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#come play in the mud with me kids!

singmyaubade · 9 months

Text

The Girl We Love

Poly!Marauders x Female!Reader

A/N: Hello! Long time no see; this came to me out of nowhere, and I just wrote it off the top of my head; I hope you enjoy it! <3 P.S. I have no idea what to think about this story.

Summary: Can all of them handle loving you at the same time?

Warning: Containing cursing, soon-to-be-smut, etc... Viewer discretion is advised.

The boys were enjoying their summer, basking in the hot sun and the chance to go in the pool anytime they wanted. Although it was just Remus, Sirius, and James, that was all they needed. Unfortunately, Peter was in France, but 3/4 Marauders was better than none.

"James, Sirius!" Euphemia yelled as James and Sirius groaned, not wanting to go downstairs due to their laziness, "I know you boys can hear me, and I am giving you five seconds," She yelled louder as the two boys looked at each other in fear as they both lunged to the door, James pushing Sirius into the wall.

"5..4...3.." The boys had rushed downstairs before two to see their Euphemia setting the dining room, "Why is Remus the only helpful boy in this house?" Euphemia huffed as Remus set down the dishes.

James ignored her, noticing the fancy table mats she would only bring out when people came over, "Uh, Mum, what's going on?" James asked, scratching his head, confused.

"Yeah, we never use this table unless James forgot he's human instead of dog," Sirius joked as James smacked him in his stomach, earning a groan.

Euphemia sighed, "Ms. L/N and Y/N are coming for dinner," She answered, setting the plates over the tablecloths.

James's mother and your mother were best friends, practically inseparable when you all were younger. Even when they didn't see each other, James would see her writing letters to your mom.

"Why?" James asked as Euphemia glared at him, "I just mean that we haven't seen her in so long, like since we were like thirteen,"

"You mean when you all would rough house and were into wrestling and Quidditch?" Euphemia hummed.

"The good old days," Sirius added, looking up in dramatics.

"Yeah, when you would tackle her and throw mud on us all," Remus muttered.

"Um yeah?" Sirius responded, "The good old days!"

Having you over was like having another brother around when it came to James. You always loved watching Quidditch and would yell with him when your favorite team won, chest-bumping each other.

You would always dress like the Marauders, wear whatever trend they were following, and play with whatever toys seemed remarkable to them.

You all ate like absolute slobs, and Euphemia and your mother would constantly reprimand all of you, but you didn't care because if you all did it, it was incredible.

When your parents divorced and you went to France with your Father, they all hadn't realized the switch in your presence as much. They would mention you sometimes but would only give it a short conversation. They were just kids; They didn't know much until later.

"This might be nice, you know?" Sirius said, "We haven't seen Y/N in so long, and I do miss having another one of the guys in the house," Sirius wrapped his arm around James's shoulders.

"Y/N is a girl," Remus corrected.

"You know what I mean," Sirius said, sitting in his seat.

"Wonder if she still plays Quidditch," James added, sitting beside Sirius.

"Can't wait to kick her arse in it," Sirius said, putting his hands together tauntingly.

Euphemia shushed them, "Enough of this talk, they should be arriving any minute now, and I expect the most from all of you," She tsked, moving near the door.

"She's talking about you two," Remus said, smirking.

"Oh shove it, Moony, you aren't a saint," James teased.

"Yeah, we know of your unspeakable acts in the bedroom," Sirius joked, winking at Remus as he bit his tongue.

James could hear voices from the front door as you stepped into view, hugging Euphemia, and he couldn't believe what he was seeing; none of them could.

Of course, you were different; the years did you well, but your hair grew past your shoulders, not the usual bob. You were wearing a lavender dress, a step away from your tomboy outfits. From what he remembered about you, your nails were painted in your favorite color, and you no longer wore a retainer everywhere you went.

Your dress hugged your waist perfectly, and none of the Marauders were perverts, but none of them could hide the fact that they were staring at you.

You looked at them with a grin, going over to James first as he stood up from his chair like a statue, "Jamesy!" You squeaked, the childhood nickname sounding different now.

You embraced him in a tight hug, your boobs pressing against his chest as he grew flustered. You pulled back, looking at him, "I missed you so much," You excitedly said, returning for a hug.

James could feel how soft your skin was, like a rose petal coated in shea butter. He had never felt something so gentle in his entire life like it wasn't real.

Once James squeezed you back, you moved over to Sirius, giving him a tight hug. His hands stayed on your back as your lips were on his neck accidentally. Sirius was never the type to blush, but somehow, you succeeded.

Sirius could smell home when he was near you, like cinnamon and hot chocolate, like a long day of Quidditch on the grass and Euphemia giving him a cold glass of Butterbeer kind of touch.

You pulled back, giving him a smile instead of words because moving over to Remus, pecking him on the cheek, and moving to a hug, "Remsy, long time no see," You giggled, giving him a hug as he smiled, trying not to let his thoughts get to him.

Remus could feel your happiness like sunlight as if it was glowing. When he hugged you, he felt happy like never before; it made him forget every stormy night or memory.

They all could feel your presence like a lightning bolt with each embrace, and it was hard to hide when you were up against them.

Euphemia and your mother were still chatting at the door, so you decided to talk with them about their social life as much as possible.

"I missed all of you so much," You cheesily said, sitting across from them all, "Please tell me how all of you have been," You looked at Sirius first.

You had developed a slight French accent, but only people would notice if they genuinely heard you.

Both Remus and James side-eyed Sirius, who looked shellshocked, "Well, I've just been focusing on school since graduation and just been enjoying summer," He awkwardly laughed, not knowing what to say, "I made Quidditch Co-captain with James,"

Your mouth fell open, "Oh my god, I am so proud of you guys; congratulations," You said happily.

"Thank you," James and Sirius said in unison as you laughed.

"What about you, James?" You asked, looking at him.

"I've been focusing on Quidditch and maybe becoming an Auror in the future when I'm done with my Quidditch career," James responded.

"I remember you always talking about being an Auror; I'm glad you still want to do it," You responded kindly, "What about you, Remus?" You looked at him.

"I've been focusing on becoming a healer or professor since I enjoy helping others," He said as you beamed.

"Well, considering you did help me when I cut my knee on the concrete when we were ten, I would say you are perfectly trained," You joked as Remus grinned.

"What about you, Y/N? What have you been up to?" James asked.

"Well, I hope to become a journalist or a write since it is a dream, but I was going to move back to London with my boyfriend," You said as all of the boys mentally punched themselves, "But then he cheated on me so I might just be alone," You said as the boys grinned from ear to ear.

"Yes!" Sirius said as you raised an eyebrow, "Yes, what an awful thing for him to do; I am so sorry, Y/N," Sirius said.

"Agreed, he must be a bloody fool," Remus added.

"I'm glad he's out of your life," James said, "Uh because, he's a horrible person,"

"Thank you, guys; I am glad I found out before I moved with him here," You said with relief.

Your mother and Euphemia approached the table, your mother sitting next to you and Euphemia sitting across, "I apologize, Fleamont couldn't attend; he has business matters in Rome," Euphemia said in a sweet voice.

"That man always focuses on business," Your mother tsked as Euphemia smiled before your mother looked at the three boys, "Oh my, how you guys have grown," She smiled dearly.

"You don't look like a day over twenty, Ms. L/N," Sirius winked as Remus elbowed him, causing the air to fall out of his lungs.

"Why thank you, dear," Your mother said genuinely as Euphemia glared at Sirius.

"First course is ready!" Minnie said, snapping her fingers to a variety of foods. Your eyes shot in amazement at the different dishes, even some being French.

"Thank you, Minnie," Euphemia said, nodding to the elf as Minnie bowed, disappearing.

"Y/n, how have your studies been at Beaubaxtons?" Euphemia asked, grabbing some potatoes.

"Delightful," You responded, "I know that it seems like a reform school for young girls, but I actually do enjoy it there, and we always watch Quidditch, surprisingly," You said as Euphemia grinned, "I do wish we had our own team though, I would love to play,"

"I'll play with you, Y/N," James said as the table looked at him, "If you ever need a partner," He whispered, digging into his chicken.

You cheerfully looked at him, "I would love to,"

James smiled to himself as Sirius side-eyed James, "And if you ever need another partner, I am here as well," Sirius added, making James kick him from under the table.

"Thank you, Sirius, I would love that as well," You said, still smiling.

Euphemia noticed the two boys rolling her eyes, "And your mother has told me you enjoy reading; Remus might know a thing or two about that," She said.

"I've needed a reading partner. The girls at Beaubaxton read, but they don't have much variety," You chuckled.

"Well, I can assure you that I do," Remus jokingly said as both James and Sirius glared at him, causing Remus to clear his throat.

"That's great! Considering I will be staying here, that sounds incredible," You said as James nearly spit out his dragon fruit juice.

"The cat seems out of the bag," Your mother said, eating another piece of meat.

"Oh, I apologize; you hadn't told them?" You said, looking at Euphemia.

"Not yet," Euphemia said with a slight smile, "Y/N and her mother will be staying with us for the summer,"

They all felt like they were in a dream that felt like reality; Sirius was close to pinching himself.

If they were thirteen again, they probably would've considered this a chance to have another Peter around, but now, it was entirely different.

You were sweet, still enjoyed Quidditch, and read while being entirely yourself.

You were like a dream.

"Trust me, they are all excited," Euphemia told you as the boys snapped out of the trance.

"That sounds amazi-" Remus started.

"I am so glad-" Sirius beginning.

"I can't wait to-"

They all said simultaneously, making you giggle, "I am excited too."

From then on, the conversations were light with laughs and banter, moving through the courses until Euphemia decided that all the kids needed to go to bed, to which James and Sirius protested.

They were all instructed to guide you to your room, to which you followed them up the stairs until they led you to a room with lavender walls and blue and white bedding.

You stopped them at the door, grinning ear to ear at the room, "Thank you all for leading me to my room," You said as they all said you were welcome at the same time.

You giggled, "I missed you guys so much," You said, hugging all of their tall figures with a kiss on each of their cheeks, "Goodnight, I will see you tomorrow,"

They all stuttered a goodnight as you closed the door.

And the Marauders didn't know they could ever want something so wrong.

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prettypei · 9 months

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plot: you discover their childhood photos; fluff! crack!

reader: gn! Reader

pairings: childe, diluc, kazuha, ayato

warnings: some spoilers for story quests? kinda, pre-Snezhnaya

(a/n): was flippin thru the family album when I got the idea and I 4got childe's sister's name LMAO

✰CHILDE is surprised when he hears giggling in the attic. He's visiting his old home in Snezhnaya and he invited you along with him and now he realizes there might be... a little ghost girl up there? Not quite sure. So he's relieved when he finds out it's just you and his sister, although he scared you both awfully with a baseball bat in his hand when he came up. It turned out that you were...looking at his family album? He sits down next to the both of you, looking though them too. "Hey, remember when dad used to take us fishing?" Childe asked, smiling at his sister. "Oh yeah!" She giggles, "We failed a lot, didn't we? We only came home with two fish!" Childe chuckles. "Yeah, and the look on mom's face when we tried gutting the fish ourselves." All of a sudden, he hears a howl of laughter coming from...you? "What's so funny?" He scoots over and...oh. He slams the book shut and screeches:" OKAY THAT'S ENOUGH FOR TODAY! EVERYONE HEAD DOWN!!" You're still snickering to yourself as you head down the stairs and manage to gasp weakly:" Y-you never told me you fell in the river when you were young!"

✰DILUC thinks the tavern is especially loud today, but he dismisses it. It's probably due to Kaeya's outgoing personality and your chaotic brain. However, he pauses when he sees Kaeya passing...pictures around the bar? He's a little confused at why everyone thinks it's so hilarious. He sees a knight giggling at the picture in her hand, and he snatches it out of hers and looks at it himself. His eyes widen in embarrassment as he realizes what it is: it's an old picture of him and Kaeya playing in the mud, his clothes stained as he smiled a toothy and boyish grin at the camera. You walk over to him and wave the picture in front of his face. "Oh? What's this? Bartender and serious Diluc-" "Give that back." He snaps, taking the photo from you, his face flushing a deep shade of red. "You looked so cute in them though..." You tilt your head. "What happened?" "Ha ha, very funny." Diluc rolls his eyes. "But you were cute when you were a kid babe, that I gotta say." You grin as you pinch his cheek in a playful manner. He rolls his eyes once again, but he can't hide the tiny smile that's forming on his lips.

✰KAZUHA's trying out a new melody on his leaf when he saw something flutter past him. He snatches it just in time, examining the photo. He smiles when he realizes it's a picture of him when he was a kid, barely over 10, holding his first sword. "Kaz! Did you see- oh, it's in your hand." "Indeed it is." He chuckles as he hands it to you. "Why do you have this, (name)?" "Oh, I was checking out the library in your home and I found this! I'm really sorry it almost blew away..." "At least I caught it. Did you know this was the first sword I held?" Your eyes widen in awe. "Really? But you look so young in this!" "I was, I was probably about 13 years old." "Thirteen!" Your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull. "Yeah" he chuckles. "I was pretty young, wasn't I?"

✰AYATO hears a knocking on the door to this room and opens it, and he’s overjoyed when it’s you and not another merchant trying to scam him once again. “(name), darling what brings you here?” “Uh-uh-nothing.” You fail to hide the photos behind your back and ayato asks: “what are those, dear?” You sigh and confess: “Ayaka gave me these. These were childhood photos of you…I was just curious, I swear! I was going to return them to her today but…” you gesture helplessly at him. He chuckles and says “give me those.” You hand them to him and he examines them. Most of them were pictures of his achievements over the years: “winner of sword beginner competition”, “most likely to succeed”….but there was a picture of his family. He smiles at it and smiles at you. You hang your head in shame. “That’s your mom and dad isn’t it? I’m sorry that they’re gone.” He pulls your hand inside as he says “I have you as my family now, (name).”

#pei writes 🖋️#genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact #genshin headcanons #childe x reader #childe x you #childe x y/n #ayato x reader #kamisato ayato #diluc x reader #diluc #diluc x you #kazuha #kazuha kaedehara #kazuha x reader #kazuha x you

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ddejavvu · 10 months

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I’m such a simp for jealous!reader and jealous!hotch lmaooooo

What if reader and Hotch were married and had other kiddos so they had to split off for sports activities (jack at soccer and other kiddos at basketball or something). Then like either jack or other kiddos thing gets done early and then either hotch or reader sees their spouse getting hit in repeatedly and becomes jealous and territorial?

Soccer is different than baseball in that there are soccer moms, but baseball dads. The moms that happen to be there take a backseat on the bleachers while the dads huddle around the fence, shouting instructions in on their trembling kids scared to bat.

It means that while Aaron has to deal with women in form-fitting workout gear when he picks Jack up from soccer practice, you have to deal with dads in baseball caps, jeans, and shitty sunglasses.

Your daughter is getting good at baseball, something you're insanely proud of while you cheer along from the bleachers. Aaron would be proud, too, if he were here to see it. But he's on Jack duty today, because you wanted to catch this game. You're hoping the boys make it to the field in time to see her close out the game, but you're nearing the halfway point and there's no sign of them.

"Alright, Sophie!" You cheer, watching her strike an opposing batter out, "Good throw, baby!"

"Ah, she's yours?" A voice comes from your left, and you see a man backing away from the fence to approach you.

"She is," You beam, eyes fixated once more on your daughter, "Which one's yours?"

