench that had views to the vineyard.

"That I would never push her away, that I would let her be by my side… That I would marry her" I sighed. "I even wrote it on the final lines of one of the songs she wrote. That promise sounds everytime I hear it, reminding me of that broken promise"

I saw Carlos nodding, taking a deep breath and crossing his arms. The moment I stopped coming to the paddock with Juliette he never asked what happened. He just stood there, looking at me.

"What happened?" he asked, leaning on the door of my room.

"Huh? With what?" I frowned looking up from my phone and leaving it on my lap.

"Did you leave her in Monaco? Is she sick or something?" he asked worriedly.

"Oh, no. She won't come back" I answered looking back at my phone. "We broke up last month"

He stood there on the door, looking at me, scanning me with his eyes. I didn't look worried, like it was the most normal thing on Earth. I mean, a break up is normal. But he knew that it wasn't normal with us. He knew that something was wrong.

"Just say whatever you want to say" I sighed heavily. "I know that all these years you had many things that you wanted to tell me. Go on"

"Just to resume everything… You are an idiot" he said, shrugging his shoulders. "Like, a big one. You were so selfish, so greedy. Just because you were in Ferrari, it didn't mean that you were the king. You are not Michael Schumacher, you are Charles Leclerc. You really believed that the nickname they gave you was your destiny"

I swallowed thickly hearing him talk. But I have to stay still, it was my turn to listen to him, to face the consequences of my mistakes.

"You turned down big opportunities just because you loved red" he said. "You never listened to the warnings, to the friendly comments. You kept defending a team that always let you down always blaming yourself for the mistakes"

"I know" I said, looking at my hands. "That's why I left, because I got tired of them"

"But you did that too late" he frowned. "And don't tell me that Ferrari was your childhood dream. Ferrari was the dream of everybody that was on the grid, only a few of us were lucky enough to dress in the red suit. But you took it too far, mate. You made unnecessary sacrifices for them. And now look where you are. It was about damn time that after all this years you faced her"

I sigh and close my eyes, letting my head fall down defeated. Yeah, it was about time that I faced her and confronted all my mistakes.

"But now it's too late, Carlos" I sighed. "Even if I recognize and accept my mistakes, she won't want me back"

"And you deserve that" he scoffed. "You deserve it for being so stupid ad blind"

"I know" I sighed.

I got up and took a deep breath, brushing my hair and looking inside the building. I have to talk with Valerie, the one that might know how to fix this.

I searched for her around, guessing that she would be somewhere here.

"Valerie… Can we talk?" I asked her once I found her, surrounded by a couple of her bridesmaids in her room to get ready.

"Is it urgent?" She frowned. "I mean… I have tk get the last things ready"

"Please" I sighed, holding the handle of the door. "It is"

She sighed and looked at all the girls around her, understanding the gaze she gave them and walked out of the room, making me move a little to let them pass by.

"What did you want to talk about?" she sighed looking at how I sat on a chair close to her.

"Just… About Juliette" I mumbled. "She will never forgive me, right?"

"I mean… You fucked up pretty bad" she shrugged her shoulders. "But maybe you two need to talk"

"I tried, actually" I sigh. "The first time went pretty bad and the second try… Just when I thought that we were talking peacefully she just pushed me out of the room"

"You know her, Charles-"

"No I don't" I frown. "The Juliette Morelli I met this weekend is not my Juliette, is someone else. And I know I made her like that, you don't have to remind me. I just… I don't know how to talk with this her right now"

"Try to sleep with her" she shrugged. "Make her jealous, mad… Whatever to get her attention. Just don't go to her trying to talk because she will get anxious and get her walls up"

"Are you crazy?! I can't sleep with her, not this way!" I exclaimed, like if I was offended.

"Then make her jealous" she sighed. "I know deep inside her she still loves you. You just have to take your Juliette out of this Juliette"

I took a deep breath and nodded. Make her jealous. Okay, maybe I can do that. Right? Maybe dance with someone at the wedding, talk with them while Juliette is near.

I can make her jealous too, right? Yeah, I can.

"Okay, yeah" I nodded. "Your sister is single? Maybe I can talk with her?"

"Stay away from my sister, you idiot!" she laughed.

I chuckled and nodded, getting up and hugging her. I have to get ready, the lunch will be soon and then after that I'll be too busy.

"Charles, can you come please?" Pierre sighed, calling me.

I nodded and walked towards him, frowning when I saw his worrying face.

"Don't tell me you are having second thoughts, please" I begged. "Because then I'm going to kill you"

"No! No, no, is that…" he sighed. "The string quartet that was going to play in the church… Well, there won't be a string quartet anymore"

"Fuck me" I groaned. "No fucking way! They just canceled on the wedding day!"

"Well… Talk with Juliette" he sighed. "Maybe she can sing?"

"Dude, no" I frown. "She's going to kill me if I do that!"

"Please? Just… God, I don't want Valerie to be sad! She had a list of songs she wanted to be played during the wedding! And there's just enough time for Juliette to try them!" he begged, making me sigh and nod.

"Okay, okay… Give me the goddamn list" I sighed. "Why the hell did they call you, by the way? I'm the one that organized that, I thought they were professionals''

"At least you didn't pay them yet" he shrugged his shoulders, sending me a text message with the list of songs. "That's what happens when you give a chance to someone that is a friend of a friend of a friend"

"Whatever" I signed. "They were friends of my piano teacher"

Pierre looked at me nodding, laughing.

"If you weren't my best man and all your songs weren't depressing I would have asked you to play at the wedding" he joked.

"Fuck you, mate! Those signs have many fans" I laugh punching his arm. "Well… I guess I'll go talk with Juliette… Wish me luck"

"Yeah, you'll need it" he joked, making me roll my eyes and walk out of the room.

"Fucking great" I groan.

I prayed that she was in her room just like before. I prayed that she would let me in even after she pushed me out of it.

"Juliette?" I sigh knocking on her door. "Juliette, I need to talk"

I heard rushed steps and then she opened the door. Her hair was wet, body wrapped with a silk robe. No bra. Fuck me.

"What you don't understand about me telling you that I don't want to talk with you?" she frowned.

"The string quartet won't come to the wedding. I need you to sing, or play the guitar or the piano. Whatever that makes music" I said nervously. "Just… Don't do this for me but do it for Valerie"

She looked at me and I felt little. I tried to breathe deeply, standing there in front of her.