"Number 15," He points to one of the girls on the bench, She.. tries her best."

You recognize the brunette ponytail on the girl, remembering that she's been having a hard time with batting. When she's able to hit the ball, it's always a good shot, but more often than not she misses.

"I'm sure she'll get better the more she plays!" You promise her dad, and he nods, perching on the end of the bench just below you, "That's what happened with Sophie, before we did at-home practices she was really struggling."

The man's face twists into intrigue, something deeper than that rooted in his eyes as he stares you down, "Oh, you practiced with her? Maybe Angel could use that, too. Are you, uh, taking applications?"

"Oh," You laugh, "No, that's- I'm not a coach or anything. In fact- uh, my husband and son were probably more helpful than I was."

It's like you've cut the power to the man's megawatt smile. The light in his face dims, and his face sours as he stands to walk away, "Oh. Understood."

It's then that you come to the disheartening realization that he was flirting with you. Not only that, but he'd only played nice when he thought he had a shot. Now that he knows you're spoken for, he's hooked back over the fence, shouting at the players.

A hand drapes itself over your collarbones from behind, and you startle before you realize that Aaron is hugging you from the other side of the bleachers.

"Oh!" You gush, letting Jack clamor into your lap to hug you while Aaron walks around to sit beside you, 'You scared me, Aaron."

"Sorry," He grins bashfully, scanning the field and seeing Sophie talking to the coach, "How is she doing?"

"Good," You grin, smoothing out Jack's sweaty post-soccer hair, "She just struck that little brat from the other team out, the one who got mud on her popsicle last time."

"Good girl," Aaron chuckles, watching Jack rush off to play with a few other kids by the trunk of a big tree, "Who were you talking to?"

"Angel's dad," You recall uneasily, "Uh- number fifteen. He was-"

"Flirting with you," Aaron concludes, "I know."

"You saw?" You ask warily, eyes apologetic, "Aaron, I'm sorry, I- I didn't realize until he left, and then you got there, so I just forgot about it, but if you want I can avoid him next time, or-"

"Hey," Aaron sets a hand on your thigh, leaning in to kiss you softly, "It's alright. Don't worry about it, I'm not angry."

"You're not?" Your brows furrow, and he leans in to kiss you again, wiping the expression from your face.

"No," He shakes his head, forehead leaned against yours briefly, "Well- I was, but he totally just saw me kiss you. Twice. So..."

"Oh," You laugh bashfully, leaning over to tuck your face against his shoulder, "Well, that's good. Hopefully he leaves me alone."

"Hopefully," Aaron agrees, squeezing you closer with his arm around your shoulder, "Oh, don't look now, but he's talking to Jia's mom."

"Which one?" You retort, something smug lining your features as you wonder how she'll break the news to him.

"Gloria," He tries not to stare, ducking his gaze back down to your face instead, "Hey, perfect place to tell someone you bat for the other team."

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

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imtryingbuck · 3 months

Text

Eleven

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky comes from a well respected family, he falls in love with a girl who prefers the simple things in life. Follow their journey through the years.

Word count: 2,511

Warnings: fluff, angst, heavy use of pet names, nothing to major I don’t think.

A/N: No description of reader other than she has curly hair.

Masterlist Series Masterlist

“I would like to adopt her”

~~~

It’s been nearly four years since Y/n was adopted by Howard and his wife Maria at first she was confused about what was happening when she had to leave Bucky’s home and go with Howard.

The couple already had a son named Tony who was ten at the time, at first he was distant with her until he heard crying during the night, he listened out to see if his mother or father would go and check on her upon hearing nothing more other than her whimpers he climbed out of his bed and made his way into her room.

“It’s okay you’re having a bad dream. Wake up Y/n.” He stayed with her until she fell back to sleep, softly stroking her hair as he read her the bed time story his mother was reading to her earlier that night.

Tony grew to be overprotective of his little sister.

He didn’t care about starting fights when he heard she was being bullied at school, glaring at those who stared at bit to long for his liking. Though he would never admit to it but he was actually jealous of Y/n’s friendship with Bucky and Steve, especially with Bucky.

Her first Christmas spent with the Starks was magical to her; the huge Christmas tree, the pretty lights, the food and the presents. So, so many presents.

As the years passed Howard and Maria watched proudly as Y/n came more and more out of her shell, became independent. They found out that she was quite a cheeky little girl cheeky monkey Howard called her, she would always stick her tongue out at him after he called her that. Maria loved it when Y/n would sit in between her legs and toss her hair back a silent way of asking her to play with her hair. They loved her equally as much as they loved Tony.

“Ducky get back here!” She screamed.

“No!”

“Why?”

“Because you’re going to hit me!”

“No I’m not I promise” liar liar pants on fire she sang to herself.

Bucky stopped running slowly turning to face her with his eyes squinting. “Bunny I told you I know when your lying”

“Ducky.” Her hands going to her hips as she cocks her hip to the side just like she had seen her momma do “I’m not lying I swear it, just come here”

“Say please”

“Please”

“Say Bucky’s amazing”

“Bucky’s amazing”

“Now say I love Bucky so so so much”

“Eww I’m not saying that!”

“Then I won’t come to yo-“

“I love Bucky so so so much. Happy?”

“Yep” Bucky grinned as he walked over stopping in front of her “ow ow, Bunny stop! You said you wouldn’t hit me!” He cries out.

“You. Pushed. Me. Over. In. The. Mud!” She says smacking him.

“It was funny”

“Was not! Now I’m dirty and momma won’t like it”

“Aww. But it was funny though you have to admit”

It…it kind of was.

“It’s not funny and you have no right in touching her” Tony says loudly walking over from where he was sitting.

“I-I…we were just playing”

“We were just playing” Tony mocks “you could have really hurt her”

“I would never hurt Bunny”

“Her names Y/n. Repeat after me Y/n”

“I know what her name is Tony”

“Well stop calling her that ridiculous name-“

“Hey! I like when he calls me Bunny, Tone why are you being mean for?”

“He should be hanging out with kids his own age”

“I’m a year older than her…”

Tony stands there and raises an eyebrow, glancing around the yard he pulls out a cigarette out of its packet “I don’t care stop hanging around my sister”

“You’re not allowed to smoke! Momma said it’s bad”

“Like I care! You” he points at Bucky “don’t talk to my sister ever aga-“

“Shut up Tony, he’s my friend”

“You’ll stay away from him Y/n/n”

Making a show of herself getting closer to Bucky she took his hand in hers “No. You don’t get to tell me what to do!”

“Listen here you little brat you’ll do as-“

“Ducky…”

“Yeah”

“Run!”

“Get back here Y/n!”

Hand in hand they take off running back into the house with Tony close behind them.

“Woah woah slow down kiddo’s”

“Sorry Mr George”

“Sorry dad” they call out at the same time.

“Momma, momma Tony smoking again!”

“What?”

“Me and Ducky was playing outside and Tony said the Ducky can’t call me Bunny anymore or be my friend anymore and he pulled out that white stick that he’s not allowed to have” she breathes out, slightly out of breath from her running.

“Ma…she’s lying” Tony speaks hesitantly as his mother glares at him.

“No she’s not!” Bucky’s quick to defend Bunny.

“Y/n sweetie why don’t you and James go back outside and carry on playing, I’ll call you in when lunch is ready” Maria says softy yet leaving no room to argue.

“Bu-Y/n I’m really sorry for pushing you over, I-I was just playing” Bucky says once they’re back outside.

“What did you just call me?”

“Y/n…”

“No no no I’m Bunny to you”

“But Tony said-“

“Ignore Tony! Please Ducky”

“Okay”

“What’s my name?”

“Miss poo poo pants” he grinned.

Y/n loved going to school even though she had no friends and was bullied quite often. She tried desperately to make friends just like Maria told her to do but none of the other kids wanted to be friends with her.

She was that one kid who was always alone and sometimes often seen talking to herself, she would run from one class to the next just so she wasn’t late and ate her food in the bathroom.

Despite always being alone she loved school.

One time Maria made her go to a sleepover that she wasn’t invited too, Maria spoke with the girls mom and that Friday night she was taken to the house for this sleepover.

It was a nightmare.

The other girls didn’t speak to her, they didn’t let her join in the fun activities. When it was time to sleep she settled down in her sleeping bag and feel asleep, waiting for the morning to come so she could leave.

When she woke her heart broke.

They had cut all her hair off.

“W-why di-did you do t-t-this?” She stuttered out, gripping the pile of hair they had cut off.

“It’s funny” one of the girls giggled.

Y/n grabbed her things and ran out of the room and down the stairs passing the mom on her way out, missing the grin on the woman’s face. She sat outside the home waiting for her momma to pick her up, tears streaming heavily down her face.

“Y/n? What-“

“T-they cut my hair off momma”

“Sweet baby come here”

Y/n climbed into Maria’s arms clinging on for dear life. Her hair was so long and curly and she loved it, it now came to her shoulders and was cut messily.

“I’ll get my friend to do it properly, okay? She’ll make it look nice and we’ll get ice cream afterwards yeah?”

“M-my hair momma”

“I know baby, it’ll grow back I promise”

Maria’s friend did in fact make her hair nicer but the problem was that it was now a little bit shorter than what the mean girls did. Y/n shook her head at the opportunity to get ice cream, all she wanted to do was go home and get into bed.

“What happened angel?” Howard asked when he came out of his office - the one place Y/n wasn’t allowed to explore - concerned and shocked at seeing his daughter red eyed and short hair.

“They cut my hair off because it was funny”

“Did you want them too?”

“No dada I was asleep”

“Oh angel.” He kneels down in front of her, his hands cold as he presses them on both sides of her head. “You still look very pretty”

“But my hair looks stupid”

“It doesn’t look stupid darling”

“It does!”

“No it doesn’t. Don’t try and argue back missy. I wouldn’t lie to you Y/n you know this”

“Sorry dada, can I go to bed please?”

“It’s okay and you can, I’ll wake you up when lunch is ready okay”

“Okay” she rushes off upstairs and to her bedroom, climbing into her bed she laid there and with shaky hands she ran her fingers through her hair. Crying as she dreads Bucky’s reaction, knowing he loves her long hair.

Bucky walked into Howard’s house with Steve next to him, wondering where Bunny was.

“She’s in the backyard boys“

“Thanks Miss Maria” they call over their shoulders already making their way outside.

“Hi Bunny”

“Hi Ducky, hi Steve”

“Why do you look sad?” Steve says after he said his greeting.

“Why are you wearing your hood up?” Bucky then questions.

“Please please please don’t be mad”

“Why would I be mad Bun?”

“Because-“ her hands move towards the hood and slowly pulled it down, eyes casted downwards. “-of this”

“Bun…” Bucky gasped with furrowed eyebrows.

“I’m sorry” she cries.

“You had your hair cut?”

“I didn’t want to I swear!”

“Why did you let your ma do it then?”

“I didn’t, she didn’t, I was at a sleepover and the girls did it. They cut my hair wh-when I was asleep Ducky”

Bucky moved closer to her and wrapped his arms around her as she cried. “It’s okay Bunny, it looks nice. Doesn’t it Stevie”

“Super nice” Steve agrees.

“It looks stupid!”

“It doesn’t”

After pulling away Bucky wiped the tears away and frowned, he always hated seeing her cry because he didn’t know what to do to make the tears stop from falling.

“Do you want to carry on playing fairies?” He asked knowing that she loved playing that game.

“Okay”

They played for hours, Bucky missing the way her hair flowed behind her as she ran. Missing the way it would always tangle itself around her body.

He didn’t know these girls who did this to his Bunny but he hated them.

“Bunny guess what?”

Lifting her head off the ground she looked over at him “what?”

“It’s nearly Christmas”

“I know, I’ve been good this year have you?”

“Of course. What do you think Santa will bring you?”

“A pony”

“A pony? How will Santa be able to put a pony on his sled Bun?”

“Magic” she says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Magic?”

“Yep, what do you think Santa will be bringing you?”

“A bike”

“You already have one…”

“I know but I want a new one”

“Oh. Well I’ll be getting a pony and you’ll be getting a bike because we’ve been really good this year”

“That’s true”

They both lay back down and carry on watching the fluffy clouds go past. Y/n really hoped that she was getting a pony whilst Bucky was also hoping the same thing for her.

“Duck”

“Bun”

“Will you be spending Christmas with us again?”

“I’m not sure why?”

“I want you to”

“Why?”

“Because your smelly”

“That makes no sense”

“You don’t make no sense”

They fall back into silence as the clouds go by.

“Bun”

“Duck”

“We’ll be friends forever won’t we?”

“Of course”

“Good, that’s good”

Silence takes over once again.

“Duck”

“Bun”

“I love you”

“I love you too”

“Good, that’s good”

Silence takes over once…again.

“Bun”

“Duck”

“My ma’s having a baby”

“What?”

“Yeah she’s having a baby”

“I want one”

“You can’t”

“Why not?”

“Your not married”

“Oh. Well can you marry me?”

“Why?”

“So I can have a baby”

“Okay”

“So…are we married now?”

“Yeah I think so”

“Good, that’s good”

“Should we tell our parents?”

“Okay”

Bucky stands up first and hold his hand out for her to take, hand in hand they head inside to where their parents were talking.

“Ma dad uncle Howard and Aunt Maria me and Bunny have to tell you something” Bucky starts, gaining the attention of all four adults.

“What is it son?”

“We’re married” Y/n beams.

“Oh really? Since when?” Howard chuckles.

“We were outside and Bunny asked me if we could get married so we did” Bucky continues.

“Why did you want to marry Bucky darling?”

“So I can have a baby” looking at Winnie and Maria who start to choke on their drinks.

“Do you know where babies come from?” George says as he pats Winnie on her back.

“The belly” the two kids reply in unison.

“Do you know how the baby gets there?”

“No…”

“You’ll have to kiss each other” Howard says.

“I have to kiss Bunny?”

“I have to kiss Ducky?”

All four adults stifle their laughter as the kids pull away from each other pulling disgusting faces.

“Eww I’m not kissing him!”

“I’m not kissing her!”

“That’s how babies get in the woman’s belly” George chuckles.

“I don’t want to be married to you anymore Ducky”

“Good I don’t want to be married to you either”

“Look Bunny I got a new bike!” Bucky says as he speeds past her on his new bike.

“That’s so cool can I ride it?”

“Okay but you have to be careful I don’t want you falling off like last time”

Bucky hops off the bike and waits for Y/n to come over and helps her get onto the bike. He holds on until she’s gotten the hang off it.

“I’m riding it Ducky! Look” she squeals.

“I’m looking, I’m proud of you Bun” just as he says them words she starts to wobble and falls off. “Bunny! Christ Bun are you okay?”

“I broke your bike Ducky I’m so sorry” she cries as she clutches her knee closer to her chest.

“I don’t care about that, are you hurt?”

“My knee. Ducky I’m so sorry”

“It’s okay-that’s a lot of blood” he pales at the heavy flow of blood streaming from her injured knee.

“Is-is it going to fall off?”

“No, well it shouldn’t do.”

Lifting her up he helps her walk in to the house, he calls out for Maria who comes rushing over and paling when she sees the blood flowing down her daughters leg, picking her up she rushes her into the bathroom where she can clean up the wound.

Bucky felt really bad for her falling off his bike especially since this time she had hurt herself, last time it happened luckily she fell off and landed on grass, the only injuries that was done was to her dress.

Watching as she limped out of the bathroom he rushed over giving her his arm to lean on.

“I’m really sorry Bunny”

“It’s not your fault. I’m sorry I broke your bike”

“It’s not broken don’t worry”

During dinner Bucky asks Y/n if she had gotten a pony from Santa, shaking her head sadly she carried on eating.

“When I’m older I’ll buy you a pony” he promises smiling when she smiles up at him.

Tags: @cjand10 @unaxv @mcira @bisexualnikkisixx @kneelforloki @kandis-mom @sagebarness @sandyruston @scott-loki-barnes @nikkivillar @saltedcoffeescotch @scentedharmonymiracle @examinarei @sarcastickiddo @sadboiabby @unholyhuntress @8crazy-freak8 @ijustneedpopcorn @moonbeampillgoth @imcinnamoons @elmo-1066 @violetwinterwidow01 @suz7days @adoredire @ozwriterchick @randomrosie01 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @emerald-writes @justafangir1

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barns x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #marvel fic #Bucky Barnes series #Bucky Barnes angst #Bucky Barnes fluff #bucky barnes x y/n #James Barnes #james barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes female reader #bucky barnes friends to lovers

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luveline · 8 months

Note

more girl dad! hotch plsssss 😫😫😩😩😩

hotch navigates his small family ♡ mom!reader, 1k

Hotch speaks with a softness you could spin into silk. "That's okay, sweetheart. You fill this one out for me next."

You peer through the small gap in the door. Hotch is sitting behind his desk with a case file open in front of him, though you assume any photographs are sequestered away, because in his lap sits a small girl, a toddler with dark, neat hair and a matching frown.

"This one next," she says, picking up her crayon.

"That one next. Good job, I'll be finished in no time with you helping me."

"And we can have… uhm…"

"Rusks?"

"Yes, please."

Hotch leans down to kiss his daughter's small head gently. "You're so polite. How about we leave all this grown up work and get you a rusk now?"

She turns on his leg to slouch into his stomach. Hotch picks her up, the sleeves of his shirt tightening at his biceps as he wraps them behind her back and under her butt, pushing the office chair aside with a careful leg.

He sees you in the doorway and smiles.

"Hi, Mr. Hotchner," you say.

"Hi, mommy," he says, directing Jane's little body your way so she can see you where you're standing outside of his home office. "What are you doing?"

"Just coming to check on you both. And I need help with something."

You've stopped expecting him to pass you whatever kid it is he's carrying anymore. When Aaron is home, he's home, and he's dearly attached to his young daughter. He'd be attached to Jack if he weren't constantly out in the backyard looking for toads. He kisses your cheek, careful not to squish Jane between you. "What do you need help with?"

"I can't get the lid off of the pickles and I promised Jack I'd get him the biggest one."

"Why are our children so hungry?" he asks, putting his hand behind your shoulder as you walk down the stairs together. "Could it be because they both refuse to eat their breakfast, even when mommy says you'll regret it?"

"Breakfast?" Jane asks, blinking owlishly.

You smile at her. "No, sweetheart. Let's have rusks and milk, should we? With honey. Dad's gonna make it just the way you like it."

Jack is back in the house tracking mud footprints over every inch of the kitchen. Only then does Aaron pass you Jane. She's light and easy to hold, she doesn't wriggle or gripe. Despite her resting frown, she's a happy girl who's content to be passed from person to person. "Daddy?" she asks.

"Two seconds." Jack stands guiltily by the fridge, looking down at his shoes and then up at the ceiling, like looking away will get rid of the mess. "Jack, we've talked about this. You can play in the yard when it's wet if you take your shoes off before you come in."

"Well, I thought my shoes would be more dry," Jack says.

"You can't leave water everywhere. What if Y/N slipped while she was carrying your sister? Then they'd both be hurt."

"I guess," Jack says.

"We're gonna have to mop it up. You can help me, buddy. You remember where we put the mop bucket?"

You prop Jane on the island by the sink basin. She immediately puts her hand under the faucet, fascinated by the automatic water. "Wow, lots of fuss," you say.

Aaron helps Jack take off his messy shoes and puts the mop bucket into the basin with a heap of praise for Jane's assistance, such a good helper. He lifts Jack up to squirt cleaner into the water. He's still laughing when he sets him down.

"Rusks, dad?" Jane asks.

Aaron almost barrels you over trying to hold her, lifting her back into his arms to kiss her soft cheek. "I am, I promise." He gives you a pleading look. "Honey–"

"Yeah, okay. I never do the mopping, anyways. Me and Jack will learn together."

You can hear him drowning Jane in love and sweetness as you and Jack get to work. "It's like this, babe, we push the mop head into the drain so we can soak up all the muddy water, then rinse and repeat." You drop your voice to a whisper, hands slack on the handle. "Don't worry, I'll do all the hard work."

"Can we still have pickles?" Jack asks.

"Of course we can. Dad's not mad, he just doesn't like the mess. Quicker we clean up, the sooner we can have a snack. You're not super hungry, are you?"

"I'm starving."

You put the mop back in the bucket, looking Jack up and down. He looks like he could use some proper warming after his time outside in the late September cold, pale cheeks rosy and his nose kissed with chill.

"Aaron? Me and Jack have to pause the mopping, we're hungry."

"Pretend I believe you and sit down. I'll make you something."

"We really are hungry, dad."

Jack takes your hand and pulls you toward the kitchen table. It's an organised chaos, your work things, Aaron's coat, Jack's science project. Underneath it lays a carpet of baby toys and Jane's washables; she plays under the table often to be close to her dad when he's working and you're cooking, or he's cooking and you're reading.

You put him in a seat next to the highchair where Jane spoons warm rusk-mush into her mouth hurriedly. Aaron has secured a baby pink bib around her neck with a safety pin and filled her little sippy cup with watered down orange juice. She looks as happy as you've ever seen her as she misses her own mouth.

You fill Aaron's seat as he vacates it to watch her. You and Aaron are good at filling each other's gaps, parenthood akin to the world's most loving game of musical chairs, and you're just as good at being together, you'd say —he squeezes your shoulders as he leans down. "For the record, you know how to mop. I just don't see why you should."

"That's the right idea," you say happily, laughing as he kisses your cheek.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

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phfenomena · 4 months

Text

❝playing a dangerous game.❞ || william h. bonney x f!reader

inspired by playing dangerous by lana del rey <33

| WARNINGS- daddy issues (yikes), kissing, unhealthy amounts of the color pink, mentions of getting shot, small suicidal thoughts

billy the kid x reader fluff

(divider by @dollienini)

she was as pure as snow, untouched by man, not yet trampled or turned into slush. her father sought to that daily, to ensure his daughter was ‘safe’. but safe doesn’t mean loved. she got her loving from outside sources, like maple spouts in the woods, going out with her girls, or in this case, the loving lap of an outlaw.

she’s sitting on his right thigh while the outlaw, named billy, is continuing his game of poker. a game she’ll never understand, her father deemed that an unnecessary topic for a lady to learn. but what did he even deem?

she’s giggling and offering her thanks to every compliment that floats her way, she can’t outrun them. they’ll always find her in a frilly pink dress. the pit in her stomach feels as if every compliment and disdainful comment adds ten pounds, until she’s swallowed up and feels like a piece of meat.

but billy wouldn’t let that happen. what’s different about billy is that he cares, he cares if she’s uncomfortable, he cares when she’s upset over her overbearing father, and he even wills himself to care when she complains about something that would never bother him. her champagne problems.