"What songs?" she sighed and I felt myself smile a little. "And you better make sure that there's a guitar or a piano on the church after lunch so I can practice"

"Of course" I nodded. "I'll send you the songs… You still have the same number?"

"Yeah" she nodded and I took a deep breath. "Just give me times and I'll do whatever I can"

"I'm sure you'll do it amazing" I said smiling and I saw that she tried to not smile.

Just relax, please. Smile at me, Juliette. Let me see my Juliette.

"Thanks" she nodded. "I'll search the scores, I prefer if there's a piano"

"Yeah, okay" I nodded, sighing.

She won't smile at me anymore.

🎤

I took a deep breath after closing the door, then I heard the bell on my phone, making me sigh when I read the contact name I never changed.

Charles❤️: Guests entry something simple, whatever you can play on the piano is fine

Entry (bridesmaids and groomsmen first, groom with his mother and bride with her father): A Thousand Years, is around 5 minutes

For the exit Valerie wanted Wings by Birdy

I rub my eyes and brush my hair with my fingers. I'll let him in read, I really don't want to talk to him nor text him. But he kept messaging.

Charles❤️: I'll be on the church trying the keyboard

Just in case you want to come and try it by yourself

I groan and lock the phone, leaving it on the bed. Why did I never change his contact name?

I looked at the phone, the only source of light in the room. A week went by, and he didn't call yet.

"Maybe he's just busy" I mumble.

A week ago he broke up with me. A week ago he came to me and told me he wanted to break up, that we weren't working at all anymore, that I was distracting him.

Of course I didn't believe him. He's stressed with this season and needs to focus, maybe he just had a bad race and needed to get all his stress off with me so he said the first thing that came into his mind.

I waited days for a text, then the days became weeks, the weeks became months. I waited every hour for a text of him telling me that he misses me, that he loves me and that he regrets breaking up with me.

But that text never came to my phone. That text never showed up in my notifications, his name never came again.

I sighed, shaking my head, and got ready to get out of my room.

I wanted to go to the restaurant and eat lunch, I really wanted to, my mind wanted to go. But my legs and my heart had other plans, making me go to the church and accepting the fact that he was there, maybe alone playing the piano.

Music came to my ears when I was near the building, piano notes. He was playing, sitting in front of the keyboard with his eyes closed and fingers working all over the keys. It was a sad song, one that you want to hear whenever something is wrong, when someone hurts you.

"You improved" I said walking closer, trying to keep the sadness that song brought me.

"I'm a verified artist in Spotify after all" he said, stopping the music and looking at me with a sad smile. "It's all yours"

He got up and let me sit on the chair. Something deep inside in my heart wanted him to tell me why he composed a sad song, why he played it right now.

I just want answers.

I sigh and sit on the chair, trying the keyboard, playing the songs I'll play at the wedding.

How ironic it is that the song I would have chosen to be played at my dream wedding is the one I'll sing in my best friend's wedding and with the man that broke my heart, the one I wanted to marry, right in front of me.

"It's nice" I nodded, standing up and turning off the keyboard. "I guess I have to be earlier, just to warm up. See you later"

I started to walk away, but then he held my wrist, making me close my eyes and take a deep breath.

"Thank you" he said, and I just nodded.

"This is for Valerie" I said, moving my wrist away from his grip. "Don't get the wrong idea"

"You know that's not true" he whispered, trying to hold my hand. "Juliette, you know that we belong together-"

"Don't" I said, turning around. "Don't make me laugh, is not the right place to lie, you know? On a church" I scoffed, looking around.

"Juliette, please… Let me talk" he begged, those green eyes looking at me with anxiety.

"I don't want to talk about the things we've gone through, Charles" I sighed, closing my eyes. "There's nothing more to say"

"Juliette…" he sighed, and I just asked myself how many times he said my name this weekend.

"You know… I just thought that I belonged to your arms" I said, smiling weakly. "That you were home, that you would be the last person that could hurt me. But I was so stupid, a fool,an innocent girl in love"

I heard Charles taking a deep breath. I just want to let my anger go, all the anger in my heart wants to come out.

"I don't want to talk about this because it makes me feel sad" I whisper. "And I know you hate seeing me sad, so please. Leave me…"

"I was there" he interrupted me, taking me by surprise.

“What?” I mumbled.

"I went, I went to some of your concerts, I followed your award shows, I watched every movie you worked in even if I had to watch you making out with someone else that wasn't me! I was there but I couldn't be there! Because I was so afraid of what could happen, Juliette. I was afraid if someone saw us, if someone saw me. I even wrote on papers everything I wanted to tell you all those times, I still have the papers. I just… Please, Juliette… Let me talk"

taglist

@lestappenloverr @racinggirl @roni-midnights @livster @kakorrhaphiphobia @starkeyellow

#f1 #f1 x y/n #f1 x oc #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 drabble #f1 serie #formula 1 fic #formula 1 drabble #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine

[scriptedencryptid]

Spookus Scareus

aintafraidofnoghostus

crows and their freight responses to paranormal happenings

Kaz is ultimately more superstitious than he lets on, and he isn’t going to hang around for shit to hit the fan. Noises in the night? Dolls moving on their own? Writing on mirrors? Fuck that. He’s out and gone. Weather it a run or a walk, he’s not sticking around thanks.

I’d had imagined it’d be the same for horror movies too- he’d rather die than admit to a living soul that he can’t stand the things. Especially ghost flicks (I wonder why). But he’s man enough to decide for himself he already has enough trauma and nightmares for his sick mind to work with, it doesn’t need further inspiration to haunt him with.

Inej is a very impulsive fighter, she strikes fast and deadly. If in paranormal happenings she’d stick around and likely survive. Using her common sense and sick combat skills. She might enjoy the occasional horror movie with friends, but I don’t think she’d watch it unprompted.

Nina would do every wrong thing in a paranormal scenario and some how live. She enjoys horror movies if only as a excuse to snuggle up to her fjerdan. If he’d ever watch one.

Mattias knows all the signs of paranormal stuff, and he does all the things to avoid them, salt, chalk, blessed tree water. He’d survive in a paranormal scenario because he believes in them. He doesn’t like horror movies, if only because he turns up his nose to them. For religious reasons, not indulging unholy or sac religious reproductions as part of his beliefs. everyone makes fun of him for this, but he doesn’t budge.

wylan would freeze. He might survive? If only because he just- stayed in one spot and refused to tempt fate. He doesn’t know what’s happening and has zero drive to find out. Wylan might enjoy horror movies himself. Especially ones that are based on real stories or legends.

Jesper would probably die lol. He’d do everything wrong and panic in the worst moments, ‘is this how we die???’ He’d watch horror movies because wylan likes them, and would get the get the piss scared out of him the whole time.

#six of crows #shadow and bone #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #nina zenik #wylan van eck #mattias helvar #cranium artillery #headcanons

[bigfrozenfan-fanfics]

Chapter 77 - Mari's burden

Links: Chapter overview, Character list, Map, Glossar Rating: M over all Publishing cycle: around every 2-3 weeks

Remarks: all my chapters contain carefully selected music tracks (try to use headphones). It’s your own decision if you want to use them or not while reading. The purpose is to musically support the respective mood of the plot. If you can please use a browser for reading (not the Tumblr app) due to the text formatting and music.

While Elin was still sleeping soundly in her new cot, holding her doll close to her, Halima and Mattias set off for the orphanage. They had told her the previous evening that they would both be out of the house for about two hours in the morning and then go to school together. At least if Elin finally agreed. But the little girl was overjoyed with her new room and had hugged them both tightly after looking around and curiously touching many of the things here.

          As usual, a few children were playing outside the orphanage when the general entered with his fiancée, who was hitched to him, and headed straight for the matron's office. Liv was sitting at her desk, engrossed in reading some documents.

          Mattias cleared his throat discreetly after they had both stood there waiting for a few seconds. Liv raised her head and smiled at them.

          “Hello, Halima … General Mattias. I wasn't expecting you two today and thought you might be coming to story time with Elin on Friday.”

          “Hello, Liv,” Halima began, “We're here because there's news—,” “—and we want to sign the adoption documents,” Mattias continued. “Good morning, Liv.”

          Liv looked a little surprised at first, but then smiled again, this time beaming with joy.

          “I knew you'd love the little one from the start, but please have a seat.” Liv made an inviting gesture to the two chairs in front of her table. “I'm so glad that you want to adopt her now and, as I've already heard in town, you've become very good new parents for her and Elin feels very comfortable with you.”

          “Yes, indeed she does. Even in the bakery, people ask me about her from time to time and what nice things I'm planning to do with her that day. Mr. Oddvar is always happy to see her when she comes to his library with Olaf.”

          Then Halima began to talk about everything she had already discussed with Mattias and that they were going to visit the school with her today.

          “Oh, I'm sure she'll feel very comfortable there soon, you two shouldn't worry about that. But I hope the first impression today will make Elin curious and she'll agree,” Liv replied.

          “We hope so too, but we think this step is simply necessary now and we both, Destin and I, have to work during the day,” Halima explained. “Once she's settled in and maybe even made some new friends, things will be a lot easier for all of us.”

          Liv nodded, “That's true, especially after you two get married. Has the date been set yet?”

          Halima and Mattias looked at each other and he took her hand. “Next year, Liv, after the queen's official wedding. Maybe a week or so after that. We'll see … won't you, darling?”

          “I wish you the best of luck! Now, shall we all get down to business and sign the document?”

~~~

When they both returned to Halima's house, Elin was already awake, sitting outside on the steps to the open front door and taking a hearty bite of a large apple.

          “Hello, Elin, here we are again,” Halima called, waving, and the little girl immediately got up to run towards her.

          “And we have very good news, Elin,” Mattias added as Halima hugged her, waving a sheet of parchment in front of her.

          Elin looked up. “What is it?”

          “We became your new parents this morning when we signed the adoption contract at Liv's earlier,” Mattias replied, “and it's official, little one!”

          Halima knelt down in front of Elin and looked her lovingly in the eyes. “Hello, my dear and clever daughter, you can finally call us Mama and Papa!”

          Elin's face lit up and Halima gave her a kiss on the cheek. When Mattias knelt down and stroked her hair tenderly, the girl hugged them both.

          “I'm so happy…” She looked them both lovingly in the eyes in turn. “… Mama and Papa!”

~~~

On the way to the harbour, Elin ate the rest of the apple and looked at her mother, wondering what she should do with the rest. She didn't dare just throw the apple core on the street, because the little girl hadn't missed the fact that the whole town was always so clean and, apart from horse manure, there was never anything lying around.

          “Give me that, Elin, we can throw the rest of the apple in the grass over there, I'm sure it will rot very quickly. But you took good care, I'm proud of you,” said Halima.

          “Who actually cleans up everything that the horses drop?” asked Elin as she placed the core house in her open hand.

          “There are people whose job it is to keep everything in the city clean,” she replied. “Every morning, these people drive through the streets with a cart and collect these horse apples. That's what the previous king and queen decided back then.”

          “Horses … apples?” Elin asked in astonishment.

          “Agnarr ordered that back then, Halima?” asked Mattias afterwards.

          “The horses' manure is called that, my dear Elin. By the way, even I sometimes collect it from the street as fertiliser for my cold frames in the garden,” she replied, leaning down to Elin with a smile, then turned to Mattias, “I think that was more Queen Iduna's decision, Destin. ”

          They both nodded thoughtfully.

          Then they reached the junction to the school and could already hear the laughter of the children playing on the small arched bridge, trying to catch a fish with a thin rope and a hook. They didn't pay any attention to Elin, they were so busy, but Elin watched the children playing all the more. She looked at them curiously as they walked past until they entered the classroom.

          The teacher was sitting at her desk in front of a large blackboard on the wall behind her and there were low tables with a chair in front of them all around the room. On each one were a few books, sheets of paper and writing utensils. On the walls were colourful drawings and various other illustrations. Elin looked around curiously and leafed through one of these books while her parents went to the teacher and spoke to her.

          “Elin, will you come here? The teacher would like to meet you,” Halima called out after a while.

          Elin closed the book and walked slowly to the front. She and the teacher, who was still quite young and pretty too, as Elin thought, looked at each other curiously until the girl stopped in front of the table.

          “Hello, Elin, I'm Mrs Halverson and I'm the teacher at this school,” she greeted and Elin returned a somewhat shy 'hello'.

          Mrs Halverson smiled and said, “You don't need to be afraid, Elin. Your adoptive parents told me you came from the orphanage and would like to go to school? Well, I'm very happy about that and I'm sure the other children will be too, when they have a new playmate and can learn together with her. At the moment there's a break before lessons start, but of course you don't have to decide straight away. Or you could just sit over there by the window and listen to everything. Well, what do you think?”