she’s sitting on her blush pink bedspread and fidgeting with whatever laid on her shelf. she was grounded, again, for coming home after sunset. billy and her simply lost track of time, but he’d never pay for it. right as she begins to spiral into the boredom and weigh the merits of suicide, a small tap against her window reaches her ears.

her face lights up at the noise and she rushes to unlock her window and swing it open. her room was on the ground floor but it was still a jump for him, his long legs stepping in as quietly as possible. her arms found purchase around his waist as she lightly jumped up and down. “billy! i was gettin’ so damn bored. my father grounded me again so i’m stuck here.” he sucked on his teeth and set his hat down on your desk before taking a seat on your bed and laying back.

“his mistake, leavin’ his pretty daughter alone with the maids while he’s out shooting my friends? better hope’d i’m not next on his list.” his voice is honey to your ears, making you skin feel warmer and leaving your stomach fluttering. it was bound to happen whenever he was around.

she sat next to him and their thighs touched before she realized how gruesomely underdressed she was. in only a sheer sleeping gown with her thin robe, she panicked. he’d only seen her in her full gowns. covered head to toe, yet here she was in front of him. he wasn’t even looking at her, his eyes closed and his head faced towards the ceiling.

“i tried convincing him that it’s not the sheriffs job to chase after you, better save him the face when you get away.” her voice is small while she studies his outfit. it’s different than usual, he was wearing a different shirt. and his boots were free of the mud and caked manure. did he clean up for her? he hummed an agreement and chuckled at her comment.

“did you…did you clean up to come see me, billy?” she says in a teasing tone while poking his shoulder. he covers his face and groans rolling away from her as she laughs and pulls him back. he uncovers his eyes and looks up at her. she just looks so pretty and clean. he’s almost scared he’ll break her- as if she’s porcelain.

she takes his hand in hers and soothingly rubs her thumb back and forth. “that’s really sweet that you cleaned up. adorable, actually.” there it is again, she says something like that and his stomach is doing flips. “well, they do call me the sweetest man in the west for a reason.” he manages to sound confident but internally he might as well as died.

she lays down next to him and props her head up on her hand. god, the way her hair falls, the way the candles behind her make her look like some biblical figure, and the way she somehow always manages to get a laugh out of him.

“i know you’re scared of my father and all but i really like spending time with you, billy. you’re different from other men i’ve known. you don’t make me feel like i’m heading for the butcher. you make me feel really happy.” she whispers out, acting as if she raised her voice he might disappear.

he ignores the ‘other men i’ve known’ to cease the bubbling jealousy inside of his chest. he props his head up the same way as her until they’re eye-to-eye. his free hand goes to fiddle with the lace of her robe as he’s trying to will himself to look into her eyes, like she’s a prettier medusa.

“you’re playing a dangerous game, angel. troubles gonna follow where i go. but i have loved every second i’ve spent with you and i’d like them to never end. my life isn’t safe for you though, you’ll get hurt and it’ll probably drive me to murder.” he jokes at the end but his words still soaked into herskin like a warm brandy.

she sits up and leans her face into his, gently meeting his lips. it was only for a second, but she was on fire. his hand reaches the back of her, braided and curled as usual, and pushes her lips back onto his. his hands cupping the sides of her face. so gentle. like a man should be.

she pulls the hem of her dress up and moves to straddle him, not breaking the kiss, which is heating up and he’s beginning to kiss down her neck when her door flys open “miss, do you have any-” her maid is stood in the door with a look of shock and the tomatoes she was previously holding ended up on the floor.

the girl scrambled up and grabbed the maids shoulders “don’t tell father about this and i swear to god i will do your work for a week, i’ll even pay you just please, please, do not tell father.” the maid nods slowly and picks up the tomatoes. a small smile playing at her lips.

billy’s covering his face and she was about to comfort him but he started laughing. genuinely clutching his stomach laughing, and she joined him. she sank to her knees on the floor and just laughed. “do you think she’ll really make you do her work for a week?” he managed to wheeze out. she holds her head in her hands and nods “oh, definitely! she never wants to work anyways.”

they were gravely embarrassed and her father will definitely find out, but at the end of the day, it’s always billy.

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seventeenytiny · 5 months

Text

♡ Stray Kids as Dads ♡

Word Count: 637 Author's Note: As always this is just for funsies, feel free to add on your own ideas ♡

Bang Chan

He's such a girl dad and I don't think anyone will disagree with this. His daughter is the apple of his eye, the most precious thing he has ever seen. Everything he does in life is for his daughter and family. He will always do his best to take time off work to not miss big milestones and events. I can imagine him smiling ear to ear watching his child's first choir concert, even if it sounds bad he is still so proud of his baby girl.

Lee Know

I can't quite explain why I view him as a father of twins but I just do, it'll be one boy and one girl. When the two of you found out you were having twins his immediate excitement for it took away all your anxiety. If you choose to breast feed he will do everything he can to help you such as cleaning your pumps and changing diapers so you can rest. When the kids get older he will take great pride in making them healthy and yummy homecooked meals.

Changbin

Girl dad 100%, you can't convince me otherwise. He became very protective of his baby girl the second he saw the ultrasound. He does as much as he can while the baby is a newborn to help develop a bond. This includes things like skin-to-skin cuddles, diaper changes, and baths. When his daughter gets older he will always be picking out the cutest outfits for her.

Hyunjin

Honestly, I could see him as both a girl and boy dad but I think his first might be a girl. I can see him as the dad who plays dress-up with his daughter. He'd let his girl paint his nails, do his hair, and put makeup on him and he'd do the same to her. They'd also do crafts together, once his daughter develops better motor skills he will definitely teach her how to paint.

Han

Baby girl is the father of a baby girl. He loves spending one-on-one time with his daughter. He will take her to the park to play while also allowing his partner to have some quiet time to themselves. When his daughter is a little bit older he will take her on "dates" so she can learn how a man should treat her. By dates, I mean things like daddy-daughter dances where he will bring her flowers, open car doors for her, and treat her to dinner.

Felix

I have a feeling if he decides to have kids he would like to settle back down in Australia. He would love to take his son to all of the places he has fond memories of in his hometown. I'm sure he would be thrilled if his child showed interest in doing taekwondo as well. Everyone will be wondering if his son will have that same signature deep voice he has.

Seungmin

I think he would really like having a child he can play sports with and roughhouse with. Obviously, he can do that with either a girl or a boy but I think he ultimately would like a mini him to play with. He'd love playing catch with his boy and taking him out to sports games. They'd probably play outside all day, rain or sunshine, and always come back in covered in mud and ravenously hungry.

I.N

Like Seungmin, he also can't wait to have a mini him. He and his child will be so mischievous together, they will always be doing stuff like playing pranks on each other. Jeongin also has two brothers so I could see him and his bros taking his son on a classic boy's trip. He will also teach his son how to be the perfect gentleman, the two of them will always come back with flowers for mom.

#stray kids #skz #lee felix #skz imagines #skz scenarios #bang chan #lee know #stray kids smut #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #stray kids fluff #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines

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therhythmafterthesummer · 7 months

Text

In the Labyrinth (M) ~Changbin

Pairing: Minotaur!Changbin x AFAB.Reader Themes: Mythical AU | Angst | Smut | Fluff Word Count: ~14k | AO3 Synopsis: The Labyrinth was an enigma for most people. Its existence was known, but what exactly happened within it was a complete mystery. When you entered the Labyrinth, you weren’t really sure what you’d have to come face to face with… Not even in a million years would you have guessed just exactly what you’d find in here. Warnings: descriptors of the reader such as: having long hair · mentions of murder · mentions of assault · depictions of anxiety · violence (in many different forms) · Changbin is 300cm tall (feels like that warrants a warning) · graphic depictions of outercourse (smut warnings under the cut). - feel free to let me know if i missed any.

Author’s Note: shout out to the anon that sent this ask back in august and ingrained the mental image of minotaur!changbin in my brain. more notes at the end.

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Smut Warnings: size kink · literal monster cock (he’s a giant… and a half-bull, half-man one at that…) · nipple play · mutual masturbation · non-penetrative sex.

Disclaimer: the story presented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

The sound of your footsteps bounced off of the walls. The corridors were more than spacious, well over twenty metres wide, with the ceiling probably twice as high, but even if it wasn’t crowded in here, it still made you a bit claustrophobic.

You supposed that the few holes in the ceiling did help ease that feeling a little bit. Emphasis on a little bit.

Even if you weren’t particularly thrilled about being down here, you still walked, because there was simply nothing else to do.

You could’ve sat down and awaited your death exactly where you had landed when they threw you in here, but you were never one to remain still for too long.

So, after having a good crying session, and after hours had passed since you’d been given your death sentence, you had finally stood up and started to walk.

You knew what this place was, although you’d never really seen it. You hadn’t even known it was here in this exact area.

The Labyrinth.

It was said that the place was humongous, practically never-ending, built by a king in ancient times as an offering to the Gods. Presumably, it’d ended up buried in the earth as time passed, and it stretched over kilometres and kilometres of land, but no one had really seen it and lived to tell the tale. At least, no one you knew of.

Law enforcement clearly knew the place, but you weren’t really sure if you could call them people. After all, they had never taken you seriously when you’d sought out their help. In a way, you felt like it was their fault you’d ended up here in the first place…

Although you’d heard of this place, you never really imagined it’d look like this inside. The brick walls were looking a bit worn down, but still structurally sound. They were lined with torches lit with eternal fire, just like the tales said. The floor would alternate between dirt, gravel, actual flooring, and mud.

As you walked, you saw some ponds, some that even had fish inside. You figured that could be a potential way out, but you weren’t sure how deep you’d have to swim or if that’d be viable at all, so you scrapped the thought altogether.

Sometimes, you’d see trees. Especially in those areas where there were holes on the ceiling.

Some of those holes were partially blocked by metal rods, like law enforcement realised they were there and did the minimum required to keep a person or an animal from falling inside. Others were fully open, they varied in sizes, but they were honestly too high up for a person to reach them.

The trees, the mismatched flooring, and the occasional patch of grass weren’t that odd, though. They fit in well, and their presence made sense. What did feel out of place were the drawings on the walls.

They weren’t on every wall, but there were so many of them it was hard not to notice they were there. Some looked like they’d been there for a long time, the colours were a bit washed out and some of the pigment had probably been absorbed by the brick overtime. Others looked like they could’ve been made a few weeks ago.

Birds, trees, deer, the sun, the moon… They were mostly nature themed, and, in any other context, you might’ve been inspired by the artistry. Even if they intrigued you, it was hard to appreciate them when you felt so hopeless, when you felt so… empty.

As soon as you had stopped crying earlier, you had accepted your fate–how long had it been since then? How long have you been walking for? Hours? How many? It was hard to tell down here…

You realised just how much time had passed once you noticed another hole in the ceiling. You might’ve missed a few before, since it was clearly now well into the night and there was no light to highlight their presence.

The faint stars you could see out of that hole made a knot form in your throat and tears well in your eyes.

This was unfair.

You shouldn’t be the one in here.

If anything, it should’ve been him.

If anyone had paid attention to you, it would’ve been him.

But instead, here you were.

You found a patch of grass under that hole you saw, so you just laid down and curled in on yourself and called it a night.

As the tears started to fall again, you reminded yourself that you had accepted your fate.

There was no going back now.

It was hard to tell how long you’d been inside the Labyrinth for.

The first couple of days, you kept count diligently, but at some point you realised it was absolutely pointless. Why would you even want to know that information, if you weren’t going to be able to leave?

You were on your own here.

You’d seen items that clearly belonged to someone at some point scattered around the many corridors of the Labyrinth, but you hadn’t seen a single soul. Only the fish you’d caught from the occasional pond you found that helped keep your stomach full, or the odd magpie that would come from one of the ceiling’s holes and jump around for a bit before taking off and leaving you alone once again.

You were on your own here… That was, as long as the stories weren’t true.

At first, you thought that the death sentence meant you’d be locked here to starve to death, but that logic started to crumble when you saw just how many sources of sustenance were available. Fresh water, fruit, fish, birds–if one was skilled enough to be able to hunt one of those, or at least have the will to…

You wondered if law enforcement knew this place was like this… Whether they knew or not, you figured it probably didn’t matter. The longer you spent here, the more it made sense to you that the stories were true.

It was said that a beast lived inside the Labyrinth.

A beast that would make the strongest, bravest man cower in fear.

Some people said it had multiple sets of arms, or that it was as big as the royal library building, bigger than any temple anyone had seen. Others said it was such a deformed being that just the sight of it would kill you, and if that didn’t, it would make sure to do so by eating its victims piece by piece.

You knew these were nothing but stories to garner attention, for people to cause unnecessary chaos just because they could. If these people had actually seen this alleged beast, you supposed they wouldn’t even be alive to share their experience with the world.

You had never believed such a thing existed, but as nights and days went by, there was a small–and very scared–part of you that believed it might be true. Maybe this beast was very real, and was roaming the corridors of the Labyrinth.

Even if you’d been lucky to have found a few ponds that were large enough for you to bathe in, you still had pretty much only what you’d been wearing since you were thrown in here. You had used those ponds to wash your peplos a few times, but, unfortunately, it wasn’t even in good shape to begin with, and rinsing it in water seemed to hardly help its condition.

Your feet ached, your sandals were certainly not meant to be used to walk these distances, and the feeling of your dirty garments, combined with the lack of human contact, were steadily driving you crazy with every day that passed. Maybe this was the punishment. To be driven to insanity by what would usually be a minor inconvenience, by the amount of nothing that was happening around you.

The fact that you kept seeing his face in your dreams didn’t help it one bit.

Sometimes, you’d see it even when you were awake. You just needed to close your eyes, and you immediately got flashes of red and the feeling of pure hatred and anger…

You always felt like washing your hands after, like jumping into any pond or puddle you could find. And whenever you could, you did.

Unfortunately, no amount of hand-washing and bathing would make the feeling go away.

You figured you’d have to learn to live with it.

As you furiously scrubbed your palms for the millionth time that day, you started to hear something.

Your movements stopped, but your hands remained submerged in the pond. It was usually quiet inside the Labyrinth, save for the few birds that’d sometimes fly and sing above you, or the occasional splashing fish inside the numerous bodies of water.

But, right now, you could definitely hear something… Not only that, but you could feel something.

You could barely notice while you still had your hands under the water, but the rippling on the surface of it couldn’t have been made by you. Not when the little pebbles on the ground were shaking, too.

Thump…

The sound seemed to be coming from the corridor on your right. It was growing closer, but your body wouldn’t move. You couldn’t move. You were just kneeling there, looking at the flickering torches lining the walls, with your hands still inside the pond, completely paralysed.

It wasn’t until you saw the shadow of something popping from around the corner that you actually came to your senses.

You had to run.

And you had to run now.

You stood up from the ground faster than you could even blink. Taking the lower part of your peplos with tight, wet fists, you just started to run as fast as you could.

You could practically feel your heart in your throat as anxiety started to kick in. You had convinced yourself that this beast didn’t exist, you had thought that since you hadn’t seen it in your time here, it must’ve not existed at all.

But the deep bellow that resonated within the corridor was proof enough that you had been severely mistaken.

It was so loud that the sound seemed to penetrate into your skin and rattle your bones from deep within. A ringing broke free in your ears, accompanying your agitated heartbeat.

Thump… Thump… Thump… Thump… Thump… Thump… Thump…

The whole ground shook with each heavy step the beast took, so much so, you tripped and fell into a path of rough gravel, ripping your clothing and scraping your knees in the process.

You couldn’t stop, though. There was no pain, no moment to think twice, you just stood up and kept running. You ran and ran and ran, turning the many corners of the Labyrinth as you went…

There was a little voice in the back of your mind telling you it was useless, but you didn’t want to hear it. You refused to hear it.

At least, until you turned and found yourself in a dead end.

Thump… Thump… Thump… Thump… Thump… Thump… Thump…

Whatever it was, it drew closer and closer, shaking the ceiling and the walls as it tried to catch up with you.

Maybe you could still escape it somehow. Maybe, you’d be able to run past it and lose it in the many corridors of the Labyrinth.

When you turned around, you realised just how foolish that thought had been.

The air escaped your lungs when your back hit the wall. Your feet weren’t touching the ground, and you could feel pressure on your sides from where you were being held against the wall.

Your vision was blurry from the lack of oxygen, you could barely make out the shape in front of you. Horns, fur, and… and a face.

You’d accepted your fate…

Or so you had thought.

“Please…” Your voice was barely above a whisper, not only due to how breathless you were after running for so long and after being pushed so forcibly against the wall, but also because the knot in your throat was just too big. “Don’t–Don’t hurt me”.