          Elin didn't say anything back and instead looked up questioningly at Halima, who put a hand on her shoulder encouragingly. “Answer the teacher yourself, Elin.”

          “Well … I'm curious, but I'd like my parents to stay there too. Is that possible?”

          “Well, normally parents aren't allowed to be here during lessons, Elin. Hmm … Could you leave us alone for a few minutes? You can go outside and watch the other children while we talk, yes?”

          Elin nodded and strolled towards the entrance.

          When she was gone, Mrs Halverson asked about her background, her age and whether she could read and write. Halima and Mattias took it in turns to tell her everything in brief, as they didn't want to keep the little girl waiting too long. Besides, the lesson would start in a quarter of an hour. Mrs Halverson was moved by Elin's story and promised to take good care of her if she became her new pupil.

          Halima then brought the girl back and teacher Halverson suggested that she should sit at the last table by the window. From there, she would certainly get a better impression of everything if she simply pretended to be part of the class. Mrs Halverson would explain it to the students and was very curious to see everyone's reactions.

          When Elin had taken her seat, Halima and Mattias stood next to her for a moment before they were about to leave.

          “Elin, we'll stay close by and have a coffee at Oakens near the harbour. Afterwards, we'll pick you up again in an hour or so, all right? You really don't need to be afraid if you're here on your own for a while. I'm sure it will be very interesting and you don't have to take part in the lessons yourself yet, just watch and listen,” said Halima

          “But you have to promise me one thing, my little girl,” Mattias added and laughed. “Try to have fun!”

          Elin nodded several times, said “I will!” and waved to them as they disappeared through the entrance. Shortly afterwards, a bell rang somewhere and one by one many children poured in. They all eyed the new pupil curiously before sitting down at their desks after greeting the teacher and opening the chapter in their books announced by Mrs Halverson. Elin also had one on her table and followed the example of the others.

          And so began Elin's first trial school day.

~~~

Kristoff enjoyed the voyage on the Draba, especially looking after Sven, who was a little nervous about taking a long sea voyage on rough seas for the first time. Kristoff wondered what Anna was doing right now, and he bet that with winter approaching and the annual events in Arendelle at this time of year, she might be planning the upcoming competitions in the capital. He thought back to his ice carving competition with Anna and Elsa, and then a brilliant idea suddenly came to his mind as he remembered his conversation with Anna under the old willow tree before they unleashed their deepest passion.

          She had told him what King Agnarr did to propose to his loved girl, Iduna, presenting her with a self-carved love spoon. Kristoff was a little sad because he had missed the opportunity to do the same for Anna because of the emergency wedding a few days ago. It was a little late, of course, but as a special gift it would still make Anna very happy; he thought, so better late than never. He could carve it now, here on the ship, right now!

          He grinned. All he needed now was a piece of wood and that was certainly available from one of the carpenters here on the ship. He had his jackknife in his boot and two days at sea should be enough to make the spoon. Actually, twice as many days, because the return journey was still ahead of him; he corrected himself.

          “Sven, I'm just going below deck to see one of the carpenters. I've just had a great idea for a present for Anna. I'll be right back.”

          Sven looked after him and then put his head back on his front legs to continue dozing.

          The carpenter was a little taken aback by Kristoff's desire, but he couldn't refuse His Highness such a request. So he sawed off a suitably large piece from one of the spare beams intended for the mizzen boom and handed it to Kristoff.

          Back on deck, Kristoff visualised the shape and immediately began to carve the first rough outlines on the wood. Not so easy when you've never done anything like this before; he mused, but he was confident and preferred to work slowly and accurately.

          Kristoff was so focussed on his work that he didn't even notice the tip of his tongue playing at the corner of his mouth, causing one of the sailors walking past to grin broadly.

~~~

At the same time, on an Arendelle road …

          Elsa, Anna and Mari were sitting in a royal carriage on the way to the royal Summerhus, where the two sisters had spent many summers with their parents when they were young. It was Anna who had made the suggestion and Elsa had enthusiastically agreed. Mari was to be one of the few people outside the royal family ever to be invited there today and she was very honoured accordingly.

          “We've never picked mushrooms there before, but if my memory serves me right, the woods there were full of them,” Anna said, explaining her choice of picking location.

          “Yes, I think you're right. Mama and Papa have certainly collected mushrooms there too, I'm almost sure of it,” said Elsa, trying to remember how they used to play explorers with Anna in the big forest, at some point convinced they were lost and then climbed a tree to find their bearings. In the end, they saw their parents sitting in the grass of a large meadow just a stone's throw away, having a picnic. Elsa had to giggle as she recalled this scene.

          “What are you laughing about?” asked Anna, “I want to be able to laugh with you.”

          Elsa told her and Anna grinned. “Oh yes, it was funny how surprised we were back then, thinking we'd never find our way back.”

          “I was afraid that our parents would be angry with us if they had to look for us.”

          “Maybe even in the middle of the night,” Anna imagined and Elsa nodded.

          Mari hadn't said much so far and the sisters realised this almost simultaneously. They both looked at her, who was looking out of the carriage window opposite them, but her gaze revealed that she wasn't looking at the passing scenery, but seemed to be somewhere else entirely, thinking about something that was perturbing her a lot.

          “Are you all right, Mari? You look so … I don't know … almost scared?” Anna asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

          Mari's head jerked to the side and she looked clearly caught off guard.

          Now Elsa was worried too. “You do have something, Mari,” she said with her eyebrows furrowed and leant forward a little. “It's plain to see.”

          Mari looked at them both in turn and then sighed, “Yes, it's true. I'm actually very worried and even very terrified about it.”

          “What is it that worries you so much?” Elsa asked curiously and Anna added, “Is there anything we can do to help?”

          “I don't think so and that really annoys me, because I'm probably all alone with this problem and no one is able to help me out of it. A miracle would have to happen!”

          “So now you've really unsettled us both. Do you want to talk about it or at least hint at what it's all about?” Elsa asked with a worried undertone and gently placed a hand on Mari's knee opposite her.

          She looked at her seriously, determined to help in whatever way she could, because Mari was a good friend to both of them. Anna in particular was very close to her, who now had an equally serious expression on her face and, listening attentively, waited for Mari's explanation.

          “All right … I'll tell you, but please take this seriously, because that's what it is for me and it really isn't a joke.” Mari had to swallow before she continued with quivering lips. “Father wants me to…,” she had to pause for a moment because her emotions were starting to boil up again. She took a deep breath and then spilled the beans. “Father wants to marry me off … to some prince or other profitable suitor.”

          “Wait, what?” Anna blurted out, completely taken aback, and Elsa's mouth fell open.

          “Yes, it's true. As princess, I am the heir to the throne and therefore obliged to act for the good of the kingdom and … its profit,” she spat out the last word, “to take a prince from another kingdom as my husband. Father is firmly convinced that Vesterland needs a male heir to the throne after me. And I … shall bear him.”

          The sisters were too perplexed and shocked to answer immediately. Instead, they could only stare at Mari.

          “Does she really have to, Elsa?” Anna asked, looking helplessly at her sister.

          “I don't know, Anna, I'd say other kingdoms, other rules … maybe.”

          “But that's so unfair,” said Anna, shaking her head in a tone of conviction.

          “Yes, exactly, I think so too, Anna! Just because Father thinks he can decide that just like that … without any warning. We're not living in the days of the founding fathers, are we?” Mari replied, a tear rolling down her cheek.

          Anna immediately sat down next to her, gave her a comforting hug and looked over at Elsa. “There just has to be a solution, doesn't there, sis?”

          “Who does your father have in mind? Which prince from which kingdom?” Elsa asked instead.

          “I don't know his name and I don't know what he looks like. All I know is that it's probably a powerful kingdom and he's one of thirteen heirs,” Mari replied.

          The sisters froze and Mari could feel it clearly in Anna's suddenly tense hand on her shoulder. Mari looked at her shocked face.

          “What…?” she asked.

          “The southern isles … a Westergaard!” Anna then blurted out. “Oh my God!”

          Elsa's features had hardened at Mari's revelation and she pinched her lips together until they were just a line.

          “We will seek and find a solution, Mari, be sure! Having a Westergaard prince in the immediate vicinity of Arendelle as the new king of Vesterland is simply unacceptable! We have a say in that too,” said Elsa quietly, but with deep conviction.

          “If it's Hans, then even more so …,” Anna murmured quietly with her head bowed.

          “Hans? You know one of them, Anna?” Mari asked in astonishment, wiping a tear from her face.

          “Oh yes, Mari, we both know him. Four and a half years ago, he wanted to kill us and take the throne of Arendelle by himself!” Elsa replied angrily.

          “He almost succeeded,” added Anna.

          “Hans was thrown into the brig of the next ship after his failed coup and banished from Arendelle. Since then, we have severed all trade relations with the southern isles. Perhaps I should have let him freeze into a block of ice back then …”

          “But then there would have been war, sis. No matter what he tried to do to us,” Anna replied and Elsa nodded.

          Mari had looked open-mouthed at both of them in turn and was more than just amazed at how much the sisters had to say about it and what a terrible experience they'd had.

          “You can't trust a Westergaard, Mari, and we'll do everything in our power to convince your father and put a little pressure on him if necessary. But either way, I hope there is another way to convince King Jonas not to inflict such a fate on you. I'll look into it and investigate as soon as we get back to the castle tonight. I promise, Mari!”

          “And I'll help you with that, Elsa,” Anna said firmly, planting a fist in her side.

          “Thank you both. But now tell me what happened back then. I want to know everything!” said Mari and grabbed the sisters' hands.

~~~

As promised, Mattias and Halima picked Elin up from school an hour later.

          “So, how was the class, little girl? Did you like it?” asked Mattias, after taking one of Elin's hands and Halima's other to walk the girl home between them.

          “Yes, it was very interesting and I had a lot of fun. The other children have … homework from Miss Halverson and they have to draw a picture at home until next time.”

          “Oh, that makes me very happy, Elin,” Halima said with a smile and gave Mattias a meaningful sideways glance. “What kind of picture do you want it to be?”

          “How we imagine the future. I also got a note for you from the teacher,” Elin replied, briefly letting go of her new dad's hand and pulling a folded piece of paper out of the sleeve of her dress to give to Halima. She then took Mattia's hand again and smiled. “I want you to get me some things.”

          “Wait, does that mean you've decided to go to school now?” he asked in amazement.

          “Yes, I think so. The other children have been friendly to me too and some around me have even whispered curious questions to me during lessons about who I am and stuff.”

          Halima smiled broadly and Mattias nodded in approval. “See, I told you, it's all half as bad. I'm happy for you.”

          “And so am I,” Halima added and they both felt the girl's handshake increase in wordless acknowledgement, while Elin again made little leaps of joy between them.

~~~

Once everyone was home, they explained to the girl that they both had to work now, but would be back in the late afternoon. At least Halima would. Mattias reckoned it would be a longer day, but promised to be back for dinner at the latest.

          Elin had no problem with this and hurried to her room to start on the mentioned painting straight away.

          Halima and Mattias briefly discussed who would get the school supplies on the note and then they said goodbye with a kiss and a happy hug over Elin's decision.

          While Halima made a small diversions to run errands before starting her workday at Hudson's Hearth, Mattias headed to the castle. Today he wanted to organise the arrests of the three war criminals. He hoped that they had not yet suspected anything and that the witness was safe, as Fabian had assured him.

          They'll make eyes at him, he thought to himself as he crossed the castle bridge.

          Shortly afterwards, Captain Einar was briefed and three teams of guards were formed to arrest all three simultaneously if possible. One of them was to find out the whereabouts of each of them unnoticed before they struck.

          It ended up being easier than expected, as all three war criminals were sitting together in a tavern having lunch.

~~~

“What do you mean it's going to be cramped in the dungeon now?” Mattias asked the captain after his comment. “Surely there's enough room for three people, even if not too much.”

          “Four, General, we've already had a suspect in there for five days who is under interrogation on suspicion of aiding and abetting treason.”

     ��    “Another one? Why don't I know anything about this? Who is it?”

          Einar explained to him and also that unfortunately nothing could be proven against him so far. “I want to soften him up and put him under pressure,” he added. “I have strong doubts about his excuses so far and he's very cunning in proclaiming his innocence.”

          “I see,” Mattias mused. “Perhaps that will help when Monrad's brother Albert realises what company he suddenly finds himself in in the small cell. An innocent man would protest and want out immediately. But if he is guilty and the accusations against him are correct, then perhaps he will chat, because he is likely to feel quite uncomfortable in the presence of three soldiers of the Crown. They are facing trial and have nothing to lose now. For their loyalty to the royal house, the three of them even walked over a dead body by executing the enemy in the most brutal manner.”

          “Perhaps the guard who brings Albert his food every day should drop a note to that effect,” mused Einar.

          “Excellent idea and definitely worth a try, Captain Einar. That's how we do it.”