The first tear fell down your cheek, and many more followed soon after. You couldn’t see properly. Whatever was in front of you, was big enough to shield all light from hitting whichever parts you could’ve potentially seen.

The creature huffed, and you closed your eyes tightly as its face moved closer to yours.

Its breath was warm against your face. You almost flinched, expecting the smell of rotten flesh to envelop you, but, instead, all you could smell was laurel.

You could feel yourself tremble in its hold as sobs kept escaping your throat. The creature sniffed you, first your face, then your neck. It got so close in its exploration that you could feel the tip of a textured, moist nose against your skin. You braced yourself for what was to come. You were sure it was getting ready to eat you whole, hopefully in one single chomp, so you wouldn’t have to suffer too much…

The thing pulled away from your neck, and just when you thought it was going to go for it, you were moving.

It was so unexpected you barely registered it.

One second you were pressed against the bricks, and the next your stomach was pressing against firm muscle, and your arms were dangling over the creature’s back. Almost like it… like it had thrown you over its shoulder. And, after a few seconds of shock, you realised it had.

The beast had a strong hold on your back as it started to walk, presumably taking you somewhere.

You tried to blink the remaining tears away, at least enough so you could properly see something, anything.

You caught sight of the ground. You were definitely moving, and, for a moment, you thought you were imagining things.

You could see smooth skin, you could feel it against your arms and hands whenever they hit it as they moved with each of the creature’s steps. Its back was very human-like… However, that smooth skin transitioned into dark fur towards the lower part of its body.

The tail of the creature swishing from side to side was the last thing you saw before you lost grasp of your surroundings.

Warmth.

You felt warm, but it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. It was more like… a cosy feeling.

There was soft fabric under your hands, you could feel it dragging against your skin as your consciousness woke up.

Laurel… The smell of it filled your senses with that first intake of breath.

Laurel… like the beast’s breath.

Your eyes snapped open. They immediately landed on the patch of night sky that could be seen from the hole in the ceiling, right on top of you. You blinked slowly, taking in the sight of the twinkling stars above you.

Faint chewing sounds brought you back into the room, they made you remember what had happened before you lost consciousness. With quick movements, you sat up, and your breath hitched in your throat when your eyes locked onto the beast sitting a few metres in front of you.

Its eyes bore into yours as it chewed leisurely, on what you assumed to be a deer leg based on the shape of it. It didn’t make any movements, nor did it make any sounds–other than the occasional grunt when the meat was too stuck to the bone.

You were, quite honestly, speechless.

You had heard of the beast, but none of the descriptions truly matched what you were seeing right now.

A big, big creature. Inhumanly tall. Its torso was that of a man. Well defined, smooth, tanned skin, strong–very strong…–pecs, nipples adorned with silver jewellery, even stronger looking arms, and, although bigger than you had ever seen them, very human-looking hands.

That torso transitioned into bovine-like lower limbs–covered in thick, dark fur, strong thighs and calves, ending in hooves. But, most impactful, was its head. Human-looking as well, save for the pair of horns that protruded from its skull and a cattle-like nose. The horns were decorated with thick silver rings that glistened with the very few torches lit around the room.

Its face, though… Chubby cheeks, pouty lips, and a strong, but bull-looking nose, pierced with a thick silver hoop. Objectively, the face of a handsome man, all things considered…

You had truly never, ever seen anything like it.

The way it was looking at you felt purposeful, like it wasn’t doing it just for the sake of it, but more like it was aware of your presence in a conscious, coherent way. It wasn’t just the way an animal would look at another animal, more like a human would look at another human.

You swallowed, suddenly hyper aware of your body. Everything hurt. Your feet, your knees, your arms… you were sore all over. When you finally broke eye contact with the creature–man…?–in front of you, and looked at yourself instead, you were perplexed at the sight of your bandaged knees.

Your eyes snapped back up to meet the beast’s, who was eating the last few pieces of meat off the bone in his hand, but still looking at you.

“Did you…” Your voice broke due to your sore throat. You cleared it before you tried to speak again. “Did you do this?”

You gestured to the bandages, and it nodded to your question.

The beast understood you. It understood you and was able to answer the question.

“…Why?”

It seemed to be thoughtful for a moment, suckling on the bone to leave it completely clean before it threw it on a pile of bones in a corner of the room. Ultimately it simply shrugged, rendering you speechless once again.

The beast stood up from the ground, and walked towards another corner of the room, where a pond was. It knelt on the edge of it, and dipped its hands into the water. After scooping some water into its palms, it brought them close to his face and drank from them.

Was it… washing its hands? And its mouth?

You realised it was, in fact, washing its mouth when it–he…?–finally stood up and walked over to some trees, where he plucked some leaves to eat them–or, more accurately, to chew on them.

“What… What are you?” You couldn’t help the question from leaving your mouth. What you were seeing right now was so absurd you just needed to ask.

He shrugged once again, chewing leisurely as it finally started walking closer to you.

You honestly didn’t even try to move away, you were too in awe of his entire existence for your body to properly send you into fight or flight response.

He was so… big. Even when he finally crouched in front of the pile of fabric you’d been laying on, he just looked huge.

“Changbin”, he said all of a sudden.

Your jaw went slack for a moment. He could speak.

“Ch–Changbin?”

He nodded. “That’s what… my father calls me”.

Changbin spoke slowly, like he wasn’t used to speaking at all. You supposed it made sense, considering the stories surrounding the beast inside the Labyrinth.

But… father, he said? “You… you have a father?”

He nodded again, but didn’t say anything else. Changbin just looked at you, in complete silence.

You’d admit it was a bit… awkward.

“Do you… Is this what you do with the people that are thrown into the Labyrinth?”

Changbin shook his head, which further puzzled you.

“I usually kill them. Sometimes I eat them if there’s nothing else to eat… Other times, just use them as food for the plants and birds that live here”, he said simply, like it was nothing. You supposed to him it was nothing.

“Why haven’t you killed me?” You had to ask, because you just couldn’t comprehend how you could still be alive.

His eyes jumped from one of yours to the other repeatedly for a bit. Until he eventually shrugged. “Don’t want to”.

You didn’t really feel like asking ‘Why?’ again, so you just cleared your throat, and decided to introduce yourself instead.

Changbin remained quiet for a few moments, until he repeated your name a few times out loud, like he was trying to get used to the sound.

After about ten minutes of prying, Changbin explained to you that this was his den. It was at the very centre of the Labyrinth. He knew this whole place like the back of his hand, every twist and turn, every pond and every tree, he knew where absolutely everything was. Apparently, he’d lived here a long, long time.

You wanted to inquire more, but before you could, his ears perked up, and he looked towards the one and only exit of this area.

“Someone’s entered the Labyrinth”, he mumbled, almost to himself. He stood up from the floor, and wiped his hands on his fur before he started walking. When he reached the entrance, he turned back to look at you. “Stay here. Will be back in a couple of days”.

You didn’t really think you had any other choice.

Coexisting with Changbin was… weird.

It wasn’t uncomfortable by any means, but it was certainly weird.

He clearly didn’t understand human behaviour much. As in, he’d do things people typically didn’t do.

He’d stare at you a lot–very intensely, if you might add–he spoke in short sentences, or was too forward with what he said. For the most part, though, you didn’t mind. Considering the type of men you were used to, Changbin was far from bad.

Was he a huge half-man, half-bull creature that ate humans sometimes?

Yes.

But even then, he was heaps better than other men you’d met.

He had offered his nest for you to sleep on. He’d shared with you any fish he caught, and even brought you fruit sometimes. For the most part, you didn’t leave his den, and he simply let you stay.

Being honest, part of the reason why you didn’t leave was because you weren’t sure if you were allowed to. After all, he’d brought you in here himself.

Whenever someone entered the Labyrinth, he’d always ask you to stay while he left to look for them. Upon his return, he’d also share whichever goods he’d retrieved.

“You want this?” Changbin offered you a lump of fabric. It almost looked like a napkin in his hands, but when you took it and had a good look at it, you realised it was a chiton. And a fairly new one at that.

Your peplos was way too worn by now. You weren’t really sure how long you’d been inside the Labyrinth at this point, but you also figured it really didn’t matter. You’d washed your clothes plenty of times during your time here, but the rips and tears were just too many already, so you accepted the fresh garment.

“Thank you”, you looked up at him, trying not to focus too much on the swell of his chest, or the trail of fur that started from his navel and continued downwards, turning into his bovine legs.

Changbin was, truly, a sight to behold. Roughly three metres of hunk… The longer you spent around him, the longer you just… wanted to look at him.

You supposed you weren’t any different than him in that regard. At least, he didn’t seem bothered by it when you stared at him.

Changbin nodded, and made his way to his makeshift, newer nest. You felt a bit bad that you’d taken his much bigger sleeping space, but when you tried to get him to use it again, he simply told you ‘It’s your nest now’, so you just… kept using it to lay and sleep on.

“Washed it on my way here”, Changbin said once he was sitting on his nest, looking at you. Only then did you realise he’d not only brought the chiton with him, but also a bowl full of what looked like wildberries, and a guest.

The guest sat on the very top of his head, it was a bird. A fairly small one, but one that was clearly injured, if the way it weakly fluttered its wings was anything to go by.

You nodded, and repeated a soft ‘Thank you’. You honestly tried not to think too much about the person this piece of clothing belonged to just a few days ago. There was no point in that… It was yours now.

When you brought your hand to the fabric belt around your waist, you untied the knot that kept your peplos in place. The garment loosened, but before you could remove it, you looked back at Changbin.

He was just… staring at you. Like he always did.

You swallowed, trying to ignore the heat you felt spreading on your cheeks. “Could you, uhm…”

His ears perked up, listening intently to what you had to say.

“Could you maybe look away?”

Changbin blinked slowly, and his tail started swishing calmly behind him. “Why?”

“Because, y’know… I’m going to undress”, you replied simply, bringing the chiton closer to your chest. The heat on your face seemed to intensify.

“And?”

You were slightly taken aback by that. But as you looked at him, you couldn’t see anything other than genuine curiosity in his eyes. “I’ll undress… That means I’ll be naked in front of you”.

“Okay”.

Now you started blinking slowly. Okay he said. Just… Okay. How… odd. “Changbin, I don’t want you to, uh… see”.

His eyebrows furrowed at that. “Why?”

“Because it’s not appropriate”.

“How come?” He placed the bowl on the ground and leaned back on his hands, spreading his legs in front of him. “I’m naked right now”.

Ah… You supposed he was naked.

You tried really hard not to move your eyes away from his face, especially considering the position he was in… You didn’t want your eyes to just wander to improper territories. After all, there seemed to be a lot to look at…

As you pushed aside the chaotic thoughts inside your head, his comment made you realise that maybe it wasn’t inappropriate to be naked. At least not here, not with Changbin.

You weren’t on the surface anymore. You weren’t bound to human customs anymore, not since the moment you’d been sentenced, and the more you thought of that, the more you started to understand.

This was your safe place now. There was no judgement here, or, at least, you hadn’t felt any at all.

So you swallowed, suddenly feeling a bit nervous. With your eyes fixed on Changbin’s, you tried your best to ignore the warmth that took over your face as you undid your peplos.

The garment fell to the floor, and only then did his eyes wander. He looked at you, with his head tilted to the side. You could’ve sworn you saw his eyes twinkle under the light of the few flickering torches on the wall. ‘Don’t like to keep too many in here… Too bright’, Changbin had told you a few days ago, when you’d asked why there weren’t as many torches in his den as in the corridor walls, and his answer had just made sense to you.

You could almost feel his eyes tracing every curve of your body, and you tried to not focus on how that made you feel. Instead, you just threw the chiton on and quickly fastened it with the belt around your waist.

Changbin’s eyes were back on yours as you finished fixing your clothes, before you started to plait your hair.

“Are you cold?” He asked all of a sudden, just as you finished tying your hair.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Not… not particularly?”

“Why’d you wear that, then?”

“Wear what? This?” You gestured to the garment you’d just put on, and Changbin simply nodded to your question. You blinked blankly at him for a few moments before you answered him. “I don’t… I shouldn’t be showing my body like that, y’know? It’s inappropriate. At least, on the surface it is. So we just… wear clothes”.

“That’s why humans wear clothes?” He sounded genuinely incredulous, and based on the way his eyes widened, you figured he was. “Thought y’all were just cold all the time”.

You couldn’t help but snort at that. You laughed. You laughed like you hadn’t laughed in weeks, almost madly even.

This was all just so, so absurd. You’d been sentenced to death, and somehow, you’d ended up here, with a creature like Changbin. A sentient creature that thought humans wore clothes just because ‘they were cold all the time’.

“Why shouldn’t you show your body?” Changbin looked beyond confused, and somehow it made you laugh harder. “It’s… well, there. It’s you. Why hide it?”

Your laugh died down, and you wiped the few stray tears that had fallen from your eyes. There was a small smile tugging at his lips, he didn’t seem fazed by your fit of laughter other than looking mildly confused now, so you just composed yourself and answered him as honestly as you could. “It’s… a private thing…”

“Private?” Changbin asked, tilting his head cutely to the side. “So no one has seen you naked?”

You went quiet at that, and started fidgeting with the end of your belt. “Some people have… Y’know, my mum… My–my husband…”

The title left a bitter taste on your tongue, but you tried to ignore it. You didn’t like thinking about him. Whenever you did, you always tried to squash the mental image to the deepest recesses of your mind. It was just… a bit too much still.

“You’re married?” Changbin asked, curiously, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees.

“Not anymore”, you looked away from him, trying to ignore his peering eyes. You really didn’t feel like elaborating further, so you tried to divert the conversation by talking about literally anything else. The weather, the flowers that had started to bloom in his garden, the bird on top of his head…

Changbin didn’t really pry further, he just followed your chaotic rambling as best as he could, until he eventually started crushing the berries in his bowl and telling you about the bird.

Apparently, he’d found it yesterday when he was on his way back here, and had been trying to nurse it back into health since. While he told you the story, he kept crushing the wildberries in his bowl, and he’d occasionally bring his free hand up to the little critter. It simply pecked his fingertip a few times before it resumed grooming his hair.

After a while, he stood up from his makeshift nest. With his bowl of crushed berries in hand, and the injured bird nestled on the crown of his head among his messy hair, Changbin made his way to a nearby wall. You just watched him curiously from where you were laying on his original nest.

Changbin dipped two of his fingers in the mixture of crushed berries, and then he just… drew a line on the wall.

Then another…

And another…

He was silent for the most part, but low noises would occasionally resonate from his chest when the little bird on his head chirped. It was almost like they were having a conversation.

And you figured they were. Mostly because every couple of lines he made, he’d huff, and the bird would chirp in response. Changbin simply nodded–carefully, as to not let the bird fall with the movement–and kept on drawing.

You weren’t sure how long you spent there, just looking at him doing his thing, but it was genuinely fascinating. The way his tail would sway every once in a while, the way the muscles on his back flexed and relaxed as he moved all sorts of ways as he painted on the walls…

Eventually, his lines took the very distinct shape of a bird, one that mirrored the one on his head almost perfectly.

“Changbin?” You asked after a while. He hummed to let you know he was listening, so you continued. “Did you make all the other drawings throughout the Labyrinth?”

It seemed like a silly question to ask, because, who else would’ve done it, if not the beast doing one just now in front of you?

Changbin added the finishing touches to his drawing, then he turned to look at you. He offered the remnants of crushed berries in his bowl to the bird, just as he brought the two fingers he’d been using to his mouth so he could lick them clean.

You tried not to focus too much on the action by fixing your eyes on his.

He pulled his digits out of his mouth with a slight sucking sound, and nodded. “I did”.

“Mmm… They’re pretty”, you said simply.

Because, to you, they were.

You found them odd when you first saw them, since they didn’t seem to fit the aura surrounding this place, but they were certainly pretty. And knowing they’d been made by him, just seemed to make them even prettier.

Changbin finally put the bowl down on one of the many tall–but flat–rocks scattered throughout the room, and, for a moment, you could’ve sworn his cheeks had reddened. “Thanks…”

You just offered him a smile, even if he wasn’t looking at you.

A cold wind filtered through the hole in the ceiling, it had your teeth chattering and your whole body shivering. You tried to cover yourself further, but the way Changbin had built his nest made it so you really couldn’t pull fabric from it without messing it up, and there was no spare cloth close by that you could use as a blanket.

It made sense, you supposed. He didn’t seem like he needed anything to keep himself warm, and you also hadn’t needed it before during your stay here, so you hadn’t even tried to ask for one.

You heard faint shuffling, followed by quiet thump, thump, thumps, until you felt warmth close to you.

“Tiny human”, Changbin mumbled, pulling your attention fully towards him.

You hummed to let him know you were listening, but you didn’t open your eyes, nor did you feel like wasting energy saying actual words. You needed to use every bit of it you could to try to keep yourself warm.

“You’re whimpering. Why?”

Had you been whimpering?

You hadn’t even realised you were. Maybe you’d fallen asleep without noticing…

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your trembling form, but it only brought a rush of cold air inside your body. “M’cold…”

There was silence for a moment. With half lidded eyes, you could’ve sworn you were seeing your breath coming out of your mouth in little white clouds. It didn’t make you feel any better. If anything, it agitated you a bit more, but you couldn’t even express it fully.

Changbin was quiet for a long while, but you could still feel him close. You appreciated it. It felt like moral support, at least.

Eventually, you heard–and felt–him shuffle closer to the nest. “Can I… Can I keep you warm?”