~~~

“Lunch, prisoner!” said one of the two guards to Monrad's brother after the other had loudly unlocked the door to the cell and was now holding it wide open for him.

          He placed the tray next to the prisoner on the cot and Albert once again wrinkled his nose at the sight. The food wasn't bad, but it was very simple and lovelessly prepared. He knew Olina's cooking skills from his visits during the wine delivery and the tasting by Kai. But the dish on the tray had definitely been prepared by someone else and was not at all to Albert's discerning palate.

          “You'll have high-ranking company today, Albert, and you'll have to make some room, because there are three soldiers of the crown and even a veteran officer among them,” the guard remarked, grinning mischievously.

          “What are they being accused of?” Albert asked, seemingly calmly and with an inconspicuous expression on his face, but a slight panic rose up inside him. Was this a dirty trick by Einar? For the life of him, Albert couldn't imagine why these three and an officer among them would end up with him in the dungeon.

          “What are they accused of? Phew … they're here for a war crime. They allegedly brutally tortured an enemy at the Misty Pass and then hung him from a tree until he was dead. They're not to be trifled with if that's true, that's for sure. You'd better eat up quickly, because they're about to be brought down.”

          The guard made room for a third guard, who manoeuvred another cot in, then loudly slammed it on the floor and kicked it against the wall before leaving the cell again with an annoyed look on his face. Albert swallowed and could only stare in bewilderment.

          “Have fun,” the guard said with a grin as he walked out and slammed the door behind him.

          He was now alone again, but he had lost his appetite after this announcement. If this guy told the three new arrivals that he was here on suspicion of aiding and abetting treason, then his worries were justified. The colour slowly drained from his face.

~~~

Kristoff's stomach rebelled when, unexpectedly for him, the Draba ran into rapidly increasing, heavy swells near the dark sea. The ship swayed and plunged in and out of wave troughs at steep angles. Spray splashed over the railing, submerging the entire deck in a matter of seconds. It wasn't a real thunderstorm, but the wind and the whipped-up waves were still strong enough to frighten an inexperienced passenger.

          The sailors had their hands full lashing the equipment to the deck, adjusting the rigging to the weather conditions and holding on tight so that they weren't washed overboard. It was enough to make you sick just watching.

          Normally Kristoff had no problems travelling by ship, but this was a voyage on the high seas and in notoriously treacherous waters. Sven was just as bad, if not worse, than Kristoff felt at the moment, as he could clearly see. He had stowed his carving under his gakti and was now helping Sven to his feet. Then he called for help to get the reindeer to safety below deck. He couldn't do it alone and twice it threw them both off their feet.

          “You shouldn't have waited so long to go below deck, Your Highness. The weather can change extremely quickly on the high seas,” said a sailor who rushed to help and now called for more sailors. Sven vomited with a heart-rending, wailing sound and Kristoff unfortunately couldn't do much to help him. It literally tore at his heart to see Sven like this. Kristoff therefore wrapped his arms around the reindeer's neck and tried to calm him down somehow.

          Luckily for Kristoff and Sven, the companionway below deck was only a few steps away and after a few minutes of joint effort, five of them got Sven down to safety.

          Of course, the ups and downs were just as noticeable below deck, only here you didn't get a constant shower of salt water. Nevertheless, the water dripped and sloshed in near the stairs. In contrast to the massive figure of the reindeer, Kristoff could at least climb into a hammock, which made the rocking a little more comfortable. However, Sven slid back and forth on the planks with every violent movement of the ship and of course couldn't hold on to anything like a human, and it was just as impossible for him to climb into one of those hanging mats. But Kristoff wouldn't be Kristoff if he cared more about his friend than himself.

          So he got some ropes from the end of the sleeping deck as quickly as possible and secured Sven as best he could. He then lay down next to him and talked him through it.

          Sven looked at him pitifully but also gratefully, because Kristoff wasn't leaving him alone right now.

          Kristoff hoped it would all be over soon and his whole body shivered from the cold of the icy water that had soaked him on the unprotected deck. He grabbed a couple of blankets from two hammocks nearby, rubbed Sven dry as best he could and then undressed himself to wrap himself in the dry, warm fabric. Kristoff was used to the cold in the mountains, especially when harvesting ice, but icy cold water that seemed to penetrate to the bone was new to him and made his teeth chatter.

~~~

The sisters hadn't been back to their parents' Summerhus for what felt like an eternity. Too much had happened in recent years and they hadn't had time to look after it and reminisce about old memories. At least a trusted person from the nearby small village came around a few times a month, kept the house clean and tidy and stoked the stove in winter so that everything didn't freeze. There was also always a forester nearby who acted as a guard and regularly patrolled the neighbourhood.

          While Elsa and Anna recounted their tiresome experiences with one of the Westergaards royals to Mari, who was very curious for good reason, the carriage bumped along winding forest paths, not far from the capital, past tall conifers and increasingly mountain spruce as the terrain became higher. The unmistakable scent of scattered cedars wafted in through the window and Elsa remembered very well that her mother loved that smell as she inhaled deeply and smiled.

          At some point they passed through a tiny village, drove past a small, traditionally built stave church onto the market square and shortly afterwards over bumpy cobblestones that wound their way up to the Summerhus. The coachman drove in a semi-circle up to the entrance and shouted a loud “Brr” as a command for the horses to stop. They gave a grateful snort as the carriage came to a halt.

          “We're here,” Elsa announced, still smiling.

          “Here again at last,” Anna added, “after so many years.” She looked cheerfully at her sister and Elsa nodded knowingly.

          They heard the coachman jump off the trestle, then the sound of him folding down the side steps and finally he opened the door for his royal passengers to alight.

          “Our honoured guest first, please,” Elsa said to Mari and pointed outside with an inviting gesture.

          Mari nodded curtly and got out first.

          The sight was not quite what she had expected, for the Summerhus was a log cabin built entirely of sturdy wooden beams, with bright red decorations and a roof completely covered in sod, leaving only the brick chimney protruding.

          All around stood squat spruce trees and in front of the entrance was a mown meadow where they now stood. But the fact that this was the royal summer residence was unmistakable. The front door was adorned with a relief of Arendelle's emblem and the crocus symbol was emblazoned on a wooden semicircle directly above it. The Summerhus looked very cosy and rustic with its mullioned windows and the flower boxes in front of it. Mari couldn't help but smile.

          “I like your Summerhus,” she said as the sisters stood next to her and the coachman audibly closed the door behind them. “It looks so …”

          “… cosy?” Anna added with a grin and Mari nodded.

          “Yes, it does indeed. It's a lovely refuge.”

          “Well, let's go inside and make ourselves comfortable before we go into the forest to collect,” said Elsa, who was already holding the front door key in her hands.

          At that moment, an elderly man came out of the forest, who turned out to be the forester who regularly passed by the house.

          He greeted everyone in a friendly manner and gave the sisters a brief report of what had happened so far. But there was nothing serious to report, because apart from a few animals sneaking around the house in search of food, only two travellers had passed by a few weeks ago and peered curiously through the windows. However, he kindly asked them to move on. After his report, he said goodbye again and disappeared into the forest.

          Elsa unlocked the entrance and pushed the heavy door inwards. When she touched it, another memory immediately flashed through Elsa's mind: when she and Anna were little, they always had to push this thick door open in pairs because it was too heavy for one girl alone. She paused for a moment and felt Anna's hand on her shoulder. Elsa looked at her smiling face.

          “I've just remembered that too, Elsa. There are a lot of memories waiting for us in there.”

          Inside, everything was dark and only the light from the entrance illuminated the living room with its central table. The sisters first opened the windows to fold the shutters outwards and let in a little more light. Elsa then lit the oil lamps and Anna took care of the large fireplace. There was still plenty of wood and so it only took a few minutes for her to get the fire going. A cosy warmth immediately spread through the cold room and it instantly became more comfortable.

          Everything looked just as the sisters remembered it, nothing seemed to be missing or had been rearranged. It was as if they had left the house only yesterday and just as clean, only many, many years had passed. They looked at each other meaningfully and while Mari looked around curiously, Elsa and Anna did what they always did first back then. They each lit a candle by the fire and hurried upstairs to their child's room under the gable.

          Here, too, everything was just as they had left it. With a tiny difference. Their two favourite dolls, which were usually in the little toy chest next to Elsa's bed, were now lying on the pillows of their beds. They both put their candles in the holders on the little table next to them and lifted their dolls up.

          “Oh, Elsa, if only Mama and Papa were here now,” Anna said quietly and tears began to gather in her eyes as she held her stuffed double to her chest.

          Elsa went to her and took her in her arms.

          “I miss her so much too, Anna,” she said softly in her ear and the image of the figure from the shipwreck stole into her mind, but she immediately suppressed it with narrowed eyes and focussed on her younger sister's feelings again.

          “I remember that time so well and somehow it feels like Mama is downstairs in the kitchen right now, making tea for us and about to call upstairs 'Tea's ready, are you two coming?'. She tried to imitate Iduna's voice and Elsa laughed softly.

          “Yes, that's right … that's exactly what she used to call out, just like that.”

          Then Anna could no longer hold back and she sobbed unrestrainedly into Elsa's shoulder. Her body shook and Elsa held her a little tighter, stroked her hair and whispered, “It's all right, Anna, it's all right. Let it all out … just let go.”

~~~

In the meantime, Mari looked at the oil paintings on the wall, which depicted some of Anna's and Elsa's ancestors, and occasionally picked up a beautiful gem from the shelf to take a closer look. A handsome collection of valuable plates were lined up on a high shelf and a handful of violins hung ready to play in holders on the wall. Books and family games were stacked in the corners. Mari could well imagine how the sisters had played together with their parents at this table when they were children and were happy.

          Mari suddenly realised what a great favour the sisters had done her with this invitation, what great trust they had placed in her to share these highly personal memories with her. She wondered who had played these instruments on the wall for them and guessed their father. A very personal insight into the life of a king! She looked around again. Everything here radiated love! The love of the regents of Arendelle for their children, who presumably left their duties behind for several weeks a year just to spend time together with their daughters, completely undisturbed. Here in this lovingly furnished house, which served only one purpose … to be together as a family.

          “Well, this is what it looks like in our cosy Summerhus. Living room, kitchen and two bedrooms upstairs. Nothing special really, but every square centimeter here is full of memories, Mari,” Elsa explained behind her as she returned quietly and unnoticed.

          Mari flinched a little, startled, and let out a sharp cry when the large grandfather clock suddenly struck loudly.

          “Oh my goodness!” Mari exclaimed with one hand pressed to her heart and Elsa giggled.

          “Sorry, I should have warned you. But strange, someone from the cleaning staff must have wound it up regularly. That wasn't their job at all, I don't think.”

          “That's all right, I should have guessed, after all, you can't miss the clock. Is Anna still upstairs? I heard a staircase creak earlier.”

          “No, she's in the kitchen preparing tea for us, I'm sure she'll be here soon.”

          What Elsa didn't tell her was that her sister also wanted to clean her face because she had been crying and didn't want Mari to see it. Elsa fetched cups and saucers and a warmer from the shelf and prepared the table.

          Two minutes later, Anna came in with a teapot and a small kettle, which she hung on a hook by the fireplace and swivelled over the flames. She then placed the pot on the warmer and sat down. The room was now cosy and warm and she leaned back comfortably on the high, upholstered chair.

          “It's so nice and quiet and cosy here. I can well imagine how you can hear the birds chirping here in summer when the windows are open. A place to relax, to get away from the daily hustle and bustle and worries,” Mari realised and also sat down at the table.

          “And the summer meadow behind the trees in the clearing is lovely when the weather is nice, ideal for a picnic on the grass, with all the wildflowers and even a field of sunflowers further down,” Anna enthused.

          ”Her favourite flower,” Elsa added with a grin as she also sat down and Anna nodded thoughtfully.

          “Can't wait to go outside later and pick mushrooms in our adventure forest. I've found a few baskets in the kitchen and have already prepared them for us with three small knives and some cloths,” said Anna, smiling in anticipation and crossing her arms behind her head.

          Anna behaved almost as if she was still young and looking forward to reliving the old days, Elsa mused with a small smile. But Elsa allowed her these thoughts and also to completely forget for a day that she was now the Queen of Arendelle. Anna deserved to have some fun and feel young again.

          “But first, let's have a nice cup of tea. Then in the afternoon we can warm up here again and maybe even play one of the old board games,” Elsa suggested, casting a sideways glance into one of the corners of the room with its many games.

          “I'd rather just chat with you two,” Mari replied, “now that I have a lot of time for you and no one will miss me for the next few days.”

          “You're right, Mari. Let's not waste the day playing games and instead share our thoughts, that's more important now,” Elsa said and fetched the kettle to pour the tea.

          Anna looked at Mari and nodded in understanding. Just chatting to each other didn't have to mean that they couldn't have fun together.