You immediately nodded. You didn’t care what he did, or how he did it. You just needed to be warm, and if he could give you that you’d honestly take it.

There was more shuffling, and then there was a minute dip in the nest. You yelped when you felt Changbin’s arm wrap around your waist and pull you into him from behind.

His hold was strong, firm, but also… gentle. He kept you close, with his chin resting on the top of your head and a hand pressed firmly against your stomach. He was so close, and so, so warm, you immediately felt yourself relaxing, moulding into his body, almost like… like you’d always been meant to.

Slowly, his warmth seeped into you, until you were no longer shivering. Tentatively, you placed a hand on top of the one he kept on your stomach. You could’ve sworn you felt him jump a bit behind you, but as soon as you started tracing his knuckles with your fingertips, he seemed to relax once again.

You weren’t really sure what compelled you to do it, you had just… felt like doing it. You spent a while just like that, feeling each knuckle of his fingers, feeling the prominent veins on the back of his hand. They were so big… especially compared to your own.

You’d never felt like a particularly small person, but next to him, you certainly looked tiny, you felt tiny. But only physically. Being honest, you’d never felt as equal to someone as you felt with Changbin.

“I think you’re pretty, too”, he mumbled all of a sudden, and for a moment, you felt your heart stop, only to resume its beating at record-breaking speeds. “Like my drawings, I mean…”

You turned in his hold, and immediately buried your face in his neck. Not only seeking the heat of his skin, but also trying to hide the flustered reaction on your face. He just held you closer, further enveloping you in his warmth.

“Thank you…” You mumbled against the skin of his neck, and he simply offered you a tiny sound of content in response.

In the safety of Changbin’s arms, blanketed in his body heat, you finally fell asleep.

You didn’t mind staying at Changbin’s den, but you were starting to get a bit… bored.

Mostly if he was gone. When he was there, you could at least strike conversation, or play some sort of game. Knucklebones was a favourite of yours, for example.

When he wasn’t here, all you did was try to keep yourself entertained with whatever items Changbin had lying around, or by tending to the garden inside the den.

At some point, you’d managed to use some of the numerous pieces of fabric he’d collected to make yourself a proper blanket. Although, to be fair, you hardly ever needed it.

It was a given at this point that he’d snuggle up next to you to keep you warm. Since that very first night, you’d only had to use your blanket when someone had entered the Labyrinth and he wasn’t here.

You’d admit, sleeping with Changbin was… nice. Especially since temperatures seemed to be decreasing by the day.

He was all plush and warm and his heartbeat just helped you relax. Ever since you got married–since you were forced to get married…–you had never enjoyed sharing your sleeping space, but, with Changbin, it was different. You just… felt safe. As odd as that might sound.

“It’s not fair! You got it so much easier to pick those up!” Changbin huffed, clicking his tongue when you, once again, beat him at your game of knucklebones.

“Find bigger pieces, then!” You chuckled, jiggling the small set of bones in your hand. “I’m sure there are plenty of huge rocks you can get in here”.

He just clicked his tongue again, finishing in a cute pout as he crossed his arms over his chest. All that did was bring your attention to the swell of his pecs and the size of his arms, which immediately made you swallow.

Dear Gods, was he big…

You scrambled to fix your eyes on his face. These were thoughts you didn’t feel like entertaining… what would be the point of it if you did? What would you even do with someone like Changbin? It felt a bit too… complicated. But, there was a little voice in the deepest areas of your conscience begging you to entertain the thought… telling you that it’d surely be worth it.

You decided to ignore it.

“Hey, Changbin”, you tried to get his attention back on you, disregarding the plethora of sinful scenarios that were playing in the back of your mind.

Changbin’s ears flickered before he was fixing his eyes on you again, so you took it as a sign to speak. “You think I could… go out for a walk?”

He uncrossed his arms so he could lean back on his hands, once again, making you absolutely struggle to keep your eyes on his face and not on whatever was going on between his legs. “You want to?”

You just nodded in response, nervously tapping on the floor one of the bones you held in your hand.

“Then you can”, he replied simply.

“I can?” You didn’t mean to sound incredulous, but you supposed his nonchalance did take you by surprise.

“‘Course. If you want to, you can”.

“You don’t mind?”

Changbin blinked slowly at you for a moment, before his eyebrows furrowed. “Why would I mind?”

“Dunno… I thought you… thought you might”.

“Why did you think that?”

Huh, good question… Why would you think that?

You supposed there was a part of you that had just kind of… assumed he’d mind. But you realised then that he’d never really said anything about it.

He’d only ever asked you to stay when someone else came into the Labyrinth, and you supposed it made sense he would if he cared for your safety. Which you were pretty sure he did, considering all he’d done for you so far… So you just offered him a smile and a slight shake of your head.

“Ah, it’s nothing…” You stood up from the floor and wiped your hands on your chiton. “‘Suppose I’ll be back in a bit…”

Changbin just hummed to acknowledge you, but didn’t say anything else, so you made your way to the entrance of the room.

When you finally reached it, you stopped. As you looked at the corridor outside of the circle-shaped area that made Changbin’s den, you couldn’t help but feel your stomach sink. No matter where you looked, left or right, the way was seemingly endless. Every direction looked almost the same–save for the few paintings on the walls and the different textures on the floor.

If you left for a walk, would you be able to find your way back? You honestly weren’t too sure, and, truly… you wanted to come back. You were sure there was no better place to be inside the Labyrinth other than here, with Changbin.

So you turned around, finding the beast himself looking at you.

His tail swayed calmly behind him, his ears occasionally flickered, but, for the most part, he looked serene, sitting there on the floor where he’d been just before you stood up yourself.

“Would you… uhm…” You pinched a piece of your chiton between your fingers, and started fidgeting with it, looking in his overall direction but not really looking at him. “Would you like to come with me?”

You finally looked at his face. There was a small smile on his lips, and it honestly made your heart flutter. “Y’know I’ll find you if you get lost, right?”

No.

No, you didn’t know that.

You didn’t know he’d go out of his way to find you if you disappeared. You knew that he cared about what happened to you to some degree, but enough to look for you if you got lost? Even if it could potentially take days?

If you thought about it, maybe that, too, made sense. Maybe he enjoyed your presence just as much as you did his.

Licking your lips, you let go of that bit of fabric you’d been rolling between your fingers. “Would you come with me anyway?”

With a huff, Changbin stood up from the ground. He wiped his hands on his thighs, just before he walked to stand next to you. That was a good enough answer for you.

So, you finally stepped out into the corridor, and Changbin followed soon after.

The farther you tried to look, the more anxiety seemed to pool in your stomach. If the Labyrinth had made you claustrophobic when you first stepped in it, right now, leaving Changbin’s den, you felt haunted with agoraphobia.

The corridors were endless, the ceiling felt like it was way too high–unlikely, since it was pretty much the same height as it was inside the den…–and the fact that you couldn’t see the first turn in either direction you looked had your head spinning. So you turned back to Changbin.

“Is there any place you like? If there is, I’d like you to show me”.

Changbin just nodded, and started walking. You followed him from closely behind, nervously looking over your shoulder sometimes, but, for the most part, you tried to focus on the drawings on the walls, or the flashes of nature around you.

It was quiet, save for the flicker of the eternal fire and the thumps produced with each step Changbin took. They weren’t as loud as they’d been the first time you heard him, probably because he was walking very, very slowly.

Even if he was walking slowly, though, you were starting to get out of breath from trying to keep up with the steps his long legs could take. One of Chanbin’s steps could’ve very well been ten of yours…

You weren’t sure how many turns you took, you simply followed him wherever he would go, asking for a few pauses sometimes when you felt like you needed to catch your breath.

There were parts of the Labyrinth that were dimmer than others. As Changbin explained to you, it was either because someone had taken a torch off its support on the wall and never returned it, or he himself had moved the torches somewhere else.

When you asked him why he’d moved them, he just said he’d get bored, and just found some entertainment in moving things around. Fair enough, you guessed…

Both of you finally came to a full stop in front of a tree. A big, very old-looking one. There was a patch of grass all around it, and it was almost tall enough to reach the ceiling. The hole above it surely provided enough light and water for the tree to thrive even down here.

“This is a place I like. Birds come in here sometimes. They keep me company”, Changbin plopped down at the base of the tree and leaned on it. While he looked at you, he patted the grass in front of him, right between his legs.

Your body reacted before your mind could, and, almost instinctively, you found yourself sitting on the grass and snuggled against his chest. He just wrapped his arms around your frame and kept you close, like he often did.

Soon enough, birds started coming in from the hole high above your heads, and you simply closed your eyes and started to hum a melody to accompany their chirping. You could certainly understand why he’d like being in a place like this, it was peaceful.

“You…” Changbin mumbled after a while, while he softly traced shapes on your arm with his thumb. “You used to pray, didn’t you?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, just before you pulled yourself away from his embrace to look him in the eyes. There was a bird perched on one of his horns already, picking at his hair, but he seemed unbothered by it.

“How’d you… How do you know that?” No one knew you prayed. In fact, you hadn’t prayed in a long, long time. It used to bring you comfort, maybe even hope, but that, too, had been crushed by the heavy weight of reality many moons ago.

Changbin looked up at the hole in the ceiling, which was covered by iron rods. His gaze was fixed on it for a while, and he remained quiet for a bit.

“I think I used to hear you pray”, his eyes were on yours again, and you suddenly felt your cheeks heating up at the attention. “You used to sing, too. Hum, like you did just now… The birds back then used to tell me you brought them food”.

The site you prayed at was incredibly far from where you’d been dropped into the Labyrinth. You knew this place was huge, but you honestly hadn’t realised just how much until this very moment.

“You stopped coming, though”, Changbin looked at you in a way that made you feel almost like he knew… “Was it because of him?”

Please! Don’t hurt me!

The memory was fresh, it wasn’t one you could just forget. Your husband… he wasn’t fond of the Gods, especially not the ones you prayed to. After all, you were praying in hopes they’d just… do something.

When law enforcement didn’t pay attention to you, you had turned to your faith for help.

But they, too, had failed you.

When your husband found out you’d been going to that specific place in the forest to pray, that you had your own humble shrine in there, he made absolutely sure you never returned. The place was now riddled with memories of nothing but pain, sorrow…

You felt a knot swell in your throat, out of fury more than anything else. You refused to let tears fall, though. The damage was done already, and even if you felt infuriated by how unjust everything that happened back then had been, the nightmare was over, and you had no one to thank but yourself for it.

Looking at Changbin, you nodded, just to let him know that it had been, in fact, because of him that you’d stopped going to pray to the forest currently above your heads.

“Even back then… I felt like it was unfair”, Changbin’s eyes jumped all over your face, while his thumb kept caressing the skin of your arm.

“It was”, you replied simply, looking up at him from where you were sitting between his legs. “But it’s no longer a problem. It’s stopped now”.

The bird that had been picking at Changbin’s hair finally flew away when he nodded. You looked him in the eyes for a while longer, until you finally leaned into him once again, and rested your head on his chest, right over his heart.

Thump… Thump… Thump… Thump… Thump…

The gentle rhythm vibrated against your ear, and, right then and there, you knew that it had all truly stopped. You were safe. It was, definitely, no longer a problem. In a way, you’d made sure of that…

You both stayed under that tree for a long time that afternoon, until you asked Changbin to show you anywhere else he liked before you made it back to the den.

Without saying a word, he effortlessly picked you up from the ground, and took you in his arms, making you all flustered when he offered you a ‘Tiny legs. Makes you slow…’ which you supposed you couldn’t argue with. To him, your legs were surely tiny, especially when compared to his own.

When you were back at Changbin’s den, you were tired, so you quickly washed up before you had dinner. Seared fish–courtesy of the eternal fire from one of the torches–with an assortment of fruits that somehow worked together, finished off with the corresponding pile of laurel leaves Changbin liked to chew on often–a habit which you yourself had picked up overtime.

It wasn’t long until you found yourself in Changbin’s nest, surrounded by soft fabric and his warmth. Cuddling had become one of your favourite winding down activities, and you certainly liked to do it for as long as you could. There was something about the closeness to someone else that felt… fulfilling. And you’d never truly felt this close to someone in your life.

Oftentimes, while cuddling, you also found yourself having the most profound conversations with Changbin. Either you or him–or both–would start bearing their hearts out for the other, and it was… nice.

Regardless of what you spoke about, it was nice.

“You…” Changbin mumbled, burying his fingers in your hair to gently caress your scalp. “Why’d they drop you here?”

You took a deep breath, mindlessly playing with the thick fur in the middle of his chest. “I took someone’s life…”

Changbin hummed, nuzzling your forehead with his nose. It was moist against your skin, but you didn’t mind.

“My husband…” You started, stilling the movement of your fingers in his fur to instead lay your hand on his chest. “I was just… I tried to get help. Every time he hurt me, I tried to get help. So, so many times… but no one listened. One night, he was trying to force himself on me and I just… took one of those hideous stone busts he kept around the house and I… hit him in the head”.

The memory wasn’t pleasant. You still remembered the first moment of shock, when you stared at his limp body on the floor. You remembered the blood, how it started to pool and stain that equally hideous rug he’d purchased for way too much money. You remembered the mess left behind when you tried to move your husband’s body out of the house so you could hide it in the forest…

But you were caught.

You were caught and no matter how much you explained what had happened, no one believed you.

“So I was sentenced to die”, you looked away from his chest to look him in the eyes. They seemed to be sparkling under the moonlight shining on you both. His eyes… They were gentle, and had the prettiest shade of brown you’d ever seen. “I should be dead by now. They were expecting you to kill me”.

Changbin’s eyes flickered between yours. They danced around your face for a moment, until they settled on your mouth. “I couldn’t. Don’t want to, either”.

“I know”, you mumbled simply. Bringing a hand to his face, you started tracing his features, his eyebrows, his nose, his cheeks… Changbin just closed his eyes as soon as your fingertips were on his skin, and his ears flickered happily as you did. “You’re way more than the beast people make you out to be”.

“You think so?” He asked it in a way that made it seem like he genuinely cared about what you had to say, like your opinion was valuable to him.

You hummed in confirmation, nodding slowly, because you truly meant it. Changbin was a bit of a brute, he was very capable of harming you, but he was also capable of being so incredibly gentle. Like he’d been with the injured bird he’d brought to his den many months ago. Like he’d been with you when he tended to your wounds when he brought you in here, or when you were shivering from the cold…

“Changbin…” You broke the silence after a while, placing your hand on his cheek and stroking the skin with your thumb. “Do you know what a kiss is?”

Changbin opened his eyes then, offering you an almost shy nod of his head.

“Have you kissed anyone before?” You placed your free hand on his chest, right over his heart. It was beating so incredibly fast… It was almost like you could feel every thump penetrate into your palm and rattle your insides.

Changbin shook his head, fixing his eyes on your mouth once again.

You licked your lips, almost absentmindedly. He was so close, and so warm, and you just… wanted him. “Would you like to?”

Changbin nodded again, so you just went for it.

Slowly, you leaned in, brushing your lips softly against his for a moment before you connected them fully. It was almost shy, just a tender peck on his lips, but it was a kiss nonetheless.

You pulled back a bit to look him in the eyes. Sparkly… Even more so than before. In an instant, his hand was at your waist, pulling you closer against his body as he leaned in to kiss you again.

It was slow, gentle, and it made your heart flutter. His lips slotted so perfectly with yours, you couldn’t even believe you’d ever kissed anyone else. So many kisses wasted, when you could’ve been giving them to him instead…

Tentatively, your tongue made contact with his bottom lip. He seemed to get the hint, since he parted his lips to let you in. With your arms around his neck, you kissed him deeply. He kissed you deeply.

At this very moment, there was nothing else in the world that wasn’t you and Changbin. The only thing that mattered was him and you in his nest, slowly getting your mouths acquainted with one another.

You didn’t know how long you spent right there, but you also didn’t care. By the time the moon had moved around in the sky and left you in partial darkness in Changbin’s den, you could already feel him poking your stomach.

The feeling of him, hard against your belly, set your insides alight.

You’d known for a long time, you’d been trying to ignore it, but you couldn’t do that any longer… You really wanted Changbin. Carnally. Like you’d want any other person.

His hands… His big, warm hands roamed your back, your rear, your thighs… It was like he wanted to make sure no part of your body was left untouched–at least the ones he currently had access to over your clothes. The kiss was turning sloppier and sloppier by the second, and, in no time, low bellows were resonating from Changbin’s chest.

It was just when you carded your fingers through his hair that he stiffened, fixing his hands on your waist and gripping you tightly to stop the grind of your hips you hadn’t even realised you’d started doing.

When had he laid on his back? When had you straddled his waist? You were so lost in your kiss you hadn’t even noticed…

He pulled back fully, offering you an apologetic look while he brought his thumb to your bottom lip and swiped it over the swollen skin.

“Someone’s entered the Labyrinth…” Changbin mumbled, so quietly you wouldn’t have heard him if you hadn’t been so close.

You pouted sadly, but nodded in understanding. With one final peck on his lips, you finally rolled off of him and onto the plush nest, where you curled into yourself as you watched him get up.

Changbin bent down to kiss your forehead. He brushed his textured nose tenderly against yours for a moment, just before he threw your makeshift blanket over your body.

“I’ll be back in a few days. Hm?”

You simply nodded again, feeling your eyes growing heavier as sleep started to cling to your muscles.

After one final smile, Changbin finally turned around and made his way out of his den.

You couldn’t help but sneak a glance at him before he left, and, Gods… You really, really wanted him…

As you let your hand find its way between your legs, and even in your sleepy state, you couldn’t help but fully come face to face with the realisation that you wanted him, more than you’d ever wanted anyone else before.

With the tingles of pleasure you were coaxing from your centre that spread to all of your limbs, your mind wandered, trying to figure out just how you could… take him.

You had to find a way. You were determined to find a way.

You didn’t know how you’d do it, but you were certain you would.

Eventually, you would.

Changbin was taking longer than usual to come back from his last outing, and it was starting to worry you.

The first couple of days went by as usual. You washed any garments of clothing you’d collected over time, you tended to any of Changbin’s friends–meaning, the birds that would come from the surface–whenever they dropped by, or you simply spent it brainstorming all the possible ways in which you could pleasure such a monstrous cock.

Not only that, but how you could get pleasure from that monstrous cock. Because you were set on making the most of it. Gone were the days in which you shied away from your desires. You were a living being with needs, and if you couldn’t fulfil those needs with a literal giant half-bull, half-man creature, you were sure you wouldn’t have been able to do it with anyone else.

Besides, though, you didn’t want anyone else.

And it wasn’t the fact that you were living in the Labyrinth and couldn’t even meet other human beings. What you felt for Changbin was something you’d never felt before. You genuinely cared about him… You cared a lot.

Which was why, by the fifth day he hadn’t returned to the den, you had bitten all ten of your nails almost to the flesh.

Where was he?

You were convinced it was pretty much impossible for him to get lost inside the Labyrinth, but what if he had?

Or worse…

What if whoever had been dropped in here hurt him?

What if he was hurt and you couldn’t help him?

Oh, Gods…

What if he was dead?

Your chest felt heavy, you could barely breathe… What would you do without Changbin? You could definitely survive with all the resources you had here, but the question was… did you want to?

What was the point of staying alive inside the Labyrinth without him?

You wanted to cry just thinking about it.

Tears were pricking your eyes, and it felt like your throat was closing up.

At least, until…

Thump…

You pretty much jumped from where you’d been sitting on the floor, sprinted out of the den and into the corridor. At this point, you could recognise Changbin’s heavy steps like your own heartbeat.

Looking left and right, you were unsure where exactly he was coming from, since the echo seemed to be coming from every direction. After a few moments of panic, you finally saw him to your left, so you ran.

You barely heard him saying your name when you were close, you were too focused on getting to him. When you buried your face in his stomach, he immediately started to caress your hair.

“Shh, hey…” He mumbled, dropping whatever he had in his free hand so he could press his palm on your back. “Don’t cry”.

You were sobbing, and you hadn’t even realised it until he had pointed it out.

When you pulled away, you could barely see him through your blurry vision. With one of his knuckles, he gently wiped the tears running down your cheeks.

It was only then that you noticed them, the cuts and gashes that littered his whole torso. The sight had adrenaline rushing into your body immediately.

“Oh, my dear Gods! What happened to you?!”

“Kid was resilient”, was all he said when he pulled himself away from your hold. He bent down–with seemingly great effort–and took the bag that he’d dropped on the ground. “C’mon, need to… to lay down. Will tell you everything after…”

You took the bag from him immediately, and wrapped your free hand around one of his fingers to gently tug him forward–as if that would do anything…

It took several minutes for both of you to reach the den once again. As soon as you were inside, Changbin pretty much collapsed on the ground, and started instructing you to bring him all sorts of herbs from his garden along with some fresh water.

You got to work, following Changbin’s directions to clean him up, apply the freshly chewed mix of leaves on the open wounds, and dress them with whichever extra pieces of fabric you could find laying around. As you did this, he told you about the young man that had entered the Labyrinth.

Apparently, he was skilled enough to not only hurt Changbin, but also to essentially defeat him.

“All these years, no one has ever come this close to killing me…”

The concept of Changbin being killed made your heart ache, but you pushed the feeling away as you tried to focus on the task at hand, as well as to continue listening to him.

The young man had spared him. He’d told Changbin that he’d come into the Labyrinth out of his own free will because he was looking for something.

“Told him I’d help him find it if he let me live”, Changbin said once you’d finished dressing his wounds and he’d finally laid down on your nest.

“And? Did you?” You asked as you gathered two heavy jugs of fresh water to bring them to him. After all, two jugs were pretty much two glasses of water for him…

Changbin drank both jugs one after the other, each one in one gulp, offering a quiet ‘Thank you’ before he answered your question. “Yeah. Pointed him in the right direction, told him how to find the way to the spot he was looking for…”

You laid down next to him, and snuggled yourself as close as you could. Changbin pulled you even closer, and only then did he seem to fully relax, practically melting into your nest.

“He wanted me to go with him… But I was too hurt”, he mumbled against your hair, sounding just so incredibly tired. “Also… I had to come home. Needed to be here with you…”

You felt tears well in your eyes again. Holding him tight–being careful to not apply too much pressure on his wounds–you craned your neck, just so you could press a lingering kiss on his cheek.

Changbin exhaled a shaky breath with the motion, and, after pressing a few more pecks on his skin, you finally laid your head on his chest.

“Welcome home…” The words came out of your mouth as barely a whisper, mostly because you didn’t trust your voice right now. You were already feeling your whole body trembling as the tears started to fall again.

Changbin held you tight, pressing a final kiss on the crown of your head.

“Missed you, tiny human…” was the last thing to come out of his mouth before he passed out.

Caring for an injured giant was easier than you had expected it to be. Although, you’d admit that helping him wash up was a bit hard.

Not because you had to provide any sort of support when he got into a pond or anything like that, but mostly because Changbin insisted that he needed you in there with him.

He got extra whiny about it, but you didn’t let him coax you into it. Not because you didn’t want to, but because, if you did get naked with him in the water, you knew you’d get distracted and his wounds could suffer the consequences.

After a few days, he seemed to have regained most of his strength, and the cuts scattered over his body were healing nicely. Even then, he kept insisting he needed you to help him.

“If you want to see me naked, just say so”, you couldn’t hold that back any longer. The words just flew past your lips, and you knew they’d had the desired effect as soon as you saw the pink tint on his cheeks.

“I don’t–I mean, I do, but it’s not–” He was tumbling over his words, and it was absolutely adorable.

You stood up from where you’d been sitting cross-legged by the edge of the pond, and started toying with the belt of your chiton. He went quiet immediately, and his eyes zeroed in on the way you played with the fabric between your fingertips.

“Do you want to see me naked, Changbin?”

He blinked slowly for a moment, and his ears flickered cutely. “Maybe…”

“Maybe?” You untied the knot, and the garment immediately loosened.

You saw him swallow. His gaze remained fixed on your belt, like he was trying to somehow make it disappear completely.

“Changbin?” You called him again, and his eyes snapped back up to meet yours, giving you his undivided attention. “Do you want to?”

Changbin stared at you for a moment before he nodded. That tiny movement, coupled with the light blush on his cheeks made you feel… empowered. Which was something you had never really felt before in this context.

You’d heard other people tell you about it, you’d read about it in the romance novels you used to read, but you had never truly experienced it. That feeling, coupled with how pliant a literal giant like Changbin got when you so much hinted at being naked, filled you with confidence.

So you removed your clothes, and slowly, you went into the pond.

Changbin was sitting on the ground, which made it so you were almost at eye level with him. You could practically feel his eyes all over your body, leaving an almost searing sensation on your skin.

When you finally stood in front of him, his hands found your waist. Changbin pulled you closer, so your bodies could be flush to each other. With your arms around his neck, you leaned in for a kiss.

He held you tightly, but gently. You knew he was well aware of his strength, and you knew he liked to be careful so as to not hurt you, which you certainly appreciated.

When you pulled back from the kiss, Changbin brushed your nose against yours, making you giggle. As usual, it was moist, but you didn’t mind.

“You’re pretty”, he whispered the words against your shoulder, where he was pressing lingering kisses on your skin–being extra careful not to poke you with his horns.

“And you’re very handsome”, you replied simply, because it was the truth. Months ago, you hadn’t even known someone like him could exist, and here you were now, absolutely smitten by what most would consider an oddity.

“You think so?” He mumbled absentmindedly, dragging his hands all over your back. His large hands…

“Mm… I do think so”.

He pulled away so he could look at you. A smile had spread across his face, making his eyes turn into little crescents. It always made your heart flutter whenever he smiled, and it was certainly a contagious gesture.

Changbin kissed your cheek once, twice, thrice more, before he was speaking again.

“Y’know… I haven’t… I’ve never…” He sighed, frowning before he shook his head and started all over again. “Want to make you feel good, but I don’t know how”.

Your eyes widened a bit. Not because you didn’t know that he wouldn’t know how to make you feel good, but because he seemed to genuinely care about it.

“I can show you”, you caressed his shoulders briefly before you cupped his cheeks. “Then you can show me how to make you feel good, hm?”

Changbin nodded, rather enthusiastically, and it made you smile.

“There are… many places you can touch to make me feel good”, you dragged your hands down his arms, until you reached his hands and pulled them away from your back. “For example, here…”

You brought his hands to your chest, and he reflexively squeezed the flesh. “That feels nice, but… touch here”.

Taking a hold of one of his fingers, you guided it to your nipple. The rough pad of his fingertip dragging over the sensitive skin immediately had a shiver running up and down your spine.

He seemed to catch on very quickly, because the moment you let go of his hands, he immediately started to stimulate your chest. Between his motions and the cool water around you, your nipples stiffened further, and the first whimper came out of your mouth.

Changbin looked at you for a moment, like he was unsure if he had done something wrong, so you immediately reassured him.

“That’s good… Feels good”.

“Feels good?” He asked, adding a bit more pressure.

You nodded in confirmation, and then took a hold of his wrists. “Pinch them harder between your fingers”.

“Don’t wanna hurt you, though”, he sounded genuinely worried about it, which would’ve made you heart melt in other circumstances, but in these circumstances, you needed him to give you all he had–or, at least, all you could stand.

“Do it gradually, I’ll let you know ‘til when. Trust me?”

Changbin nodded, and immediately obliged. As soon as he reached the pressure that was just perfect, you let him know–in quite possibly the most desperate tone you’d ever mustered.

Your lips were on his thereafter. He tugged and pulled and stimulated your nipples in ways that had you moaning into his mouth, that seemed to be coaxing inhuman noises from deep within him.

Your centre was throbbing, desperate for some attention, so you pulled away from the kiss. You were met with Changbin’s blown pupils and flushed cheeks, a sight so incredibly delectable you started to seriously entertain the impossible. Would he fit…?

“Here, too”, you took a hold of one of his hands and brought it between your thighs, giving him enough space to manoeuvre. “You feel that bump?”

When the pad of his finger made contact with your clit you almost jolted in place, but you tried to stay focused as best as you could.

“Rub in circles. Gently”.

He complied, following the same motions as before, increasing the speed and pressure until you told him exactly how you liked it to be.

It all became a blur of moans and pants and bellows… All you could feel was the pleasure coursing through your body and Changbin’s warmth all around you. His teeth, his tongue, his lips, his fingers… He was working you up diligently, bringing you closer to the edge.

“So good…” You whimpered against his lips, just before your tongues were intertwined again.

Changbin nodded, almost mindlessly.

When you’d finally reached your climax, you did so with his name on your tongue. Repeating it over and over again like it was the only word you knew in this world.

You’d found pleasure on your own many, many times, but it’d never felt like this. You weren’t sure if it was the weight of your feelings for him, or if it’d been the thrill of having this experience with Changbin for the first time, but the way that orgasm seemed to be consuming every single one of your senses was absolutely mind-blowing.

He didn’t stop working you up until you asked him to. As soon as he did, you wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned your weight on him for support. Changbin held you tightly, lovingly caressing your back and pressing kisses on your shoulder as you caught your breath.

“Prettiest sounds I’ve ever heard…” He mumbled against your skin, and it made you laugh.

You felt light, like tonnes had just been lifted off of your shoulders. When you pulled away, you cupped his cheeks, and started peppering kisses all over his face, which made him giggle. So adorably you felt your heart swell in your chest.

“Now…” With one final kiss on his lips, you placed your hands on his chest, squishing the soft muscle. “You show me”.

A smirk made its way onto his lips, and after taking one of your hands, he moved it away from his chest to let it sink further underwater, until it met the warm, smooth skin of his length. He left your other hand on his chest, but instead of just letting it rest there, he guided your fingers to one of his nipples so you could gently rub your fingertip against it and play with the jewellery.

“I’ll show you”, he emphasised his words by using his hand to coax your hold around his cock to tighten. Your fingers didn’t even meet as you held him, and the thought, along with the feel, made you feel dizzy with arousal. “Will show you anything. Everything…”

‘You think this could… fit you?’ Changbin had shyly asked you a couple of weeks ago, when he offered you one of the silver hoops he usually wore on one of his horns. Where he got the idea to do that was beyond you, but it honestly didn’t matter, it made you giddy all the same.

It did fit–as an armlet, at least. It was purely material and maybe even a bit vain, but having this item on you at all times simply made you feel tingly. It made your heart swell in your chest and it had butterflies fluttering in your belly.

It felt significant, in a way. Kind of like… like your own version of a wedding band.

In the past, you had never been excited about being a bride, or about being someone’s wife. But you realised things could change.

Changbin had certainly changed you. You would’ve never imagined that your death sentence would be the thing to actually help you feel alive, and yet, that was exactly what had happened to you.

Did you sometimes have bouts of fury and rage because of how unfair everything that you’d gone through had been?

Yes.

Did you want all those officials to die a very painful death for judging you the way they did?

Also yes.

But at least, here, you found your place. You found love.

Because you loved Changbin. Horns and tail and hooves and all. Even with his annoyingly big cock that you knew you’d never be able to fit inside you without tearing you in half, even then, you loved him. Truly.

It took only a visit from that young man he had encountered months ago for you to fully realise it.

He’d appeared out of nowhere, on a random day. Changbin had put himself between you and the young man, but the boy wasn’t a real threat, he’d come just to ask for help to find something else within the Labyrinth.

It was over supper that he’d talked to you, right there in front of Changbin.

‘Don’t you want to go back to the surface? I know a way out…’

You could still remember how Changbin’s tail started to thrash anxiously behind him, but he didn’t say anything. He’d just fixed his eyes on the floor, slowly chewing his food. He didn’t interrupt or even attempt to divert the conversation. Back then, at least to you, it felt like he was getting ready to accept whichever decision you took.

‘Why would I go back? This is my home. There’s nothing up there for me’.

And when you’d said it, you truly meant it.

This was your home… but it wasn’t the Labyrinth.

It was all Changbin.

You’d wandered the Labyrinth together for a few days after that, helping that young man look for the mysterious artefact he needed. It’d been an adventure for sure…

When you were back in your cosy den after that little adventure, Changbin had given you the thick hoop, your armlet. You’d gotten so used to wearing it, you sometimes forgot you had it on.

At least, until you caught a glimpse of it in your peripheral vision, like you did just now. Somehow, the reminder of its existence further fed the fire that was burning bright in the pit of your stomach.

The feel of Changbin’s hands on your hips, gripping you tightly–as tight as he knew your body could handle–made you moan. The feel of him, hard and warm against your folds had your mind all fogged up and hazy, especially when he was under you like this, guiding the movement of your hips to increase the pressure of your centre grinding against his bare length, trapping it between your core and his abdomen.

“Mmm… fuck…” He whined under his breath, staring at the place your bodies connected, at the way your slick cunt dragged against his cock.

You nodded in agreement, rather eagerly, because you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. Not when the way you were essentially humping him felt this incredibly good.

With your hands on his chest, both for support and so you could play with his nipples in just the way he loved so much, you chased that sweet, sweet relief that’d been steadily growing closer to you since you sat on him however long ago. The pressure on your clit was just absolutely perfect like this, especially when he was pushing you down and assisting your own movement.

“Changbin, darling, I’m… fuck, want to…” You could barely speak, but you knew he understood you perfectly, because he had you moving faster, he pushed you down harder, making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Before you knew it, you were trembling with your release. The only thing keeping you from collapsing was Changbin’s tight hold, but you still tried your best to keep moving, to keep providing him with as much pleasure as you could.

With a broken plea of your name, the first of many shots of thick cum spouted from the tip of his cock. The results of his orgasm’s were, of course, proportional to his size. He always seemed to produce bucket-loads of cum whenever he came, drenching his whole torso, and you in the process.

Changbin looked so, so pretty like this. Flushed, whining, bellowing, desperately rutting into you to make the most out of his release. You didn’t care that you were close to the point of oversensitivity, you just wanted to continue seeing him like this for as long as it lasted.

When the final spurt of cum landed on his abdomen, the tight grip he had on your hips loosened. The lack of his support made it so that you simply collapsed on top of him, gasping for air.

Oh, how fulfilling it was to hear his increased heartbeat against your ear, to feel his warm cum sticking to you…

You both laid there for a moment, just enjoying the feel of one another and catching your breaths.

Changbin had to act a bit quickly after coming, though. Otherwise his cock would retreat into its sheath covered in his drying cum, which could not only become a gross mess, but also cause him real, painful problems the next time he got hard.