~~~

They set off about an hour later. Elsa put a few wood logs on the fire and Anna fetched the baskets from the kitchen.

          They walked northwards to where the forest was thicker and simply followed their noses. As they walked comfortably side by side in no great hurry, soaking up the smells of the forest and listening to the birds twittering in the treetops above them, they told each other stories and their experiences over the last few months since Mari's last visit to the city. But they all kept their eyes open and looked behind every large tree on their way so as not to miss any edible mushrooms. Anna was the first to spot a promising patch near a clearing ahead and quickly ran to it, eventually shouting back that she had found lots of mushrooms. Elsa and Mari followed her and then spread out among the trees around this small clearing. Everyone was now fully occupied with collecting and it didn't take very long before everyone had an almost full basket. Afterwards, they made their way back to the Summerhus.

          “I'm already looking forward to Olina's mushroom soup tonight,” said Anna, licking her lips in anticipation.

          “But there are far too many for the three of us,” said Elsa, “you should take a basket full home with you, Mari, and treat your father to something tasty too. I can well imagine that he doesn't come to pick mushrooms himself or think about sending someone else out to do it. I'm sure he'll be delighted with your find, and who knows, maybe it'll be a good opportunity to talk to him in peace about your future as you imagine it. I hope that we will have found a solution for you by then and that he will at least seriously reconsider his plans for you.”

          Mari looked very sceptical, but replied, “I hope so.”

~~~

---

Remark: I hope you have enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a comment if you liked the story, I would be pleased to read your opinions, even criticisms. If you want to be tagged as soon I publish the next chapter please let me know, except you are already tagged :-)

Tagging: @true--north @annaofthenorthernlights @dronning-formynder05

#frozen #frozen2 #frozen3 #fanfic #epic novel #the broken bridge #chapter 77 #bigfrozenfan #Youtube

[ilyasorokinn]

Hi me again! I would love if you could do Mattias Samuelsson with prompt #4 from the general fluff list! Thank youuuu 🫶🏻

AUNT AND UNCLE DUTIES

this is also my first time writing for mattias, so i really hope you guys enjoy lol <3

4. "i don't think either of us are qualified for this but sure, go for it." (from this prompt list)

tw: babies/kids (babysitting)

you and mattias had been together for a good length of time. you were at the point in your relationship where grandparents and other relatives were asking when you were going to get married.

marriage wasn't in the cards for you anytime soon, and neither were kids. you loved your nieces and nephews but the closest thing you had to a kid was a cat. so, due to your childlessness, you were often the babysitter for your siblings and other teammates.

it was friday, and while other couples were out at bars or going to nice restaurants, you and mattias were playing restaurant with imaginary food at your coffee table and drinking out of plastic tea cups.

"i would love more tea." you smiled at your niece maddie, who gave you a smile and poured fake tea into your tea cup, pretending to take a sip.

mattias sat on the other side of the table, stiffly, with his knees up to his chin, "can i have some more tea, too, maddie?" he asked, holding out his cup.

before maddie could respond, your phone buzzed on the table. maddie's head whipped over to it, and when she read who was calling, she reached for it before you could.

"mommy!" she cheered, going into a giggly babble with her mom and telling her all you had been up to that night. it took a few minutes but maddie finally, reluctantly, handed the phone over to you.

"thank you." you smiled, stepping away and talking to your sister, "what's up?"

"me and steven were wondering if you could watch maddie for just a little longer."

"how much longer? it's almost her bedtime." you reminded her.

"yeah, we were wondering if she could stay over tonight. just for tonight." you froze, unable to get words out.

"we've never had her overnight." you reminded her again.

"yeah, i know. but what better time than now to start?"

"we have none of her stuff." you sighed, wracking your brain for an excuse. you love maddie, but she had never spent the night with you and mattias before.

"oh, like you don't have a stockpile of things under your sink right now." you could see her rolling her eyes.

you sighed, "fine. but you owe me."

"thank you." she smiled. you haded the phone back over to maddie. your sister explained what was going to happen while you explained to mattias, who wore a similar look of horror on his face.

"i don't think either of us are qualified for this," mattias sighed, running a hand across his face, "but sure, go for it."

"great, 'cause i already said yes."

"y/n..." he sighed. maddie said her goodbyes to her parents then started playing some game on your phone, "we don't even have an extra room." he whispered keeping his eye on maddie to make sure she was still distracted. you looked over at him and laughed nervously, "seriously?"

"it's just for one night." you told him, "and think of it! you get to fall asleep to the dulcite sounds of lorelai gilmore." you smiled at him. mattias liked to fall asleep to something, most times a show, other times music. currently, his show of choice was gilmore girls, your influence.

"fine, but tomorrow, harry potter." he told you.

"deal." you smiled, kissing his cheek, then filling maddie in on the good news. you got her situated in your bed while mattias made his bed on the couch in the living room.

"can we watch a movie?" maddie asked as you tucked the covers in on each side of her.

"do you promise to go to sleep?" she nodded, "all right, here." you handed her the remote, "i'll be back on a second. gonna go check. on uncle mat." you kissed her forehead before making your way out to the living room.

mattias was laying on the couch, a couple blankets tossed over him as he flicked through netflix before settling on gilmore girls, like you knew he would.

"so predictable." you teased, rounding the couch and sitting on the arm of the couch next to his head.

"is maddie good?"

"yeah, she's picking a movie." you nodded, "thanks for sleeping out here. i appreciate it."

"yeah, as long as i get my bed back tomorrow night." he joked.

"you will." you smiled, "i'll see you in the morning." you leaned down, kissing his forehead, "love you."

"love you, too." he grabbed your hand before you could walk away, and pulled you down and kissed you, "see you in the morning." he smiled.

taylor's tumblr-versary!

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