So as soon as he regained his strength, he was moving, carrying you in his arms and getting you both inside the nearest pond to get cleaned up.

You always helped him, of course. Just like he helped you.

Getting to bathe each other felt intimate, like a bonding experience, so you enjoyed it.

You barely spoke to each other during these moments. You just took the time to further enjoy the other’s body in a more profound way.

It wasn’t until you were out of that pond, dry, in a fresh set of clothes, and huddled together in your cosy nest that he was finally speaking again.

“I really like it when we do it like that…” He mumbled against your hair, softly dragging his fingertips on your back.

You chuckled softly, pressing a soft peck on his collarbone. “Is it better than when you fuck my thighs?”

Changbin inhaled sharply, placing his free hand on your bum. “It’s different. It’s easier to come together this way”.

You hummed, smiling in amusement at the comment.

There was silence for a while, but you knew he was awake. If he hadn’t been, the soft caresses on your back would’ve stopped already.

The armlet shone in your peripheral vision, and you were reminded once again that this was your home. That you belonged here.

“Changbin?”

He hummed to let you know he was listening, not stopping the movement of his hands.

“Why didn’t you kill me when you found me wandering the Labyrinth?”

Changbin was quiet for a while, until he nuzzled your hair before he placed a kiss on the top of your head.

“I recognised your voice”, he replied simply. “You fed my friends. You didn’t have to, but you did it anyway. They always appreciated it, and I couldn’t help but appreciate it, too”.

You pulled yourself away from his hold a bit, enough to look him in the eyes. “Can you imagine if I’d never spoken in the forest? Or if I never fed the birds? You would’ve eaten me”.

He frowned. “Don’t wanna think about that. Besides, you did do it. Why think about the past like that?”

You smiled at him, just before you pressed a quick peck on his lips.

As you buried your face further in the crook of his neck, and started to feel the pull of sleep on your body, you figured Changbin was right.

There was no point in thinking about the past. No point in dwelling on the what-ifs. The only thing that mattered was the present, and the future you hoped to have with him here, in your home.

Author’s Note x2: i came into this expecting this story to be nothing but filth and a horny mess, not... whatever this ended up being. it definitely didn’t go the way i thought it was going to go when i had originally read that ask, but, y’know… the little lizard in my brain just does whatever it wants. i’m happy with it, and, if you made it this far, i hope you enjoyed it, too. especial thanks to @notastraykid and @channieskies for reading this before anyone else and for giving me their valuable opinions and suggestions.

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General Masterlist

#neverendingdreams #stray kids mythical au #stray kids fantasy au #changbin fluff #changbin smut #changbin angst #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfiction #changbin fanfiction #changbin fic #changbin x reader #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #minotaur changbin #✨🌙✏

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erwinsvow · 13 days

Text

there’s an outdoor shower at the chateau—a tiny thing, really, just three planks of wood and the wall of john b’s home where the showerhead is attached. the water pressure depends on the day, depends on if anyone is using the bathroom inside the house or if jj accidentally left the faucet in the kitchen running.

there’s a rusty hook where clothes can be hung if the other shower was occupied, and the towel is always thrown just over the door opposite the water so it doesn’t get too wet.

you are well accustomed to this shower. you know exactly how to hang your towel to avoid the waterfall, where to avoid stepping because the rocks get slippery. sometimes the door opens up by itself, the result of old hinges and worn out screws, but you don’t pay it much mind, because after all, it’s nothing the boys haven’t seen before.

you’d consider yourself still decent, even showering like this. your bikini was filled with grains of sand, the result of being pushed around at the beach by jj and pope for the last hour. there’s a huge sandy hand print on your shoulder from where john b had helped you up, and you let the water wash it away with a smile.

you’re sandy everywhere, but that’ll have to wait until you’re back home. you wash your hair with the cheap shampoo sitting on the ground, the three-in-one you and kiara beg the boys to dispose of.

but at the very least you feel clean, rinsing the suds from your scalp and watching them run down your body and then onto the ground, draining into the grass. you’ve been spending too much time with kie—your first thought is that you hope this stuff doesn’t leach chemicals into the soil.

lost in the warmth since you’re the first to shower and the boys haven’t used up all the hot water yet, you close your eyes and forget the door’s opened by itself. you think it doesn’t matter since everyone’s at pope’s already. you were the only one who insisted on showering before joining them, promising you’ll bike over after ten minutes, though pope reassures the others it’ll be at least twenty-five.

there’s a voice coming from the backyard, rafe thinks, stalking further and further into the shoddy little house. the land wasn’t terrible, right on the lake, but the place was anything but well kept, a mess of missing shingles and splintered wood. he stops thinking about the house as soon as the voice becomes clearer, the further he steps into the back. he was here to convey a message to the pogues that call this place home, but no one that he wanted to find was around.

stepping in mud and grass, he walks to the backyard, a pretty voice filling the humid air. you’re singing something he doesn’t know, something that sounds vaguely familiar. maybe something ward used to play on the record player in the study, back when rafe used to spend time with him.

you, whoever you are, sound nice, even muffled by the sound of the running water. when rafe gets closer, he sees there’s no door blocking his view to a pretty girl washing her hair and singing softly. you’re in nothing but a yellow bikini, showing him all too much but at the same time not entirely enough.

he’s not sure how long he stood there. it must have been some time, because when you twist the shower knob and stop the water, turning to grab your towel, you see rafe and curse loudly, shoulders raising in fear by themselves.

you stand like that for a moment before realizing rafe is staring, probably because you’re in a tiny, wet bikini. you yank the towel and cover yourself.

“can i help you?” you demand, the sweet voice all gone. even if you didn’t recognize rafe, the clothes he wore and his expensive shoes covered in the dirt of the chateau’s grounds were a dead giveaway.

“yeah. m’lookin’ for the idiots that live here. seen them around?”

“no. goodbye.” he laughs at that. eyes raking over your body again. you’re covered now but still feel exposed, like he can see through your towel.

“funny, kid. when you see ‘em give them a message from me, will ya?”

“leave a voicemail like a normal person. i’m not your messen-”

“yeah, yeah. tell your boys we know what they did.” you stare back at him, confused by what he means but angry at the intrusion and the way he talks to you, the way he looks at you. “sure. whatever that means. are you all done being a stalker now?” he laughs again.

“we’ll see. bye kid.”

#this has been in my drafts for ages but i only had the first line #idt anyone else is gonna like this but i do #<3 #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #singing pogue reader #i guess....

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angelwithdemonictendencies · 23 days

Text

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

are the rumors true?

is the starlet back in town?

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

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

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

and that person was tyson jost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it got worse when you realized you were pretty.

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

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

you caught on, eventually.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you hummed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

social media was something you stumbled upon accidentally.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it seemed too good to pass up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

busy today? you asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"are you looking for someone?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you had some work to do the next morning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

tyson chuckled, and you felt it at your temple.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

jack's squinty look was answer enough.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the next day wasn't nearly as dreamlike.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you nodded, could barely muster a thank you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"what?" you asked, confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"yeah?"

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

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

you sighed. why were you calling?

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

"what?" you asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"hello?" came mia's cheery voice.

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

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

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

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

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

mia made a humming sound in understanding.

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

"but," mia prompted,

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

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

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

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

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

there was a pause as you took in her words.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"he's over there."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

being welcomed back home.

fin.

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black-aurora-nora · 4 months

Text

Give In | Platonic!Yandere!Hawks x Teen!Reader

This had to be the worst day of your life.

You didn't think anything would top being kidnapped, but here you were sunken into the couch of your 'home' weighed down by your own dejection.

Your entire body was cold.

Wet, muddied clothes clung to your body and there was an obvious trail coming from the door to the couch.

Everything was numb.

Your fingertips, your toes, your mind.

The sound of the door opening paused your inner monologue.

"Man, that rain is no joke today! I'm soaked!" Hawks' voice came from the front door, but you didn't bother looking at him.

He strolled over to you after taking his shoes off, but again you paid him no mind. You couldn't bear the sight of him.

He stilled for a moment, looking you over while a frown overtook his features, "(Y/N), my sweet little sister, did you go outside?" His voice was so soft yet unbearably sarcastic. He knew the answer.

He hummed unhappily when he received no reply, "You're gonna get sick if you sit in those wet clothes any longer. I'll go draw you a bat-"

"Yeah, I hope I get so sick that I die." You spat. But even that held no real emotion behind it. You couldn't even bring yourself to be angry at him.

You'd been angry at first.

You'd spent so long trying to figure out an escape plan, only to find the door unlocked when you didn't find a key. Then you anxiously ran out into the rain, screaming for help and looking for any other houses or even streets.

For miles, you ran.

For miles, you hoped and prayed that today was the day you'd be free again.

But as if your prayers were nothing but a joke, you found a tall wall at the end of your journey and it suddenly made sense why the door was left unlocked.

The image of Keigo laughing at you was the first thing that flashed in your mind and you felt something snap in your psyche.

You grabbed at the muddied ground, throwing clumps of mud and grass into the wall as if it were mocking you. Curses of Keigo's name left your mouth with fiery breaths and when the clumps of mud weren't enough, you hit and clawed at the walls.

It hadn't mattered that your fingers were bleeding or that a few nails were gone.

Nothing mattered anymore.

Nothing mattered except for Keigo.

"Okay, grumpy, you still have to take a bath."

You clenched your fists and took a deep breath, "Why didn't you tell me about the wall?"

Keigo stopped, turning back towards you. He had a cocky glint in his eyes, "Did you really think I was gonna let you go that easily? Or that someone wouldn’t find you and return you?”

"Why..." You trailed off, "Why did you let me think that I had a chance? I... I ran for miles... thinking I was free..."

A sound of pity left Keigo and you wished you could slap him, "(Y/N), you're a smart kid. I'm your older, smarter brother." You wanted to scoff at his ego, "Why wouldn't I or the Heroes' Commission plan ahead?"

Why wouldn't they plan ahead?

You felt so stupid.

Of course everything had been planned.

Your prior kidnapping from your home.

Your shipment to Japan.

And your 'rescue' accomplished by Hawks himself.

It was so obvious now that all of that had been an orchestrated to get you into Keigo's possession.

You were a business plan.

Something to keep Keigo occupied from losing his sanity.

"Y-... You're all sick... you're all fucking sick!" Your chest hurt and you clawed at your heart with mangled fingers.

"(Y/N), focus on your breathing for me." Keigo told you, ignoring your spiraling. When you couldn't calm down, he stalked towards you, "(Y/N), I said focus! Slow your breathing."

Violent sobs tore your throat.

Everything had been taken from you just so you could play house with some hero.

Keigo cooed softly and closed the gap between you to hold you close and slide you down to the floor, telling you to slow your breathing.

He uttered praises to you when you finally listened and slowly but surely, your breathing was dissolved into quiet sobs and sniffles.

He stroked the top of your head before grabbing one of your hands to look at your fingers. He gave a small sigh when noticed how bloodied and swollen they were. They were probably riddled with fractures and would surely bruise.

“Maybe,” he spoke, “If you’d let go…this whole thing would be easier.”

“I… I’m gonna go take a bath now…” Your voice was hoarse, grated raw from your sobs and you stood on wobbly legs to make your way to the bathroom.

Keigo only smiled reassuringly and before you closed the door, he spoke one more time, “I love you so much, (Y/N). Please don’t forget that.”

But how could you?

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curarems · 10 months

Text

So we know Vetinari has his drama queen benevolent tyrant streak. I do believe it is pineapple. Do you believe in angels. Ah, Vimes. I am about to play a damsel in distress. Brb gotta juggle some knives and melons. Lurking in the shadows. I come from the city. Think of me as your future. Boo. Which is PEAK drama. Havelock calm down.

What I am saying is, bby Havelock absolutely was the most™ kid ever. He joins the Assassin's Guild. He excels, gets good grades. Madam Meserole spends the next few years listening to 'I wear darkness as my cloak' and 'I hide in the night' and him practising cringy phrases to send people away that have not developed into 'don't let me detain you' yet. He is trying out his dramatic entrances. He speaks like a posh middle-aged intellectual about to present his latest discovery to the council. He practises martial arts with cutlery. He accidentally breaks a vase with a kitchen knife and defends it with 'no improvement in skill comes without sacrifice'. He discusses his political opinions with ugly stray dogs. He comes home covered in mud and gods know what else after falling into Ankh while trying to balance on a rope. Madam keeps finding him on the rooftop dramatically sitting in the moonlight. He is twelve. He is adorable.

#sybil was told of or directly witnessed all of this which is why she has leverage over him #discworld #havelock vetinari

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konigsblog · 7 months

Note

i’m so warmed by all the pregnancy stuff with the farmers 🫣🤭 if you’re up to it! literally anything surrounding that, it’s so soft to read tbf. your writing is always so good, hits every time but the way you write pregnancy just hits different 🩷🩷

— thank you!! i'm glad you enjoy them, it makes me feel more confident in my writing and i appreciate you for saying such sweet things ! 🎀 i wasn't sure if you wanted smut, but this was rotting my mind !

⭒༉‧₊˚. kid headcannons with farmer!MW2 🌾🧺🐄

farmer!price has mainly sons. little boys always helping out on the farm, gasping when the pigs begin squealing and the birds make their call. takes such good care of them, and you as well. the boys love their mother; running up to you while covered in mud, overalls coated in brown sludge, giving in and hugging them tightly.

simon is a with the farmer concept is hard. i can't imagine it, i can imagine him working down in the bar down in the village, you joining along, or being his little housewife. wearing long dresses, and coming to him with your toddler boy and girl, giving them some sweets so they'll be alright and talking with your confident, funny husband.

(trying with the farmer!simon concept) who smokes a lot and always stinks of tobacco after a hard day. his little boy and older daughter (2 year difference between them) giggling with eachother, watching as she protects him. he's so proud of her and always makes time to help with her homework after breaking his back taking care of the carrots and cabbages.

farmer!soap who has 2 daughters. they're his princesses, and he'll do whatever it takes to keep them safe. walking with them, hand in hand, sent down to the village for fruits and vegetables by their mother. helping you make some blueberry pie for your husband after a long day. his daughters falling asleep at the dinner table with blueberry pie all over their faces.

farmer!gaz who has daughters. he treats them like angels, and appreciates when they help with the animals. i imagine his daughters to enjoy helping on the farm when they're a teenager; taking care of chickens and bringing back eggs, or getting hay on their jeans and t-shirt. spends a lot of time with them and they all appreciate his work.

farmer!könig has only daughters, i can't imagine him with daughters, at all. has a lot of daughters, perhaps 5, or maybe a pair of twins. they're so cute when they're toddlers; falling asleep on their daddy's lap, and getting their faces messy with cheesecake after dinner.

he's an amazing dad, and loves reading to them before bedtime. has an album of photos of them from their younger ages, and sometimes fell asleep on the rocking chair when they were newborns and woke up crying.

farmer!alejandro has daughters too, no son's for him. he definitely treats them like princesses and loves how sweet they are. makes funny jokes, and is very overprotective of them. oh, his daughter wants to go down to the village? no matter if she's a teenager, she's not going alone. if she waits for him, he'll buy her a ice-cream and allows her to help with the cows despite his constant scolding for asking! don't worry, he'll handle it.

farmer!rodolfo who has 1 daughter (i'm sorry, i can barely imagine half of these characters with son's!!) he lets her help on the farm and always appreciates her help. doesn't want to force her, but allows her to clean the pigs and take the eggs back to the house for her mother to use. when she was a baby, he'd kiss her every night and sit on a rocking chair beside the fireplace, lulling her to sleep and teaching spanish to her in her older years.

farmer!graves who has 3 sons, and his youngest, a daughter. they all look like him when he was younger; 3 replicas. his daughter has gorgeous, soft blonde hair and his blue, silverish eyes. not only does he treat her like a princess, he refuses to allow her to work on the farm.

— encourages his son's to help him on the farm, while she plays with barbie dolls on the porch and eats any freshly baked cookies her mother made. her brother's are around 9, and a pair of twins, 8 when she's 3. a sweetheart who has a pure, giving heart and always makes her father little cards or paper people using his old newspapers.

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